The Fireman

Seems like the Cavalry came faster than expected... Name's Volke. Fireman. If you need my services, find me at the nearest bar. Affiliated with Zeshea.

[moneyquest]

here we go, once again... [open]

[divinestars]

“—Please, Wait!!”

A loud crashing noise came from the room behind the tavern, reminiscent of glasses colliding with the floor; accompanied with the mutual noise of objects being knocked over. It would not be long before the door leading to said room, swung open and a bundle of imps swanned through — one in particular, holding a gold item.

“You ‘ain’t gonna catch us that easy, lady!” They jeered in chorus-line, in attempts to only aggrieve. With miniature  horned wings they swooped around the open tavern area, throwing the item back and forth with one another. 

And thus the princess would eventually emerge from the confines of the other room, having battled one ridiculous trap after another. 

Rapier in hand, pointed skyward at the assailants, patience was at it’s limits. While she had no intentions of hurting the creatures, she remained determined to retrieve her personal item. Whilst at the same time remaining ignorant to the gathered crowd within the bar area.

“I’ve asked you once before. Please return my bracelet.” She adds, sternly. However, it only elicited another chorused snicker, the imps working in unison. A sly smirk would breach the alpha’s lips before they sauntered out of the opened door, and into the outside area. 

Naturally, she would follow suit. She had come this far, after all.

[moneyquest]

Volke eyed the ruckus from the corner of his eye. He didn't... understand those imp creatures, but he wasn't sure if he'd like to intervene with them. After all, Volke wasn't one to act without payment. He was a bit obsessed with money, after all. He would do nearly everything for money, but he... he wouldn't simply do anything for free. It was the kind of person he was. He was greedy, almost manipulative. His services kind of let him be that kind of person. He was invaluable. He was the best. Volke wouldn't charge cheap for his services, and he had reason to. Any less than his initial price would be almost a rip-off. And he hated getting ripped-off.

But, well, the pink haired girl reminded him of... someone else, really. She held herself with poise, and dignity, and her clothes weren't the shabbiest either. He could tell right off the bat that she was indeed royalty. And, she probably had a heart similar to Queen Elincia's. It was in her eyes.

... Volke had gotten quite good at reading people over the years. It was almost like a power he had. His perceptive eyes wouldn't let anything get past, lest it be considered a weakness to him. The simplest thing could be the strength of someone else and he could be in a rather... unfavorable position. And, to be honest, Volke hated it when he lost control. Call him a power-freak, but he felt the need to be in control of every situation. He needed to. He needed to control everything he did. One slip-up and he could be dead. Well, deader, but the feeling was still the same. The shame that followed after would be worse.

Leaving a bit of money on the table, he quickly followed the pink haired girl out the door. Immediately, he blended into the dark of night. It was first nature to him. Work first, introductions later. It was how he did things. Everyone knew who he was in Tellius, so there was no point in introductions. He did his work, and he got paid. It was simple. He wondered if he should just walk out of the shadows and handle this like he would handle assassinations, but he decided he was curious. He wanted to know what royalty, out of their comfort zone, could do. Everyone he knew was... accustomed to fighting.

... Volke was a horrible person, wasn't he?

[moneyquest]

here we go, once again... [open]

Volke calmly looked at the paper in his hand, which now solidified his new life as a bounty hunter. Of course, he would be stuck in this kind of profession. It was all he knew how to do. Slit a throat, stab a vein... These hands were meant to spill blood. What else could he do? He wasn't half bad at carving wood, but... his face was so impacted that he was certain that other people could recognize him. Volke shoved the parchment into his  pocket and slowly walked into one of the taverns- the Dead Knight, people said. It was a fitting name.

At least, you know, to be his base of operations.

Habits were hard to break, and people gravitated towards taverns. Volke gravitated towards taverns. They were easy to find, and easy to find meant more work. He was sure that he'd soon enough get his first job, and everything would go from there.

... Although, he had to hope that things wouldn't become like they had in Tellius, where he would meet paths with another man like Bastian. As much as he liked Bastian as a friend, friends weren't... safe. He couldn't simply trust 'friends'. Friends didn't... they didn't keep themselves safe, and he couldn't risk being that torn apart. His reputation meant everything to him, and if he somehow ruined it... Well, it would be hard to fix it.

Bastian, thankfully, was capable to protect himself, but who was he to say that everyone else in this place was?

[moneyquest]

surrounded by imps, people, and... no enemies. yet. [intro]

[generalzelgius-archive]

So Volke was from Begnion, hm? A detail Zelgius would have found quite interesting. Yes, it seemed that Zelgius was quite comfy in Begnion, his adopted home one could call it, but despite this he was actually from Daein. Daein was quite the opposite from Begnion, after all. Daein was such a harsh homeland with terrible winters and many shady characters lurking about, especially near the capital. It was a relief though that Zelgius, although being brought up as if he were less than trash, had been taught manners and proper behavior so that he conformed well to life in Begnion. Volke on the other hand, well, Zelgius would have believed he was from Daein. One often had to be sly and crafty to survive there after all. Poverty reeked in that place.. it was sickening. 

Anyway, Zelgius could agree with Volke on one thing though. The high class of Begnion weren’t too fun to be around. The senators, especially, irked him. They didn’t take a liking to Zelgius either, knowing that he was from such a place like Daein, and of course how Sephiran was in such favor of the male, jealously was often sparked.

No matter. He had survived somehow.

As for Zelgius’ laguz ancestry.. that he honestly didn’t know much about. His parents never spoke of it - only once he had learned that someone on his father’s side had mingled with a hawk laguz, thus he knew he was a hawk branded. He never attempted to go out searching for anyone related to him - his parents’ behavior toward him relinquished whatever motivations he had of that.

Though, not to say that he didn’t wish to connect with others like him. He had felt a strong connection to Micaiah, who was also a Branded. She, perhaps along with Sephiran, were the only two who truly cared and did not detest him. 

He yearned to connect with others like him. He wanted to be accepted.. at least somewhere. So when he caught Volke nodding in response to his question a sense of relief swept over him. Here was another Branded.. right in front of him. It seemed so unreal to him but.. yet it was so. 

“… I believe I do not have to say it… but so am I.” There was a slight pause. “I am a hawk branded, and you?”

[moneyquest]

Volke would probably have been better off if he had been from Daein. It was a much more fitting place that would have suited a man like Volke. At least it was based on survival of the fittest. And, to be honest, Volke was one of the fittest. As a child, he was always stealing, making a name for himself. He got caught a lot, but as he grew up, he knew how to keep himself in the clear. One had to be quick and reflexive, but also careful and calm. Volke was almost the epitome of those qualities- or rather, his assassin self is. Volke and the Fireman were two very different beings. The Fireman was a calm, efficient and scary man. He got the job done, and for nothing less than money. He was greedy, and he was terrifying. He was a murderer.

Volke... was a different story. Volke was a kinder, more emotional man. He was sarcastic, snide, confident, but he was also intelligent and thoughtful. He didn't do things mindlessly. He always had a reason, even if he never confided that to anyone. Volke, unlike the Fireman, was a complicated man to understand. No one was exposed to him for long, and that made it even harder to see which was an act and which wasn't. It was... a well-orchestrated, well thought-out plan. Not even Bastian could really tell if his actual personality was simply an act. He just didn't show that side to anyone, and eventually, even Volke himself was confused.

And while Zelgius learned manners... Volke learned how not to anger people. Being one of the civilians without rights, he learned from a young age that the rich people in the house should never be messed with. He learned to keep his mouth shut and not say anything about anyone. It was a simple code of conduct within the slaves of Begnion- you keep secrets, and your secrets are kept. Simple as that. If you don't get them in trouble, you're set. Wolf laguz tended to... not follow orders, because they generally listened to their Queen, Nailah, but... they did learn that they had to. At least, if they wanted to survive.

He was all too aware of his own heritage, though. His mother was born in the Hatari Desert, and Begnion soldiers captured her when she and the rest of her family were heading towards Gallia. From there, she was taken to an auction where she was bought, and she was forced into bed with one of the senator's vassals and... thus came Volke. It was a thing that some of the senators did- they impregnated their laguz slaves with their guards or underlings, if only to get more slaves.

He hated that.

... While Zelgius had Micaiah and Sephiran, though, Volke had no one who understood him. Because he kept the secret so tightly under control, no one knew about who he was. He never talked about it with anyone, he never let it get out. Volke was so good at what he did, that he was a bit too good at it. He never wanted to give out information. He never wanted to give out his own information. That's what made it so... uncontrollable. Dangerous. Volke kept it all bottled up- years of frustration and discontent held within one man.

Hawk laguz. King Tibarn and his vassals, Janaff and Ulki. They weren't too bad, and he could definitely see some of the qualities. It wasn't too obvious, but he figured that less exposure to the laguz meant that one would gain less of said qualities. Volke spent most of his childhood with his mother and the other Hatari wolves in the house, and he definitely picked up some things.

Volke paused briefly. "... Wolf," he responded sharply.

[moneyquest]

surrounded by imps, people, and... no enemies. yet. [intro]

[generalzelgius-archive]

Ah yes, perhaps Volke was much stronger than Zelgius had ever hoped to be. Though he seemed like a sturdy strong man on the outside, inside was a completely different story. He was a shattered and broken man, weak and hopeless, without much faith in himself at all. Time and time again he had tried to suppress these self-hating thoughts but the way he had been treated throughout the years only served to remind him, to assure that he was indeed right about himself. He was worthless.. he was nothing. That’s why when Sephiran came around.. his life changed. He had given him a purpose. He had felt.. somewhat wanted and useful. How could he have turned away the only man who had given him something to live for?

Of course one might say that this did not excuse Zelgius’ behavior.. though perhaps if they were in the same situation as he was.. they would understand. For now though, he would remain misunderstood. He would continue to be labeled as a villain - though in reality he was really not. He was not an evil hateful being wanting to destroy everyone and everything in the world. Not at all. He actually detested fighting - he would rather settle matters peacefully. Though he did realize the necessity for it in certain circumstances. He was in fact a polite well-mannered man whom was friendly. He just never had the chance to show his true colors, and maybe others would think it was just an act. No matter.. his name had been branded.. much like his body.

They were more alike than they thought. Both Volke and Zelgius had naturally concealed their brand, knowing that life was easier by hiding the truth from others. Others would’ve been reluctant to accept them. Just as Volke wore his bandanna, Zelgius wore his armor. He always had his armor on except when bathing of course. Sleeping with the armor on was not an issue to the male for he rarely slept anyway.

But ah yes, his brand was most certainly being pesky at the moment. He rolled his shoulders slightly hoping that the mark would quit itching so ferociously as it was doing at the moment. His attempt was futile though. A sigh escaped his lips. What if.. what if he asked the other? Would he.. get an answer? Zelgius in actuality had no need to worry about his reputation or name anymore. Adding Branded to the list should mean nothing to him - although it did. But then again.. curiosity was a powerful thing.

“I apologize for intruding on personal matters, however, might you be.. a Branded..?”

There, he had said it.

[moneyquest]

Volke, on the other hand, had long since suppressed those destructive thoughts against himself. Although, they slipped out from time to time (even more frequently since meeting Ike), most of them weren't much of a problem. However, it was always the ones doubting his and Bastian's friendship that got him the worst. Bastian was no doubt the closest person he had, a man he would trust with his life. Because of this, Bastian was also a target for many other assassins that wanted to take Volke down. He knew that Bastian could handle himself, but he had seen firsthand what those assassins could do. None of them were as good as him, but a lot of them were skilled enough to take Bastian's life. They'd probably get caught, however. 

His friendship with Bastian was a destructive one- to Volke, at least. He constantly doubted his worth and why Bastian kept spending time with him, but he always shoved those kinds of thoughts out of his mind. It was strictly business, he kept telling himself. There was nothing going on between them... right? Sometimes, even Volke doubted what kind of relationship they were in. Business partners? Comrades? Friends? It was a mystery, especially since Volke was accustomed to almost none of those things. He worked alone. He always would work alone. Volke would outlive anyone who worked with him anyway. It was simply how it always worked.

Volke's name wasn't really the cleanest either, though. He was the cause of many important deaths and much of Tellius' lack of rulers. Generally, it was only the beorc that needed his services. They were greedy fools, and the laguz knew better than to challenge royalty. After all, Volke believed that the laguz were far stronger than the beorc, no matter how hard the bipeds tried. They simply could not match up to the ferocity that the beasts had, the speed that the birds had, or the wisdom that the dragons had. Perhaps the only ones the beorcs could have bested were the herons- if only because they did not fight, and the Hatari wolves- Volke's own people. 

Ah yes, the Hatari wolves... Volke didn't like talking about them much, honestly. They brought up rather... distressing memories about his own mother, and their years in the hellhole that was Begnion. He would never forgive the senators, truthfully. It was a long-time grudge that would always be a long-time grudge. Thankfully, meeting a few of the nicer Begnion citizens during the war helped him realize that not all of the Begnion high-class was bad.

... Although, he had to wonder if Queen Nailah or Volug recognized him. The ancient language wasn't lost to him, but he had never talked to either of them... in case they would be able to recognize him. He resembled his late mother quite a bit, after all.

Volke idly rubbed at his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. It was irritating him even more now, despite not being able to really stop it.  Really, the only way to solve this would be to take off the headband and scratch it manually... but there was no way he was doing that in public. He wasn't that suicidal. Not yet, at least. He had a long time to go before he wanted to--

“I apologize for intruding on personal matters, however, might you be.. a Branded..?”

His shoulders stiffened. The fingers on his left hand- the one not on his forehead- clenched and unclenched, but this question did confirm his suspicions. Zelgius was a Branded. Volke took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, debated with himself silently on whether he should tell the truth or lie, but... the feeling of almost kinship was strong. And thus, Volke slowly nodded his head.

[moneyquest]

surrounded by imps, people, and... no enemies. yet. [intro]

[generalzelgius-archive]

“That title no longer belongs to me,” Was the answer from the tall armored knight. “Neither does the title of The Black Knight.” There was a slight pause. “Just Zelgius is fine.” It was true that he had discarded both of those titles but he wasn’t claiming that they were never legitimate. He did not throw away his past, he was just trying to move on in his life.. or death rather.

Just as Volke had been thinking, there was no way that Zelgius could get rid of his past either. All the pain and suffering that he had endured in life had been for one simple fact - that he was a Branded. He had tainted blood flowing within his veins, a fact that he would never get over. He absolutely detested his being for that fact.. and perhaps for what it lead him to do.

Despite Volke who harbored ill will against the knight, he did not feel the same about him. He had no reason to hate or cast away the man after all. He did not even know him, or his life, or whatever actions he may have done or events that he had caused. Perhaps Volke disliked him due to the simple fact of what he had done to Ike and the role he played in starting a war that engulfed the entire continent of Tellius. Those events were not of his own accord though. There had been events prior to that that had carved a specific path for him. The other did not know of his past; of the family who hated him since birth, the family who kicked him out, how he had to fend for himself, how Sephiran came along one day and provided hope for the Branded, etc.

He felt an odd connection to the other though, as if they were.. linked somehow. There was something alike about them… but what? This feeling burned inside him, he could even swear that the brand on his back tingled a bit. Was it trying to tell him something? Maybe.. just maybe.. this man was… like him?

[moneyquest]

"... Zelgius." It felt weird to say that without any titles or animosity. He never talked to Zelgius, and he only knew the man by name. Having to actually speak with him in person... was a whole 'nother matter in the saying. After all, Zelgius could very well easily stab him dead... again, and pretty much no one would miss him. Not that anyone could, really. He endangered the lives of everyone, and they'd probably be left off better without him. But, you know, he was already dead. That was out of the question.

While Zelgius was still caught up with his Branded blood, Volke had learned to accept it over the years. While he couldn't remember the last time he went into public without the bandanna, it wasn't much of a problem for him. He was used to it. He had lived almost a decade with it on. The only time he ever took it off was when he went to sleep, and when he bathed. No other time did the red cloth covering his darkest secret come off. He had learned that it was better that way- it stopped others from treating you like dirt... Not that they would treat Volke like that anyway, but one never knew. Being a Branded caused people to do... strange things. 

Volke had to wonder if Bastian ever figured it out. They had spent a lot of time together, and the man wasn't dumb. He would have been smart enough to figure it out, but also smart enough to not ask Volke about it. The blond man probably had some sort of suspicion, but could never dream of confirming it. Volke was a very light sleeper. Being an assassin almost instilled that in one's mind. If he was a heavy sleeper, he would have never survived.

He wondered how many people were there at his funeral. As invincible as Volke seemed, he was still able to be killed, and killed he was. A simple, strong poison was enough to set him off, and he was done at the hands of someone else. He idly fingered the place they had cut him last, before he died. Volke didn't flinch when he died, because he was expecting it. He was expecting it every time he went on a job. It was the life he gained. And because of that, he never really gained any friends. He had Bastian, and that was about it. He felt a bit of kinship with Stefan, and perhaps even with Ike, but other than that... not much. Perhaps they ended up taking his bandanna off after he had died. It would have been nice to see their faces, and at least get a good laugh out of it. But, he was not so fortunate.

... His forehead itched. Of course, it always did that from time to time, but rarely, it itched because of a Branded near him. He hated going near Stefan, simply because it always set off an itch that he was always irritated by. Volke couldn't simply lift his headband and scratch it, that would give everything away. He had a feeling that Stefan did it on purpose, too. But, it was itching now, which always held the possibility... that Zelgius was a Branded?

[moneyquest]

surrounded by imps, people, and... no enemies. yet. [intro]

[generalzelgius-archive]

Slow but steady steps were taken as Zelgius performed his daily duty of patrolling Sh’tori. Emerald orbs carefully scanned the area, taking into consideration any factors that could cause others harm, discomfort, or trouble. Seeing as nothing was brewing about the town he decided to leave and go on to the next area of his examination.

He left the town via a small road and headed down a path that would soon lead him to a small park of some sorts. A sight caused him to stop in his tracks though. A lone man was standing on the path, smoking a pipe, and seeming to be lost in thought. He had a certain air about him, a shady and dark one. He also was familiar in Zelgius’ eyes. He was certain that he had seen this man before, but where?

He approached him, his red armor clanking as he walked, light glinting off his long silver blade in his right hand. Upon nearing him and taking his features in at a closer distance it became apparent to him as to the man’s identity. He wasn’t sure of his name, it must’ve slipped his mind or perhaps he never knew it at all but he had seen him around, he was associated with Ike, and the Greil Mercenaries. 

Hm, yes, he was sure of it. He was a thief he recalled or maybe an assassin, the latter more likely. No doubt he had milked Ike of all his gold for his services. Yes, money sure did set the world into motion.

“Excuse me sir, you are familiar to me. Pardon me but I do not know your name, however, weren’t you employed by Ike?” He asked.

[moneyquest]

Volke was simply curious, that was all. He wasn't quite surprised that he was dead, but he was a bit surprised at the place he landed in. That's not to say he was expecting to be sent to Heaven or anything, but he expected Hell to be a lot... different. A lot more fire, was one. He was also expecting to see Ashnard, but he seemed to be spared from that. Only Ashera knew what the crazed king would do if he found another place to try and rule. That would simply end horrendously.

So, Volke was only walking where his feet would take him. He had no place in mind, nor did he have any sense of direction. This was how it had been for the first few years of his freedom, and this was how he treated new places. He didn't know where anything was, so he figured that he would simply find out where they were. That was how he traversed Crimea, Gallia and Begnion on his trek to freedom, after all. If he didn't trust himself, how could he accomplish anything? That was his entire mentality on letting himself figure things out. He trusted his mind, after all.

He could hear the clanking of armor hitting armor, and for a minuscule second, he had a faint hope that it was one of his allies, but as he turned around... well, there was one face he wasn't quite willing to see. General Zelgius, of the Begnion Army... or The Black Knight. Both of those names left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wanted to smoke it away, but that kind of action would be rather rude, and he wasn't in the mood to get cut down. Thus, he refrained from said actions. He could wait a few minutes.

Volke never liked Zelgius. To be truthful, he never liked Begnion as a whole. It gave him bad memories and flashes of his days in a wealthy senator's home. Really painful memories that would be better off shoved in a corner and burned. But he couldn't quite do that. It was an integral part of him and he couldn't get rid of it. To get rid of the old Volke, and the memories, would make everything useless. His past and memories were the reason he had chosen this lifestyle- killing for money. If he had never been enslaved, none of this would have ever happened, and he owed a bit of that to his past. Even if he wanted to be free of that accursed mark.

He stared at Zelgius with blank, dark garnet eyes. To say that Volke wasn't quite pleased would be a bit of an understatement, but he would never be so outspoken to say anything like that aloud. It simply wasn't who he was. He was quiet, calm, the opposite of Bastian. The brunet couldn't say anything and simply get away with it. Assassins didn't have the same freedoms as Dukes.

"... Volke," he simply supplied the other man. "My name is Volke." He didn't deny that he worked for Ike. It was true, and there was no reason to hide it. The silence should have been taken as a yes. "You are General Zelgius, are you not?"

[moneyquest]

surrounded by imps, people, and... no enemies. yet. [intro]

Volke glanced around with garnet eyes, at the place that was to be his new home. Sh'tori, was it? It looked like nothing he had seen before- and it should be mentioned that Volke had seen quite a lot. After all, he traveled all over Tellius, and sometimes onto different continents. He had been to almost every corner of Tellius, and even some of the Laguz regions, thanks to Ike and his group. But, he never quite had a home, and he really should get used to it now. It seemed like he would be stuck here for a long time.

The brunet assassin quietly pulled down his mask, favoring his scarf to cover some of his face. Thankfully, all seemed to be in order on his person. His knives were tucked carefully on his person, hidden from view; Peshkatz was holstered quite comfortable on his waist. His pipe was resting in a bag that he held in his pocket. Quite honestly, he was glad that he had a few of the things that made him comfortable. 

He thought of what had gotten him here. The murder of Duke Fayre- or as Volke called him, Bastian. Bastian was a good ally of his- one, he might have considered a friend. But, as always, the fates were cruel. Someone wanted him dead, and they came to Volke. Volke was a bit reluctant to do it, especially because of everything Bastian had done for him. Bastian got him off the streets, and Bastian gave him the best work. It was as simple as that. But, he also thought of what could have happened to the man.

Duke Fayre was, simply put, a great man. He was kind, courteous and dedicated to Crimea. He was idolized by citizenry and royalty alike. Even if the methods he used to give the people happiness were shady, he did it in good spirit, and good heart. Volke never had done that. He would never do that. It was a bit too late for him to have even considered that. He had years of blood stained on his hands. It was too late to change his fate.

So while Bastian almost definitely brought to heaven, it was a given that Volke would be sent to Hell. Or, Sh'tori, in this case. Ah, he bid Bastian well either way.

Volke simply sat down on the ground and sighed. He needed to let out a breather, stop thinking about things of the past. Things in the past just destroyed him from the inside out. Maybe he wanted this- the lack of responsibilities... but, it was too late to go back now.

He sighed once again, pulling out his pipe from its container and simply smoking it. Fate was cruel, indeed.