Phantasy Star: Fringes of Algo

Here is something I wrote years ago. My english wasn't all that back then so you'll have to use clemency on my account.

I never planned to continue it but who knows...

Note that this is prior to my PS campaign and has nothing to do with it, it is a real, true and through fanfic.

Enjoy!

-Aero

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Visitors from a world long gone.
By: Aeroprism


The courtroom was busier than usual. Courtesans and nobles from all over the region were gathered there today, even though the announcement hadn't been official as of yet. Everybody pretending they were here for some other reason, feigning surprise upon meeting someone they hadn't seen in ages. Maybe it was anticipation, curiosity or simple boredom, but all of those who were there felt anxious to see them.

It hadn't happened in centuries. In fact, the last time anyone had seen one of them here was well over seven hundred years ago, a few decades before the great battle. No one remembered what they looked like, it was all speculation. None ready to admit they were there for that reason; they were still hard pressed to discuss it, to exchange rumors, bits of information.

Who were they? What were they like and more importantly, why were they coming here?

The room was suddenly struck by a wave of silence, it suddenly happened, no trumpets, no heralds, no warning. The doors simply opened and they stepped in.

…

King Seos Cille watched as the two heavy metallic doors opened, pulled away from each other by powerful hydraulic pistons. The stepping sound of his guests echoed in his ears like a warning that he chose to ignore for now. As the king of Cille, he knew that never once in his lifetime had any man heard this sound, the sound of metallic boots ringing against the floor of his castle.

The king's information was correct; his guests were two men and one woman. He had been informed of their whereabouts and their arrival as they left the town of Shushoran. The one leading the strange visitors surprised the crowd the most. Cille was a Layan kingdom. Its people were tech users, thinkers, poets and artists. They prefered robes, capes, silk and velvet. Layan women were slender, feminine, delicate. Layan men were svelte, gaunt, refined and aristocratic.

A striking contrast, the man leading the party was fairly tall and muscular, his face was bold, his eyes reckless. A stranger in a Layan land, they thought. Even though he was physically different, what struck King Seos was not his face or his body, but his armor. It was the first time an Orakian knight entered Cille in centuries. A sight to behold, all but those who cared for very old books had forgotten what an Orakian armor looked like. The dark blue armor he wore was made of laconia, a metal harder than steel, more durable than titanium and more valued than gold. The knight's eyes were like grey steel, his short cropped hair, brown like the earth. His head was protected by a metallic circlet. On his chest, proudly boasted the yellow symbol of Orakio, a beautiful prismatic sun. A long sword was resting, attached to his thick fiberglass belt.

Slowly but inexorably, the eyes of the crowd made their way to the knight's two companions. First there was this man, this incredible, unbelievable man. He was at the very least seven feet tall. Dark blue hair, cut short in the back but slightly longer on the front. His eyes were of a very deep blue, almost as if they were made of laconia as well. He also wore armor, but it seemed to be part of him. Silver plates covering his legs, chest and shoulders, worn over a black bodysuit made of some elastic material that looked very flexible yet, extremely protective. A large and heavy pulse cannon was strapped to his right leg and a few intricate, metallic communication devices covered his ears and the lower right part of his face. He walked with great strides; his face did not display much emotion.

The woman walking with them could almost have passed for a layan had she not been clad in a dark yellow bodysuit that looked made of molten metal. Her slender arms ended with nimble hands. Over her wrists, she wore metallic bracers speckled with small electrical lights and visual displays. Her long and bright yellow hair reminded them of the sun's glare at midday. She looked around with bright orange predatorily eyes, scanning the crowd. She was beautiful without being refined, like a wild untamed beast. Under her bodysuit, they could guess her strong but discrete muscles. She walked like a cat, ready to leap on her prey.


The knight halted some twenty feet away from the king and spoke with a loud and clear voice. "I am Vaestram of fair Satera, son of the duke, servant of the king of Landen under the divine authority of Orakio. I come to unite our kingdoms, the legends of the past unfolding once again. I offer you my loyalty; my blade is yours to command."


Vaestram looked at the crowd before him. He was somehow overwhelmed by all these Layans. Even though there had been great cooperation between their people seven centuries ago, he could not help pondering the millenia of bloody war between Orakians and Layans that preceded the peace. Right now, the feeling between the two people was awkwardness, almost denial. Ties had been cut centuries ago, legends forgotten by the common man. It was only months ago that word had come to Satera and Landen that the Layan kingdom had been at war with an unknown enemy who was using Orakian technology to attack.

Remembering the legends of the past, the tale of Rhys, Orakian prince of Landen and Maia, Layan princess of Cille uniting their kingdoms centuries ago, a messenger was sent from Cille. He travelled across sea and land and through the dangerous passage between their two dome worlds finally reaching Landen. A plea of help had been issued, Landen would answer.

Vaestram felt their stare, a lot of them fascinated by him, even more of them simply scared. He felt it was wiser to keep his attention on the royal family so he looked at them, as politely as he could, and tried to evaluate them.

The king of Cille was an old man, weary from too many years of rule. He did not look like a tech user, but he did look Layan. Thin, gaunt, noble in an aristocratic way; he was not wearing a crown, only his well trimmed snow white hair decorated his head. His eyes had lost their color over the years, but they were piercing, fast and intelligent. He was dressed in a pale blue robe, a white cape over his shoulders.

Standing by his side was the prince, a man noticeably younger than Vaestram. There was no mistake in this man, he was a tech user. His right hand held a force staff, his body was covered by blue grey garments, hardened by solid plates of refined ceramic. A large green cape fell over his shoulders and long leather boots proved that this young man preferred the garb of an adventurer. Overlooking observers would have been hard pressed to call him a wimp by the sight of his silhouette, but Vaestram knew otherwise. The prince's green eyes spoke vivacity and awareness, the eyes of someone who has already seen his share of battlefield experience. His dark green hair was simply tied behind his head; he casually stood by his father, evaluating Vaestram as he was evaluating him. Both men quietly nodded at each other in a sign of respect.

Looking a little further to the left, he saw the princess of Cille. Seeing her he imagined what Rhys must have felt, so many years ago when he saw Maia. A feeling of awe, of mystery and admiration in front of such beauty the likes he had never seen. She was not smiling, but she did not look displeased either. She was simply looking at him, with deep golden eyes. She wore her hair unlike any Orakian woman Vaestram had ever seen. Orakian women wear neck-long or shorter hair, usually tied up. This woman however had a mane of long, silky hair that curled in large, soft locks of a deep rich kaki green shade. She wore a long velvet robe, green as her brother's hair. She didn't carry a weapon, her hands were slender and white, she looked fragile, yet determined. Vaestram could not guess if she had seen battle or not.

He knew he could have gazed in her eyes for the rest of eternity, but the king's voice brought him back to where he was.

"We welcome you to Cille, Vaestram, son of duke Satera. I am Seos, king of Cille. This is my son, Seon." Seon bowed. "Welcome to Cille, friend and ally." Vaestram gave him the Orakian military salute. King Seos continued. "And this is my daughter, Auria." She looked at Vaestram with entrancing eyes. "Welcome, lord Vaestram. May Laya's hands guide you to your fortune." Vaestram bowed deeply. "Milady."

After a short pause, Vaestram looked at the king and pointed towards his companions. "These are my travelling companions." He pointed towards the male cyborg. "This is Wren, a SHIRREN TYPE 868 cyborg, communication and engineering specialist. He is also an expert with ballistic weaponry and a loyal ally in all respects." Wren simply nodded toward the king. Vaestram then pointed toward the yellow haired woman that was travelling with him. "This is Myan, a MYEW TYPE S14 cyborg, hand to hand melee and close combat specialist."

Rather loud whispering and muffled protests echoed in the room. King Seos was about to address his people when lord Vaestram spoke. "People of Cille, hear me!" The protests lowered, the whispering slowly died. "Though you may have been recently plagued by machines unknown, know that Orakian technology is not your enemy. These two cyborgs are more than machines; they are my loyal servants and my dear friends. I vouch for their actions and their goal is the same as mine, to protect your people and mend the bridges that were once destroyed." Prince Seon followed Vaestram's lead. "And for this we are grateful, Orakian visitors. It is not simply by chance that you heard our call, it is because lady Laya guided you to us."

The two young man exchanged looks of respect and king Seos smiled. After the terrible attacks and the ensued destruction, things were looking better now.