Here Lies Guy

Hector stared, frustrated, at the thick stack of papers before him. Perhaps he ought to have appreciated Marcus' work with spelling and grammar, for he was now faced with another huge pile of reports, most of which not only contained pure garbage in such high concentrations that even he was drowning in it, but was also written in the worst conceivable forms of English he had ever seen – if that could even be counted as English. All of them also seemed to have a penchant for spelling diarrhea as "diarrheuh". Oh, and did he mention, all of it started with 'dear Lord Hectur', and they spelled Oswin's name as 'Oswine'.

Well, Oswine was a very good name, certainly, and Hector was pretty agreeable with it, only that perhaps 'Oswine' wasn't the most appropriate name of his right-hand man. Oswin, if everyone recalled, was orange, not pink. If Hector could rename his right hand man, he would personally bestow the name 'Oswange of Ostiakist'

As he threw aside another thick compilation (oh, how much parchment did these spies have to waste before they were satisfied? Oh right, as much parchment as Zephiel's toilet paper, haha), he spotted two brown envelopes sitting neatly in the mess on his table. One of them carried a curious curly script which he had never seen before. Hurriedly he tore it open, praying that it was a letter from Womb, no Tomb, no Comb (Ah ha!) that stated that he was willing to return to Ostia as spymaster. Out fell a short letter.

To the most esteemed Lord Hector, distinguished Marquess of Ostia:

I am Astol, the spymaster who had sought you some time ago regarding the position of Ostian Espionage Head. I remember telling you that I would find you after two months to ask again if you wish for me to take that position. However, I certainly doubt that you would keep track of the time given the events that are taking place at Castle Ostia now—or at least are rumoured to be taking place there due to the trials.

Hence, I would like to offer you another method of communication: if you ever wish to recruit me, just drop a letter to your ex-spymaster, Matthew. He will find me.

Yours sincerely,

Astol

Hector rolled his eyes. This Astol was really persistent, wasn't he? He turned his attention to the other envelope, and recognized the slanted scribble straightaway as Matthew's handwriting. He opened it, and a note written on crumpled parchment, together with dubious pieces of brown smelly goo and wet sticky watery puddles fell out.

Lord Hector,

Was that Astol guy really that shameless? Did he really send you a letter? Well, if he did, I applaud him.

But I'm sure you can surely find someone better than him. For god's sake, there are so many people out there! Meaning no offence, milord, but surely thou art a little more resourceful than that?

Well then, good luck on your spymaster-hunting. A word of advice though: never hire a Sacaen. They never lie. So if you ever do hire one, it's going to cause a lot of trouble to both of you.

Have fun! I'm sure you can find someone better than me…someday.

Your ex-henchman Matthew

P.S. forgive me for the parchment; there are four infants clinging on to me all day and they crumpled it up. Lucius has gone on an errand or something, and there's only me left to take care of the orphanage.

Hector swore that Matthew's words were dripping with sarcasm, but unfortunately (or fortunately) the ex-spymaster was now out of reach of Hector's Wolf Beil and Armads. But that note made him more determined than ever to find someone who would be better than Matthew. He would! He would! Whine!

"Milord?" Oswin's voice came from the doorway. "Are you quite alright?" See, he knew they should have renamed him Oswange, first pedigree cousin of the royal orange fruit, bursting in goodness and juicy sweetness. As for Oswin, well, since he was only the cousin, he was bursting in not goodness but fatness and full of round juicy sourness and fat rolls.

Oops. Had he said his thoughts out loud? Sitting up straight in his vast chair and putting on the best I-am-not-to-be-messed-with look, Hector cleared his throat and said as majestically as he could, "I am quite well. Is there anything you need to ask of me?"

"There is someone vying for the position of the Ostian Spymaster at the castle gates."

"Very well. Call him in!"

Just after he had said his command, there was a whiz and a green-and-blue-and-beige blur sped into the room. A young man with a green braid and eager green eyes appeared in front of him, seemingly out of thin air, killing edge poised in a very contorted Wushu pose. Slowly, he shifted his stance so that his killing edge was now pointed right at Hector's crotch and he looked ready to joust forth and destroy Hector the Man and create Hector the Newly-Made Eunuch.

"Uh, I recognize you! Now what's the name of this guy again…..Umm…something to do with gender…Straight? Bent? Gay?" Hector spoke to himself rather than to his newly-arrived guest, eyes screwed in thought. He slowly backed away from the killing edge pointing at his lower body.

"It's Guy," the newcomer said eagerly. "You just said it yourself! 'This Guy', that's what you said! As clear as Canas' monocle!" He stabbed his killing edge into one stack of the spies' reports and carved a huge 'G' on top, sending shreds of paper fibre into Hector's hair. "I. Am. THE. Guy."

Hector squinted at the 'G'. "You know, if you don't have a trademark for this yet, and people don't know you well enough. One look at the braid and they'll think that 'G' stands for gay."

"Hey!" Guy leapt onto the couch and started poking holes in the couch seats. "You insult me! I shall insult your couch!" He sliced off the cover of the couch.

One spring sprang up.

Two springs sprang up.

All the springs sprang up.

Jumping on the springs so that his head nearly hit the ceiling everytime he leapt, Guy screamed at the top of his lungs. "WATASHIWA GUY-SAN!" He jumped too high, cracked his head against the ceiling and landed onto the floor with a sickening crunch. "Oooo…SHIT-AKE MUSHROOM!"

Pigeons roosting within six-miles radius of the castle took flight in shock at the sonorous screaming.

"Oh…right," Hector pretended to know whatever that guy was talking about. "So…you wish to apply for the position of Ostian Espionage Head?"

"Yup! Watch me! Whoa!" Guy clambered up from where he was sprawled on the groun, did a backflip, ending up in another impressive pose with his killing edge dangerously close to Oswin's neck. "WATASHIWA AMAZING GUY-KUN! Oooooooo…Oswin-san nearly dead!"

Hector clapped.

Oswin promptly fainted.

Etruria's court druids reported of a magnitude 7.9 devastating earthquake that had ravaged half of Elibe, with the epicenter apparently right at Castle Ostia.

"Oops…I didn't mean to do that…Now Oswin-san really dead." Guy stared at the dead orange block lying on the floor. He slapped his cheeks till they were red like a Japanese macaque's backside. "NOOOOO! WATASHIWA MURDERER-SAN! NUUUUUUUUU…"

"Never mind that," Hector waved that aside with an impatient hand. This guy…Guy seems to have some skill with a blade! And he's speedy, too! He's comparable to Matthew! Maybe even better than Matthew. Ha! Serves that peanut-butter head right for taunting me! He thought happily. Clearing his throat again, he asked in a somewhat pompous voice, "So, why do you want to apply for the job?"

Guy did another somersault, landing with his killing edge thrust forward, missing Hector's face by a millimetre. (But of course Hector was too impressed to faint from this.) "Because…because I want to prove to that idiot Matthew that I can do what he does just as well as he can!" He drew an equation in the air that looked something like GuyMatthew. "This is very simple. Like how to cook miso soup. Boil water, throw miso in and drink!"

Good motivation, thought Hector. Oh, has Saint Elimine finally answered my prayers? (wait, since when did Hector even pray?) Has she finally sent me someone competent? Someone good with a sword and speedy and…he stopped abruptly through his Guy-worshipping. Wait, what if this person was Sacaen? After all, Sacaens were known for their swordplay, were they not? "Eh, Guy. Forgive me for my forthrightness, but where are you from?"

Guy twirled like a spinning top, finally stopping himself with no sign of dizziness at all. "I'm from Kutolah. But why do you ask? You are very suspicious. Like guard dogs. Arf arf!"

If Hector had paid more attention during his Cultural Studies classes, or even if he had had more common sense, then he would have realized that the Kutolah tribe is a very prominent tribe on the plains of Sacae. But since he hadn't, his insides did a triple-somersault in joy. "Uh…nothing. But yes! Ah…okay! So, Guy, I want you to go to Bern and find out what Zephiel has in mind. Eh, to make your mission even easier, I'll send a senior spy with you."

Guy was in the midst of twirling around the room so fast that he seemed to have split into three guys, ahem, sorry, Guys when Hector announced his task. He stopped abruptly, a frown on his face. "Wait, did you just say you're going to make my mission easier? That's not what I want! I need to show that I'm as good as Matthew! Or better! Matthew is peanut butter. Pffttt. Everyone knows peanut butter sticky and no good. I need to be premium peanut butter, non-sticky and very good. Everyone will buy Guy peanut butter."

Hector sweatdropped.

"Ah…no no no….did I say easier? I meant harder, yes, harder. You see, those senior spies can be very, very irritating and if you're able to complete this task without being distracted by them, uh, it'd be an accomplishment indeed!" Heck, to hell with him not being able to accomplish this. I'd hire him anyway. I SO need to spite that Matthew.

Guy shrugged. "Well, if you say so…" and without another word, he whizzed out of the room, leaving a Guy-shaped poof of dust in his wake. "WATASHIWA SPY-SAN!"

The senior spy who had been sent along with Guy studied his partner dubiously. Was Lord Hector crazy? Even if they weren't all that professional, this guy here looked like he was clueless about the requirements of a spy. He was speedy and skilled with a blade, sure, but he was too energetic (he couldn't stay still for a minute; does this guy have ADHD?), too conspicuous (swinging your sword around and spinning is impressive if you're a swordmaster, but it's a huge taboo for spies) and too naïve.

In short, he looked like a total N00B. With capital N. And B.

"Uh….hi," he said tentatively to his now happily bouncing colleague-to-be, if Hector was serious about recruiting him.

"Hello!" Guy replied brightly, swinging his sword in a wide arc. "Nice day, isn't it? Oh look! There's a pigeon! Fat! Cute! Fat! Fat! It's walking! Oooo…red lily pad shaped feet…colour like Raven's hair! Fat! Cute! Cute! OOOOOOOOO…it has wings! Like fairy godmamas!" He looked as though he had just had an epic epiphany.

"Uh…I guess so…" The senior spy was sweatdropping profusely now. "Umm…you're new to being a spy, aren't you?"

"Yep." Guy threw his blade up in a very good imitation of a mercenary's critical attack, making it land perfectly in a random stack of hay. "But I guess it shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, if Matthew can do it…I so am going to do a better job than him!" He punctuated each emphasis with a stab in the haystack. "Haiyah! Thou art a fool to mess with thy holy Guy. Foolish like a toad who wants to eat barbecued swan neck!"

The senior spy backed off. "Whoa…okay…take it easy, dude…"

"My name is Guy, not DUDE!" He took a deep breath. "WATASHIWA GUY-SAN!"

"O-okay, Guy. Um. So, we're going to get our disguises right first. If the Bernese border guards ask us for our name and what we are there for, what would you say?"

"Watashiwa Guy, and Watashiwa spy of Ostia who's going to infiltrate the Bernese Castle for fun!"

The senior spy rammed his head against the pile of bricks which had just mysteriously appeared out of thin air. This guy…Guy really didn't have any sense in him, did he? "No…Guy. Uh, if you put it that way, the guards are never going to let you pass."

"Well, then I'll just finish them off!" He moved into prepare-for-battle posture. "Like how we finish off roasted chicken feet! Bones, skin, meat, muscle, toes and all!"

The senior spy smashed his head against the bricks a second time. But due to the astounding hardness of his skull (which is a necessary prerequisite for all aspiring to be Ostian spies, because one never knows when an errant Hand Axe or Wolf Beil may fly your way), he was still perfectly sane, unlike a certain guy—Guy next to him. "No, we can't do that. Spies are meant to be inconspicuous and we have to slip around unnoticed. We do not kill someone unless it is absolutely necessary, usually to silence someone who has discovered us. But this does not qualify as being 'absolutely necessary' yet. Those border guards are idiots. Guy, to get past the border guards, you simply have to lie."

Guy stopped his massive displays of epic-swordmaster-critical-attacks abruptly, a look of horror on his face, as though the senior spy had just pronounced his death statement. "W-what? N-no way! I can't do that! Sacaens never lie! Father Sky and Mother Earth are watching me! They'll punish me if I do! NUUUUUUUU…" he proceeded to grab his head and shake it vehemently. "I have a headache, like someone is bashing my head against a tofu! OWWWWWW…tofus are painful…"

The senior spy slammed his head against the bricks a third time. Why, oh why in St. Elimine's name has Lord Hector chosen a Sacaen? Doesn't he know that Sacaens don't, and can't lie? "Oh, Elimine…didn't Lord Hector ask you where you were from when he recruited you?"

"Well, he did. I told him I'm from the Kutolah Tribe. Isn't that synonymous with being Sacaen? Synonymous like Guy equal awesome, Matthew equal awful, Master Karel equal…" he fell onto both knees and kissed the ground. "…sensei…"

Evidently, Lord Hector has even less brain capacity than I expected him to have. Of course, the senior spy did not voice his opinion out. "Hm. Well. Okay, I'll see what I can do about this. You just keep silent when others question us. Don't answer unless it's absolutely necessary. And if you do, please, lie, just this once!"

Guy looked at him dubiously.

"Stop!"

Two Bernese soldiers came over, leering at the pair of travelers. "Who are you, and what are you here for?"

"Ah, I am a travelling merchant who wishes to sell my wares. Do you wish to see some of my goods?" The senior spy pointed to the wagon behind him.

The Bernese border guards nodded and turned their attention to Guy. "So, who are you?" one of them snapped.

Before Guy could answer, the senior spy answered for him. "Ah, this is my servant. He's mute, so don't bother to ask him anything."

If there was one thing that the senior spy had yet to learn about Sacaens, it was that they had a very, very strong sense of pride. Guy was so wounded by his previous sentence that he involuntarily burst out in indignation, "No! I'm not! I am not servant! Servants are like people with dirty blond hair who live in mudholes because they cannot carry swords!

The senior spy promptly bashed his head against that pile of bricks which had mysteriously materialized again.

The border guards had dirty blond hair and carried lances.

More head-bashing ensued.

The border guards paid no attention to his head-bashing, but instead turned their attention to Guy. "So, who are you?"

Guy blanched. "Watashiwa Guy-san. Ohaiyo soldiers-san." He bowed deeply with his hands clasped before him.

This was accompanied by another crashing sound of skull against stone.

"What are you here for?"

Guy caught the glare from the senior spy. Okay, so I have to lie…come on, Matthew does it all the time…if you want to be better than him, Guy, you'll have to lie! Just this once! Guy took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Um…I'm here as a…companion of this merchant here. Companion, like chickens and mushrooms. Companions, them. Taste good together when cooked. Braised chicken with steamed mushrooms and chopped carrots. Mmmhmmm…" Well, that technically isn't lying, is it? He's the one who lied about his identity, so I'm just following it. It's true, I'm his companion. And chickens and mushrooms DO taste good together…

The border guards scrutinized him closely for a moment or two, and then gave up. "Alright, alright, you can pass," one of them said, lifting up his spear. The other followed suit.

Elated, they passed through the gate into the territory of Bern.

"Whew, that was close," said Guy. "Close like how Marcus sticks next to Lord Eliwoodo's backside." The senior spy glared at him.

"Close indeed! Guy, you nearly ruined the whole mission! Next time, keep your mouth shut!"

The next few days passed rather uneventfully as they travelled towards the capital of Bern. Guy managed to avoid trouble by telling half truths or incomplete truths, and it seemed to work pretty well; he wasn't exactly lying, but he didn't exactly tell the truth either. As time went on, he got more used to constructing such sentences, and concealing part of the truth soon came rather naturally to him. And so, all was well.

All was well, that was, until he came across a very troubling question near the castle gates.

"What are you here for?" The guard asked the two of them. As usual, the senior spy came up with some tale of visiting a relative who worked in the castle. Nodding, the guard raised his lance and let him pass. But as Guy tried to follow him, the lance came down on him again.

"What are you here for?" The guard repeated.

"I'm that person's companion," Guy replied, as usual. He walked forward, expecting to be allowed entry, but the lance didn't budge. "Companion like chicken and mushroom."

"I'm sorry, but we only allow visiting relatives into the castle. Are you a relative of the person he is visiting as well?"

Guy felt a dead weight drop into his stomach. Oh shit-ake mushrooms.. "I'm his companion," he repeated hopefully. "Companion like chicken and mushroom."

"Yes, I know you're his companion, and I know what are chickens and mushrooms, but are you a relative of the person he is visiting as well? Because you certainly do not look like him."

Oh it's raining shit-ake mushrooms, Guy swore silently. That is a yes-no question! "Uh…maybe?" he tried, a tentative smile on his face. "Maybe like enoki mushroom and shitake mushroom, distant relatives but not so close…"

The guard was losing his patience. "WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS 'MAYBE'? I JUST NEED YOU TO TELL ME, ARE YOU A RELATIVE OF THE PERSON HE IS VISITING? YES OR NO?"

Guy swallowed. The senior spy was nodding furiously behind the guard's back, an anxious expression that clearly spoke that he was going to strangle Guy if he answered wrongly. Okay, I'm going to lie just this once…Father Sky and Mother Earth, please do not kill me… "Ai."

No sooner had Guy uttered those words when a dazzling, slightly pink-tinged bolt of lightning split through the sky followed by a strangely shrill clap of thunder. A high-pitched voice echoed through the air, a voice not unlike a certain pink-haired demon's.

"GUY OF THE KUTOLAH! THOU HAST DEFIED THE CODE OF THE SACAENS! THOU HAST TOLD A LIE! THEREFORE I, THE SUPREME, GORGEOUS, DAZZLING, MAJESTIC AND HOLY ST. ELIMINE—"

"WAIT!" screamed Guy. "Uh, you're Saint Elimine? Saint Elimine like divine fluttering human-like thing with pigeonish wings and chicken feet?"

"YES, OF COURSE, MORTAL. YOU DARE QUESTION MY DIVINITY?"

"O-of course not! It's just that…I thought that since I'm Sacaen, it should be Father Sky and Mother Earth who should be here…like here here?"

"…NEVER MIND THAT. LET'S JUST SAY THAT FATHER SKY AND MOTHER EARTH HAVE BEGGED ME TO DEAL OUT THE PUNISHMENT TO YOU, SINCE YOU HAVE PRAYED THAT THEY DO NOT DEAL THE PUNISHMENT DIRECTLY. ANYWAY, MORTAL, DO NOT CHANGE THE SUBJECT. THOU HAS DEFIED THE CODE OF HONESTY OF THE SACAENS, AND THEREFORE, THOU SHALT RECEIVE THE DIVINE PUNISHMENT AS THOU DESERVES!" with that came another dramatic bolt of lightning, causing Guy to vaporize on the spot, leaving two very confused and scared people, namely the guard and the senior spy, shivering on the spot.

A very pregnant pause ensued.

"Uh…what in hell was that all about?"

Karel was feeling rather irritated. Sure, he had his trusty (and rusty, from all the bloodstains) Wo Dao with him, he had just ripped the throat of another of those foolish, presumptuous challengers, but he was feeling no satisfaction from it at all. No satisfaction.

Perhaps it's because of the look of terror on his ex-challenger's face before he died. Seriously, did he look that intimidating? Or was it just because of his title, the Sword Demon?

Come to think of it, he was starting to get bored of the title. The Sword Demon. Seriously. That made him fall on the same level as that pink-haired cleric, whom some people named the "pink-haired demon". Not a pleasant thought. Who would want to be associated with a shrill, annoying, glittery girl who waves her staff around as though it's some sort of weapon?

Oh please, he had good taste. He had nice shiny jet –black pristine ( you pronounce pristine with a tongue roll and a purr) hair that any man would like to have.

As if to answer his thoughts, there came a sudden bolt of shimmering pink lightning and a melodramatically loud clap of thunder. That exact irritating shrill voice echoed through the air, although it sounded somewhat different. Perhaps it wasn't her voice, after all.

"MORTAL. I, SUPREME, GORGEOUS, DAZZLING, MAJESTIC AND HOLY GODDESS, ST. ELIMINE, AM HERE TO INFORM THEE THAT THE PREVIOUS SAINT OF SWORDS HAS BEEN BANISHED FROM EXISTENCE. THEREFORE, FROM NOW ON, THOU SHALT BE CONFERRED THE TITLE OF 'THE SAINT OF SWORDS', AND THOU SHALT BE KNOWN AS THE NEW SAINT OF SWORDS!"

Another sparkly jolt of lightning, and everything was back to normal.

Karel shrugged and licked his sword (how he could stand letting his tongue come into contact with a twenty-year build-up of dried blood and rust is beyond the author's comprehension). The Saint of Swords…now that was certainly an intriguing title. He played around with the thought for a while, then shoved it into a random corner of his mind. I need to kill something now. Maybe a rabbit.

He could never imagine then how drastically that harmless little thought that had just been planted—or rather, incepted—into his mind would change his way of living in years to come.

END

Author's Note

DarkBlaziken: Whew! Happy New Year everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay, it's all because of me; but I hope that this gave you a laugh or two!

snowylavendermist: Yeah right. You watched too much Inception on the way back. Too much for your own good. Look what you just did to Karel.

Matthew: *ignores the two* Anyway, that Guy, seriously. He thinks that being a spy is so easy. Ha. Serves him right.

snowylavendermist: Soooooo mean, Matthew! Anyway, for concerned fangirls of that green-haired myrmidon out there, No guys...I mean, Guys, were harmed in the making of this chapter.

DarkBlaziken: You know, I really don't get that Hector. Why doesn't he just promote one of his current spies to Head of the Ostian Spy Network? Like the senior spy, he seemed pretty logical.

The senior spy promptly leaps out and declares that he has had enough of being called "the senior spy" and proclaims that he has a name, which is 'Thomas Eliasis Mimsley Mimosa Sanakisanakuni Imperial Custard Bun of the Wobbling Pigeons Empire'.

Everyone promptly ignores him.

Matthew: Well, if you think he seemed pretty logical…what of the head-bashing? And I'll have you know that he's one of the key conspirators in the Zephiel's-bowel-activity-reports. He seems to think them important. *tuts* Hector just has to admit it, he'll never find a spy as good as me.

snowylavendermist: tsk, Matt, so ego! What of Colm?

Matthew:…well, he refused the job, didn't he? Clever of him.

DarkBlaziken: unlike you, who willingly endured the torture of staying in Castle Ostia for almost ten years. A good waste of ten years, Matt! *claps him on the back*

Matthew: I only stayed there because Leila was there, okay? Why else would I want to be there?

snowylavendermist: oh…we never know…maybe you secretly harboured feelings for a certain pink-haired cleric? Aww…so sweet…

Matthew:…shut up before I set Chad, Cath, Lugh and Ray on you.