Before we begin, I must thank Darth Azrael for all the help. I really appreciate it, and without you, this wouldn't have been possible.

Part 1: Garth Returns

Chapter 1

Reunions

"All stand to attention, for her majesty, the Queen of Albion and Aurora!" Hobson, the shortest, fattest, and most hated of the Queen's many allies cried out. The balding, white haired, fool of a man scoffed when anyone suggested that he slow down on deserts, or be more concise in his speeches. Hobson was sure, however, that he had every right and reason to speak as he did.

"Good morning, members of the court," The Queen said calmly, moving slowly through a thin walkway of her people. Albans and Aurorans had gathered in the viewing sections of the throne room as the Queen took her position in the elongated and sword shaped throne of Albion. She leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. Even now, having sat before her people, passing judgments week after week for the past two years, some days it felt like a dream. She'd defeated the Crawler, but lost her loyal knight and close friend Sir Walter in the process. She'd also rescued and married her childhood lover, now Prince Elliot. All of this occurred in the span of a single year. Her brother had never done anything like it in his fifteen. The Queen wondered for a moment where former King Logan was. After he'd resigned and left the throne to his sister, he'd supposedly left to go exploring. Ben Finn, another close ally of the Queen, had returned from his promise of adventuring after only a few weeks due to a run in with a gnome and an army of Half-Breeds, some other evil monsters. Finn was now a Major in charge of all the soldiers stationed in the heavily forested valleys of the Mountains of Mistpeak and the nearby village of Brightwall. She wanted to stop this court session, go to Brightwall herself and just talk to Ben. He had quite a story; she'd seen pages of his diary strewn across the lands of Albion, and she had plenty of questions she could ask him.

"Furthermore, I believe that investing more money in the Brightwall academy would be a waste of our resources, of which, we have a meager amount, but are in no position to give handouts," The Queen snapped back into focus, suddenly noticing Hobson and Samuel standing before her, presenting their cases. She allowed Hobson to continue ranting about the lack of monetary resources available.

"The crown is not made of money mister Samuel. We cannot simply give out the sums of gold because the academy is starting to become decrepit. We must be conservative with our spending for vastly more important matters, like the army upkeep, or the castle fountains." The Queen knew Hobson often would roll around in the treasury late at night, but at the court he claimed often that the excess amount was going toward maintaining the castle's décor.

"But…your majesty, we…we need the funds to keep the academy free. If you refuse us our annual allotment of money, we'll have to start charging students to keep the school open, and so many of our students come from the poorer parts of the kingdom!" Samuel was an old man, older than Hobson, but a great deal more contained. Despite the stress of running the academy since its reopening two years ago, Samuel had aged gracefully, and his grey hair and wrinkles gave him an appearance of wisdom, not the ugliness that age had afflicted on Hobson's features.

"Samuel, please relax. You'll have your funding. Knowledge is far more important than any private castle expenditures," The Queen said reassuringly turning her attention to her disgruntling servant.

"Make it happen."

"Yes your majesty." Hobson bowed and left, and the people cheered and started to exit in front of her, crowding the tiny doorway of the throne room. It was a well decorated and beautiful area, having been described as angelic, wondrous, even divine, but more often than not, it was simply described as good. It was costly, however, to maintain the beauty of the castle with her two children running loose. Increasing child benefits two years ago was a good idea. The Queen sighed and slumped a bit, her head in her hand as she felt the weight of the monarchy on her shoulders. Hobson exited the room, grumbling about never getting anything, but the Queen ignored him. Ever since her ally and former hero, Reaver, moved on to bigger and better things, the government projects which would save money, (usually at the expense of the poor or needy) had to be defended by Hobson, which made them most unpleasant to agree to, even if they were necessary. "Dammit Hobson!" the Queen thought, "It takes a special kind of annoyance to make someone miss Reaver's sly voice." Hobson returned at that moment, provoking the Queen to bark at her loyal subject.

"What?" She said was a hint of anger, prompting Hobson to stop mid-step.

"Uh…well…your majesty, I've allotted the funds as instructed, and the people of Brightwall have presented to you a small token of their appreciation. It is a first class invitation to the official "Academia Extravaganza," a two year anniversary for the reopening of the academy. It seems that all of Brightwall will be celebrating the event. However, based on your tone, I will throw the invitation into the trash and move on to the other days duties without delay," Hobson said with a knowing smile. The Queen sighed and waved him over, rubbing her temples. Hobson was not only egotistical, self-centered, and a coward, he could also read people easily, which made him even more frustrating to be around. Hobson bowed before his ruler and handed her the letter.

She started to read the long winded invitation when the main doors to the throne room burst open again, this time, two guards, both with weapons drawn, and facing out of the room, backed slowly toward the Queen. Hobson, fearing the worst, ran behind the throne and hid, quivering. The Queen drew her pistol and started to summon a fireball in one hand, readying herself. She survived a few assassination attempts, and this would be no different. She prepared for a well-trained swordsman, or a large mercenary or even one of the speedy and sneaky Sand Furies of the south, but not what she saw.

"Elliot!" The Queen screamed. Her husband was in a head lock, held by a dark skinned white haired man of about sixty. Or so she assumed. The man was covered in glowing blue lines, similar to the ones her father had. He had told her that these markings were the mark of a natural master of Will, someone who would not need the magic gauntlets to cast spells. His white hair was in tight braids and tied back on his head, though the length of the braids forced them to be tied back with a strip of leather. He had a thin beard on his chin which was also braided. Prince Elliot, the spouse of the Queen of Albion, was wearing his tan waistcoat and navy blue breeches, along with a royal blue hip cape. He was sweating profusely, and his brown hair was wildly out of place.

"A Will-user…" the Queen whispered in amazement.

"Take me to Reaver…" The man said in a cold, almost unfeeling voice, his accent marking him as a Samarkander. The Queen noticed a monocle covering his left eye, which was a dim gray.

"Who are you? Why are you holding that man hostage?" the Queen challenged, feigning boldness.

"My love? How could you show so little care for one claim to love so?" Elliot asked, now more insulted by the Queen than afraid of the Will-user.

"Elliot, for goodness sake, I was trying to save you by acting like I didn't know you! Don't be such a fool to think I don't love you!" the Queen said, pinching her temples.

"Enough! I said take me to Reaver!" He glared at the Queen and a line of swords appeared in the air and flew past her, stabbing into the throne and sending Hobson screaming to the corner of the room. He glared at the guards and a shockwave of force sent them slamming against pillars, leaving the Queen standing alone. She started to stammer, struggling to comprehend that the man was a spell caster like herself, but vastly more powerful.

"I can't! I…I don't know where exactly Reaver is! I can show you where he used to live, and even where his factory is, but Reaver no longer comes to the castle… I'll help you, but please, for my sake…let go of my husband," the man hesitated then loosened his grip, allowing Elliot to running tearfully into the Queen's arms.

"You truly are Sparrow's daughter…"

"What?"

"Take me to his factory. Now!"

"Absolutely, sir. I must ask though…What is your name?"

"…" The man waited a moment, as if peering into the Queen's soul, seeing if she was truly worthy of his name. He sighed deeply, and folded his arms.

"Garth."

"Thank you, people of Bowerstone, for making this all possible. For you, the good men and women of Bowerstone, to have elected me mayor of this fine city, I am touched. But I am also proud. Proud to be part of such an upstanding and amazing metropolis! When I demanded child benefits were increased, the Queen listened and doubled them. When I demanded we refurbish the orphanage in Bowerstone, the Queen did it as well. I allied myself to the Queen because she promised to end the exploitation of the people of Bowerstone, and with your help, we have! I continue to serve all the people of Bowerstone, not just the rich. But I will not just serve the poor either. I will serve its entire people, now and forever!" The people standing in the crowd before Page applauded excitedly. Page herself could barely believe it as she waved to her supporters, "A street rat, like me, becoming the mayor of the biggest and richest city in Albion. How times have changed!" Page moved to leave the stage. Her long brown hair was in curls which rested on her shoulders, and she wore a long purple dress which was the closest thing she had to formal wear. She was almost off the stage when a familiar figure in a white coat and black hat found his way onto the platform behind her.

"Page, Page, Page! How dare you host such a fantastic event for this historic occasion and not invite me! I am offended, I may even shed a tear," the man said.

"I don't care…Reaver!" Page said, stomping her foot at him like a pouting child. She turned around to find the man, with sly expression on his face. He wore a brown waistcoat and a white tail coat with its lapels back, revealing its black fur lining. He also wore a top hat with a pair of goggles around it, and always carried his cane with him. He also had a belt around his waist with two pistols in it, giving him an air of deadliness wherever he went. Page hated getting angry…but she hated Reaver more.

"Go away Reaver. And for goodness sake, stop talking to me," Page said, marching back onto the stage and staring the man down. He stared back at her, the smile only widening on his face. His perfect features, black curled hair, and beauty mark made immensely good looking and irresistible. Page's hate, however, was so deep that she was almost immune to the effects of his handsome figure. Almost.

"Oh, Page, I'm hurt by your disinterest," he said, placing his hand on his heart and leaning forward. Page grew even more irritated at this.

"No, you're not hurt yet. But you certainly will be when I'm done."

"Now, now, no need to get testy. As the man responsible of Bowerstone's factory district, Bower Industrial and the employment of the vast majority of its people, I would like to congratulate our city's newest ruler. I have a present for you, to honor you on this occasion."

"What is it, the smog from your dirty air? Or how about the brown water of the sewers that you've dumped into the city of Mourningwood?"

"No, it is in fact, something I came across in your old hideout in those very sewers. Gentlemen Girod, bring forth the gift," A man, wearing a pink suit with gold outlines and with a mustache so wide it looked silly, stepped forward. He also had what appeared to be a pillar of hair on his head. He was holding a large, flat box, "Either he, or whoever dressed him is blind," Page thought.

"My lady, here it is. Avo's Lamentation!" The gentlemen opened the box to reveal the legendary sword. It had glowing lines of extreme good on it and a slightly curved handle. It also had the head of a balvarine carved into the crossguard; the weapon had no doubt slain one of the screaming monstrosities in the past.

"Reaver…how did you find this?" Page reached for the sword and picked it up slowly. She rubbed her hand on it, sliding a gloved finger on the sword's edge.

"When one goes poking around in other's chests, it becomes easy to find a slew of items. I hope you appreciate it. And remember that I am not all evil. I did turn all of my child labor factories into schools, if you recall."

"The Queen told you to," Page said, much more focused on her new weapon than the man she hated, felt a little drawn back by the move. Why would Reaver give her a brand new sword? Did he want to convince his ruler that he could cooperate with her closest allies? Page had fought with the Queen early in the revolution against Reaver. The evil businessmen had ultimately released a hoard of balvarines on her. What was he playing at?

"I do hope you appreciate your legendary weapon. I find mine is quite helpful," He said, twirling his trademark cane and ignoring her comment. He carried the thing everywhere, despite the fact that it was only for formalities.

"Now, as you know, my factory is technically a part of your city, more importantly, it falls under the same jurisdiction for corporate taxes."

"No Reaver, I'm not going to lower your taxes."

"I'm not asking for lower taxes! I only ask for a small break to help increase growth for…" Reaver was stopped from finishing his sentence by a blast of a fireball, which knocked him from the stage onto the ground behind it. Everyone in the audience and Page turned back to find a tall, dark skinned man with white hair and blue lines all across his body, magical swords twirling around his head like a halo.

"You…just…did you kill…Welcome to Bowerstone hero! You have just done us a great favor!" Page's comment was followed by cheering. The man received a few pats on the back before he called forth a force push spell and sent everyone flying in different directions.

"Silence. He's not dead. I will kill him, but not for an audience. Disperse. Now!" The man launched the swords into the crowd. The swords did not strike anyone, but the people of the crowd broke off and ran screaming nonetheless. Page, seemingly frozen by his violence, fell down onto her rump, and simply sat on the stage. The man walked up onto the stage and looked at the woman.

"You are a decedent of the first Samarkand settlers, aren't you?"

"…yes…why, hero of the southern lands, are you so violent? I thought the people of Samarkand were peaceful."

"We were. But this man has turned us cold and vengeful."

"Now, now, you've always been cold and vengeful. It didn't take me to do that!" Reaver said, lifting himself slowly from the ground. As he stood up he turned to the Samarkand and smiled brightly, "Garth! It's such a pleasure to see you! You look absolutely dreadful my dear fellow, though age has been kinder on you than most."

"Reaver…you brought death, destruction, and mass darkness to Samarkand. I don't know what you told the Shadow Court, but whatever it was, you turned the last ten years of my life into hell. And you are going to pay."

"Shadow court…you're not mad about the explosion…what? I didn't know about the Shadow Court attacking Samarkand." Reaver drew back from the flames that licked Garth's fingers as the Samarkander shoved his hand in the immortal's face.

"You're going to die Reaver. I hope you are ready."

"Garth, please, let's talk about this…I didn't tell the Shadow court to kill more than…how many was it again?…six people! That's it! I didn't tell them to invade. Give me a chance."

"Sparrow gave you a chance and you betrayed him. Twice! First by sending him to lose his youth to the Shadow Court and then turning him over to that monster hell bent of world domination, Lucien. I gave you a chance to live in Samarkand and you invited your evil court into my nation. I think we've given you too many chances." Garth charged up a fireball and was about to throw it at Reaver when the Queen intervened by grabbing the hero's hand. Page, shocked and enraged by the Queen taking Reaver's side jumped from the stage and tried to hold the Queen back.

"Your majesty, sometimes one has to pay for one's mistakes," Page said, struggling with the heroine. She knew she was no match for the Queen in a strength contest but tried anyway.

"But Page, the math doesn't add up," the Queen said, pushing her aside. She went to Reaver and stood next to him, leaving Page and Garth opposite of the man.

"If the last ten years of Samarkand history were hell, then those years couldn't have been caused by Reaver. Fairaday Industries was taken over by Reaver nine years ago, but before then, he served as a royal advisor of King Logan. Had he gone on a journey to Samarkand to sacrifice people to the Shadow Court in order to maintain his immorality, he would have been missed around the castle."

"Indeed. The Queen speaks the truth," Reaver said, standing tall again and smiling slyly at Garth. His face slipped into a frown and he looked back at the Queen, "How do you know about the Shadow Court?"

"Absolute good behind a facade of moral ambiguity. So much like your father." Garth said thoughtfully, folding his arms.

"That's it? A chance to finally kill Reaver, and the Queen stops it! With all due respect Majesty…"

"Page, that's enough!"

"But…"

"Enough!"

"Why, it seems we are all on edge here, and have had some of our more precious secrets revealed. I believe I know a way to blow off some steam, at least for my dear friend from Samarkand. Why don't you and I go to Brightwall, where you old tower is. I believe I can prove that I wasn't involved in the attack on you poor, pitiful nation."

"Why should I trust you?" Garth said coldly, turning to Reaver.

"Because you can still blow me to pieces anytime you wish. You've obviously gained quite a bit of power while I have been basking in the luxury of the talents graced to me from my birth. You could defeat me, if you wish." Reaver's eyes flashed yellow as he smiled and patted his pistols. "Not easily of course...but you could probably still win." Garth sighed deeply, than turned to Page and the Queen.

"It seems I'll be traveling with Reaver for some time. I'll return to properly meet the new queen of Albion once Reaver's finished proving himself. Or dead. I would like to get to know the dear daughter of Sparrow. And maybe his son…" Garth thought for a moment, then recalled the name, "Logan… I believe, could join us."

"I don't think Logan will be making it to our meeting, but I would be happy to get to know you, Garth, friend of my father. Welcome to Albion! And good luck with Reaver. You'll no doubt need it," The Queen said, leaving the two and dragging Page forcefully with her.

"Ah, the Queen. What a figure. So quaint, so loving, so cute, yet vicious and violent when she needs to be! Oh how I wish I could bed her," Reaver said longingly. Garth looked at him with the same cold stare he gave most things.

"Let's go."

"Ah, yes…I suppose I have quite a bit to explain…don't I?"

"Quite a bit."