The two swords slammed against each other with such force that it caused the hilts to recoil against the hand of their respective owner.  A younger Steve Rogers gritted his teeth together and tightened the grip of his right hand around the worn down handle.  He drew his blade away from the embrace of its opponent, hoping to catch a moment of opportunity with his speed.  The sword retreated for only a second before he flicked his wrist forward, slashing the bloodstained blade across his body.

Bennet du Paris was King Magnus’s trusted advisor and top military official, and was proving why he was awarded such power.  His sword, larger in size than Captain Rogers’, was in movement the moment Steve drew his blade away.  The slash meant to cut across his chest plate was met with a firm parry, causing sparks to jump between the two men.  The speed with which he was able to maneuver the broad sword was simply astounding, and his brown eyes could make out the surprise on the Captain’s face, beneath the red, white, and blue helmet.

Chocobo mounted warriors flew past the two combatants as magically fueled fires burned across the battlefield.  The sound of clashing swords and cries of pain littered the air even as the heavy stench of blood assaulted the nostrils.  Battle raged all around the two men, but troops of both sides knew to leave Steven Rogers and Paris alone, allowing the men to battle on behalf of their kingdoms, without interruption.  Rogers was legend throughout the land; Paris was feared, said to be just as ruthless as the man he served.  Both of them wore magnificent sets of armor and wielded grandiose weapons that identified them as prominent warriors on the battlefield.  Paris’s armor appeared to be constructed entirely of a bloodstained gold, while Rogers was protected by a blue and white chest plate with red gauntlets and boots.

Paris leapt back only to charge forward as soon as his back foot hit the ground, sword raised high over his head.  The air beneath the blade fled as it swung down towards the stationary Captain.  Rogers knew his own blade wouldn’t be able to stop the attack, and raised his legendary shield to block the blow.  The strike bounced harmlessly off of the shield, but drove Rogers several centimeters into the ground.  The entrenchment failed to slow the man down as he swung his shield forward, catching Paris in the stomach and forcing him backwards.  The two combatants quickly reset themselves and were charging at each other once more without a moment’s hesitation.

Steve stabbed forward quickly in a flourish of bee-sting motions, hoping to expose Bennet’s lack of a shield; his heavy sword required the use of both his hands.  Paris reacted just in time, moving both hands in front of his face and turning his blade upside down.  He flicked his wrists back and forth, driving the incoming attacks to the empty space on either side of his body.  Rogers continued to strike, forcing Bennet backwards as the assault became more aggressive in nature.  Beadlets of sweat poured down Paris’s face as he attempted to slow his retreat, aware that he was losing too much ground.  After two more steps backward he allowed the Captain’s sword to graze his armor.  He felt the burn of steel piercing flesh as the sword found a hole in his protection just above the waist.  Ignoring the pain to the fullest extent possible, he swung the two handed broadsword at his opponent’s outstretched arms.  Steve easily pulled away from the heavy blade, but was forced to sacrifice his own weapon, having it knocked from his hands.  The momentum of the battle swung like a vicious pendulum as Paris began to rip his five-foot long sword up and down through the air.  Magnus’s general was wise enough to keep his distance from Rogers, attempting to cut the warrior of Wundagore with the tip of his blade, as opposed to the body.  This kept Rogers from moving in for a counter strike, as he was forced to constantly leap back from the bloodthirsty Paris.

Much as Paris had, Steven was quick to notice that he was back stepping at too great a pace.  So he did the last thing his opponent expected, and stepped forward into a vicious upswing.  The round shield was thrust downwards, meeting the body of the blade head on.  Most barriers would have broken under so strong a blow; the shield Steven Rogers wielded did not yield, although it did slam back a bit in protest, pushing its owner off the ground for a moment.  But his opponent was now defenseless; Rogers landed a firm punch on the side of Paris’s face with his free hand.  The man stumbled backward but refused to drop his sword, preparing to swing again.  But the Captain had the upper hand now, and Rogers was the last man you wanted to give a competitive advantage to.  He drove forward shield first, slamming the front of the guard into Bennet’s stomach.  The two men tumbled to the ground, with Rogers in total control as he pinned Bennet beneath his shield.  He was preparing to strike once more with his fist when he noticed a large sphere of light move just into the perimeter of his vision.  Another bubble swung forward from the opposite side.  Before anyone could react, the globes collided and a blinding light covered the battlefield.  And that was when everything changed.

“An honor to meet you King Steven,” Hank said graciously, dropping to one knee before Scott could even pick his jaw up off the floor.  He was standing in front of the ruler of the largest kingdom in the world.  The drop to his knee was automatic; it simply felt like the right thing to do.  He dipped his head and mumbled something that he thought resembled Hank’s statement.

“The honor is mine.  Please, stand,” Steven insisted in a regal tone that had developed over years of practice, but still sounded unnatural.  Clint gave Scott a nudge with his foot when the bewildered youth failed to rise.  The boy stood, rubbing at his bandana-covered eye absent-mindedly.  Steven chuckled and let his eyes size Scott up before moving to Dr. Strange.

“Dr. Strange, if I might have a word with you privately?” the king asked, a request that surprised Scott.  He had heard of Strange’s reputation, but was unaware the man was of such stature that even the king of Wundagore addressed him formally.  Stephen complied and walked several paces alongside the king, so that they were out of earshot.  Scott was still staring at their whispered discussion when Hank turned to Clint.

“I must admit, I am a bit under whelmed,” McCoy revealed.

“Watch your mouth there big boy,” Clint said with a bit of a sneer, crossing his arms over his chest in a dominant fashion.  The tone of King Steven’s most trusted guardsman caught Scott’s attention.

“My apologies, my intent was not to affront.  It is simply that my understanding of King Steven’s reputation painted him in a slightly more…grandiose light.  A king on par with the most courageous rulers this land has ever witnessed,” Hank was quick to correct Barton, going from misinterpreted criticism to gushing about the king in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah, well, things are different now,” Barton snapped, looking past Hank to the trophy case where the famous shield stood proudly on display.

“The war is coming to an end,” a young man in a long red robe said with a tone of finality, staring peacefully out the tall glass window.  The night sky outside was tranquil, with an occasional gray cloud puttering along against the deep blue background.  There was a certain stillness about the expansive bedroom, with its lavish oak desk and four post, canopy covered king size bed.  The fire in the stone fireplace sparked and cracked happily across the room, bathing the air with a quality of warmth.

“How can you be certain?  Surely we have been able to push back the forces of Avalon, but their numbers are still many, and their will is resolute.  I used to think they simply fought out of fear of Magnus’s wrath.  This war has taught me otherwise,” a younger Steve Rogers said thoughtfully.  He stood just inside the entrance to the bedchamber, clad in that magnificent set of armor, minus the helmet.  His eyes remained trained on the back of his king.

“Magnus has always been able to inspire a resilience in his people; even those who may not be seen in a favorable light by his ideology.  It is a trait I have always admired,” the young man mused, bringing his hand to scratch at his chin in thought.

“Sir, why are we fighting this war?” the line of questions changed abruptly.  This caused Rick Jones to turn and face the captain of his guard.  Steve swore he saw a smile on Jones’s face as he turned, but a second later the young king’s face seemed to be as stern as ever.

“We were attacked Steve.  Avalon struck first; we’ve been on the defensive this entire time,” Rick replied, taking several steps towards his desk.  He stopped along the way to retrieve a glass of water.  Rogers admired the way his king did everything.  Every task seemed equally relaxed; as if the stress of ruling the largest kingdom in the world bore no cost at all on the man’s psyche.

“That’s not what I was asking, and you know it,” Steve risked to say.  In most kingdoms, this sort of accusation would be considered to be insubordination.  But Rick simply chuckled, placing down his glass and appraising the man he himself had appointed as the leader of Wundagore’s armed forces.

“Never one to blindly follow, eh Steve?  Many seem to confuse your loyalty with a blind faith.  But I know you better than that.  You’re heart lies with this kingdom, and the freedom associated with it.  That’s why you’re the captain of my guards…and that’s why I want you to be the king of this land, should something happen to me,” Rick confided.

“What?” Steve made no attempt to hide his surprise.  He failed to notice that the topic of the conversation had been changed.

“This conflict has dragged on too long already.  I can no longer sit idly by and watch innocent people don the garb of war.  I can use my sway over the Destiny Force to bring this conflict to an end.”

“Ignoring the obvious qualms about even having you enter this battle, let alone entertain the thought that you not return, why have me replace you?  Tony is far better with the administrative responsibilities of a king.  I am simply a warrior,” Steven professed freely.

“So right and yet so wrong Steve.  I second your opinion that Tony was born into a ruling class, but that doesn’t necessarily qualify him as a leader.  His penchant for ladies of the court and wine is far too much of a liability.  A king must have a steady hand at all times, even if that hand is less deft than those of others.  Trust my judgment Steve.  I was smart enough to make you captain of the guard, right?” Rick said with a smirk.

“Is something amiss Stephen?” Hank asked as Dr. Strange returned from his discussion with the king.  Clint left the party and followed Rogers to another chamber, leaving Scott, Hank, and Stephen alone in the throne room.

“Thankfully not my friend.  King Steven simply asked a favor of me, a favor I must ask of you and our young friend as well,” Stephen gestured to Scott with a warm smile.  Scott snapped to attention, yanking his right hand away from rubbing his concealed eye.

“A favor?” the young boy asked with innocent curiosity.  His eyes flew to the encased shield.  What sort of favor could the greatest king in the land ask of the greatest sorcerer, a super strong professor, and a one-eyed boy?

“Yes.  There is an urgent message he wants delivered to the Iron City, and he does not trust conventional methods.  He has asked that I accompany his airship.  I could only insist that the two of you travel with me after coming all of this way,” the smile was gone from Stephen’s face as he returned to his no nonsense demeanor.

“An airship!?” Scott’s enthusiasm and sheltered upbringing got the better of him.  Like many things he had experienced during the last two days, an airship was something he had only heard about.  Once or twice he had been fortunate enough to spot one of the vessels soaring overhead, but from the ground it was much less magnificent than he imagined.  Flying in an airship, the vessel meant for kings and great dignitaries, would be a far greater experience.

“Yes.  This is a message that the king wants to reach its destination sooner than later, but of such importance that he does not trust magical transmission.  Now, I realize your grandparent’s are expecting your return, and I can understand if would choose not to accompany us,” Stephen let the idea linger the air for Scott to finish.  It didn’t take long.

“No, I’m in!” Scott exclaimed almost instantly.  What better way to end his adventure than to ride in an airship to the Iron City!

“Sounds like we’re ready to go,” Clint said as he returned to the group with a grin, enjoying Scott’s gusto.  “If you’ll follow me, we can head up to the dock.  It shouldn’t be a long flight, so no need to pack much.”

“Aaaahhhh!” Wrecker drove his fist through the wall of the abandoned flat he and the Wrecking Crew had fled to.  Half burnt candles lay scattered about the place, illuminating the remaining Crew members.  None of them appeared happy.  Bulldozer was gripping at his back.  Piledriver had his head in his hands.  And Thunderball was still staring aimlessly at the limp chain that he held in his hands.

“Chill out Dirk,” Piledriver muttered into his hands.  Several holes were littered along the wall beside the one Wrecker had just created.

“Chill out?  Chill out!!” Wrecker screamed, turning to examine Piledriver with delirious eyes.  He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as tightly as possible, fighting the urge to put the next hole through his teammate’s head.  “Are you kidding me Brian?  We got humiliated by an ape, a blind kid, some doofus in pajamas, and that…that asshole who bent my bar!  And you want me to chill out!  I oughta tear your balls all the way off!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen…if this is how the Wrecking Crew behaves itself, I must admit I was grossly misinformed,” a dark foreboding voice seemed to spill forth from every shadow in the flat.  Each member of the Wrecking Crew snapped to attention, rising to his feet.  Their display of machismo was cut short by the fact that they didn’t actually know who it was addressing them.  The four men looked about frantically until Wrecker broke the silence.

“Who are you?” he challenged the voice, shaking his fist at the air in a totally useless gesture.  The voice seemed to pause a few moments just to make the man with the purple mask on feel totally ridiculous, making it appear as if he were simply speaking to the voices in his own head.

“My name is of no consequence.  Now I suggest you lower your fist and listen to what I have to tell you.  I am about to offer you the chance to obtain power even greater than what you had before, and the opportunity to exact revenge on those who have shamed you…” the voice said before continuing with its offer.  The Wrecking Crew listened very closely.

Scott wasn’t listening at all.  Clint was explaining how the airship before them was relatively unimpressive; only meant for short distance traveling.  That the crew would be relatively small, and the trip quick.  That the plotted course, and the very reason for taking the airship as opposed to making the trip by chocobo, would take them over the Forest of Shadows.  Scott’s attention was drawn briefly by this ominous moniker before he drifted back to the actual airship.

The traveling party stood at the edge of a wooden dock built off of one of the castle’s highest towers, spanning a few hundred feet away from the actual building itself.  There was no protection from the wind out here, and the breeze whipped viciously around the crowd.  None of this bothered Scott, as he examined the docked airship as closely as possible.  It resembled the pictures Scott had seen of pirate ships.  The craft was constructed primarily of wood with metal rims and support beams, with magnificent sails bearing Wundagore’s crest flapping in the wind.  Mr. Barton had been right…it wasn’t a very large ship by any means, maybe seventy feet between bow and stern.  The loud noise of churning engines filled the air, and puffs of steam emerged from sides of the vessel.  Dual propellers began to spin at the stern, and the entire dock began to shake.  It was one of the most amazing things Scott had ever seen.

“Come on kid…you’re drooling” Clint clapped Scott on the back…hard.  Scott stumbled forward and grinned sheepishly before following all Dr. Strange and Hank up the ramp and onto the deck.  Crew hands rushed past in every direction, securing some ropes and loosening others.  Clint was the last to board, offering a nod to King Steven, who remained on the dock.  He looked as if he would have given anything to be on the airship with rest of them.  The look remained on his face until Scott could no longer distinguish such features.

Next up: A special interlude issue showing you some of the other on goings in the Marvel Fantasy universe before we hit out first real story!