The Descent
by Casenor
Notes:
This is a crossover between Shining Force 3 and the classic "The Godfather."
In this fic, Synbios is a GIRL. For Medion's sake, you understand :P
The relationship between characters may differ from the game.
The time is a bit more modern than ShF3 but far from 1945.
And of course, have no money, please don't sue.
Um...well, hope you enjoy the fic. Any feedback would be welcome!
It was a beautiful spring day in Destonia.
Not that it would have made any difference to the revelers. From the darkened chamber, Grantuck watched in mild amusement as they feasted and danced with absolute abandon all over the vast Domaric estate. It was the wedding of the Don's only daughter, Isabella, and nothing so trifling as the weather was ever going to affect the celebration.
He turned his eyes back to his master and the visitor, who were conversing in low tones. For them, the seasons meant nothing; even the wedding could not influence their business. Domaric loved his daughter, yet to him, business must be done everyday, regardless of the occasion. And in many ways, Grantuck reflected, the Don's business was more important than any celebration could ever be. It was, after all, the dealing out of mercy or death.
The visitor, a wood elf named Hans, had raised his voice, while Domaric sat unperturbed. The Don motioned for Grantuck to bring the elf a drink. Hans took the glass with trembling fingers, then managed to continue in a calmer, though still shaky, voice, "Don Domaric, you must help me."
"I don't see what I can do," replied Domaric. A bulldog of a man, the Don's aged but powerful frame was relaxed. His voice was quiet and gravelly, yet masterful beyond description. With a steady gaze he stared at his desperate petitioner. "In your own words, your daughter married this David willingly. Whether she regrets her choice now is not my, or even your, business. Granted," he continued, "that in our time the parents had greater influence in the marriage matters. But that's the past, my friend. My eldest, Arrawnt, married the woman of his choice. I allowed my daughter to choose her husband. Now, uh, how can I meddle with your Hedoba's marriage, when I don't decide my own children's spouses?"
"My daughter made a foolish choice," Hans whispered. He put the glass down, and without a word Grantuck removed it. "This David, he beats her. He abuses her. She wants out, but our customs won't allow it. There's only one way for her to escape this bondage—" He lowered his eyes.
Domaric spoke easily, "And that is?"
Hans looked nervously at Grantuck and the bodyguards by the door. With a dismissive wave Domaric urged him forward. Hans whispered quickly into the Don's ear, only to receive a low chuckle in reply.
"This, I cannot do, my friend," Domaric said. "Your daughter may be suffering, but she lives still. What you're asking of me, it's, uh, unfair to the groom."
"But you must help me!" Hans's voice became urgent again. He moved as if to grip the Don's hand, then thought better of it. "Hedoba is my only daughter—my only child, now, since her brother's death. How can a father stand by and watch one error in his child's life destroy her? You are different from most humans, Don Domaric. You understand how important children are. Please, please have pity on my plight and aid me!"
Domaric considered his visitor for a moment, then walked to his side. His voice carried mock sorrow overlaid with subtle menace as he said, "We've known each other for a long time, Hans. You know I would help any old friend of mine. But, uh, the truth is, you have not been a good friend. You hardly ever visit me. You didn't invite me to your daughter's wedding. The truth is, uh, you didn't want my friendship. You were afraid to be in my debt."
Hans trembled. "That...that was true once. I was content to live without quarrel, like any wood elf. But quarrel has sought me out, and I need your help now."
"None gains my help without first winning my friendship," replied Domaric sharply. "Had we been true friends, I would have helped you long before, without your begging me in person."
Hans had turned deathly pale, and his quivering words were spoken so quietly Grantuck could hardly hear him. "How might I win this friendship now, Don Domaric?"
Domaric watched him carefully. Grantuck looked uncertainly from the Don to the bodyguards, wondering how Domaric might receive this desperate plea. Then Domaric spoke, "One day, my friend, I may seek a favor of you. Grant it now, and I shall in turn help you."
The wood elf swallowed audibly, and for a moment looked as if he would ask what the favor might be. Then he stood quickly and, bowing low, answered, "I grant it now, Don Domaric. Please, be my friend."
Domaric gripped the elf's shoulders, as if claiming a new servant, or slave. "Do not worry any longer, Friend Hans. As a gift from my daughter, on her wedding day, to yours, you shall have your wish."
Hans whispered, "Thank you, Don Domaric." Then, with what sounded like a low sob, he excused himself and left.
Domaric sighed, looked at his waiting advisor. "Uh, Grantuck, send Campbell on this one. Tell him to be careful." He glanced out the window. "Why don't you boys go down there, enjoy yourselves? I will be down shortly myself."
Grantuck hissed in relief. "Thank you."
Synbios was surprised by the number and variety of the wedding guests, and she didn't try to hide it. From her seat opposite Medion, she gawked openly with her innocent green eyes at the revelers. Her actions made Medion embarrassed for her sake, but also more protective.
"My father has many...sorts of friends," he offered quietly when Synbios started and pointed at another odd visitor. He held up some food, hoping to distract her, but she wasn't even looking at him.
"Aren't you going to introduce them to me?" She asked. Medion shifted uncomfortably; the company his father kept was not the sort of people he wanted to introduce to his girlfriend. Nonetheless, he pointed: "That elf over there, his name is Bernard. He's a sharpshooter, quite famous among archers. Um, that centaur and the red-haired woman? That's Generals Franz and Spiriel. They've been working separately for my father for a while, and recently got engaged..."
"A hobbit!" Synbios exclaimed. She pointed in the direction of two child-like figures talking with a white centaur. "Are they friends? Or distant cousins?"
Medion glanced at the trio and experienced a faint pang. "No, they work for my father as well."
He felt her inquiring look, and his face reddened slightly. Very few of the guests at his father's party were simply friends; they were mostly relatives or henchmen. Of the latter he knew most by name, and had even played with them, in an innocent childhood long past.
Now that he was older, and has learned their business, he tried to avoid them whenever possible.
Fortunately Grantuck appeared beside them, ending the awkward moment. The advisor gave Medion a warm hug. "Where have you been, kid? Your father's been looking for you. He's hired an artist to do a family portrait, but they can't start without you."
"Oh...ah, I pretty much just arrived." Medion smiled at Synbios. "Synbios, this is my brother Grantuck. Grantuck, my academy friend, Synbios."
"Young daughter of Lord Conrad. It's a pleasure." Grantuck kissed Synbios's hand, nodded to Medion, and disappeared into the crowd.
Synbios watched Grantuck curiously, then asked, "Brother?"
Medion smiled with sincere affection. "My big brother Arrawnt met him in the streets, before I was born. Grantuck had no home, so my father took him in. He's not as old as he looks; their people all look like that." He pondered a bit before adding, "He's quite wise. I suppose he'll still be war counselor to Arrawnt, after my father retires."
Synbios frowned slightly. "War...?"
"It's a term my father uses in his business," replied Medion hurriedly. He was not comforted, however, by Synbios's understanding smile. There was, after all, so much she didn't know about his family. Medion looked miserably around, decided now was as good a time as ever. It wouldn't be fair to continue their relationship if Synbios didn't understand what sort of family she might someday be marrying into. He reached for her hand. "Synbios..."
She seemed distracted, however. Bending toward him, her brown bangs brushing his brow, she whispered, "Medion, the big man sitting behind me has been talking to himself for a while now. Do you know him? He's frightening."
Medion glanced over her shoulder and, to his dismay, recognized the man. "Yes. He's an old friend of my father's. More like, an old employee." He hesitated. "His name is James."
"But why is he talking to himself?"
Medion listened, then managed a wane smile. "James is frightening, but he's even more frightened of my father. It sounds like he is rehearsing a speech of some kind. Probably to greet my father with."
A loud cheer erupted suddenly from the center of the crowd. A singer had just climbed onto the stage. They both turned to watch. Synbios squinted, then said in surprise, "Medion—that's Mageron!"
"Yeah," grinned Medion.
She looked disbelievingly at him. "You mentioned your brother was a singer, but you never said..."
"We can go say hi to him later, if you like." Medion suggested.
She blinked, then smiled. "I'd love to!"
"Yeah, well..." Medion paused. "Seeing how he's come all the way from Saraband, I suppose he'll want to talk with my father first. Probably some trouble with competitors again."
"But how will talking with your father solve that?" Synbios wanted to know.
"My father...has a way of getting things done." Medion hedged. He looked away quickly., realizing all the sudden he wasn't ready to tell his girlfriend everything yet. Perhaps a week from now, at someplace private, he'll be able to manage it...
She, however, was too curious to let the subject slide. "I don't understand, Medion. How can your father defeat your brother's rivals for him?" She laughed, then joked, "Is he going to bribe them not to sing?"
"Look..." Medion took a deep breath, then confessed, "My father helped Mageron from the beginning. At first my brother wasn't famous, or even admired. There were other popular entertainers, and Mageron had trouble getting to perform at all. You probably know he became popular singing at a bar in Saraband, but I bet you have no idea how he got the permission to perform."
"Your father paid the owner...?" Synbios's voice faltered as Medion shook his head grimly.
"That's what he did at first. My father offered the guy 100,000 gold to give my brother a chance. The guy refused. Then my father went with James, and the owner paid 1,000 gold to have Mageron sing."
She stared. "How…?"
"My father...made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Medion answered quietly.
"And that is?"
"James held a knife to the guy's throat, and my father promised him either Mageron be allowed to sing or the guy bled. After that the business was concluded very easily." He saw Synbios's horrified look, took her hand. "Honey, that's my family. Not me." He held up the food again and offered belatedly, "Cookies?"