Note: This story is over a year in the making. I wrote it with Aella_Antiope who is an amazing writer and I am her number one fan. Someday, I'd love to be as good at weaving a tale as she is. And thanks so much to lunarsensitive for feedback/beta.
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The Blond Sage
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"Over there! Get 'em!" a castle guard shouted at the top of his lungs. Without hesitation, he began running with his sword at the ready. Five of the men with him swiftly followed in kind, booted feet stomping against the stone floor of Blood Pledge Castle.
A thick, black shadow seemingly made by one of the sconces against the far wall suddenly stretched away from them, leaving a blood trail.
"Lord Weller, look!" one of his men said. Conrad nodded grimly.
"This way!" Gwendal called, more men, dressed in green, following in his wake, including a blond haired, green eyed little brother carrying a fireball aloft in his right hand. It left a golden streak of light behind him as he ran.
"Don't take your eyes off! Don't even blink!"
"Yes, Lord von Voltaire!" his men answered practically in unison.
They turned a corner.
The black shadow on the floor lengthened into a snake-like shape and began slithering –twisting back and forth rapidly, desperately seeking a way out and testing doors by literally slamming into them. One nearly gave way, giving a few centimeter's gap, but Conrad ordered, "Bar your doors, everyone! And stay in your rooms!" and every single door along that corridor was quickly bolted by its prospective occupants—maids and castle servants mostly on this particular wing.
A dark shadow rose up. There was a distinctive, cobra-like hiss and a wide spray of something warm—droplets of some kind.
"Cover your faces!"
A few soldiers were slow to react. These men screamed, clawing at their eyes.
"Sleep snake?! I can't believe it." Gwendal turned to his brother and said brusquely, "Heal them." Then, he turned to the rest of the soldiers and ordered, "That way! Go!" And the men charged forth with their swords at the ready.
Conrad lagged behind a bit longer, quickly scanning their surroundings, while Gwendal and his men continued the pursuit.
"But, wait!" the blond demanded.
"We can't debate this. Sorry…" There were times for arguments and there were times for action. Brown eyes searched above the mass of soldiers rushing forward and found… "Yozak!"
The spy had just appeared at the opposite end of the hallway, sword drawn and ready.
"Yes, my captain!" he called. His voice echoed slightly.
"I'm sending the men this way. We need to follow."
A sincere nod. "Will do, sir!"
"Will do," the blond grumbled sarcastically. There was no point in arguing with Gwendal or Conrad, though, under these circumstances. Tracking and real life war strategies were their strengths, he had to admit begrudgingly. And it was impossible for him to ignore the panicked shrieks and groans of the men who were too blind with poison to see a foot in front of them. Worse yet, the venom of a sleep snake caused its victims to collapse and quickly fall into a stupor followed by uncontrollable salivating.
Dousing the fireball by squeezing his hand into a fist, he then pushed back his black cape so that he could kneel down and begin to heal the first victim. Once this one was healed well enough to find his way to Gisela, the man would be sent off to get more medical help.
A green glow continued to emit from his palm as it was hovered over tearful, bloodshot eyes. Minutes ticked by and he found that his healing was not skilled enough, not fast enough. The others were starting to fall into a strange, disturbing daze. "Damn," he said under his breath.
"Sir?" the soldier said, squinting up at him. "I think…I think I can join the rest now."
The blond shook his head "no." There was no way this man could fight. "Your new mission is to save your comrades. Go find Gisela as quickly as you can. We need help now! Here!"
"Save…" he rasped. With a serious expression on his face, the soldier straightened himself up and took off at a pathetic, jellied walk back the way he'd come not that long ago. Meanwhile, the others needed attention and the blond reached out for the next man…
Until someone stepped up to his side.
"Yozak, glad you're back. I could really use your help with this man. He's quite heavy and I need…" Still talking, he casually turned his head to look up at the castle spy.
"Die!"
A topaz encrusted dagger lashed out.
"Damn!" Instinct told him to move. "You're not Yozak!" he shouted, doing a shoulder roll to the right and conjuring another fireball. The man he was squaring off with was tall, had a large build, and red hair. But the face had a malicious grin that was wide—too wide. A slashed-mouth ghoul. And the teeth were tiny, rows upon rows of them.
Another slash.
"I'm not afraid of death! So, go to Hell…but you go first!" He conjured a fireball in each hand with a fire lion at his feet. The flaming creature roared and then leapt at the man, barely missing him. It rounded on him again and set one of the nearby tapestries on fire.
Both fireballs were launched.
Nothing.
"Please tell me they didn't send you to the academy in this world," the assassin said derisively. "I've seen twenty year olds with better aim. It's almost embarrassing. But," the man added conversationally, in a chillingly familiar accent "at least it makes my job easier."
Trying again, he conjured up an even brighter, hotter sphere in his hand. It revolved slowly on its axis while a trajectory was plotted in his mind.
"It won't work," the intruder laughed and there was a tinge of madness there, or so it seemed. And to think he should have known this man better than anyone. Then again, insanity made things, unpredictable.
This wasn't good.
Smoke began filling the hallway, stinging his eyes. But, he had to do his best. He could beat this bastard. There was no other option. He knew he could. And he could win—for the safety of all within the walls of the castle. For the safety of the person he loved best of all.
The distant sound of stomping feet. A lot of them. Gwendal, Conrad, and the others must have doubled back just as the assassin had. Someone probably noted the smoke and had gone back to report. But this gave no real advantage. Once again, time was the issue. For, should the smoke get thicker this person would, somehow, manage to get away. Instinct told him that.
The yellow eyes of an animal glowed through the smoke. Now where did he get that skill? What led him down this path? What brought him to this madness? Not that he'd ever know, the other-worldly assassin never seemed interested in conversation. There was only one way this could end.
"I guess, I can't wait for the others." The blond raised the embroidered hood of his black cape over his head. He put his hands together as in prayer, mumbling words in High Ancient Mazoku under his breath and the two rings he wore on his right and left thumbs began to glow. He projected his hands outward—sending a rod of purple-edged magic fire in the direction of the man. It passed him to the side and, then, twisted itself into a loop which hovered directly behind him. The membrane of the portal thinned in the middle and, then, opened-sucking in the grim figure, his body flying backwards with the rush of winds.
The assassin who laughed…with a few gold sparks in his hand…
The blond sighed, wiping his brow. It was amazing that he could do the job alone. Usually, he needed Gwendal's help, his rings and his power. Four rings were unstoppable! But, this time, he was able to handle an assassin all on his own.
All alone…
His mind flashed back. Gold sparks. Yellow stones in the dagger… He can warp fire magic, push it to one side! Oh, Hell! No wonder that bastard laughed at me!
Green eyes widened.
A mistake...a big one...
He's not going to The Void! He's trying to escape…!
The portal of magic fire began to collapse upon itself.
Now! It has to be now, he thought.
The figure dressed all in black made a charge at the gateway, arms pumping hard. Green eyes looked one final time to where the sounds came from. Of voices, of marching feet. And, for a moment, he caught a glimpse of his brothers—calling desperately to him, distraught—as he plunged into the darkness. Vision black.
I know. I'm sorry for hurting you this way. In time, maybe, you can even come to forgive me for this. And, should the gods choose to reincarnate me again, I pray…to be your brother once more. Yuuki's forgiveness, though, would be asking for the impossible.
Our bond is broken.
I just know it.
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"Only a little way to go," Yuuri said happily as they rode past one of the last markers on the side of the road.
Wolfram was riding a couple of lengths behind, trying his best to keep some distance from Conrad and Yuuri as he could. After the last few days of abject humiliation, he was grateful to return to the capital. Now, if only he could go hide under his bed for the next week.
"It would be great to have a long, hot bath after this, huh, Conrad?" Yuuri said quite clearly.
Wolfram cringed. He happened to be watching Sir Wagner as he rode alongside him, and Wagner frowned and gave Yuuri a death glare.
"Wagner," Wolfram said in a low voice, displeasure evident and his second in command gave him an apologetic look.
Looking around him, Wolfram noticed none of his men could meet his gaze. There were clinks of steel armaments as a dozen or so of his men shifted uneasily in their saddles.
It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for the support of his men, considering the general rumours that were spreading lately. But this was the Demon King and he expected utmost loyalty to the crown from the men under his command. His problems were trivial in comparison, of no consequence compared to the matters of loyalty to the king.
Wolfram pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, glaring at the midday sun and cursing the fact he had to spend the day in his heavy, formal dress uniform as he escorted the Demon King.
Again, he set his sights on Conrad and Yuuri, trying his best to not let any of the turmoil show on his face. He couldn't even be truly angry at either of them. Yuuri was, as usual, utterly oblivious and Conrad had spent the last few months being as formal as he could with Yuuri and putting effort into not being seen alone with the king. Of course, Conrad knew what was being said. He spent most of his free time with Yozak and it probably made him as uncomfortable as it humiliated Wolfram.
It was the beginning of the Fertility Festival, one of the most popular events in Shin Makoku that took place every five years. This was also the first with the new Demon King. And, after years of public engagement, there was a high level of expectation that Yuuri would make the relationship official. On the other hand, there was plenty of speculation, too. For, as time passed, Yuuri appeared to distance himself more and more from his fiancé.
Yuuri and Wolfram were just now returning from the Radford Province after the harvest blessings. Every festival, The Maou would visit one of the provinces and give his blessings to the upcoming harvest and, this time, it was Radford's turn.
Wolfram sighed, thinking about how embarrassing that trip had been as Yuuri continued to chatter happily with Conrad in the background, pausing now and again to wave at the workers in the field.
"It's a simple ceremony," Günter had said back in the castle explaining it to Yuuri. "All you need do is say a few words of blessing in a field of Lord Radford's choosing and then...kiss your fiancé."
"Oh," Yuuri had said, the tone of his voice breaking Wolfram's heart.
"What type of a kiss?" Yuuri had asked after a moment and Gwendal had frowned at them. "I mean, is it a peck or ...you know." And to add insult to injury Yuuri had looked toward Conrad for advice.
Conrad shifted a little on his legs, a frozen smile on his face.
Oh, for the love of the fates. Did Yuuri have to do this to him in front of his brothers? He thumped his fist on the desk and Yuuri jumped slightly.
"It's a Fertility Festival, Yuuri. What do you think?"
He gave Yuuri an angry look and Yuuri smiled nervously.
"So...on the lips, then?"
"Yes, Yuuri. On the lips," Wolfram had answered sarcastically.
There had been silence and Gwendal had then changed the subject. Wolfram never knew if Yuuri had gotten that advice from Conrad. He'd liked to think not because the whole thing had been a debacle.
Lord Radford had not been impressed.
When the time came for the kiss, Yuuri had simply stood there—unmoving, giving Wolfram a look that appeared not that much different from a doe watching a dragon sweep down upon her, frozen in terror. Wolfram had waited a beat, then another and there were a few whispers from the hundred or so villagers who were gathered, along with Lord Radford and his family and Wolfram and Conrad's men.
"Yuuri," he'd hissed under his breath and Yuuri's look of terror grew.
There had been no helping it. If there was no kiss, there would be no blessing and the common folk were superstitious. So, he'd pulled Yuuri forward and pushed his lips against Yuuri, cupping his cheek so he could not move away. It had gone as well as everything had for Wolfram lately. Yuuri had allowed it, arms stiff against his body and eyes still openly staring at him in fright. He could feel Yuuri tremble under his hands.
This was it. After four years of engagement, it had come to...to this. Yuuri could barely touch lips without freezing up. After months where Yuuri had avoided bathing with him, or sleeping as far as he could from him in the bed they shared, noticeably more the weeks before this were just as perfect, as Yozak would say, sarcastically – "the icing on the cake."
When he had pulled away from Yuuri, there was the scattering of half-hearted cheers.
Nobody had been fooled. He'd retired early that night leaving Yuuri to deal with the festivities at the estate. He didn't care about the gossip. After the kiss, nothing that happened afterward would be as shameful.
Well, no. There was still one more thing to endure. As much as Wolfram wanted to end this engagement now and slink back to his uncle in his family estate in the mountains, he still had to wait for the Fertility Ball in a little over two weeks time. It was tradition that an engaged king announce the date of his impending marriage at the event at midnight-a symbol of growth, fertility, and all those florid words that Gunter was much too fond off.
Wolfram was sure there would be no such announcement. He'd sit at Yuuri's side, a smile painted on his face while half the court gave him pitying looks and the other sized up Yuuri as a koala would a particularly juicy slab of meat, many young noble women and men vying for the chance to be the next Royal Consort. Only then would Wolfram end the engagement and slink back to Bielefeld province.
He'd have done it months ago if only...his heart had not got in the way. He'd cared too much and held tightly to hope even when everyone else could see a chance had never existed.
He had been a delusional fool.
"Hey, Wolf," Yuuri said, and Wolfram looked around to see Yuuri next to him giving him one of those bright, beautiful smiles.
Wolfram never got to hear what Yuuri wanted to say. For, at that moment, the sky tore itself apart in purple-black flames and he'd been too busy trying to stop his horse from bolting to worry about it.
Thunder struck, the deep sound reverberated like cannon fire. And the ground shook roughly under them, cracking the land open in great, yawning gaps. Horses whinnied and reared, smelling the scent of fear in the air from their riders and blindly reacting to it. The ground shook again and the riders struggled to control their mounts as lightning flashed—blinding them, turning everything white for an instant. Wolfram looked to Yuuri. Even though Ao was a horse that was well trained and could be trusted, it would not be outside the realm of possibility that the animal was reacting the same way as the others and with Yuuri as the rider, an inexperienced rider at that, Wolfram knew that he might have to control both his own steed as well as Yuuri's. Another flash of lightning robbed the world of its colours once more, making Wolfram squint while struggling with the reins and uttering curses under his breath. "Yuuri? Yuuri!?" He looked over Yuuri's shoulder to see a massive, grey swirling cloud-tunnel stretching into what seemed like black, infinite space. Sparks surged along the sides of the portal and it produced a threatening, rushing sound.
Black eyes widened impossibly. "Oi," Yuuri shouted above the din, "I think there's something in there!" He would have pointed but needed to keep his wits about him to stay on his horse.
"What?" Wolfram shouted back. It was impossible to hear and the abusive wind kept blowing his hair into his eyes.
And, then, just as quickly as it started…
Nothing.
The portal closed, leaving a blond figure lying on the ground for a brief moment. Without aid, he managed to struggle to his feet—returning the stare from those around him. And Wolfram's heart froze when he recognized the face.
It was his own.
"Is it a young Shinou?" one of the guards asked the other.
The stranger smirked. "I'm not Shinou. In fact, I doubt that he'd wear anything as sensible as this." He dusted his black clothing off for a second just to prove his point. Then, with an amused glance at those around him, he ran his fingers down the folds of his black tunic which hung like clergy-like robes. The material was studded with shiny, black beads, fine needlework on the hood and sleeves, and a rich gold pattern was embroidered across the chest. The high collar made gave the older style of clothing a formality, not unlike a uniform. And the sword at his side had a matching jet black hilt.
Straightening up to his full height, he took in the people around him with greater care-meeting their eyes and, finally, settling upon Wolfram's. Green eyes met green, making Wolfram want to step back at the mirror image. "My name is Wolfram von Spitzweg..."
Wolfram's eyes widened. He's a ...Spitzweg?! Him?
The stranger's smile widened. "Yes, I'm Wolfram...The Great Sage of Shin Makoku."
Wolfram's mind seemed to blank out for a moment. In the background, he could hear the horses pawing the ground, still trying to sense whether or not the danger had truly passed. For, the riders, themselves, seemed unnaturally quiet.
A breeze—a normal breeze—blew past, making a leaf cartwheel by.
"I can't believe you are the Great Sage. You're suppose to be a double black," Wolfram said frankly.
"Well, it was arrogance on Shinou's part, I suspect…making me in his own image." He smirked in a Wolframish way, raking his fingers through his hair thoughtfully for a moment. "But, you know, I did try colouring my hair once, but it didn't suit my complexion."
Yuuri had rounded, horrified eyes going back and forth between the two blonds standing before him.
Sage Spitzweg said to Wolfram with slight amusement, "So, I guess you aren't the Great Sage in this world." And then he looked to Yuuri and went on, "I thought this world would be pretty much like ours. Apparently, I was mistaken." Though, from the way he seemed to be smiling at the double black and pleasantly assessing his looks, being "mistaken" wasn't such a bad thing, indeed, in his opinion. "So, I assume you are the Demon King. You are almost as pretty as Her Majesty back home."
He winked at Yuuri.
In response, Yuuri spluttered, totally astounded. Wolfram was all set to break something when Conrad intervened in his even voice-giving Wolfram a brief, warning look. Sage Wolfram watched the entire interaction with great interest.
"Perhaps, we should return to the Temple and introduce this other world's sage to ...His Eminence."
At that, Sage Wolfram murmured, "At least, someone here is acting in a way I'm familiar with." And, lifting his eyes up, he gave Conrad a warm, brotherly smile—the likes of which the second son had not witnessed in many decades. It was young Wolfram's smile. The one he kept reserved just for his "Little Big Brother."
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Murata was enjoying the sun on the balcony when he received the visitors. Life had been quiet lately, which was nice. He'd now found some spare time to close his eyes and let the warm rays lull him into a light doze. He wasn't even troubled by any thoughts, or any intrusive memories. He had a moment to just be.
A rare moment of contentment.
That should have been a sign that things were going to go to hell. Because, only a few hours later, his eyes flicking between Lord von Bielefeld and the other…well, he wasn't another Bielefeld, but virtually a twin, he had a sinking feeling that things were going to get very bad, indeed.
Sitting on the other side of Murata's desk, between the 'twins', Yuuri had maintained a stunned appearance as Lord von Spitzweg, the Great Sage of another Shin Makoku, finished explaining the chain of events which led him stuck in their world. It was quite a tale.
"So, am I right to assume," the blond sage said flatly "by the welcoming I received when I arrived, that trans-dimensional travel is not common here."
Murata nodded. "Trans-dimensional travel is just a theory. There are records of an occurrence long-ago in a time when I wasn't incarnated in Shin Makoku. I know only brief details. I found the account while skimming the histories a couple of years ago. I'll fish the records out later." Murata rested his chin on his clasped hands, elbows firmly on his desk and searched his memories. "There is also ancient mazoku, pre-dating Shinou, engraved in the caves up north which talks about some type of crystal used to go between worlds. I always supposed it was some clue on an alternative method to travel to other worlds, such as Earth. I never could find any further information."
Murata had looked into it at one time. Any other means of Earth-Shin Makoku transit would be useful and he had placed it as a priority, but apart from the inscriptions there had been nothing. He really should have looked further into the account of the trans-dimensional traveller further. He was annoyed he had not seen the connection.
"The Lodestar Caverns in the Black Barrens, I assume." Spitzweg displayed his colourful rings on long, elegant mazoku fingers. The room wasn't bright enough for the gems to sparkle the way they did. "That is also our first record of trans-dimensional travel. Other inscriptions were discovered in caves close by. They also had maps of the Southern Continent. Explorers traveled there three thousand years ago using it as a guide and discovered an abandoned quarry, quite ancient, where a colourless crystal was being mined. Initially, they assumed the crystals had been mined for their ornamental value. Though, they were puzzled why so much effort had been put into mining gems in such a remote location. The quarry is days away from the ruins of the old mazoku cities. A mazoku scholar in the expedition, quite by accident, discovered what the crystals mined there were capable of when she kept them in a box with some other gems."
"Hmm, we've never done any in-depth exploration of the southern continent." Everyone knew that the mazoku race had migrated from there long ago, but there had been no reason to go looking for the mazoku origins. The journey by boat to the southern continent was long and dangerous, and no monarch could justify the expense. Such an expedition was a historian's dream, but until a safer way could be found to traverse the southern ocean, impractical. Or so Murata had thought.
Spitzweg suddenly looked tired. "I didn't think there would be crystals here. In all the hundreds other worlds we have traveled to, only a handful of them had mazoku and human civilisation who mined it. In many others, Shin Makoku was occupied by Shimaron and the mazoku enslaved and the knowledge lost." Lord von Bielefeld hissed in anger, but Lord von Spitzweg ignored him and continued. "In spite of knowing that, I had small hopes. It would have been valuable in eliminating the assassin. The crystals have so many uses."
Murata shrugged his shoulders in apology. "As far as I know, there aren't any crystals in Shin Makoku that match your description." He had come across one report of a human trading ship that had been blown off course a century ago. Though lost, the ship had returned two years later with riches from the southern continent, but he wanted to verify the facts, before saying anything. No point in getting hopes up without being certain.
Besides, there was another thing he had to verify before going further. Something he should have addressed as soon as this sage with Lord von Bielefeld's face had walked into his study. Murata had impulsively trusted Lord von Spitzweg, but he couldn't gamble the kingdom's safety on nebulous feelings.
Speaking in the tongue of Daikenja's mother, a language long dead, he addressed Spitzweg: "Forgive me, but I'm sure you'll understand the necessity that you prove your claim before proceeding."
Spitzweg's eyes became serious, and he spoke in kind. "When Shinou's body was failing, he cried for me. He asked me to end his pain. I refused at first, but then he said that there was only one person he could trust. The sole person he loved that could help him ascend."
Murata closed his eyes as the memory came to him, so vivid after all this time. He could suddenly feel Shinou's presence. He'd been there all along, of course, but this revelation was a sore point for both of them. He could almost taste Shinou's shame. Shinou was the great "God King" of Shin Makoku, heroic warrior of The Golden Age, and founder of the kingdom. Nobody saw his weakness like he had. Nobody else had seen how frightened he had been in his last moments of mortality, until now.
Murata knew it was a blow to Shinou's pride, even after all that time, though personally, he never thought less of Shinou for it, quite the opposite really. It was one of Shinou's most human moments.
This sage also felt Shinou's presence.
His eyes widened and he said, still in the same language, this time voice clipped. "Shinou is in your world?" More a statement than a question.
"Umm," Shibuya said, having eyed them in confusion through that exchange and breaking through the sudden depressed mood. "Is there anything we need to know?"
"No," the blond sage said amiably, the sudden change in Sage Spitzweg's demeanour was unsettling. Did Murata come across like that to others? "Just reminiscing about the old days."
"Murata?" Shibuya turned worried eyes on Murata looking for confirmation.
Murata flashed Shibuya a reassuring smile and then said to Sage Spitzweg, signalling the end to that matter, "There is a lead on the crystals I want to investigate, but I can't say more until I'm certain. It might take awhile to locate the information in the temple archives." "Don't get your hopes up," he would have said to anyone else, but he knew this sage would take that as a given. The research would be an all-nighter. He'd relish the challenge if it was a purely academic exercise, but this situation was fraught and he felt the pressure.
"Do you want my help?" Spitzweg asked.
"Not now. I'll speak to you further tomorrow. But, you are welcome to the castle archives, and I'm sure Lord von Christ will be glad to assist." Murata didn't waste time with niceties, and was grateful as Spitzweg nodded in understanding. It was a relief to have someone on the same wavelength.
Murata turned his gaze on Shibuya. Over the last year, Murata had always addressed him in a group, pushing him into the leadership role that was his duty and signaling to others who was in charge. "I'd suggest you take Sage Spitzweg to the castle and brief Lord von Voltaire and von Christ and impress upon them the gravity of this threat."
If Shibuya didn't, he was sure Lord Weller and von Bielefeld were quite capable. Lord Weller had been, not surprisingly, silent for the last hour, leaning against the wall behind Shibuya and eyes not wavering from Spitzweg. If the blond sage was to so much as twitch in Shibuya's direction, he'd find a blade at his throat.
"Sure, but won't you come too?" There was hopeful look in Shibuya's eyes as he asked.
Next to him, Lord von Bielefeld was silent, arms crossed and giving the other sage unsubtle looks of animosity. If Shibuya hoped he'd run interference, then he was mistaken. Shibuya's responsibility to his fiancé was his and his alone. No matter what Murata's feelings were on the matter, Shibuya was the one who needed to step up and act the adult he was.
Not just with his relationship, but in general.
For all that Shibuya had exceeded expectations a few years ago when he was sixteen and still new to this world, forging alliances with the human kingdoms, there was still a long way he had to go to fully make the kingdom his domestically. The king's reputation abroad was far stronger than within the aristocratic council.
Shibuya had great potential as king, but now that he was considered an adult by human and mazoku reckoning, he'd not taken his role in court as well as Murata had hoped.
It wasn't for lack of ability, but there was reluctance in Shibuya, something holding him back. If that couldn't be addressed soon, Murata would have to be blunter and deal with the issue quickly.
The nobles were quick to sense weakness. Shibuya had to stop expecting others would make the final decision, and stop relying on the Chancellor to take the leading role in court proceedings. Murata and Lord von Voltaire's roles were strictly advisory and Shibuya needed to be reminded of that.
Murata had hoped to bring the matter up after the ball, when things would still be quiet. He really should have known better than to wait, should have taken the opportunity before Shibuya had left for Radford. Now, as matters stood, Shibuya would need to step up immediately, the training wheels would have to go.
He suppressed a nagging feeling of guilt as he said in a manner that wouldn't allow Shibuya to delay things further. "No, it's more efficient if I investigate the records here first. I'm far more familiar with the temple library, at least in this world." He gave Sage Spitzweg a nod as he said this.
Shibuya nodded, but looked none too happy.
.
The front gates closed, reverberating the sound throughout the temple. And minutes later, Murata found himself standing by a window, studying Yuuri and his party as they departed. Murata had promised that he would join them at the castle tomorrow to do research. He was certain that the book which discussed trans-dimensional corrosion was still in the temple archives somewhere. He would have to find the book and see the information with his own eyes. But he was not exactly looking forward to it. He had a feeling-a bad one.
Muarata felt a prickling at his back.
"I'm busy," Murata said evenly as he turned to retrieve some of the reference books. He'd been through this too many times and today he truly wasn't in the mood. There was too much on his mind right now. Still, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Original King's handsome figure form in the corner of the room surrounded by a shimmering light.
He could have easily been mistaken for a benevolent celestial being, but Murata knew better. Much, much better...
"It is elegant in a way, what the other Shinou did?"
"I shudder to think what you mean." Murata was trying to find that volume he knew had details of that one traveller who had come in from another dimension aeons ago.
"You have no idea, do you, my sage? Didn't you wonder where Bielefeld's soul went to? In the other world?"
He stopped. Murata's face paled. "He didn't...you wouldn't?"
"Well I could, but I decided against it because the consequences would have been too high. Believe it or not, I like existing."
"He destroyed a soul. There is no worse sin."
"It seems likely. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to arrange things so you would be born near the next maou? There were a few moments there when I thought it would never have worked out just so...and I did...think, briefly mind you, about vacating a particular body using that particular solution."
Murata sat down woodenly on a chair. "Creating a 'vessel' you mean… Do you think he knows?" He was referring to the other sage.
"If not, it's likely he'll get an inkling. He's bright enough, as you would know. I doubt the other Shinou exists anymore, and I'm sure this sage will have started to put the pieces together. The Fates are slow to act, but nobody has ever gotten away with such an action."
"Well," Murata thought grimly, if anyone could, it would be you.
"Not when it comes to this."
.
They were all sitting in the small meeting room, the one attached to his rooms...well, his and Wolfram's. Yuuri had long ago given up any hope or even desire that Wolfram would move out. But that was beside the point; they were here to meet with this visitor. To decide what to do with the warning he had given them.
Yuuri didn't know what to think of this "other Wolfram." Half of him was freaked out...the other half, well, liked him. The weirdest part, he thought, was the fact that those conflicting feelings were for the same reasons.
The other Wolf, 'Wolfram' he decided to call him in his head, looked exactly like Wolf, right down to that tiny, faint colored freckle on his nose. He'd looked. He'd shivered slightly when Sage Wolfram had given him a playful little smile when he was caught when they were riding over from the temple.
A lot of the mannerisms were just like Wolf, too. The way he'd flick his hair back, the way he'd cock his head just so when he was interested in something that was being said by others – and the adorable little way he'd bite the right side of his bottom lip when he was thinking. Which was a surprise until he realised that Wolf had adopted a lot of those from his mother, and Wolfram's mother was Lady Celi, the other Celi, from the other world who was, presumably, exactly the same. So, of course, it made some sense. Maybe. Then again, it was a headache—trying to think too hard about it.
And then there were some mannerisms that weren't Wolf's which destroyed the illusion. And, once again, another familiar look would come to this Wolfram; it became way more noticeable to Yuuri when they were with Murata. Some minor tics, but mostly the way Wolfram would speak; his accent unique amongst the mazoku but without the intonation of Japanese which Yuuri associated it with. Wolfram placed his vowels the same way, with the same expressions. There was only one other who sounded like that. (It had taken a little while for Yuuri to work out why Murata's speech was different...until the day he'd eavesdropped on Günter praising it to Gwendal and lamenting the foreign influences that had changed the purity of the mazoku dialect over the last thousands years).
Wolfram was a strange blend of "Wolf" and "Murata" –both familiar and foreign. And, once again, Yuuri didn't know what to make of him.
"So, you say the assassin can take any form?" Gwendal said, sitting stiffly opposite Yuuri next to the unusually grim Günter. Gwendal regarded this other version of his little brother with a frown. This Wolfram was sitting to Yuuri's left, his chin resting on his clasped hands, his fingers covered with those outlandish-looking jewelled rings, bright looking contrasted with his black embroidered tunic, his elbows on the table, a typical Murata pose. Lifting his head up, he gave Gwendal an unreadable, cool look (Yuuri thought Murata used his glasses to great effect with that. Apparently, the look could be pulled off effortlessly without them).
"In essence, as long as the individual is familiar with the form he needs to take," Sage Wolfram explained. "This person can also take on some of the surface memories. At the least, if he manages to touch the person he mimics, it can be good enough to deceive most people. Enough to deceive myself and my brothers."
"So, it could be you?" Wolfram...Wolf. His Wolf said unsympathetically. Wolf wasn't sitting to Yuuri's right, his usual place in these meetings. This time, he was leaning against the window's loveseat, arms crossed, and giving off a pissed off aura. Wolf had been silent and angry since the ritual. Yuuri didn't blame him. His mind danced away from the sense memory of Wolf's lips on his, his warm hands cupping his face.
Wolfram took no offense to this and placed his palms upwards and gave them all a wry grin. "It is possible, Lord von Bielefeld," the almost cheeky Wolfram said the name with an ironic twist. "You have no reason to trust me. But why would I tell you this elaborate tale? If I was the assassin, I'd act as if I was a lost trans-dimensional traveller in need of help, another Wolfram, exactly like you. There would be no reason for me to say anything about dangerous, shape-shifting assassins. If I wanted to slay your beautiful betrothed, I'd have ample opportunity."
This Wolfram ended those words with an impish smile directed at him and then at Wolf, such a gorgeous look, but with a knowing appearance which was just one shade removed from false coyness, a look that was very un-Wolfram and jangled Yuuri's emotions oddly.
Wolf's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing and looked away with a huff.
Yuuri didn't miss the swift speculative gaze that Wolfram gave Wolf beneath it. He knew Murata and under this beautiful-Wolfram version was the same quick intelligence.
Wolf had a good point. Maybe, the assassin could take on forms well enough to fool everyone else, but he decided to take that chance. He had made a promise years ago to trust people.
"I trust you. Umm... At least, I trust that what you've said is true so far."
Wolfram inclined his head forward in a small smile, and gave them all a look, green eyes shrewd.
"Then, I suggest that we work together. But, before I speak further of the threat, I have to know what has been happening in your world for the last few months and if you have the same events impending that I am familiar with."
.
Wolfram looks good wearing black, was one of the first thoughts he had when everyone left. Wolfram's fine, pale features contrasting against the richly embroidered coat he wore.
Yuuri was alone with Wolfram in the room. Well...not technically "alone" as such. Conrad was sitting at the other end of the room, casually reading a book. To all appearances, it looked as if Conrad was paying no mind to their presence. Yuuri knew better. After Wolfram had given them the account of the person they were facing, he doubted that Conrad would leave him alone for a second. Which, all things considered, wasn't really that different from usual.
Wolf had been the first to leave, barely giving the other Wolfram a glance. He'd exchanged a few quiet words with Conrad before declaring he was going to check on his men before dinner. Gwendal and Günter had also departed to set up the new security measures. Yuuri didn't have any other engagements that day. His schedule was empty to give him time to recover from the trip. Yuuri remembered how he'd looked forward to it before. It would be the last moment he'd have spare before the busy events leading up to the Fertility Ball. He'd wanted to spend some time with Wolf...to talk to him.
Wolfram gave him a slight smile. "Shibuya, I know you like to trust people. But Lord von Bielefeld was right, in a way. This person can take any form, so you need to be on your guard. You are king. So, most likely, you will be his primary target. Monarchs generally are, you know." He fingered the sword's hilt at his side absently and only stopped when Conrad shifted in his seat. "But, of course, secondary targets have a nasty habit of turning up dead, too," the blond added with mild distaste.
"And that could be someone like…?" Yuuri asked hesitantly.
He shook his head, dismissing the question. "No worries. Everything will turn out fine."
"So...what's your password again?" He said it as a joke to break the heavy atmosphere. The passwords Gwendal had given them all temporarily. He knew such lightheartedness would have pissed Wolf off, but it was something that Murata would have found a little amusing.
Sage Wolfram sighed, gave him a small smile, and said in an affectionate tone, "You are far too foolish." Wolfram looked around the room and then at Yuuri. "It's strange to see so many things familiar and yet…
"Different," Yuuri finished for him. Because, yes, looking at Wolfram, he could entirely understand.
Wolfram got up and picked up a well worn book from the shelf behind him, the one that Murata always had opened.
"The same book I like, the same Conrad." Wolfram looked down towards where said person was apparently engrossed in some thick book. Wolfram looked out the window. "The same castle I grew up in. I watched the sunrise here this morning with this book." He said in a wistful voice.
Murata often stayed late but he left to sleep at the temple, or had his own rooms on another level. After all, this room was part of their suite...which meant...
"Umm, speaking of people in your world… I suppose, you're close to ...the Demon Queen?" Yuuri asked tentatively. Close to his other self, the one that was a girl. He bet his mother would have been thrilled. She always wanted a girl. He felt almost sorry for Yuuki. She'd have to put up with all those frilly dresses for much longer. At least, by the time he was at school, it had been socially unacceptable for him to have his hair in pink pigtails.
"We were meant to marry just before the ball." Wolfram looked down at him with a look of regret. There was silence for a moment. And then, "I sneaked into her rooms often, much to Günter's and Gwendal's disapproval." Wolfram's smile became wicked and Yuuri felt suddenly warm.
"Was it an accident, too?"
Wolfram gave him a bewildered look.
"The engagement. I accidentally proposed to Wolf. I slapped him. He made me angry." He left out the part where Wolf insulted his mother; he didn't want to badmouth him to this other Wolfram. Wolf...well, Wolf had changed so much and wasn't the same as back then.
Wolfram laughed. "I can imagine, getting angry with Lord von Bielefeld." Yuuri wondered what was meant by that remark. "We came upon Shibuya Yuuki at the border with the villagers threatening her and Adelbert being his typical, difficult self. Conrad fought Adelbert and I went to pull her onto my horse, to keep her safe, and you slapped me. Nobody saw and she never knew what she was doing, of course. But, from that moment on, I considered myself engaged. She was so beautiful, looking outraged in a pirate outfit that Earth people dress girls in for their schooling, and, back then, her hair cropped short in a boy's style." Wolfram's eyes had become distant in memory. "I knew then, she was the one. I never thought I'd meet such a one, in this life." Wolfram gave him a lovely smile. "You aren't that much different."
"I'm not a girl," Yuuri said, feeling a tiny bit insulted as well as flustered by Wolfram's story and the fascinated look in those green eyes.
Wolfram shook his head and gave him a classic wry Murata-like look and reached out and touched his hair and then with one elegant, ringed finger caressed his cheek.
"Not that much different." Not thinking, Yuuri leaned into the touch, so familiar. Wolf's hands, Murata's amused drawl.
With a loud snap, Conrad closed his book and Yuuri jerked back guiltily.
"It's getting late, Lord von Spitzweg," Conrad said with perfect politeness. And Yuuri noticed the slight hurt look in Wolfram's eyes as Conrad addressed him. "I should accompany you to your quarters so you can rest and be refreshed for dinner."
Wolfram's face recovered swiftly, becoming neutral. "Of course, Sir Weller."
After they left, Yuuri touched his hand to his cheek guiltily.
.
"Ah, food," Yuuri said, looking to his left and catching his godfather's eye. "I'm starved." He glanced over his shoulder at the two walking behind him. "I hope you both are, too."
"Yes," identical voices replied in unison followed by a single, irritated "humph" at being copied.
Conrad opened the door and stood politely to one side. Greta, seeing them, left her seat at the table and came running up to Yuuri. "Hi! I've been looking all over for you." She beamed at him, tilting her curly head up as always. The child's smile shifted as a figure in black stepped away from behind Yuuri, giving her an inquisitive look.
"Wolfram, you look great!" She stepped up to him to inspect the black clothing with the ornate stitching across the chest and expert beadwork. The craftsmanship was so perfect, so elegant. With the left gold embroidered sleeve, she ran her fingers over the designs in wonder. "Truly amazing," her face seemed to say. "Is this what you're going to wear to the ball? Is it?" Greta asked excitedly. "Then, I know what's going to happen when you go. Only the maou and those married to the maou can wear this color." Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so incredibly happy right now!"
"I don't think you entirely understand," Sage Wolfram began kindly as a blue clad blond approached them both with a hard look sliced in the sage's direction.
She gaped. "Wolf…ram?" Greta worried, retreating a few steps on instinct. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the pair before her. "What's going on?" she asked the room. The stress in her voice was building. "I don't… I just…" she shook her head fearfully.
"It is fine. Not to fret, my child," Sage Wolfram soothed, leaning down a bit to be more on her level. "I'm not his twin." He thumbed at Wolfram who only scowled back. "In the human lands, twins are considered extremely unlucky. Many times, the second twin is killed shortly after birth," he translated for Yuuri and got a hollow "oh" in return. His attention stayed with Greta. "So, since we are not 'twins' you don't have to worry about all of those exciting but not factual stories… There is no 'peaceful' twin and 'war-like' twin. We are not the same soul split into two bodies. And, one of us is not a beautiful god while the other is…" He flashed a wicked grin in Wolf's direction. "…A ferocious, knuckle-dragging… nincompoop."
The child blinked at that. "A nincom…poop…?"
He winked. "A great Earth word to know."
She tilted her head to one side, thinking. "Well, I do know what 'poop' is because The Great Sage taught me…"
"Oh, what has he been teaching our daughter now?!" Wolfram swiveled to Yuuri with a livid expression. The double black put his palms up in a pacifying way. "English, I suppose. And Greta picks up words pretty quickly."
"Well, no more strange 'Engrish'…!"
"It's 'English'."
"Ask me if I care!"
"Well, Greta, " Sage Wolfram went on, ignoring the bickering, "I have something for you. I hope you'll like it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single coin. He offered it in the palm of his hand to her. It gleamed a golden-coppery color and she cocked her head at it. Then, his nimble fingers tore back the foil and revealed…
"Chocolate!" she said.
"You like it?"
"I love chocolate!"
"Then, please enjoy."
Greta took the coin and unwrapped the rest of it with the utmost care. Then, she slipped the foil into her pocket, popped the yummy treat into her mouth and smiled to herself—chewing .
"Hmmm…" the sage said, pretending to scan her face for something. "I bet I can find another." He made elaborate movements in the air with his hands, swept the fingers of his right hand behind Greta's ear, and pretended to produce a coin from it. "Look!" With a smug smile, he handed it over to eager little fingers this time.
"Wow!" She turned to the double black, holding the next precious treat reverently. "Isn't he amazing, Yuuri?"
Absently, Wolfram straightened the antique neckchain on his uniform and stared a hole into the floor with a sarcastic, "He's certainly something." It was growled loud enough for the room to hear. Conrad's constant smile wavered for a moment and Yuuri could feel the vibe in the room definitely shift into an unpleasant direction.
Maybe, fire would become involved.
"D-Dinner?" Yuuri suggested, starting to sweat a little. "It's about time, don't you think?" he asked the room.
Conrad straightened his shoulders and gave a distinct, polite nod. "Definitely. I'd say it's time."
"Yes," the sage agreed, seemingly a little too at home in the Dining Hall. "I'm absolutely starved."
"Too bad Lady Celi is out of town," Greta muffled through her bite of chocolate while taking her chair. "I think she'd enjoy seeing the two of you together….ummm…mister…?"
"My name is Wolfram von Spitzweg."
Greta's eyes flew open at that. "Oh! So, you're my Papa Wolf's cousin or something?"
Wolfram choked "Cousin?" into his goblet of water, but the sage liked that very much, indeed. "Yes, something like that," he charmed. "But you may call me 'uncle'. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Yes!"
"I knew it would."
Wolfram frowned deeply and glared at the double black sitting next to him with his hard, green eyes. "Well, Yuuri? What do you have to say to that?"
"Uhhh…well…" Yuuri laughed uncomfortably and placed his hand behind his head.
"Here," Greta said to the sage, "Sit next to me…Uncle Wolfram!"
"You wouldn't be telling me that so you can get more chocolate, would you?" he laughed.
"You have more?"
"Of course."
"Yuuri," and a blue clad elbow poked him in the ribs, "we have got to talk…as soon as possible." The words were gritted out and under his breath.
The double black looked apprehensive-clearly dreading the end of the meal—until Conrad joked lightly across the table, "I'll escort you back to your room after we eat. I think you're going to need another bodyguard besides my little brother."
"Weller…" Wolfram used the name as a warning, polishing up his silver spork.
"Hmmm…" the second son thought aloud as he picked up his goblet. "Maybe, I should ask Yozak to come, too. We might need two bodyguards…one for our king and one for our new sage."
"You're a sage, too?" Greta said, turning to her brand new uncle.
"Oh, yes. Definitely."
"We're so lucky!" she told her fathers. "Aren't we?"
Green eyes turned to Yuuri with more than a spark of anger burning in them. "I'd say 'lucky' doesn't quite describe it."
.
"So, Captain, what do you think?" Yozak put the Two of Dragons card down on the table and took a face down card. He pretended to study it, but was really just admiring the view across the table.
Conrad's eyes flicked up from his fanned cards for a second and he smirked slightly. He wasn't fooled—never was and never would be. They knew each other far too well. "Hmmm…" The second son put down the Four of White Tigers and took a card from the pile. "He's definitely hiding something."
This was their usual Friday night "meeting" in Conrad's quarters—time they set aside each week just to be with each other with the exception of when duty called for whatever reason. Tonight, it was cards and Yozak was particularly lucky with this deck.
Another card was placed down. Another card was picked up.
"You got that impression, too?" A sexy laugh followed it. "Then again, perhaps, we've become paranoid in our old age," Yozak gave a sardonic smile, "but I figure he's been a bit too vague on certain points. It's odd to see such a cool demeanour on someone who looks identical to your bratty little brother." On the other hand, he does seem to have a bit more 'spirit' than Murata or is, outwardly at least, sometimes he's a little more... Shall I call it 'outgoing,' or 'coquettish,' ? Enticing?' Not to mention fiery..." The spy shifted the cards in his hand, eyeing them for real this time. "But I'm not sure if he's too much of a threat. My intuition tells me he's not bad."
"I don't think so, either, but it's better to be safe. Please keep an eye on him, Yozak."
"Safe?" There was a certain way that Yozak practically purred the word. "Why? Did you happen to see something that I didn't?" That juicy little tidbit would be good to know.
An almost stern glance up this time and an even "please" which meant there was no room for debate on that request.
Yozak gave a placating smile to that. "Okay, okay… I'm on to it."
"Thank you."
"And, speaking of 'on to it'," Yozak said, "I think I should tell you… 'Double Bone Ace'…I've hit 31 points." He put the cards on the table and made an arc with them in a single swipe.
Conrad raised an eyebrow at that. "You won surprisingly quickly. Next time, we'll play Maw so that I have an even chance of winning."
Of course, Conrad never really cared whether he won or lost. A hand gripped his wrist kindly and he was helped out of the high back chair. "To lose is to win," the spy said in a cheeky tone, taking the bottle neck of some champagne and two glasses in a single movement. He showed Conrad the way, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "Hmmm…now, if I remember correctly…this is the way to your room…my captain?"
"You're inviting me into my own bedchamber?" Conrad asked coyly and with his head tilted to one side as though he didn't know.
Yozak brought him in, lightly pushed him down onto the bed and sat next to him—giving the empty glasses over while working on the stubborn cork with his thumbs. "I thought this would be fun. It's been ages…you know?"
A twist. Another twist.
There was the unmistakable sound of a cork popping and it flew off somewhere.
"Well, at least, we're having a little bit of fun," Conrad agreed almost wistfully as the golden drink was poured into the first glass. "It has been really tense around here lately."
The smile left Yozak's eyes somewhat. "Translation: My little brother has been absolutely miserable and there's nothing I can do about it." He filled the second glass and took it.
"Not funny," Conrad sighed and sipped his drink, distracted.
"Not meant to be," Yozak came back with a shrug and a comforting arm around his shoulder. He seemed to need it right now, for Conrad had a habit of concealing his feelings behind that usual smile of his. "Look at it this way… You're in an impossible place, aren't you? Caught between your godson, who just happens to be king, and your brother…both looking roughly the same age and both being, in their own ways, a little naïve about the world."
Conrad looked into his glass pensively this time. "Actually, Wolfram isn't as simple-minded as you might think. True, he has his moments when I can see that little boy in him...throwing tantrums and wanting things to go his own way. But he also has moments when I can see his innocence being stripped away bit by bit from disappointment and..."
"And?"
"Despair."
"I know he's unhappy... In fact, just about everyone does," Yozak said, taking a taste of his own drink and then giving Conrad's shoulders a squeeze. "He's angry and everything, but it's not like it is the first time he's felt that way…especially where the kiddo is concerned."
Conrad met his eyes. "It's different this time. How would you feel if you could see a copy of yourself? Almost a mirror image… Someone who could walk and talk just like you? Someone who seemingly did the same things…but got better results? A better version of yourself?" He swirled his drink around slowly and looked into it again with the bubbles rising to the top. The froth was gone now. "How do you compete with that?"
A small smile in Conrad's direction. "Love isn't a competition."
A sad look. "But what if…your whole life…you thought it was? The things you had to do and say just to get attention…? But, instead, all you got were trinkets and horses and fine clothes? And you accepted them even if, deep down, you didn't really want them."
Yozak wagged a finger at him. "Stop sounding guilty. And, by the way, you're thinking too much," he told him and leaned his head on Conrad's shoulder. Still, the spy couldn't help feeling a little sorry for himself. Obviously, he wasn't going to get lucky tonight. Too bad, too, because he had just the thing he wanted Conrad to wear—and a nice little leather number it was.
"Ah…sorry for pushing my problems on you," he told him sincerely, making Yozak come back from his naughty daydreams.
"No, it's fine." He gave a comforting embrace that Conrad seemed to appreciate, holding him in return. "A long time ago, we decided to tell each other anything that was bothering us." He ran his fingers up and down Conrad's back in a way he always liked. "As one…forever together… Remember?"
A soft laugh. "Yes."
Yozak closed his sky blue eyes and savored the moment. "Your little brother hasn't had a taste of the kind of happiness that we have…even if we keep it discrete," Yozak reminded him. Raising up Conrad's chin with a single finger, he went on, "I understand that kind of longing, though. And, even now, I'm still happy that you woke up and suddenly realized how I felt about you." He wiggled an eyebrow at Conrad. "So, for your sake, I'll keep an eye on Little Lord Brat for you." He rubbed locks against Conrad's in an affectionate way. "Will that be okay?"
A truly relieved smile came to Conrad's face. "Yes."
"Then, I'm glad."
"Well, I'm not. Not entirely."
"Eh?" A serious look. "Why?"
"You haven't even kissed me, yet."
A full grin and a salute. "Of course, my captain, of course... I always follow your commands."
To be continued...