In the Coming of a Truce

by Rap's

(Now revised! Everyone sigh in relief! heh!) This is a fic that explores the relationship between Albert and Doel! Major Carlos bashing... Lloyd beats Frugel up, Albert kicks much ass, and Lavits is around too. Quite alot of people get hurt and killed. He

1. Both should be Wary...

*In the Coming of a Truce* A Legend of Dragoon Fanfiction Written by Rap's (RaptorJNB@aol.com) Notes: Doel kicks ass. *coughs* uh- other then that... I wrote this to satisfy some issues I was having with the relationship between Albert and Doel. They are both the last family either has left and, being interesting characters, I wanted to write something that would involve the two in a way more then the blunt- "DIE!" thing. On one side you have Doel... Dark, Strong, Generally what we would consider evil... although when you really think about it- Doel was corrupted by Diaz. After his wife died something happened to him... and my poor handsome minor character turned bad! Not fair!! On the OTHER hand your have Albert- who is a generally happy, prone to melancholy, sensitive sort who contrasts against his uncle like... well I dunno! LIke mega-contrastment... and that is so not even a WORD!!!! Well- basically I wanted rhyme for reason. SUBSTANCE- people! Ugh. Okay- I dunno how to explain it. Y ou will learn while reading that yes- I have a strong dislike for Carlos. *GAK* And I seem to hold an affinity for plot liberty as well. MWHA HA! This story WILL have altered the original course of LOD somewhat should it have really occurred, so please just consider it out of the LOD eventline. Derrick the knight is my original character. Don't worry- he's not a major part of the story or anything. And I called that doctor in Lohan Fe'rom as I can't remember his name. The concept of *True Serdian* Is also something I came up with. NOW I'll shut up!! PROMISE!! UH... wait.. No I won't! Just one more thing! Please realize that you do need an understanding of Doel and Albert's relationship in the game. Meaning before and after you face him- and the words exchanged when Albert and Doel go one on one at the moon. Be aware of Doel's plan- and Lloyd's involvement in it. (You know- about Feyrbrand and the violet dragoon spirit) Uh- you DO all know that Carlos is Albert's father right? Okay. You DO know the 'Serdian War' started when he died, huh? Sweet. And you DO all know that Doel assassinated him- right? Good. *Heavy sigh* Then I think you should do fine in reading this. ---- I know I cant hold the hate inside. 'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life. So I'll just ask a question- What if? Human pride sings a vengeful song. -Creed "What if" (variation) ------ Be aware that this story occurs before the game- and begins with a segment seventeen years before the real start of my story- from Doel's POV. ~ denotes thought ~ and Italics means the character is having a flashback! ------ By the gods- he was strong. Doel buckled under the staggering blade, throwing himself to one side as Carlos growled his irritation. His sibling moved with the grace of ice. A slipping, almost maddening elegance that took Doel by more then surprise. The taller, older brother was built thick as the giant red oak. Nothing about Carlos had ever given Doel the impression of speed... and yet here it was. Plowing him against the cold floor with tremendous velocity. "Pathetic." His brother spat. A voice metallic as his eyes. Doel gave a grunt of pain and effort- slamming a knee into the face that leered near his own. There was a heavy snap as Carlos felt his jaw click unnaturally to one side, but that did not stop him. The King of Serdio was taken by no one. Certainly not his younger blood. And of course, around them it was not without similar chaos. The throne room, although absent of knight and soldier, echoed mercilessly as the threads of battle drifted nearby. In a span of near minutes, the castle Indels had become a playground of swords and skill. An utter shock to the city of Bale, who had watched on in helpless fright as Doel and his men galloped through the streets. Intent lingered on each weapon. Each face. But there had been a misstep in his plans, Doel was forced to reason. Some small quirk. A fragment of glass left unswept. He found it here... shuffled between rage and hurt. A calamity of actions that had finally taken Doel to the chamber of his brother. This throne room. There had not been a single word uttered, nor gesture shared as they began. Just the mutual need to destroy one another. Doel had never thought he would hesitate. His brother most certainly had not, and attained the upper hand. "You insolent fool!" Came a deep, booming voice. An incarnation of hostility- dripping the natural venom that Carlos could so easily hold. "You actually thought you could succeed, Doel!? You think I am so blind to have not read your treacherous heart!?" Blows fell. Continuous, mindless... painful. "NO ONE mistakes me for the fool! You worthless disgrace! I shall have your head mounted upon my THRONE!" Gasping for air, Doel was struck solidly in the chest with one powerful thrust. The room- pale marble, white and green- fell around him like broken crystals. Light from the balcony behind them danced along a sword above. The sword of Darkness. Absently, his mind fluttered with a brief thought and vision. Carlos had never been without it. Not once. "A fool can see plain as any man!" Doel managed through bloodied teeth. "Yet see or not, he is a fool still!" ~I shall not fall to your power! I shall not let you continue the selfish rape of our country!~ Carlos gave something like a roar... a seven foot frame of strength and skill- raising his sword with purpose and hate... grinning madly through the dark brown hair that streamed over desolate eyes. There was something unholy about him. Dangerous and frightening. "Then gaze upon your corpse, vermin! You, your men, and that bitch of a woman you took for a wife!" ~Don't You DARE-!!!!!!~ Doel rolled his body out from under the sword, hearing a 'chink' just behind his head as it dropped and met only the icy ground. Rage boiled within his heart as the smaller, black haired man flipped upright and tossed one arm forwards. His own weapon- the divine sword of light, sung as it cut through the air around them. Doel hissed, face flushed and teeth grit. "Ah yes, that's a tender spot, isn't it!?" And Carlos took his breath away with a devastating blow- knocking Doel to the ground once more and violently attacking thereafter. Doel screamed as his brother's dark, burning blade ran easily through the flesh of his left shoulder. Nailed him to the floor. A moment later, and Carlos brought a heavy boot dead center into the gut of his younger sibling. "I was always stronger then you..." The royalty mocked, kneeling down and letting his face halt inches from Doel's own. " More able a ruler. More true a man." His firm, square features pulled into a knot- jaw tight and eyes full of contempt. "How I will -enjoy- killing you my brother!" And, for the umpteenth time that dreary, cold morning... Carlos raised his sword. "Father- NO!!!" ~Who-?~ The small voice cut through the air with a piercing sharpness, stunning both men as if it was some violent jolt back into reality. Carlos paused and wavered a moment, rage still creasing his features as he kicked Doel solidly in the chest and leapt backwards. A somewhat dysfunctional moment passed in the way of his thoughts... but they returned quickly enough. Armor seeming to strain as he cursed and spun around, Carlos pinned a deadly glare over the horrified form of his son. "What are you DOING!? Albert continued, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide. As Doel groaned slightly and attempted to push himself up from the floor, the boy ran forwards. "Uncle!" ~Don't-!~ Carlos had him with one deft movement of his hand, taking the child's slender neck in one palm and hauling him up and back- to the floor. Albert let out something like a small gasp when he was violently thrown upon the cold ground. Doel managed to climb to one knee. ~Albert... should have been dead by now.~ "Disrespectful brat!" Carlos snarled, his anger seeming to flicker as it now found itself torn between the boy- and his brother. His temper was the very definition of insanity, sending the brutal king far beyond what Doel would consider rational thought. It was more then shocking to him when Carlos, undecided between his prey, landed a brutal blow to the face of his own child. Sent Albert limp to the floor in that one strike. He THEN returned those steel gray eyes back upon Doel. Grinned. "Children..." Came a somewhat bored word- making the comment general and ugly. Doel could only stare, confusion and disbelief strengthening ever fiber of his body that screamed; -kill the bastard!- with a fierce resolve. Even as Carlos charged him again, Doel stayed quiet and still. One hand reached; gathered the hilt of his sword into a fist. His left shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and would be useless to him now. Walking- MOVING seemed almost unimaginable. Beneath his flesh, three separate bones of his ribcage now lay fractured if not broken- twisting near his lungs. ~One chance. Use it.~ And he did. Eyes closed and right arm thrust forwards, Doel felt the presence of time leak away when something warm and wet began to flow over his skin. Down his arm it poured steadily... and beat over the ground in near perfect unison to a slow, ragged breathing that echoed just above his right ear. A painful, continuous intake of air that seemed to defy death. In less then half a second, Doel had raised his blade to meet the furious king of Serdio. He- who now lay impaled upon the glinting sword of light. Carlos gave a slight tremble, and as Doel turned his head just slightly he could see the right arm of his brother finally release it's weapon- letting the fine metal clatter to the ground. Braced against the floor- the hilt of Doel's sword had kept Carlos propped upright; looming over the figure of his sibling with the most odd of expressions. The anger of before, mixed with shock. If pain was to have been evident, Doel could find no trace of it. ~Your tyranny is over, Carlos.~ He thought with some absent, final understanding. The king blinked as if he had heard, head slightly etching lower to view the blade that had run itself through his stomach. With the movement, an endless amount of blood began from his mouth- adding to the pool that streaked over the floor and blanketed Doel's battlements. This alone seemed to fascinate him... as if he could not quite grasp what had happened. Their eyes locked- if only for a moment. And then the mortally wounded of the two tried to mutter some curse, or some enraged fragment of a sentence.... but all that came from his mouth was still more and more crimson. Almost violently, as if the sudden and sharp reality of what he had done came crashing down at an instant, Doel wanted to scream as Carlos fell slack with something like a growl. His burning gaze was left to dwindle and finally expire. Doel stared- numb Perhaps five minutes had echoed away when he finally managed to drag his body out from under that of his brother, sending one foot into the base of the sword of light. Left without support, both Carlos and the weapon fell limp to the ground in one sickening movement. A heap he did not bother to regard nor look upon for even a second longer. And then, outside- echoing up the cool white hallways... He heard whoops and shouts coming from near the spanning arch entranceway to the throneroom. Doel wasn't entirely aware of his captain- or of the other men that now filed inside like over anxious children. Galen, one of the first whose shadow played across the marble walls, made a sort of victorious shriek and lifted his sword high. Others followed his example... and still- Doel couldn't quite grasp them. Couldn't quite understand. "DOEL!!! ha- HAH!" Another cheer, another shout. "You goddamned demon!" Hands clasped him over his wounded shoulder- head and back. In front of him, other soldiers flipped the body of his brother to one side and stabbed- weapons thrusting into the dying body so that each might taste of this victory. He watched, almost listlessly. "We've won, Doel!" A hard shake. "Come on, get up! You must have had a time of it- look at that shoulder!!!" The random voices of his men flickered on and off as Doel staggered to his feet, accepting the help of a nearby soldier and muttering something about the injury to his chest. Almost immediately, his thoughts curbed and twisted. His voice gathered. "Albert... you didn't kill him..." And Galan, who had come to his side, bumbled a moment and then nodded. "Yes- sir... he got away from us, but it seems you managed to take care of that folly-!" With one hand, the young captain gestured to a small heap that lay strewn some bit away from them. Doel, blinking to adjust his vision, at once began forwards. "He's not-" And Doel fell victim to a violent cough as he neared the body of his nephew. "...Dead. I hadn't struck him. Carlos..." Galen gestured quietly to a few of the other soldiers, demanding with eyes alone that a doctor be brought at once. They would need to leave the capitol shortly, as the Knighthood would return quite soon. A well placed diversion had left the castle vulnerable- but time was not entirely on their side. "We'll get you patched up in no time flat..." he grinned at Doel, watching the older man as he knelt beside prince Albert. "Carlos was a damned brute. It's amazing you were able to take him alone!" And, in again finding no reply, Galen let a flash of uncertainty border his features. "Goddamnit, Doel. It ain't you whose dead on the floor! Crack a smirk and lets get going! palace guards we can take- but the knighthood is gonna' be blind mad once they realize Carlos and his kid are-!!! "Albert is NOT dead!" Doel spat, swinging an arm in the direction of Galen's head. The younger fell backwards, lifting a defensive hand. "Haven't you LISTENED to a WORD I've said!? Fool!" And at his outburst, the now crowded chamber became quiet. Doel moved an almost listless glare over the faces around him. Many defect knights- soldiers who believed in him, and his ideals. Each body of armor and confused expression turned to meet his own... the brown, gold and black of their uniforms somewhat odd in contrast to the pearl white throne room itself. After a moment, his gaze then trailed back to the boy sprawled before him. Dazed, hurting and numb throughout- the prince looked up at him through wounded eyes and tried to move. Obviously he couldn't... Not with being in a state that seemed borderline conscious at best. Doel absently touched a deep gash over Albert's left arm as a drum of footfalls began towards him. Slow and even- that of a stronger soldier amongst his troop. Indeed- Albert had survived more then a few run In's with his men if the wounds Doel saw over his body were any indication. He hadn't counted on the child being so evasive. The plan had initially been (when they first arrived at the castle) for a group to take each wing, destroy the guards, kill Albert, and let he alone have at Carlos. A glint of black metal floated near the side of his face- and the steps that had approached him now stopped. He heard a voice, and the hilt of a sword was presented. "Then finish what we came here to start, my friend. Take your brother's sword, and slay the child," Doel grasped the weapon, mindlessly. "With his death-" The soldier spoke, backing up a respectful few paces. "Our struggle ends. New Serdio will be born, and under the reign of justice. Doel Segean ..." and he smiled. "You will reclaim your birthright!" A shout. Cheering. ~But not.. This way. Not my hand... not my memory- please!!!~ He held the blade to Albert's small neck, kneeling over his body with face a tight mask of control. Doel could feel his chest heave as a pain shot throughout. It was somewhat odd to hear those voices again... his soldiers- laughing. Gawking over the body of his murdered brother to admire the prize that it was. Doel had often spoke of killing him. Of preparing. And now the hour had come and gone in what seemed such a very few seconds. Carlos was dead. A bleeding symbol of their conquest. But his nephew... was not a kill he had wanted to share in. He and Carlos. Sword to sword. Not... this. Albert was no longer conscious, now... and as his body fell completely limp- The slight movement of his neck literally exposed a pale throat to the dark sword. Doel, threads of jet black hair wafting over his gaze, felt himself trembling. Albert couldn't know what was happening just now. How could he understand? The boy actually looked... somewhat relived that his uncle was still alive. Even gazing upon his dead father some few seconds before, the emotion was still present. "Doel." He blinked away sweat, looking upwards at the form of Galen- who had spoken. "End it." Pressing the edge of his razor sharp weapon slightly into Albert's flesh, his nephew made no sound nor movement. A thin line of blood began to form where metal met skin. The others watched on. Some nervously, as from outside the balcony one could see a mass of horses galloping towards the castle. The 1st knighthood had returned, Servi Slambert at the head of their ranks. ---------- They say that blood is thicker then water. And still one is forced to note; Each does flow. ---------- ~~ 17 years later. ~~ "All these years- and NOW you choose to go insane!?" A sharp clank of metal. A violent toss of arms. "Goddamnit it, Albert... you are no foolish man... and yet THIS!?" "My decision is final." A thin voice spoke, head only partially turned to regard the figure behind him. Twenty three years had done the young king of Serdio no injustice. Ever tall, graceful in his own respect, and wielding a mind sharper then the most lethal partisan, Albert let his voice echo solidly over the hearing of a trusted friend. "Final my goddamned ass. That doesn't mean you haven't made a mistake." Lavits continued. His sea green eyes burned with worry and a general, underlying hate for Sandora. "Would you like to be gift wrapped as well? I'm sure they'd appreciate that all the more!" In the midmorning light of a cloudy afternoon, Albert slammed one hand into the smooth, reddish surface of his desk. The angry sound rattled off into each separate corner of the room. A well crafted, pale cream area with rows upon rows of involving books; information and detailed research that stood end to end on shelves which rimmed each high wall. In the middle of it all, a concerned Knight lowered his arms just slightly and shook his head as Albert whirled around. His features were drawn tight. Controlled, but stressed evenly throughout. "Your sarcasm is noted, and unappreciated." Hazel eyes narrowed. "I am set in this, Lavits. Danger or no, a choice has been made." Sweeping an errant strand of blonde from his eyes, Lavits gave his king a defiant glare and walked forwards; the heavy plates of his armor faintly clattering as they shifted over his body. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing when he gripped Albert's shoulders in one harsh motion. If he had meant to shake him violently, the ash blonde struck away his hold in one tense movement, and the action was never completed. "I can not ALLOW this! I refuse! I absolutely REFUSE to let you stroll right into Kanzas and get yourself KILLED!!!" "ONE." Albert took a step forwards- closing the last few inches between them. "I have no intention of getting myself 'killed.' TWO-" And Lavits growled, exasperation etching up over his features. "The coming of a truce may be our first tentative steps towards peace! If my uncle chooses to hold conference with me in the Black Castle- so be it!" "Bull!" Lavits shouted. "If your uncle gets you into Kanzas, he'll goddamned destroy you. And If your dead, that's it. Game OVER!" "THREE!" Albert snapped, raising his voice to drown out the angered tones of Lavits' own. "I am VERY aware of whatever dangers could be associated with this arrangement and I am willing to take them!" "Oh By the GODDESS!" The knight fumed, jerking himself around and stalking out into the study."And what of Basil!? Be as goddamned righteous as you want, Albert. But YOU aren't the only one who will die if Sandora gains control of all Serdia!!!!!!" As Lavits turned back around, he knew instantly that he had broken something sharp and vital within his friend. In one sudden bout of fury, Albert shouted a trembling; "And you don't think I KNOW that!?" with a voice both hurt and utterly enraged. His unbreakable gaze, pinned over the somewhat startled knight, tore itself away and upwards to the skylight that reigned above. A heavy, distraught silence enveloped them both as Albert finally lowered his eyes- then closing them altogether. He swallowed. Grasped his head a moment as if searching for the most unreachable of answers. "Lavits- either way I look at this..." And Albert seemed weak under his sudden loss of control. Troubled, drowning eyes implored the other man. "You MUST understand. Even with this scenario yielding countless space for mishap, what true choice do I have? Uncertain as I may be. As DANGEROUS as it is... by going to Kanzas I chance in either destruction or halt of a brutal war. Nearly twenty years of fighting has torn my country apart. If I ignore my Uncle's proposition should he be truthful in this endeavor? We are again plunged back into more chaos. More death. If indeed his intentions are ill... gods... you KNOW that at this point Basil is near to collapse as it is! The chance to strengthen ourselves in the prospect of a ceasefire is to great an opportunity to overlook. For both of us. If I cannot even attempt to establish a small, but necessary foothold towards peace..." He shook his head. Turned away. "Then we are already lost." Resolving in the moments after to collapse, somewhat defeated, into the chair beside his desk, Albert did not entirely register Lavits... having walked silently towards him. The blonde knight only sighed. Lowered his head in a quiet acceptance to the truth in Albert's words. "I hate you and your goddamned speeches..." He said, quietly. The king of Serdio only managed a hoarse chuckle, watching absently as Lavits knelt down beside his seat and clasped one hand over his shoulder. "But Albert... there has to be SOMETHING else- ANYTHING that-" "No, there is not. You know this, Lavits." The blonde closed his eyes. "Then at LEAST let me accompany you to-!" "LAVITS-" Albert raised a hand and gripped the one at his shoulder. A few moments of silence yet again passed between them, although the hostility of before was no longer present. "I'm not six anymore. I'm not a child. I know what must be done." The knight swallowed sharply. "But you ARE my friend. Duty alone does not demand I protect you!!!" "And I will not have your life wasted should something run amiss. The castle needs you here." He smiled in manner more forced then not. "Keep things in order while I'm gone. That is all I ask. God willing, I will return with good news." Despite whatever morbid demon fought to shout in protest. To say; "You may not return at ALL!" with unforgivable certainty... Lavits only forced himself to nod. His gaze listlessly held the room for a moment; debating, hating and hurting- all at the same time. He rose. "... When will you be leaving?" Albert replied with an even; "There is no time like the present." Not that any of this eased the nerves of his childhood friend. Lavits found that, as Albert began up from his seat to exit the room, his king must have been prepared to leave at a moment's whim. Had decided on an appropriate time far before their heated discussion began. At the door, green cape left to settle gently about his ankles, Albert turned once to look at him. "Wish me luck?" Lavits tried to smile. "Always." --------- In the Black Castle, Kanzas. --------- "Doel." Reddish gray eyes shot open. A heavy hand moved from his temple- to the right arm of a glinting throne etched in black metal. His eyes narrowed. "Sire, I apologize..." And the man who had disturbed his thoughts gave a small bow, kneeling upon one knee. His thick reddish hair fell forwards with the motion, and the eyes of a young soldier finally raised to meet those of the Emperor of Sandora. "But I bring an urgent request." "Get on with it, then." Came a low voice, made ever the more dark as each year passed. Black and red armor, a strong decor braced against his sturdy frame, twitched in irritation as Doel shifted slightly forwards. "Has my nephew arrived?" "Not yet, you highness." Another quick bow. "His most devious Frugel wishes a moment of your time." Doel felt a staggering bulge of amusement trickle up into his voice, and it came from his throat as a cruel laugh of sorts. Leaning back into his seat, intent eyes flickering in the unnatural violet lighting that surrounded them, he gave a snort. "Devious eh? Frugel? That pompous tub of lard?" He noted the private's soft smirk as he nodded. "I'm afraid so, sire." "And did he put you up to that 'devious' remark as well, Soldier?" "Yes, Sire." Another harsh chuckle. Doel waved one hand and propped a heavy black boot onto the left crook of his throne. "Send the fat bastard in. You are excused, Brian." Somewhat startled that the emperor knew his name, and had used it, the soldier bowed once more and jogged away. Cruel a ruler as Doel was, it amazed a countless many that he could retain the identities of even the most trivial of human labor. Unfortunately, that was Brain. Such was life. He gave a mental shrug and turned on heel. Doel watched absently as the young man neared the spanning double entrance to his throne room, and opened the nearly black oak doors to reveal a massive figure. With a nod to the private, Brian scurried out and allowed the rather disturbing head warden to enter his chamber. "Thank you, Sire!" Came his ever so annoying voice. Somewhat of a lewd, barking sound. Built like a gawking, obese monkey; Doel did not respect nor tolerate the repulsive disgrace for a man beyond his abilities as an effective tool of fear. Who had not heard of the notorious Hellena prison? The place where innocents lay slain, tortured and beaten to death all in the name of Frugel's warped and sadistic perversions? TO be sent to Hellena was to be sent to hell. And Frugel always seemed to be giddy with that prospect. Afterall, should he run the equivalent of hell, then he should just as easily be rumored the Devil. "What do you want, beast." Doel spat in a somewhat bored tone, ever un-intimidated by the eight foot frame of muscle and fat. He, of all people, was one of very few that could get away with taunting the ugly creature. That in itself brought Doel a mixed form of entertainment. To watch Frugel stiffen and work his blubber laden lips with soundless curses. "I- your majesty... that is-" "Spit it out, fool." Thick slabs of armor cresting his shoulders and belt straps giving a loud 'creak' as they arched in vain over Frugel's spanning expanse of belly- the tall, bald man wrinkled his thick nose and gave the closest thing to a horse laugh Doel had ever heard. "Yes sire! At once!" And Frugel waved his stubby arms with flair, finally managing to prop them up over his massive hips. "I have come to brief you on our most recent preparations!" Doel listened with rising irritation as Frugel explained his 'preparation' of Hellena in receiving his majesty Albert. Truly, was this man THAT sick? And of course, the tall emperor realized what an utterly vain question that had been, seeing as how his instantaneous answer was a curt 'Yes.' He ran a hand through raven black, short cropped hair and sighed once. Shrewd eyes regarded the dismal length of his throne room. A chamber full of dark walls, furniture and light. All of the deepest violet shades, like a room eternally shrouded under nightfall. "Frugel?" The man paused, looked up at him. "Sire?" "Shut up." Another blank stare. "Yes- I told you to shut that ring of cellulite you call a mouth. Exactly how *well* have you been informed of my nephew's visitation? And may I stress that last word!? Bumbling idiot!" Doel slammed a fist into the thick arm of his throne. Frugels eyes drew to narrow slits, regarding Doel with a sort of annoyed curiosity. "You mean to tell me... you are literally accepting the prospect of a truce? I thought for certain this was a ploy we could use to finally dispose of that child!!" "If your meager brain capacity could register exactly how badly Sandora is fairing at the moment, you would understand why a truce is not such a ludicrous idea. Basil is no better off. By the gods- even I am not so stubborn as to refuse a chance at peace- If However temporary. Frugal looked as if he had been struck. Both beady black eyes wide and angry, his arms began to flap again. His dark skin deepened two or three shades. It was a rather odd display, as Frugel was not so brave as to raise his voice in the presence of a superior rank. nevermind the emperor himself. However, when it came to the disruption of his personal enjoyment over the pain of others... "WHAT!?" The warden barked, flustered voice coming off as unnaturally high. "How... By the GODS- have you gone COMPLETELY insane!? With your nephew in my hands, I have only to kill him!! I have only to slit that pretty little neck, and this war does not come to halt in truce! it comes to an END!!! *You* Would be ruler of all Serdio!!! And since when have YOU ever sought PEACE!? "Did, or did I NOT tell you to shut up?" Doel growled. "By manner of honor, and the rules of war; I will settle this dispute in fairness and-" Frugal gave that horse laugh again. "OH!! your a fair man, now!? YOU Doel, are nothing more what you had been that 'day' some 17 odd years ago! You couldn't kill him then, and you can't now- can you!? Only one word comes to mind, your majesty. Exactly how many other ways can one say 'COWARD'!?" Despite the fact that Doel stood an unimpressive 6'2 in comparison with the giant Frugel, the larger boulder of a man was overturned within the span of a breath. Doel, who had stood and lunged like a near wounded animal, held Frugel's fat face between two twin swords. Light and Darkness. They blades flickered with murderous intention. "Coward?" he hissed. Doel's lean arms held the larger man in place by the literal temptation of death. "No one insults me, you leech. Do not pretend to know better then I- Frugel. Do not attempt to second guess my ideals. With each of my actions there shall be a reaction in turn. THIS is why the strategy of war is not played by simple minded behemoths such as yourself. I am fully in control of the choices I make, and the outcomes they shall present. My nephew will have his time at your mercy, but that wretched life of his will not come to an end before my voice deals such an order. For now- a truce is in our best interests." Gasping and struggling under the lethal hold, Frugel squeaked as Doel leaned closer. One foot came down painfully on the heaving stomach beneath him. "Do we understand one another?" A jerky nod, concealed between rolls of flab. "Good. Because I assure you that further such insubordination will not be tolerated. Lloyd is very well educated in the ways of pain. Now get out of my sight." Doel released the warden, eyes still narrowed as he quietly replaced the twin swords at identical sheaths on either side of his throne. He sat back into his chair thereafter, watching with stern features as Frugel picked himself from the floor like a whipped pup. The short, and rather ludicrous red cape that flapped over his shoulders was quickly tossed back over a bulky left side. It was then that Doel realized, by the simple look on Frugels face, that something was rather wrong. Not to mention the fact that he didn't go running from the room. A moment or two passed- only broken by the nervous shuffling of Hellena's warden. "Your still here, Frugel..." Doel ventured. He wanted the ugly bastard out of his damned chamber. "I.. sire.. That is... in light of your recent decisions..." And his voice certainly held none of the contempt of before, but rather an anxious, building fear. Doel locked his fingers and raised a brow in sarcastic patience. "What is it!?" More shuffling. "I had been certain your nephew would be taken immediately to Hellena on arrival-! And, I.. it seemed only logical that, to avoid any conflict in the city itself, he... what I mean is- I had a crew dispatched to-!!!" The emperor of Sandora held a tight expression- intense eyes burning into that of his obese subservient. "Clarify." He spoke slowly... voice like daggers. Frugel swallowed sharply. "A prison crew of my mercenaries was issued to intercept and incapacitate his majesty Albert just around noon yesterday. It just seemed a... a rational action at the time! I thought it would prove most convenient for you! For your plans concer-" Doel stood, and Frugel fell silent. ""You issued an order of *that* nature, did NOT inform me..." His sentence trailed off, scowl deepening. "Sire, I-!" "YOU-" And Doel's voice boomed into the room. "Will be *dealt* with appropriately. But as of now- please define your use of the word, *incapacitate*!!!" He watched, with some underlying twinge of horror, as Frugel allowed something like a smile to slip over his face. ------------ Serdio- eighteen miles west of Seles on the following morning. ------------ Runners, long ago referred to as 'horses' before that errant species had become extinct, had senses far more keen then any Night Hound, May Fox, and certainly surpassed that of any human. It was only a reasonable development to have the large, stead fast creatures domesticated over time. They provided an excellent method of travel and served in the ways of protection as well. Should something be amiss, the large, clever animals could realize something was wrong far before their master would become aware of any such mishap. That was some of the reason why Albert watched his mare curiously. Patience was somewhat perturbed it seemed- lifting her head cautiously from the stream at which she drank. The Runner would keep her gaze level and intent a few moments, testing the air with a quick- almost lizard like tongue... and then returning to the fresh water. He sighed and leaned quietly against the tree at his back. "Your majesty..." Derrick began. A tall, thin knight with dull brown hair and a constant smile, he was making a comical procedure of a simple task... trying with all his skill to thread his saddle correctly. "I just.. No- I don't get how this works...! What did you say again? About the loops? And then-" he coughed as Elizabeth (His Runner) gave a curt snort and wobbled her head. Albert smiled, albeit a bit thinly, as his thoughts were somewhat both distracted and distant. Pushing himself up from the ground, he approached the knight and turned Elizabeth to the side with a slight tug on her leather reigns. She blinked at him, and gave another snort. "Take the tethers hanging aside her flank..." he began to instruct, watching as the knight did just that. "Yes- that's right. Now tighten them just slightly and bring the buckle up behind ... Derrick- I really wouldn't-!" But he did- fastening the long buckle that connected his saddle far to high. In turn- the threads of the equipment tightened a bit to abruptly, and the Runner did not take kindly to his action. A toss of hooves- an irritated growl.... Derrick sighed and stared up at the sky from his new vantage over the forest floor. Elizabeth, who had promptly thrown him to the ground, gave something like a satisfied neigh. "I hate that Runner." He commented absently as Albert helped him up. "Lavits will die for giving me the one single animal out of our entire stable that has an attitude problem!" he glared at the mare who lifted her head indifferently. "That-" the king interjected. "Or I'll kill him first for having you come along." Albert began to thread the saddle himself, carefully watching Elizabeth should she decided to become irritated with him. Some few feet away, Patience had begun back to their small camp. Her chestnut hair gleamed slightly with stream water. "Sire-" And Derrick brushed his pantlegs free of bramble and soil. "With all due respect, I have to second Lavit's choice to have me escort you to Kanzas. It's only safer, your majesty." He gave a smile. "And if your annoyed because-" Albert raised a thin gloved hand and cocked a brow. "I'm simply a bit flustered Derrick, and I apologize. Honestly- I should have figured Lavits would send someone after me by the time I was to far out to turn back... and I can't order you to return to the capitol." Derrick gave a wry grin and pulled out a letter from his side pouch. Lavits had guessed that Albert would immediately return him to Bale even after intercepting his travel, and so sent him along with a few important documents to be delivered at Seles. Turning Derrick away would be a waste of time and energy, as the town was directly on route to Kanzas. "Face it, he's got you down to a science." Derrick waved the envelope once and return it to his pack. "Oh, be quiet." The king of Serdio remarked dryly. As of now, there was nothing he could do but vow to lecture his friend upon return. Lavits wouldn't be getting off easy this time... the way to Kanzas was dangerous and long. Either way- he was still very familiar with the territory, and if his uncle's arrangement DID prove hostile, Derrick would be another life placed in danger. "If your ready, Let's begin again. The Runners are rested enough to continue..." Derrick nodded. Watched quietly as Albert quickly shifted his cape to one side and lifted himself easily upon the back of Patience. Riding certainly wasn't a foreign concept to the young king if the way he handled himself was any indication. The Knight was somewhat caught off guard really... upon meeting up with Albert some few hours back, he hadn't been sure what to expect. Someone rather aloof and cold? A person who would act superior and harsh? This was the first time he had ever served in the more personal space of their king... and he was surprised. Albert treated him no differently then he would treat a friend. Respect and courtesy... some degree of humor. It seemed almost odd. He hadn't even been that angry when learning about the orders Lavits had given. More like concerned- and for -him- on top of it. "Thanks for gearing her up correctly..." Derrick said as he mounted Elizabeth. For once- the saddle didn't slide and jerk under his weight as it would at any other time. He really *would* have to get that procedure down at some point. Tie... loop... buckle? Gah...!!! The knight decided not to think about that *just* now... and instead gazed up into the shimmering blue sky of early morning. It really was rather calming... the forest that surrounded them was quiet and smelt of wildflowers. Derrick had just begun to walk Elizabeth forwards when something razor sharp and lightning fast shot into the flesh of his back. "Albert-!" And he just had time enough to shout the warning before his body toppled forwards to the ground, rolling once as his Runner gave a scream of alarm. Not two seconds later and she was silent, an arrow sending the poor creature to it's knees and into death. Cross bows... very accurate. "Derrick!?" Patience whirled around on her hooves, crying loudly. Albert shook away strands of ash blonde from his sight, leaping off his mount and running forwards to where Derrick had fallen. He dropped to one knee an instant later- hands up and searching. Derrick gave a stifled groan of pain when he found the hilt of an arrow. Lodged within his back with precise and deadly intent, the weapon had struck true to his right lung. "Don't move!" Albert said quietly, eyes scanning the forest once and then moving back to the agitated Patience. He judged his own sight by her frightened eyes... pinned above in the tree's. Where she looked he turned his gaze. The Runner would know better where their enemies hid. "They Shot Liz'..." And Derrick swallowed a good deal of blood before it began to spill over the sides of his mouth. Focus distorted, the knight fumbled to reach for his sword even as Albert pressed him back and rolled him on his side. "Don't move, Derrick. Stay still..." Albert's left hand was pressed deep against his wound, voice urgent. "I..." again, the hand went for his sword. "Run! Your majesty-" "Quiet." And Albert's free hand clamped down firm over his mouth. Around them, the forest was again as silent and peaceful as before. Breath somewhat ragged, Derrick looked up through glazed eyes at his king. They exchanged a glance, and the blood that leaked from Elizabeth's body began to tang the air. "Did you see them, Derrick?" Again, Albert looked towards patience. This turn around, the knight couldn't manage breath enough to talk. He gasped very slightly, and shook his head violently as a wrack of coughing overcame him. The air rushed unnaturally and caught more then a few times. It was easy enough for Albert to tell that his injury was serious. "No- don't talk then. I understand." One hand gripped his own. "Stay as still as you can. Your lung is pierced, and removing or dislodging the arrow will have you bleeding internally. Derrick tried to smile, eyes struggling to keep focus under the pain. "S..some j..ob I did... of.. pro.. protect..." He gasped. "Mm.. sSo..rry. "Hush. You just stay awake. Don't move." Patience began to scream. Albert brought out a thick metal rod from his side pack, perhaps five inches in length. With one smooth click of some hidden latch at it's middle, two long rods unsheathed themselves from either end of the device and expanded within the span of half a second. A glinting metal head completed the spear- snapping forwards at the head of the weapon and catching slivers of light. He looked to the Runner- who milled her hooves in the soft earth but refused to run. She was a loyal creature. Frightened and agitated, but not willing to leave. He signaled her down, and Patience uneasily settled back on her haunches. Lips upturned and fangs glinting, the mare began to whine. Albert held his breath, listening. A sharp click echoed off into the distance. Again- the crossbow. When Patience turned her eyes above, Albert turned his body. He was up and moving in one solid motion, thrusting his spear above and to the right without second glance or thought. His weapon cut through the air with a defiant, clean rush of sound- and someone gave a scream. "Barei!!" he heard a voice yell in response to whomever had been wounded. Crimson splattered onto the forest floor from above, where he had hefted the spear. As his weapon returned to earth a few meters from the wounded Derrick, more voices joined the blood tinged air. "God DAMN! Get the little bastard!" "Gareth-! My chest...!!!" A body fell from the branches above, crashing to earth with yet another scream. It was cut short as the man connected with the solid ground... and Albert stared a moment in tense uncertainty. ~There are at least three hidden from view. Possibly more.~ "Patience..." Albert called softly, and the Mare began towards him with cautious steps. He was very afraid that any moment and another arrow would claim her life as she came quietly to his side, muzzle twisting to the scent of an injured human. He motioned her down by the reigns, placing her between both Derrick and the body of his dead Runner. At the very least, they wouldn't be able to see him easily. If they noticed the knight was not dead... Albert quickly moved to where his spear had fallen and picked it from the ground. A defensive pose taken to with ease, there was really no choice but to stand and fight. Were these Doel's men? Simple thieves? he twirled his spear and glared into the forest. "Show yourselves!" Albert commanded- the formidable tone and strength of his voice rather surprising to the young king. A silence broken only by melodious birds ensued. Albert grit his teeth and searched the tree's. Above, shielded only by the dense forest vegetation.. One could slightly make out the form of an older soldier. The clear light of early morning caught his face and clothing. The breeze ruffled a stark black bandana that lay strapped over a broad forehead. He knew only officers of Hellena prison to wear such identification. ~ What!? ~ "Start screaming- kid!" Albert let out a startled gasp as he was violently shoved forwards into the ground. His body instantly attempted to spring back upwards, but a heavy boot struck his side- and another fell over his head. Gasping for the breath that had been knocked from his lungs, Albert was forced down once again. His vision spun in shades of forest green. Black. Shadows played over the ground behind him. "Oh- FUN!" A man snorted. "THIS is the goddamned king of Basil? What a priss!" And another hard kick slammed itself into his gut. Albert breathed in a mix of dirt and blood, hearing his Runner begin to bellow urgently from somewhere to his right. A strong grip wrapped itself in his hair and snapped Albert's neck upwards. "Hrmph." Laughing. The voices of five or six different people. Seven if you counted the bowman in the tree's. Eight before their comrade, wounded by Albert's spear, fell to his death. "You know... we have very specific instructions as to what should be done with you..." one of the men snarled into his left ear. Still, he could not see them, face once again pressed into the ground. "After we get to Hellena, that is. For now, we're just going to wing this." Cruel, mocking laughter. "You'd be surprised what a person can live though, your highness. How is that poor Knight fairing? The guy you killed got in a pretty nice shot to his back, if I remember correctly. Albert growled a sharp; "Leave him out of th-!!!" And received another hard blow in return. "I hate you royal brats. Shut up- it'll do ya' good." A strong hand gripped his shoulder and rolled Albert to his back. Against the clear blue sky and sage leaves above, his assailants were a crude image. Blocky, harsh men. All dressed in almost identical uniforms- with the black bandana tied at each hairline. For those that had hair, in anycase. They reminded him more of brutish inmates then soldiers. "heh- the other guy is dead, boss." Said one of the six figures. Standing by the body of Elizabeth and the frightened patience, he kicked Derrick once in the arm- nudging over the unresponsive body. Albert squeezed his eyes shut. "No!" "Didn't I tell you to shut up?" One of the soldiers growled. His boot raised again, a sinister smile spreading across his face. ~I think NOT!~ With one lightning quick flash of motion- Albert struck out his left foot. All the force he could manage slammed into the kneecap of the closest Hellena soldier, and it burst backwards with a terrible snap. The entire leg twisted- and a strangled scream ripped itself from the throat of his captor. There was a very brief period of shock before all five remaining men realized what had happened. The others rushed forwards- but the chance was enough. Albert leapt up from the ground and reached for his discarded weapon. All in the same motion his frame flipped to the right and struck. A multitude of blows that, unleashed with the help of his graceful partisan, allowed Albert the ability to distance himself from the soldiers. Patience again began to bellow in the calamity of motion- and she reared in fright. Sliced through the ground with her strong legs. The nearest soldier gave a grunt of pain as Albert's whirling spear connected with his head- and that was all. The other four jumped back and kept their distance as he fell to the damp earth. Albert steadied his breathing. Regarding his enemies coolly and tried to gather his thoughts. ~Fool!! The one in the tree!~ Above, a crossbow clicked one more. Although speed was not a trait that escaped him, Albert felt the pull of metal against his flesh as a screeching arrow tore into, and through his arm. Had he not moved to the side, it would have lodged itself directly within the back of his neck. A groan sputtered from his mouth as he staggered to the right and clamped one hand over the wound. "Hrrr- allow me to HELP with THAT!" someone spat. It was from the largest man in the group from Hellena- raising both fists and flying towards him with a curved dagger held dangerously in either palm. Albert blinked- sidestepped. Swung. The three remaining soldiers were hesitant now. They watched with some sort of morbid understanding as the blade of Albert's spear still held it's prey in a loose grip. The human skull that had been impaled upon it's tip slowly gave way, and Albert let the man slide dead at his feet. Alert Hazel eyes moved from the body, to the tree's, to the men still standing. He let out a long breath. "Please..." And Albert's voice shook just slightly. "Stop this. No one else needs to die." "Frugel didn't say he could -fight-!!!!" The smallest of their group snarled, oblivious. All three debated. Moved and then halted. "You'll pay for this, royalty." One of the three sneered in contempt. He raised a hand and motioned the other two to accompany his charge. "Hope you like pain." Albert readied his spear. The next actions were fast, furious and over nearly as quickly as they had begun. Albert was always the quicker, and although strength could not keep him alive; the speed and skill with which he fought was utterly the key in victory. Crimson splattered the reddish bark nearby, streaked across the deep colored hide of Patience and the dead Elizabeth. The last blow fell on the man in the tree's, who had all but jumped down into the awaiting, lethal edge of Albert's spear. It had not even been an intentional strike, but by the time the last Hellena soldier realized his position was doomed to be a fatal one- the king had already thrust his weapon directly into his chest. With the exception of the loud, moaning soldier whose leg was bent inwards, everyone was dead. *** "Honestly Frugel... you've gone and irritated Doel AGAIN have you?" A massive, humiliating slap marked red the Warden's bulky face. "Shut up you silver haired freak. I did what was necessary." "YOU did.." And Lloyd paced about his form like a vulture of sorts. "What you thought would be *fun*. Tell me, Frugel, why do the most of those prisoners whom you keep in Hellena die before I've been given a chance to interrogate them?" Giving a slight laugh, Frugel rolled his eyes. Lloyd simply regarded him with a mix of annoyance and general distaste. "Alright, then. I'll answer your question. Very simply, your a sadist. Every new death brings you some form of twisted pleasure. An opportunity to kill the ruler of Basil must have offered you quick a kick, if you were even willing to go out and fetch him yourself. A Yawn. "Oh- you have my number NOW- don't you!? Think about it, Lloyd. To slay someone in that kind of power does not bring only HIM pain. It effects thousands. If Doel was planning to kill the brat as it was, what's wrong with my taking a little liberty with his execution? Either way you look at it Albert will eventually end up dead. I think with all the good service I've put into this country, I at least have rights to the end of that petty boy." In the dismal, sickly light around them, one hard blow rang throughout the deep, cavernous tunnels. Long earthen rooms, rattling wooden elevators and rotting bridges crisscrossed the true foundation of Hellena prison. Shook each time a bolt of lightning might strike the massive, sixty eight story's of rock and wood that stood precariously just off the south Serdian coastline. With a slight muffled sound of pain, Frugel turned his head to one side and spit three or four bloody teeth from his mouth. They dropped to the earth floor with a soft patter. Lloyd lowered his arm, flexing the fingers of his right hand as if in preparation to strike again. His lean body moved close to the Warden, black vest, boots and pants giving a soft sheen of red as it caught the light of nearby torches. His crimson eyes flickered briefly. "Death is not a game. Death is the universal end to time, and killing is the end of innocence. When you take a life Frugel, you smile and laugh like some spoiled little child. You do not think of the person- of who they are or who they might have been. You simply watch that look of agony on their features and giggle madly like the beast you are. I swear to the gods that I will teach you to respect life. Whether it be that of a man, woman or child. Of a damned blade of grass... You'll learn." Frugel had the audacity to smile upwards. His lumpy body, secured to the floor by chains alone, buckled slightly in laughter. "Is that a threat, *sir!?*" he cackled madly. "It certainly is, Frugel." Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Doel has already left to find and dispose of those soldiers you sent after Albert." "Doel? He went after them?" A pause. " Useless! Any moment now and my men will drag that stupid relative of his through the front gates of Hellena!!! You wanted him here anyway, right!? Although I can't KILL the boy as initially planned..." "In the discussion of a truce, attacking the other party before reaching any mutual agreement will not strengthen our trust. Idiot. You underestimate Doel's nephew. He is young, but skilled. Luckily. Do you even have the slightest idea of what could happen if Albert dies now? of what that would do to the Emperors plans- and my own ideals?" Frugel grimaced. "Stupid dog. I honestly don't care about whatever personal gains your after." A brief silence. This time, Lloyd let a very wicked smile slip over his features. It was Frugel's turn to look uneasy... and the Warden tried to force a similar defiant grin. "What are you smiling at, idiot!?" Lloyd rolled his neck. "I was just wondering... that- if you ARE a sadist- which indeed, I believe to be true... Perhaps your somewhat of a masochist as well, eh?" He unsheathed a knife from the twin sling belts that hung at his side. Frugel froze. "For your sake? Lets hope so." --------- Some four hours later... --------- Everytime Albert was forced to kill, regardless of the outcome, a stark wetness invaded his eyes as he tried to justify the taking of another human life. ~You had to defend yourself. There is no wrong in staying alive!~ But there was already so much death. Senseless, irreversible slaughter. What right did he have? What right did ANYONE have to deny another person the threads of existence? In all truth though, he couldn't think about that. Not now. Derrick -thank the gods- had not died as was previously speculated by the solider from Hellena. His condition had worsened dramatically, but he was still breathing. A faint pulse beat slowly along his wrist. Albert held him there for a few moments, counting silently. "Rraa---aaGHH!" Came a voice behind him. It was the single soldier that had survived. Awake again, it seemed. Albert ignored the throb over his wounded shoulder and carefully shifted Derrick to one side, trying to ease his shallow breathing. When the shorter man from Hellena had abruptly rolled him over, the arrow dislodged and worsened his injury. "You'll be alright." He spoke quietly. Although unsure if Derrick could hear him, it didn't really matter. Albert needed that reassurance nearly as much as the knight himself would. One hand shifted over the bloody ground and pushed him upwards a moment after. To Patience. The Runner was advancing on the wounded soldier- her head thrusting forwards and back with hostile motions against her reigns. Albert had already twice restrained his mare, and then resolved earlier on to simply tie her straps around the nearest branch. She'd trample the wounded man if allowed. This- he knew for certain. Again the soldier let out a moan of sorts, and Albert quickly turned his head in the direction of the agonized noise. His name -or nickname- was tattooed into the calf of the injured leg. Albert found it to read 'Baron' upon closer inspection some few minutes ago... when he had finished setting the leg of his enemy. By chance, or perhaps luck, the man had been unconscious at the time. But beginning to regain consciousness, he would easily be met with a great deal of pain. "Patience- stop..." And Albert waved an arm at the mare, trying to calm her nerves as he stood and began over to 'Baron' with quick, but cautious steps. Assorted brambles and vegetation cracked lightly into the air of early afternoon; A product of his light frame moving swiftly over the forest floor. Perhaps two hours had passed between his encounter with the men from Hellena and the present scenario. It had been a strenuous one... Wounds considered and graves dug. All that remained now from the previous struggle were assorted streams of crimson. As soon as the soldier saw him approach, the man flinched and instantly jerked upwards in search of a weapon. His mangled leg, however, did not take so kindly to that action. The ash blonde could literally see his face contort in stages as the pain shot throughout his body. "Stop!" Albert hissed. "Your going to make it worse..." And he came beside Baron as he had with Derrick, pressing him flat to the ground. "Move and it's only going to become more painful." "Funny you should care!!" The man strangled out. He was stocky, perhaps up to Albert's chin in height, with raven black hair and angry blue eyes. Baron hefted one shoulder forwards and tossed a fist in Albert's general direction. He caught it, and held the arm immobile. "Don't be a fool. I'm trying to help!" "And why would you do that!?" "Even the more intelligent can be foolish." A sudden voice shot up from behind them. Albert froze. Instant ice that shivered as if with the very feeling of it's own coldness. He recognized the strong, even voice. The deep understanding in it. Intelligent if in a brutal sort of way. Hand still clenched tightly over the arm that had attempted to strike him, Albert released the soldier and pursed his lips. There was a rustle of cloth. Movement. ~Oh, dear gods... what have I gotten myself into?~ It was a pathetic thought- but a true one, all the same. "Sweet Goddess, you've grown." And the voice changed directions, coming alongside of him. Albert still could not quite will himself to turn and look upon the bearer of that absent comment. Whatever it was that prevented him from doing so was an old thing. He didn't approve of it. Before further thought could evade him, however, something lightning fast passed just by his head. Startled his mind and body when twin splatters of red painted his face in errant patterns. The soldier gasped once... and then fell silent. The head of a spear was buried deep within his chest. THAT- got him moving. But when he *met* the gaze of his uncle... a man he had not seen in over fifteen years, Albert felt his jaw work in silent outrage. His body refused to move despite a conscious part of his mind that recognized the need to bear arms. He wiped at his messed features. At the blood. Stared and felt his own breathing come in somewhat raspy gasps. ~Infection.... your shoulder... I...Can't think- not that... friend or foe? He was at an utter, and complete loss. *** Doel realized some few hours after leaving Kanzas that he did not know who he was looking for. The Hellena soldiers would have been easy to spot- their identification headbands and gruff exteriors considered. But Albert? The years would have changed him drastically by now. Grown out the thin, lanky body he remembered. Tall for his age even at six years, surely Albert would be his height- if not taller still... Although he doubted sincerely that the prince would have become large as his 7'5 father. When Doel looked upon him- who would he see more of? Carlo? The long dead queen Alexia? Curiosity, if however a ludicrous feeling, welled inside the Sandorian Emperor. And then... he could feel some degree of worry as well. Doel knew enough of Albert' thinking to realize he would never travel with knight's from the castle Indels as a form of protection. Doing so placed more life in danger- and drew attention. Gods knew Albert had a somewhat sickening value for life. Yet If the soldiers had found him? With eight in total, suppose their methods of capture had seriously wounded his nephew? And then... he thought less of that. Because Albert had been trained to fight by the well known Lavits Slambert. It was more likely those guards would have been *incapacitated* themselves... if he was to use Frugel's terming. But suppose he did fight well and the soldiers would resort to using deadly force? Frugel had been intending on killing him anyway... and the group from Hellena would not be so hindered in their orders by means of simple chivalry. It hadn't mattered at that moment. He had only to find the king of basil. Doel was sure that -when he saw him- (despite whatever concerns floundered about his thoughts-) he would know. And he had. ~There....!~ Of course, he was not certain at first. Following the route taken by Frugel's men, he had passed many travelers and seen little of the features he might expect to find on Albert. The young royalty's parentage was exotic- and the prince too had carried a distinct look. Traveling by Runner, he was careful on evaluating that fact.,.. but then- all at once it seemed to click. And he saw someone thin, tall, lethal in his own respect. Hair long and unbidden. Face set. What had honestly made Doel cut through the Hauestus Forest, he would never know. But some few odd miles west of Seles, he found his nephew. His nephew- tending to the injuries of a Hellena dog, on top of it. Bracing a mangled knee that had -quite obviously- been kicked out in some form of struggle. Upon nearing he had counted seven graves. Two Runners, with one dead... a wounded knight. The surviving beast raised it's head at his approach and bared her fangs... but she was tied and he was quiet. "Don't be a fool, I'm trying to help!" he heard the ash blonde half hiss, half plead. His voice was somewhat light and carried an accent that sent Doel's mind reeling. He had retained it from Alexia without question. Distinct Serdian- a hard dialect to preserve in today's day and age. "And why would you do that!?" The Soldier snapped back at him, an arm raised as if to strike. Neither but the Runner knew of his presence. Logically speaking, that would have to change... Gathering his breath, Doel realized something more. How *did* he go about addressing this man... this figure- who was a chid he remembered limp and shocked in his arms. A relative- and foe. The king of Basil. Family and friends of any other sort could shout a name- smile and embrace. Distance of time left them only the more happy to see one another again. But the last time Albert had seen him- it was with a sword pressed to his neck and a dead father strewn across the cold marble nearby. What -could- he say? And yet- both Sandora and Basil needed this truce. He needed it to attain future ideals. Lloyd needed this break to gather his plans. His further conquests. Their meeting again, despite whatever passage of years separated he and Albert, was unavoidable. And Doel had dreaded it's coming since the day of Carlo's death. ~Goddamnit Frugel.... you don't have any idea what fates you were tempting...~ And then, Finally..... "Even the more intelligent can be foolish." He almost whispered, answering the ragged comment that had previously come from the moaning soldier. Who, Doel resolved, would have to die. *** Questions consumed him. Many- very harsh and very fast. For one reason or another his wounded shoulder decided *just* now to become very painful, but in either case Albert ignored the throb and tried to piece together his thoughts. He failed miserably. Which, in turn, resulted in an expression he could only describe as numb creeping over his features. One hand listlessly gestured back to the now dead Hellena soldier. Wavered in the air as he turned his eyes up towards his uncle. In not finding anything to say, he managed only; "Why?!" Doel blinked. His face was stern and controlled- a facade Albert had never known to break or scratch with ease. Amazing that he hadn't changed. Everything he remembered was still intact. That same face- looming over his own . The steel that had bit at his neck just before Albert remembered loosing consciousness. ~I can't... believe I still recall...~ But then, how could he forget. "I rather pose the question; "Why save him?" Then otherwise. The fool tried to kill you. Now get up." "He was acting under orders..." Albert said quickly, and found his voice beginning to raise in volume. "ONLY orders! You.. t.. there was no REASON...!" "Honestly... are you still that frail?" And Doel's eyes were set as he then turned to regard the Wounded knight." We obviously can't stay here. Let us go to Lohan- the city is commercial and does not hold loyalty to either Sandora nor Basil. Come." Albert just looked at him as if he was insane. Staggered to his feet. Doel took a step back and crossed his arms as his nephew quietly took up a defensive stance. His weapon, a spear by choice, came up in one hand. "Your going to fight me with a shoulder in that condition?" Doel asked, incredulous. "I was attacked, and my friend was seriously injured by eight men from Hellena. Your prison." Albert straightened up and swallowed hard, ignoring his comment. "Last I checked, this was not the proper way for two whom are supposed to meet under the pretense of a truce!" Doel knew where this was going. Blinked under the high sun that filtered through the canopy of green forest above. "This was not my intent." "Oh? And so do you stroll from Kanzas everyday? Go for long walks in these very woods on a regular basis? You have no reason to be here..." "Sarcastic? you? I had no idea..." "Spare me you humor, uncle." "Done." The emperor of Sandora took a quick breath, debating over the situation and the best way to handle his relative. Albert had good reason to suspect him in ill intentions... so now the task was changing this opinion. His gaze traveled briefly over Albert's somewhat shaken frame... the wounded shoulder. He obviously *could* fight... but there was a difference between fighting and... fighting. In one respect- you were able and willing. In another- you were able... but NEVER willing. His nephew had seen, shared, and dealt blood before, but Doel had never really known what a toll it could take on the man. Albert would die very quickly if he could not distance himself from those he killed. Doel had gained that ability long ago. "Trust me." He began, laughable a sentence as it seemed. "Please. I'll explain everything on the way." Albert seemed taken slightly aback, as if he had been expecting a charge- a duel. Another fight of SOME sort. The spear he held lowered just slightly, and he winced as the heavy weapon strained on his wound. Doel continued. "But- we should leave the knight. He's sure to die anyway you look at this. Get your Runner and-" "OUT of the question." Albert nearly growled. "Derrick is alive, and he will remain that way. The man was injured because of me." ~Guilt like that won't do you well. Do you blame yourself for every death Basil takes?~ And Doel narrowed his eyes slightly, regarding Albert's alert gaze. "To do so would be foolish. He'll take up time and energy." Albert's glare turned almost feral. "I will handle him on my own. You've no need to worry about straining yourself." Doel relented and gave a small nod, watching as one of Albert's hands came up and slapped at a fall of loose ash blonde . The strands were tossed back over his head quickly, and Doel could see the fastening of a light green harness that kept his hair tied back. All of his attire was rather earthen. Appropriate, Doel supposed. A simple, long sleeved vest slide that was sage green. Light chest armor and belt band...with quite the heavy cape thrown over his shoulders. Funny that he should manage to look both simple and royal at the same time. Rather different from Doel's own traveling gear, which was black and brown. Rough fighting attire he'd broken well and bled in thoroughly. "Sire..." A weak voice managed. Doel jolted his speculations to Albert- who had moved across the deep blackish soil to the wounded knight. Derrick, was his name? Carefully placed on his side to improve breathing at some earlier hour, Albert was with him once more. His nephew carefully pulled him up from the ground, slightly turned his head to get the man's attention. "We're leaving. How do you feel?" The knight gave a convulsive shudder. "I'm ... f..ine." Albert nodded and carefully shifted his weight to the right, on his good arm. "Alright, but this will hurt. Stay still, it will be over in a moment. We'll get help." Doel twitched his nose slightly. "We don't have time to find a damned doctor fo-" "Uncle, pardon me..." And Albert raised his eyes to the Sandoran. "But shut up." The raven haired Doel smirked lightly. Derrick seemed somewhat perturbed now that the other voice had been given a label within his earshot. Uncle? Surely Albert couldn't mean... but his mind faltered over the thought as his king lifted him from the forest floor. As warned, his back and chest shook with a sharp pain. Derrick grit his teeth. Doel still found the concept ridiculous. Saving this man, of whom would not in any good reason make it to Lohan alive. Still, something odd caught in his thoughts as he watched his nephew. The younger struggled gracefully, if that could even be possible, to get the Knight up upon the broad back of his Runner. It took only one try and not a quirk of folly, but he could see the pain on Albert's face. Again Doel's eyes shifted to the wound at his shoulder.... obviously deep and bleeding with strain. He simply wasn't used to meeting people who cared... was that it? "Patience..." And that was the name of his Runner it seemed. "Calm, please." Albert had quietly adjusted her reigns in the span of mere seconds, running a hand through the chestnut hair that adorned her thick hide. Doel raised a brow at the beast, as she was quite intent on him now. A smart one, he supposed. Her gaze was very wary and very understanding. She stomped the ground in agitation as Doel flashed a grin. Albert simply shot him a glance, and then mounted the runner directly behind Derrick. It would be awkward to keep the knight still and balanced, but he seemed determined enough. With only one hand catching her lead straps, Albert blinked once. Gave Doel a very long look. "Let's go, then." And Doel nodded, raised his head and gave a sharp whistle. From not to far off, a heavy pounding vibrated through the tree's. The trio watched expectantly as Doel's Runner- pitch black and large as a Bull, came galloping onto the scene. Patience growled, and Dark (Doel's beast) snorted a cocky reply. "Hnn... Shut up, you." Doel thwacked the buck affectionately and pulled himself up across it's massive shoulders. His neck craned to look at Albert. "Your sure you can handle that Derrick fellow and your injury? Do you have a healing potion?" Patience came up beside Doel's mount, and Albert shook his head. "I used them to keep Derrick alive." "Huh. I have a few, if you need them." Again, Albert gave him a long look. His thoughts hidden very well behind sharp hazel eyes. "I thank you for your concern, but the wound is infected. I'll have to treat it once we arrive in Lohan." Doel regarded him coolly. "Lohan won't have what you'll need for the wound- and no one said I was concerned. Infected or not you've lost blood. We can't have you dying now, can we?" And Something defiant crossed Doel's face as his thoughts added a silent; 'Yet' At a later time, he might have admitted to a bit of surprise, then. As Albert straightened and held Derrick firm. Sort of like a smile- if not however thin and intense, crossed the face of his nephew. Almost as if he had heard Doel's thoughts, the Sandoran found something he had not expected to confront over Albert's expression. Clear, and open challenge. ----- Revised 7/24/01 Chapter 2 -- Final. (Completed)