-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Pinwheel Libertines
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Dio! Come away from that window!"
Vanships. So many vanships. He'd only seen one or two before. But now, they were racing all around the Guild Palace, shooting. Pow pow pow pow pow!
"Luric, get my son."
"Yes, Maestro."
Everyone was running around today. Father. Mother. Delphine. Everyone was running around. Dio felt strong arms wrap around him and pick him up. Luric. Luric belonged to father. Father's servitor. Dio kicked as hard as he could. He didn't want to move away from the window. Moving away meant he couldn't watch the vanships race through the sky.
"Look, Luric!" Dio slid around, wiggling like a slippery fish in Luric's arms. "Look! The vanships! How funny they are! How do they work? How can they fly? Tell me, Luric!"
"Not now, Dio-sama. You must come away."
"Tell me now! Please tell me!"
"Soon, Dio-sama. I will tell you on the way. Please, just come away. We must leave."
Dio tried his best, but he could not escape Luric's powerful grasp. He was only five years old, after all. And Luric was...well, ancient. Dio found his head enfolded between Luric's arm and chest, protected. Ah. That's nice. Even though he wanted to see the vanships, being carried by Luric was also nice. Luric smelled like chalk dust, like some sort of light powder, the powder he used on his hands and feet to give them better grip while fighting. It was the best scent, and it made little Dio Eraclea quite sleepy.
"My daughter?" That was father's voice, powerful and commanding. Father ruled the entire world, Dio knew. He was the Maestro, and the Maestro controlled all things. People. Animals. Sky. Water. Weather. Earth. All the claudia in existence belonged to Father. And, after Father, the world would belong to Delphine. Dio didn't quite understand why the world couldn't belong to Mother, too. He'd asked Father once. Father had said, "Because she was born a Lagolale, and not an Eraclea."
One of the servants stepped forward and replied, "Delphine is already aboard her transport vessel, Maestro."
"This is madness. How did they get those ships?"
"Maestro, the Bashianus are using the weather controls to produce cloud cover, and even lightning storms as breaks."
"Then board the weather ship. Arrest them. They are traitors."
Footsteps. They were running now. Faster and faster. Dio tried to move his head a bit to see. Father did not run. Dio had never seen Father run. No, he floated from place to place using Guild technology, translucent bubble-lifts, and tube-transports. These were a much more elegant means of travel. But, no... Father and Mother, both of them were running now, along with all the servants.
"I didn't know the Guild had so many vanships, Luric," Dio said, pulling harshly on Luric's sleeve in an attempt to get his attention.
"We don't, Dio-sama."
Ah! Oh! Maybe they were all going to see the big ship battle up close. Delphine had told him about the battles. They were glorious productions, so much fun to watch. Much more fun than those stupid dance recitals put on by House Hamilton. Ugh. House Hamilton. Father hated them most of all!
They wanted to run the Guild! But, they could not run it, because Father was Maestro. So, instead, they made all sorts of bad trouble for him.
"Maestro! Maestro!"
Suddenly, everything came to a stop. Dio looked around. Aha. A lift! They were going to go for a ride on Father's private touring ship! Maybe if he was very, very, very good, Mother would let him fly the ship again, like he did last time. Dio looked over at his Mother. She was carrying...a bag? Mother never carried anything. Her fingernails were too long. Carrying things would break her fingernails. Why would she carry a bag? Why weren't the servants carrying it?
"Report!"
"The Hamilton Main has disappeared. Their last transmission indicated that they wish to remain uninvolved."
Father's lip curled. That meant Father was angry. Dio thought maybe he would hit the servant that said the Hamilton ship had disappeared, but Father only said, "There's no use in looking for them. We'll have to find them later."
"Maestro, we've boarded the Dagobel ships Hermia and Erasmus. We've yet to find the Prisus."
"I want his head severed from his body for this insolence."
"Sir. Several of the minor families are surrendering to our forces. "Conti, Lagolale, and Terbinus ships are all retreating. Shall we call off the evacuation?"
"Lagolale?"
"Yes, sir."
Mother dropped her bag. Dio watched as she backed away from Father. Her face was twisted up. Dio had never seen her face like that, all scrunched and pinched. She put her hands up, fluttering them at her chest, her long fingernails clicking together. "Maestro, you know my loyalty is to you alone!"
"Arrest her! Arrest Secondus Isadora!"
"Sir?" All of the servants looked quite confused.
"Arrest my wife on the charge of treason." Father's hand flew out, and he grabbed Mother by the neck. Dio watched as Mother gasped for air. Mother's left hand pawed desperately at Father's wrist. One of her fingernails broke off and flipped through the air like a propeller until it hit the wall. "Prisus Lagolale would not move against me. Not unless he had conspired with his daughter."
Mother was turning blue. Dio didn't know people could turn blue.
Father said, "So, that was your plan, then? Kill me on the transport vessel and then call for a Council of Principals to instate you as a regent Maestro. After that, it would be quite simple for you and your father to claim the title of Maestro for your pathetic House Lagolale."
Mother made a few noises, strange noises, yelps like the animals in Delphine's menagerie.
And then Father made a noise, a deep, braying noise, like a horse. Little Dio decided it must be a game. Dio decided to make an animal sound, too. "Tickity-tee! Tickity-tee!" Just like the pretty orange and black Tyra birds in the menagerie.
Then Father hissed. A snake noise. Dio couldn't tell who was winning their game. Maybe Mother. She was smiling now, after all.
Secondus Isadora smiled ever more brilliantly as she twisted the knife in her husband's gut. His hand slipped from her neck, and hung limply at his side for the few seconds it took before his knees buckled.
Father fell down. That must be the end of the game, Dio thought. What a strange game. Dio tried to crane his head to see what would happen next, but Luric turned away.
"I want to see, Luric."
"Hush, Dio-sama."
"The Maestro! The Maestro!" There was lots of noise then. Lots of movement. Dio saw some of the Eraclea House Guards rush past.
Dio dug his fingers into Luric's sleeve. Hard. How dare a servant tell him what he could or could not see! Father would punish Luric for disobeying.
"House Lagolale will rise above all! A curse upon House Eraclea!" That was Mother's voice, shrill and wavering. Dio didn't understand what she meant. But, when she screamed, it made him frightened... For the very first time in his life, he was afraid. A bad feeling, like smelling the water servants drank. A sick feeling, knotted tight at the back of his throat. "Let it be known that Secondus Isadora of Lagolale never capitulated!"
Everything went suddenly quiet.
Someone gasped.
"She's disintegrated..." A murmur rippled all around where Luric and Dio were standing. "Secondus Isadora has disintegrated. Her ring..."
"Maestro Orphael and his wife are dead..."
And many of the servants cried out, "Forever fly high, the banners of Eraclea!"
While the soldiers exclaimed, "Forever soar high, the ships of Maestro Delphine!"
Luric started running again. His arms were wrapped so tight around Dio that the young lord could scarcely even breathe. Stuffy, so suffocatingly stuffy, the smell of Luric's hand powder mixed with something caustic and dirty. Ash.
"Can we watch the vanships now, Luric?"
"No, Dio-sama." Luric's breathing, rapid and punctuated with gruff pants, created a strange rhythm against Dio's torso. An unsettling beat which made Dio quite uncomfortable. He attempted to squirm again, and Luric eased up on his protective grip on the child. They came to a stop, and Dio looked around. Aha! The hangar. But, none of the star-shaped "Etoile" fighters remained in dock.
"Are we going on a trip now, Luric?"
"Yes, Dio-sama. We must go to your sister. Maestro Delphine will know what to do."
"What about Mother and Father?"
Dio felt Luric's arms tense. The Eraclea servitor, uncertain of how to explain, finally put Dio down on the ground. "They will come later."
"Ah!" Dio smiled and brushed the wrinkles out of his cloak with two pats, just like he had seen Delphine do. "Good!"
But, Dio wondered how they were supposed to get there. He didn't see any ships at all in the hangar. Just then, one of the lifts moved, the crystal-clear tube sucking the platform up from nowhere. And there, on the glassy dais, sat a green vanship with canary-yellow trim.
"A vanship!" Dio clapped his hands together happily.
The pilot's arm hung at a strange angle, and swung back and forth slightly against the starboard side of the vanship as the platform came to a stop. His head, thrown back grotesquely, sported a slackened jaw and parted lips. A thin line of wind-dried drool clung to the pilot's chin as the two holes on the left side of his neck oozed murky slicks of blood. The navi, on the other hand, was completely missing.
"Luric, what's...?"
"It's nothing to be concerned about, Dio-sama. Just a human corpse."
"Corpse..." Dio didn't know that word. He attempted to walk up to the vanship, but Luric extended his arm in front of Dio to prevent any progress.
"Wait here, Dio-sama."
Luric walked to the vanship and climbed up to remove the 'human corpse'. It looked to Dio a great deal like a doll, the way it slumped over on Luric's arm. Dio didn't quite understand why the doll was leaking, or why the doll wouldn't talk to them. Dio had a great many questions about vanships, and the best person to ask would be a vanship pilot. But, this vanship pilot didn't move at all, not unless Luric moved him.
Luric hauled the corpse over to the side of the hangar and propped it up against the wall. By the time he returned, Dio had already rushed over to the vanship and started trying to climb inside. "Luric! Luric! Can we really go in the vanship? Look at all the controls! I want to know what they do!"
"Dio-sama..."
Dio felt himself being hoisted up and placed into the navi seat. Luric's typically grim face hovered over him. Dio didn't know how Luric couldn't be excited about the possibility of flying in a vanship. It was much more exciting than being in one of the Etoile Fighters. You could actually feel the air on your face as you soared through the skies.
Within moments, Luric had successfully strapped little Dio into the navi seat, climbed into the pilot's cockpit, and started the engine. Their claudia levels were low, but it would be enough to get them to Maestro Delphine's transport ship...as long as many evasive maneuvers weren't necessary. The lift sprung into action, rocketing the hovering vanship to the flight deck.
"Go fast, okay Luric?"
"Yes, Dio-sama."
The vanship shot into the air, and banked roughly westward. Luric knew that he'd have his best chance flying straight through the rebels. The mercenary vanships wouldn't shoot at one of their own. Flying through friendly skies would only get him shot down by one of the Etoile Fighters.
"Luric!" It was true! You could feel the wind on your face in a vanship. All around, the battle raged. Vanships and Etoile Fighters, Guild Mains and Turin class ships exchanged gunfire. Dio could even see the palace guard positioning the shock cannons. "Do you think Father can see me, Luric? Can he see me flying in a vanship from here?"
Luric said nothing as he attempted to bring the vanship to a higher altitude to avoid a spot of heavy gunfire.
Dio turned his body, he craned his head to get another look at the Guild Palace. He was sure, absolutely sure, that Father could see him.
"Look Father!" Dio waved madly at the retreating form of the Palace. "I'm flying in a vanship!"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Stay in there! Don't come out."
"But, I want to come with..."
Cicada's face reappeared, or rather, the silhouette of his face reappeared. Backlit by the bright lights of the kitchen, Tuck couldn't make out any of Cicada's features, not even his eyes.
"We have a duty to House Eraclea, to the Maestro." Cicada growled.
"I can help!"
"You're a runt. What can you do? Stay in the cabinet."
Cicada slammed to cabinet door. In fact, he slammed it so hard that it banged against the wood and slid back open an inch. A thin ray of light cut a vibrant stripe diagonally down Tuck's face. The boy leaned forward, peering into the kitchen in an attempt to figure out the best time to escape.
He could help. Why did Cicada always think of him as useless? He would get bigger. Someday. Someday, Tuck would be of a very big help to someone very important!
This was just like Cicada, too. Always planning something and leaving him out. All of his brothers were the same. Manx had his Etoile Fighter... He was even captain of his unit now. And Keriole was in charge of all of the revolving gunnery turrets on the Celestina. So important!
On the other hand, Cicada was just a minor servant to House Lagolale, a ship security guard, just like Tuck would be...when he got bigger, and older. For now, however, he just cleaned dishes in the kitchen when he wasn't training. But, Cicada was always scheming. Always.
"Shut up," Cicada barked. This, followed by his menacing glare, quieted the other servants in the kitchen. "Those of you who do not want to participate will stay in the kitchen...under guard. And by that I mean, if you try to leave, you will be shot."
"Cicada! This is madness! Know your place!"
A shot rang out. Tuck clutched his ears for a moment, but since he wanted to hear what was going on, he forced his hands down and wrapped his arms around his knees.
"Are there any other objections?"
Tuck craned his head a little, because no one was saying anything. He could just barely see Cicada's shoulder next to...hm...one, two, three...four other guards.
"Good."
"Cicada, are you certain about the transmission?" Now the guards were conferring amongst themselves. Tuck moved his head the other direction and caught glimpses of the Lagolale serving staff. Most of them looked shocked, or afraid. Tyger, the head cook for Lagolale pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head. Tuck had only ever seen her do that before when she'd received bad ingredients from the human suppliers.
"Yes. The broadcast definitely indicated that Maestro Orphael's assassination was a Lagolale plot," Cicada said.
"Secondus Isadora," someone whispered. The murmur caught on and rippled through the room.
"Delphine Eraclea will succeed her father. Lagolale is doomed."
Lagolale was doomed? Tuck bit his lip. Certainly, Prisus Lagolale was... Well, he was demanding, and crass, and cruel. But, without Lagolale sponsorship, Tuck and Cicada would be sent back to the Guild shipyards until they could find another sponsor. -If- they could find another sponsor...
Tuck attempted to nudge the cabinet open a little more. It squeaked, but no one appeared to notice.
All of the guards were holding air rifles. Normally, they didn't use them for much of anything except scaring off rainbirds which tried to nest in various crevices on the ship. But now, now they were being clutched in a way which made Tuck a bit worried.
Cicada sneered, and glanced in the direction of the cabinet. Tuck pulled the door mostly closed again.
"We have a duty to the Maestro," Cicada reiterated as he shouldered his rifle. "Follow me, or forfeit your chance to prove your worth."
All of the guards looked utterly ready to do just as Cicada said. They followed him out of the kitchen, and then there was silence.
Tuck knew, he knew, he had to do something. Sure, he'd never been really close to Cicada, but they were brothers. Ever since their parents had died in the Etele-Gregor skirmish, they had been together. Cicada looked out for him, in his own staunchly disciplined way. After all, why would Cicada shove him in a cabinet, unless he was worried about Tuck getting hurt?
Very slowly, Tuck poked the door open. The kitchen staff, calm as ever, seemed nonetheless bewildered. The leaned over each other, whispering quietly, as the one guard left behind glanced from person to person.
Tuck had one thing going for him. He was still quite small. And, because of this, he was able to block the guard's view of him by kneeling on the other side of an island countertop.
Tyger, the head cook, blinked several times when she caught a glimpse of the tiny boy crawling along the floor towards the food-lift. Tuck tilted his head to the side twice, in rapid succession, indicating the guard. A look of understanding crossed Tyger's eyes, and she immediately stood.
"Uh. Um. Beg your pardon," she addressed the guard, "We really must get dinner ready for the Prisus and his family."
"Don't you understand? Either the Prisus is going to be dead in fifteen minutes, or we -all- will be."
"Sir, I do not mean to be contrary. I understand you have your duty, but we, also have a duty. It is our duty to make dinner for the Prisus. Be it war or peace, this is what we must do."
"You imbecile..."
Utilizing the distraction Tyger had created, Tuck quickly passed the guard and made his way between a row of preparation tables. Swiftly, he approached the wall and pressed the button for the food lift. Thankfully, Tyger's argument covered what little noise the mechanism made. Pulling his knees almost painfully against his torso, Tuck squished his body into the lift. When he pressed the button on the outside, the rapid upward jolt almost took his arm off, but he managed to pull his hand back in before being maimed.
It wasn't until the lift started moving that Tuck realized what a horrible idea this was. The food lift only stopped at one place. The Lagolale family dining room.
What was he thinking?
Maybe he -wasn't- thinking. Thinking was never really his forte. He -was- a good worker, a hard worker. Before the Etele-Gregor skirmish, his mother had told him that she was always so proud of how hard he worked, how diligent he was, how obedient.
Of course, disobeying Cicada at the moment somewhat disproved his mother's thoughts. But, still...
They were brothers, after all.
The ship's inner-workings passed by Tuck's face, wires and panels, lighted tubes and vents. They melded together into a blur of colors, like a rapidly spinning pinwheel. Maybe life was like this, rushing past in an amalgamation of incomprehensible hues and shapes. Maybe everyone lived life adrift of all others, just clinging to their knees, hoping for...
Hoping for something better at the end of the ride.
But, what?
The lift came to a sudden stop, and Tuck found himself being stared at by the blinking eyes of a serving girl. A serving girl, who then proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs.
"Intruder!"
As the girl backed away from the food lift, Tuck managed to swing his legs out, and fall onto the floor. Hard. Awkwardly. He rolled onto his back and clutched his shoulder. It was dislocated at the best, broken at the worst. Pain shot into his neck and arm as Tuck moaned.
Tuck could, through very blurry eyes, see the Prisus stand up so quickly that his chair fell over. The elderly head of House Lagolale stared at the boy who had fallen out of the lift as his wife gathered several small children around her.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Tuck opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The pain notwithstanding, he had no idea how to explain why he was in the lift.
"Well? Speak, boy!"
Tuck managed to pull himself into a kneeling position, and, still clutching his shoulder, bowed as best he could. This was the Prisus, after all, and no matter what kind of pain he was in, the situation called for stringently reverent protocol. Tuck lowered his eyes until he could only see the immaculately shiny floor right in front of his knees. "My...apo...apologies...your Excellency..."
Shing. Shing. Fwip. Thump. Fwoosh. Bang!
Tuck looked up, startled. Had he been...shot? His vision clouded over. Could this be...an end to life? How...meaningless. How incomprehensible. Just strange patterns of colors and sounds rushing past, too busy to stop and introduce themselves, too alive to stop and explain existence.
Cicada.
Tuck blinked up at his brother. No. He hadn't been shot for his trespass. It was Cicada...
Cicada's arm. A gun. Cicada's cloak, rippling. And, at Cicada's feet, the slumped form of the Prisus of House Lagolale. Two of the other guards were herding the Prisus' wife and children towards a corner.
"Contact the Maestro's transport ship," Cicada said to another guard. "Inform her that Prisus Lagolale has been killed for his involvement in the assassination of her father."
Cicada shouldered his air-rifle and turned to look at his little brother. Cicada said, "I guess you're useful, after all..."
Tuck felt his heart soar. Cicada had never said anything quite so kind to him. For once, he had been helpful to -someone-. His life, his effort, had been meaningful.
"...As a distraction."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
In Our Next Chapter: Dio and Luric find Delphine's transport ship. Cicada and the servants who participated in the killing of the Prisus are summoned to the Guild Palace. Tuck/Luciola gets his first look at Dio.
Author's Notes:
As to the names in Last Exile, I've seen many of them spelled in several different ways, but I tried to take the spellings from the best sources I had available at this writing.
I decided on "Eraclea" instead of "Elaclaire" or "Eraclair", because it is spelled thusly in
I chose "Cicada" over "Sicada", because I think he's actually named after the insect. When Dio names Luciola, he almost chooses the name "Mantis", so somehow I am thinking that bug names are common.
I've decided on "Luciola" over "Luciora", merely because this is how it was spelled in the fansubs I originally watched, and I prefer it.
"Lagolale", I think, is a mis-translation of "Dagobel" which appears on one of the fansubs. I went ahead and made it into a separate house.
I've taken some liberties in fleshing out the Guild, including adding ranks such as "Prisus" and "Secondus" for the heads and second-in-commands of each house. More terms will be added as the story moves along.
I could not find Luciola's age, so I have made him two years older than Dio.
And lastly, I just couldn't conceive the Guild calling their own ships "star-shaped fighters", so I gave them a peppier name. "Etoile" is French for "star", so I think it works.