Title: Last Dance of Chances
By: Aina Song
Fandom(s): Radiata Stories
Genre: Yaoi
Rating: NC-17 (Um… eventually…)
Warning(s): Tonight, on the Warning Channel - Language; Death; Depression; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes… Slight chance of OOC, major OOC to follow. Back to you, Bill.
Pairing(s): Flau + Jack + Ridley; Jack/Gil
Reviews: Yes, please.
Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money. The game had its rules and specific plot points, but just so you know… I intend to break a whole mess of them with this one!
Teaser: What might've happened, had Ridley not survived that blood orc's attack? The Golden dragon will demand a vessel, regardless. Meanwhile, Jack is haunted by dreams of another life, a darker path…
Chapter One - Rules of Combat
He had not been in the city for longer than ten minutes, before he felt a very slight tug at his belt. His hand flying to his satchel of travel remedies, Jack Russell spun around and stared into eyes a richer shade of brown than his own. It was a girl, barely clad in short shorts and half a shirt. But then he blinked, and he saw that her shorts were deceptively armored, and her shirt was a delicate little blouse with a tiny green vest, both meant to show off her midriff. She wore leather boots that reached up to her knees, fingerless leather gloves with thick wrist braces, and a thick belt slung at an angle about her hips. From that belt hung a heavy-bladed dagger.
She met his stare daringly, and she was softly laughing at him. "Wow," she said. "You're the first one to ever catch me in the act."
Jack was at a loss for words. He knew that travel remedies, especially the rarer of those he possessed, could catch a fair price if sold. He did not question that one would try to steal them for just such an opportunity. And here stood an admitted thief, who seemed not the least bit concerned that he might report her to the guards for her attempted crime. But her smile was infectious, and he found himself asking, "What's your name?"
"Flau Demure," she answered, still smiling. "And yours?"
"Jack Russell."
"Jack, huh? Where're you headed?"
He paused, "Why?"
"You were going to be my last hit for the day," she shrugged. "I've got nothing else to do now, and I'd like to see what someone quick enough to catch me would be doing in the royal city."
Jack decided he liked her frank honesty; it was refreshing. "Then come with me," he offered. "I'm headed for the castle."
"Ooh," Flau playfully teased, falling in step at his side. "You're one of those."
"Those? Those, who?"
"You're hoping to be a knight."
He laughed. "Oh, that. Yeah."
She pretended to eye him critically, finally taking in the large sword at his back with the bundle of his belongings. "You don't look like much of a knight…"
Jack gave her a dark look, though her barb had not stung in the slightest. He could tell that she had meant nothing by it. "Sometimes, it's the least impressive that can surprise you."
Flau laughed, "Who told you that?"
"My sister," he admitted with little embarrassment. "I think it's her version of a pep talk."
They chatted like that as they walked through the city. Jack had never felt more at ease with someone in his entire life. But then, just as they were approaching sight of the castle, Flau hung back. Jack turned to her with a questioning look.
She offered a small smile, "I'm sorry, Jack. But this is as far as I go. I know I don't look it, but I am a bandit. And those guards would just jump at the chance at one of us."
Jack felt suddenly reluctant to go any farther. He had promised to fulfill his sister's dream, of course, but here stood the potential for a true friendship.
Flau saw his hesitation, and she smiled, wrongly guessing the reason. "Go ahead. I'm sure you'll do fine."
"Write me."
She paused, "What?"
"Write to me," he repeated urgently. "Even if I don't get in to the knights. I'll stay in the city and find something else to do."
A long moment's silence fell between them until Flau slowly asked, "And you'll write back?"
"Every chance I get."
She nodded, a small smile tugging again at her lips. "But we'll have to remember to never include addresses or current whereabouts. Just our names."
"But won't that still give you away?"
"No," she whispered, leaning close. "The Void Community planted one of our agents with the mail carriers years ago. That agent keeps a sharp eye out for letters to any of us, and snatches them out of sight before they're noticed. Then the letters are hand-delivered straight to our doors. No risk. But you have to promise to write first."
"I'll write tonight if I get in," Jack vowed.
"Deal."
~o~
Jack had been led down a number of corridors and down some stairs, until the guardsman leading him all but shoved him into a very large coliseum's antechamber. There were perhaps eleven others who had come to participate in the selection tournament; some appearing very serious, most looking quite dazed and uncertain. Jack found an empty bench, shoved his belongings under it, and sat down.
It seemed he had been the last to arrive, for the doors soon parted to allow another guardsman to enter and announce that the tournament would now begin. Names were called out, and two men stepped forward. The doors swung shut behind them. Their match lasted several minutes, and those waiting could hear the sounds of blows landing and metal clashing. When the doors opened to let them back in, one was only slightly limping, while the other had to lean on a guardsman's shoulder for support.
Another match was announced right away, between two men named Star and Paul. Jack stood as the doors closed behind them, turning to study a chart he noticed hanging on a wall behind his bench. It was a listing of the order in which the candidates would be fighting. A great number of the tagged lines had been left blank, revealing that there had been years in which the tournament consisted of much more competition than this one. He quickly singled out his own name, his index finger following where it led to his first opponent, a candidate by the name of 'Ridley.'
The second match ended rather swiftly compared to the first. From the way Star had waltzed out, even pushing Paul back so that he could go first, it was somewhat surprising when it was Paul that strode back in with nary a mark on him. When Star did not immediately follow, his assistant - a short, odd-looking fellow in a helmet - panicked and rushed in to retrieve him.
When all was ready, the third match was announced to begin: Jack Russell versus Ridley Silverlake. Though there was a large sword tied amongst his belongings, Jack instead borrowed a simpler blade from a rack of extra weapons standing against another wall. He turned back to the doors to find that his opponent was… a girl.
She was dressed simply - brown tights tucked into soft leather boots, and a dark pink vest over a billowy white shirt. Her hair was long and blonde and tied up in pigtails with pretty pink ribbons. Jack hadn't even noticed her sitting amongst the other candidates.
He tried not to let his shock show, reminding himself that he had been taking lessons from his sister, after all. Sighing, he followed her into the coliseum, where they were met by a man named Junzaburo. He would be acting as a sort of referee.
"We are strict in our belief that these matches be fair for everyone," he spoke. "Basic attacks only, please. You will earn points for every hit, but a knockout will call the match. Please refrain from letting your anger enter the match, and remember at all times that you will be sparring before the eyes of the Prime Minister, himself."
Jack gave a curious frown, glancing about until he caught sight of a balcony from which two men could witness the entire tournament. One was a short, round fellow in blue armor; the other was a taller, bespectacled man in white. Jack and his opponent both bowed to them, and then turned to face each other. Jack saw that Ridley Silverlake held a poleax in both hands; very discreetly, he inched his fingers higher along the grip of his own sword to assure himself a better defense.
"Ready," Junzaburo shouted, backing out of the way. "Begin!"
Jack immediately began circling slowly to the left, forcing his opponent to do the same. He tightened the circle, carefully closing in on her, and watching her automatically mimic his every move. Finally, he paused and readied his weapon. She almost flinched at the sudden change, but then she was running toward him, lifting her poleax above her head. Jack swiftly brought his sword up with both hands, clenching his teeth when its blade cut into his palm under the weight of her blow. Next to the fiery pain of the impact, his blood dripping from the cut in his palm was like the ominous touch of cool water.
Feeling his boot inch back behind him, he pushed his opponent away before she could succeed in forcing him to give ground. She pedaled her feet back very quickly to maintain her balance. Jack shook his wounded hand vigorously to urge the numbness back from his fingers, and he knew at once that he would not be able to count on it to defend himself a second time. When Ridley came at him again, he swiftly stepped out of her path and lifted his borrowed blade to knock the blow away.
Jack did not attempt to strike at his opponent for several minutes, constantly rebounding his opponent's attacks away from himself and trying to recognize her fighting style before finally moving in. With but one good hand, his own style had been tragically limited, but he was determined to put his sister's many lessons to proper use. He stepped forth, his body following his borrowed blade in a complex dance it knew by heart. Ridley was suddenly on the defensive, guarding against his swift chain of attacks even as he was pushing her back toward the other end of the ring. Sweat was beading her brow; he could hear her breath hitch and quicken. Jack knew he would win.
But then Ridley surprised him.
She ducked low, avoiding his blade as she rolled along the floor. Pushing to her feet, she backed away until some distance had been put between them. Glowering at him, she lifted her poleax and then began to swing it with such force that her body spun with it in a blur. Two, three, four times she spun, and then her hands let go of the weapon. It flew, still spinning axe over pole as it cut through the air in search of its mark. Jack quickly brought his blade up and braced himself, but was still knocked off his feet with the force of the blow.
"Stop!"
Jack quite agreed.
Shocks of pain raced up his spine as he sat up and tried to stand. A guardsman and a healer were at his side in an instant; one helping Jack to regain his feet, the other swiftly bandaging his damaged hand. He glanced up in time to see Junzaburo, looking rather stern, cross the ring and berate Ridley for breaking the rules of engagement. Yet, for some reason, she was not disqualified. Both she and Jack were escorted back into the coliseum's antechamber, where Jack reclaimed his bench and checked his belongings while they waited out the rest of the tournament. Although the order of the trials had been to narrow down the candidates until a winner was declared, neither Jack nor Ridley were asked to participate in another round.
After perhaps two hours of waiting, they were finally asked to rejoin the entire list of candidates in the coliseum. The two men Jack had seen on the balcony were now crossing the ring to stand behind Junzaburo. The referee introduced the Prime Minister Salute Larks, who smiled reassuringly, and the other fellow in blue armor, who would be taking the day's new recruits under his command. Jack waited at the end of the line of candidates, cradling his bandaged hand close to his chest and wondering how he would explain it to his sister if he had failed, after all.
Larks whispered something into Junzaburo's ear, causing the man to stare at the Prime Minister for a long minute before turning again to the candidates. He cleared his throat, "The results of this year's selection trials have been compromised. Under my own watch, there have been several counts of poor sportsmanship. You have disgraced yourselves before the Prime Minister. Yet there is one who has shown potential - shown, despite how his match was ended, that there are yet those who still adhere to the rules of engagement as passed down by Radiata's first king." Junzaburo paused, giving quite a few of the candidates a cold look before clearing his throat. "Jack Russell, will you step forward?"
More than a little surprised, Jack nonetheless did as he was bade.
"Look at this young man," Junzaburo commanded the other candidates. "For those of you who hope to return and try again next year, I want you to make an example of him. This young man is the embodiment of the conduct expected of a knight."
Pushing past his embarrassment of the speech, Jack stared at the referee. "I-I don't understand. My match was annulled…"
"Yes," Larks himself spoke. "But your conduct and potential are precisely what make you unique. And that uniqueness is exactly what we hope for in every knight."
He and the referee turned and walked away, and the round fellow in blue armor from before bounded forth. "I am Ganz Rothschild, captain of the Rose Cochon brigade. Master Jack, after you have been shown to your assigned room, change into your new knight's attire and report to the brigade meeting room. We will hold the inauguration ceremony there immediately."
Jack smiled as the man bounded away, deciding he liked his new captain's childlike eagerness. Another man, introducing himself as the castle steward Al, approached Jack and led him away. As he followed, Jack glimpsed the girl Ridley being led off in another direction. And he wondered what befell one who would so blatantly ignore the rules of combat.
Just a Little Note: Usually, I don't approve of a rewrite attempt such as this. Too often have I come across attempts that were so poorly written I couldn't swallow more than five paragraphs. But this is one case in which I had to wonder. And rather than wait for a decent attempt to come along - I seriously doubt it - I decided to have a go. Someone keep tabs on me; see if I can break the "eck" streak.
Another Note: The title, Last Dance of Chances, was in fact inspired by a beautiful poem by fantasy author Robin Hobb in one of her masterpiece novels. Its words nearly broke my heart to read them. To gain the full effect of the poem and its heart-wrenching message, I advise you first to read all three books of the Farseer trilogy, and then read its follow-up trilogy, The Tawny Man. By the time you discover the poem in the final book, you'll understand exactly why I had to pay it tribute.