Heroes Truth
Disclaimer: I do not and shall never own Gundam Wing. I am simply borrowing it for the time being. ;)
Chapter One: Behold, the Great Human Fallacy
AC 181
Hogvakten Castle
The bullet gray limousine pulled up to the wall surrounding the impressive expanse of Hogvakten Castle Instead of continuing on through the front gates as was usual, the limo stopped at their mouth. Edward didn't have to wonder much at it. These were fast becoming dangerous times in former Europe. The hostilities breeding between foreign dignitaries from Earth and colonies had come full circle and almost every nation was struggling with its own form of internal terror seeping from the outside inward.
Edward, 2nd Duke Icely stepped from the side of the limo and stood up, taking in his new surroundings without the added interference of the tinted windows he had been reduced to scrutinizing the environment through on the long drive from the capitol.
The foliage around them was sparse and green. There were some manicured bushes near the entrance, but what mostly overran the premise were the remnants of the old forest before many of the trees had been cleared.
The trees surrounding them were, in their majority, sycamores and oaks. Edward didn't have any difficulty recognizing them. The woods surrounding their old family estate in the country where his family had spent their summers had been papered with them. He could remember climbing many such trees as a boy in that peaceful place which seemed so far away now.
Briefly, Edward closed his eyes. Without moving an inch from where he stood, he was transported away from the castle and found himself soaring high above the ground and everything limited to it. Continuing over acres of forests and distant rivers; finally ending his journey in a field of tall grasses. And though it was as generic a field as one anywhere on Earth, he knew this one specifically. Knew it by the whispers of the chill breeze of that stormy summer and also by the smell of dew on the trees surrounding the clearing which, if pursued, would lead into the fringes of the Icely country estate.
Walking waist high in the long grasses, he ran his hands along the harmless blades, still damp with the residue of the earlier morning's rain.
"Edward!"
A voice calling him in the distance, he knew that voice. It was Katrina's when she was a girl.
"Edward!"
And all of the sudden, he was no longer in the field, but high above the ground again, only this time, thankfully stationary. He was instead sitting on a tree branch in a sycamore somewhere on the grounds nearer to the main house, though where he was exactly he couldn't say. He saw his hands resting on the branch holding him and in their smallness he knew he was a boy again.
"Edward! Come and play!"
He bent over the branch holding him, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of his sister. Where was she? He could hear her, but couldn't see her.
"Katrina!"
He knew that voice. It belonged to their late father. For a time, when they were still quite young, Rhys 1st Duke Icely had been healthy enough to play along with his children in their impish games, but as the years went by he had grown steadily sicker. Edward was almost glad to see him pass. He had been in so much pain then. The years had not been kind to him as they would be to his children.
Edward caught a glimpse of yellow out of the corner of his eye and saw his sister running on the ground beneath him in the yellow sundress that had been her favorite that summer. She ran to the base of the tree he was in and crouched around the back of it, hiding, until finally giving into her curiosity and peaking slowly around the other side of the sycamore in search of her pursuer. But their father, still young and fit, had already caught up with her and rounded on the other side of the tree, catching his surprised daughter in his arms. Katrina squeaked, but broke out into a delighted fit of giggles as he lifted her up and twirled her around and around in the yard below.
It was a day skirted with grey clouds just like the day of their father's funeral. Even in a dream he could not escape the thought of his own mortality creeping up on him. It was then that the tree itself seemed to move and he along with it, over, over, over to where no one went anymore. Above everything, he was shrouded in the sycamore's thicket of branches, the breeze blowing through his boyish dark hair as he leaned over the stone wall adjoining the Icely family plot and the master stone beneath which he would someday lay beside his forefathers.
Edward opening his eyes, awakened out of his dreams to the fresh zeal of a cobalt blue sky. Sycamores had slowly become his favorite out of all of the trees on the grounds to climb.
"Your grace!"
Another voice brought him out of his reverie and this time it was not his sister's.
Edward turned and noticed a younger man scampering up the gravel driveway towards him. When he reached the gates his pace slowed to a brisk walk and when he was only a couple steps from the duke, he bowed nervously a little too lowly towards the ground.
"Your grace."
"Mr. Mortimer." Edward intoned with a slight nod of his head.
The timid young man smiled halfheartedly. "We've been expecting you, sir."
Edward nodded back to the driver to continue on as they had planned before he took to the drive up towards the castle face. "Who is 'we' besides you and I?"
The young man swallowed. "Commander Noventa and Generals Septum and Cross from the western and eastern fronts, respectively and then Generals Cromwell and Guise from the northern and southern fronts."
"A full house." but which one is the fool? He finished mentally.
"I am to announce you and show you in."
For that, the host was given a decisive snort that he winced at.
"Very well, then."
They entered through one of the larger courtyards down the winding sandstone paths and through the endless geometric shapes filled with every variety and color of flower. Edward turned to look behind him wearily more than once. They could have entered through the front of the castle, but instead the nervous young envoy had led him around to the side of the castle and through a great stretch of the garden before leading him through the courtyard they were in now.
Edward swallowed down the sudden fears that were beginning to swell within him. He could remember when he and his sister Katrina were children and his grandfather had told him the story of Henry VII of England and of the many assassination plots that had been brought against him. Their own ancestor, the first Earl Icely had been caught conspiring with some of the other descendants of the former king Edward who had believed they had a claim to the throne and along with those conspirators had been hung, drawn, and quartered for high treason. Their family was different now. They had fled to France and then to Germany before finally settling into the newly formed Sanc Kingdom. His grandfather had endeared himself to the former king William I Peacecraft as his father would to his son William II and as he would to the reigning Peacecraft king Reginald.
Edward cleared his throat. Though his family had been the villains in one story, they were not bad people and in this kingdom of peace, they had the chance to show their true colors for what they really were: good peace loving people. What they had been didn't matter and King Peacecraft understood that. Everyone deserved a second chance. So long as people had the ability to change for the better then so could the world in its entirety.
Just then, a thought occurred to the duke, his eyes widened and his pace slowed.
He would approach Henry with a knife secreted about his person, bow low to him, and then when the king bent to acknowledge him, would stab him right in the heart…
One of Edward's fists balled up at this side until his knuckles turned white.
"Mr. Mortimer, how much farther?"
The boy cracked a nervous smile and when he spoke his voice was shaking, "Just a little while up the path, sir."
They came to a place where the ancient stone walls gave way to a wall of glass reinforced every few frames with iron gilding. It looked to be some sort of sun room, a walled in terrace. That was a flat plane inside the square of the courtyard. There were doors on either side of the glass, set in the stone, but none leading directly into the sun room they had stopped in front of.
Edward's heartbeat increased and his breathing became less controlled as he noticed no that no one was inside the glass room and no where to be seen anywhere This was not right. They would have come out to meet him, Commander Noventa always did. He was the only noble man in the whole of the Alliance military, Edward was convinced and this was not his way especially when it came to peace negotiations.
The last straw was when he saw the reflection in the old glass wall and the duke paled.
The envoy turned towards Edward and looked at him sheepishly. He couldn't have been older than twelve and the duke noticed that the boy looked shaken, secretly frightened.
"Sir?"
Edward tried to back up but came into contact with another body.
"Your grace." The gruff whispered tone met his ear as he sprang forward, but not far enough.
One of the alliance guards who had entered from the left side door unseen, grabbed him by the back of his uniform coat and stuck a stiletto dagger directly between his shoulder blades. The other soldier, both still unseen, grabbed for a hold on his belt and then came around with another knife that was stabbed into his abdomen, again, and again, and again.
Edward gritted his teeth together as the sudden pain of his body being ripped apart rippled through his consciousness and he starred at the cowering boy in front of him as he tried to struggle against the arms now holding him, there were more than two now.
"Alliance bastards!! Alliance bastards!!"
After his lower back had also been ripped into, his assassins quickly released him and the duke staggered forward, clear blue eyes unseeing as his breathing shallowed and finally Edward's equilibrium waned as he fell forward onto the dry sandstone.
The boy had fled through one of the side doors already and almost as soon as Edward's body had hit the ground, his assassins had quietly walked out of the courtyard leaving his corpse to water the remaining flowers with the slowly cooling blood that continued to drain out of him as it ran into the soil on the edges of the pathway.
----
"Milli!" the toddler's voice squeaked its distress as the little girl hurried after her brother as he raced down one of the long marble corridors of their palace home. "Milli!"
Milliardo Peacecraft ran faster, picking up speed as his infant sister, who had only recently learned to walk, slowly moved after him while their nurse carefully shadowed her.
"Young prince, you must slow down!" The nurse chided him. "Your sister is too small yet to match your pace. It distresses her when she cannot catch up with you."
Milliardo stopped and turned around, an excited gleam in his eyes that showed the five year old's cares were anywhere but focused on his baby sister. "But Nada, Uncle is coming! He is supposed to arrive back from Hogvakten this morning!"
The middle aged woman smiled at the boy's enthusiasm as she held onto the princess's arms to keep her steady on her tiny feet. The 2nd Duke Icely and his children were frequent visitors to the palace and the duke always seemed to make time during his visits for his favorite nephew.
"Yes, I heard." The nurse commented, "Your mother told me she would be expecting him this morning."
The prince smiled and took off running down the hall again, rounding every bend he came across. He would not slow for his sister's cries, nor did he stop at his nurse's chastisement. He only slowed for the guards to open the doors leading out into the main courtyard for him and without losing pace, he picked up speed again and bounded over the stoop of four stairs leading out into the driveway. But his uncle was not there to meet him nor was his limo waiting in the drive.
Instead there was only a man dressed in a suit speaking with his father's secretary at the front gate. The man looked to be a limo driver and from where the prince could see as he held the same type of hat his father's man wore to his chest and his head was bowed. As Milliardo watched them, his father's secretary nodded his head a few times, and then moved away as the other man disappeared beyond the gate.
As he continued forward, the grimace on his face was unmistakable. Something had happened and the prince had a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him that, for whatever reason, his uncle was not coming to see them today.
The king's secretary Mr. Otto, who was generally very friendly towards the children but otherwise a bit of a starched shirt when it came to the mark of his office, almost always acknowledged Milliardo whenever he saw him in the corridors or at the family meals to which the man was sometimes invited he would often give the prince his dessert as he always said he had no appetite for sweets, but today he did not even give the boy a simple glance of acknowledgment as he stormed towards the house.
Milliardo, looked back towards the gate. The driver was gone and his uncle was not here. Something was terribly wrong. His uncle never missed a visit. What could have happened? Whatever it was, he intended to find out.
Mr. Otto traipsed down the hall, stomping almost in a grim imitation of the guards patrolling the grounds outside. He was not looking forward to giving this news to his majesties…especially to the Queen Katrina.
King Peacecraft continued down one of the corridors on the way to one of his meeting rooms where he was supposed to meet with one or more of his advisors before he joined his family for the morning meal. His long blond hair, slowly fading to white in some places with the stress of his office and also as a sign of his age, swayed slightly in time with his movements as he walked.
Without stopping, he rubbed at his eyes. King or no king, he was never one for early mornings. The day would have seemed a thousand times more dismal if he had not run into his children's nurse and his small daughter who cooed up at him.
"Relena!" He called to her stopping to bend down to her.
"Papa!"
The little girl reached up for him to pick her up and he happily obliged her as she giggled when he lifted her up and settled her against his shoulder.
"How are you, my dear?" He asked her, knowing that she was too young to respond.
Instead, she cooed up at him again and giggled loudly when he tickled her under her arm. Smiling, he kissed her forehead and handed her back to her nurse.
"Mrs. Nada." He nodded to her. "How is she this morning?"
"Well, your majesty." The lady replied with a small curtsey. "Though I fear she has inherited the Queen's penchant for early morning strolls."
The King smiled and backed down a small laugh. "Indeed, she looks more like the queen every day." Then he took a deep breath and inclined his head to her. "If you will excuse me, Mrs. Nada" and then he reached out his finger to his daughter who took it with her tiny hand as he kissed it, "Sweetheart."
With that he passed them and continued on his way down the corridor, towards the council chamber. Earlier in the week, he had asked his brother-in-law, the Duke Icely to travel to the village of Hogvakten and meet with leading Alliance officials to discuss terms of diplomatic interaction. Ever since the beginning of his reign, the Alliance Military had been trying to coerce his government to surrender their kingdom to martial law that the countries of all over the world were accepting, but he had always declined.
At first, when he was young man, he had actually considered the prospect, but after the assassination of the Heero Yuy in the colonies, he had strengthened his opposition to the proposition.
Reginald was not a young man anymore, however, he was still one of the most powerful men in former Europe and so long as he held out hope that peace could still be achieved in a world at war, others would too and that was a start in the right direction.
As he entered the antechamber leading to the room where his council was waiting to begin its morning session, he noticed his secretary standing in front of the wooden double doors.
"Mr. Otto." The king greeted him, somewhat in a hurry.
"Your majesty." The man inclined his head but did not give his customary bow.
"What is it?" The king asked eager to get past him and on to conducting the work of the day.
Otto went silent, his head slightly bowed as he refused to look the king in the eye and instead focused on the black and white marble tiles of the floor.
"Forgive me, your majesty, but I have some terrible news for your majesties." He finally looked up as the king waited impatiently for him to continue. "The Duke of Icely was murdered yesterday morning. His driver found him in the garden of Hogvakten Castle. He had been stabbed to death though the driver swears there was no one else present at the time that he found him. There was no sign of Marshal Noventa or the generals of the four fronts and the driver was not sure if they had even arrived at all."
The king's expression sobered as he stood still now, his former impatience vanished. Quiet stretched in between them for a few moments, the only sounds in the foyer coming from the idle chatter of the men inside the council chamber.
"Should I tell the queen, your majesty or would you rather do that yourself?"
The king's moustache twitched as he gave no other clues as to what his real emotions were as he thought of telling his wife that her only brother had been killed on a peaceful mission to meet with Alliance delegates.
Reginald took a deep breath and looked back to his secretary who had been watching him thoughtfully as the silence between them wore on.
"You are given my permission to tell her." The king finally said. "I have affairs of state that cannot be delayed any further and it is imperative that she is informed as soon as possible."
"Yes, your majesty." Otto finally bowed, though it was not hard to tell that it was forced as his posture was too rigid to allow for any real type of movement. "I shall go to her now."
However, the king caught his secretary's elbow to stop the man before he marched off like a mobile suit again. "Be gentle when you tell her, Otto. With her sister and parents gone, Edward was all she had left of her family. I do not want to see my queen go the way so many others who have lost everything have." The last came out as a barely audible whisper, but Otto recognized it as a command as well as a tender warning. "She must not lose hope. It is not an easy thing to keep alive in this world, as it is now."
"Yes, majesty." Otto bowed again and was gone.
The king halted and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat that he was refusing to show. Though he felt the ache in his chest when he thought of his brother-in-law, who had become as close to him as any of his own brothers were, laying in cold blood on hostile soil, he also knew one important thing that over shadowed what he was feeling.
Men of power did not shed tears where others could see them.
It was imperative for a man of power, any man of power be he a royal, a senator, or a military leader to exercise control over his emotions in order to prove to those who he served that he was worthy of the office he held.
But King Reginald Peacecraft was also a kindhearted man, a human man and he would shed tears with his wife, just the two of them, later and in private. Where prying eyes could not discern weakness from genuine heartache and try to use it against them.
Clearing his throat one last time, he nodded to his guards and entered the chamber where his ambassadors and diplomats awaited him.
---
As Otto hurried down the hall in search of the queen, he was approached by an unwanted party. Sighing, he grimaced internally, as Theodore the 18th Duke Khushrenada strode up beside him, having no problem keeping up with the brisk pace the elder man set.
"Mr. Otto."
"Your Excellency." The secretary intoned, his eyes not stopping their search of the halls for the queen as he advanced his pace a bit faster. "What may I do for you, sir?"
"Is what they say in town true? Was our foreign ambassador murdered at Hogvakten?"
Otto sighed. News did not travel slowly to the king's court, especially not when it came to his own family connections. Of anybody else in the capitol, Theodore Khushrenada was probably the first to know about the fate of the Duke Icely, even before himself.
"Yes, Excellency."
There was silence for a moment between them. They both knew that the consequences stemming from this event would be dire. Though the king put on a brave face for his people, they were afraid, seriously afraid of what the Alliance could do to them. Like many of the other countries, which had not surrendered willingly to military control, they ran the risk of being invaded and taken over and Theodore very much doubted that the Alliance soldiers would show this kingdom or its people mercy. It was not their way.
Finally, he spoke again.
"We have been severely compromised, then." The Duke said more to himself than to the secretary. "Does the queen know?"
"Not yet, Excellency, I am just on my way to find her."
"Well, Godspeed." Theodore sighed, bringing his pocket watch out of his breast pocket and looking at it a moment before picking up his pace. "You will excuse me, Mr. Otto."
"Of course, Excellency, I would not want to keep you." The secretary was careful to keep the disdain he held for the tall man out of his voice as the other turned down another corridor, but still within hearing range. Once Otto was sure the Duke would not hear, he continued disrespectfully under his breath, "Wouldn't want to keep your arse from flattening those purple cushions on your mistress' bed you love to frequent so much, your Excellency."
As he came to another corridor, he bounded over the half step decline in the floor as he walked along the one wall that was all windows and then he stopped.
Queen Katrina was walking out in the gardens distractedly holding a leather bound book in her hand that she was reading as she walked down one of the paths and came to a gracefully halt at foot of one of the fountains there. The youthful lady, only in her late twenties, maintained an air of natural grace which went far beyond her years and an irresistible charm which went so much farther than her pedigree.
And her charm was not limited to her personality traits. The good lady was also a beautiful woman. Her honey brown hair ran down her shoulders to mid back, though she quite often took the pains to put it up every day into some sort of style, always classical and modern at the same time. She was also tall and slight, yet well proportioned and often dazzled guests to the palace with the brilliance of a straight, white smile.
Even the king's secretary would admit that he had been awed with her upon first impression. She was in no way an ordinary woman and Otto and his wife had a running bet that her daughter would be the same way.
Mr. Otto had worked for many lords and politicians during his lifetime, but out of all of the noble ladies he had met, she was the most innocent, the most genuinely pure of heart and the most kind woman he had ever known. Both he and his wife Nada owed their place in the palace to her. After a royal visit to the home of Peter 17th Duke Khushrenada, the then minister of domestic affairs and Theodore's eldest brother, she had written the strict minded duke requesting the employ of both Mr. Otto and his wife. Though the king already had a steward and they king and queen did not have children at the time so they were in need of no nanny, the queen took them in after seeing how the former General Khushrenada had treated them in his household. She had made jobs for them, until the king could find more permanent placements for them.
Otto started. He and his wife owed everything they had to her heartfelt kindness and good graces and he was not looking forward to this next conversation. Steadying himself, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, standing taller, gathering the courage for what he knew he was obligated in more ways than one to tell her and he wasn't the only one who owe her for some kind act she had committed on their behalf.
The people loved their queen and they had every right to.
As he was about to start down the corridor towards the terrace doors that led out ingot the garden, he noticed a new presence in the courtyard. The queen had closed her book and stuffed it under her arm, as she smiling, turned to where his wife and the princess Relena were just coming into view beyond the fountain. He watched as his wife relinquished the little girl and the queen knelt down as the infant toddled on unsteady feet towards her, giggling and cooing happily.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He was a coward and he knew it. As he watched the queen pick up her daughter and twirl her around before hugging her to her and saw his wife smile, he knew didn't have the heart for this nor the stomach. He just couldn't.
As he watched the queen coddle her only girl, he bowed his head as his eyes landed instead on the smiling face of his beloved wife. I'm sorry.
With that, he turned and started back the way he had come, bounding back over the half step and disappearing around the corner into the next corridor.
----
"Touche."
The young prince grimaced as the muted point of the foil held to his chest. Milliardo didn't have to open his eyes to know it was their nor did he have to open they to see the self imposed smirk on his opponent's face, nor the proud light in his dark blue eyes.
Milliardo nodded his defeat grudgingly and felt the pressure of the foil against his chest lessen, but not leave him entirely. "I thought your uncle was coming today? I was looking forward to seeing him again."
"As was I, but he has not arrived yet."
"Pity." The older boy's voice uttered calmly, an invisible smile to its tone as he spoke his next words. "Do you surrender, your highness?"
The last two words were soaked through in a sarcastic drawl. Milliardo narrowed his eyes and his grip unconsciously tightened around the hilt of his blade, but he nodded his consent and the other boy lowered his foil, stepping slowly away from the prince while also turning his back on him.
The prince's first instinct was to attack him, but he knew better. Only a coward would stab an opponent when they were at an unfair advantage. He didn't need to fight underhandedly to win.
His opponent, seemingly oblivious to Milliardo's internal struggle, ran one hand through his short brown hair and turned around to face him again.
"You fought well. Wherever the Duke Icely is, he should be proud of you. You're fast improving."
Instead of the indignation he had felt rising to the surface earlier, a touch of red rose to Milliardo's cheeks against his wishes at the unexpected compliment.
"You're not bad yourself, Treize."
Seeing, the indirect acknowledgement for what it was, the elder Treize Khushrenada smiled confidently.
"It was nothing. The Duke Icely taught us both well. It is only fitting that you should catch up to me in time."
That struck a cord in Milliardo. "Catch up to you? I'll best you."
"Don't get over confident." Treize egged him on. "Success does not lend itself to small minds and arrogance."
Small minds and what?!
Milliardo's eyes widened as the indignation rose in him again and stayed there as he raised the point of his foil to be level with Treize's collarbone. To the young prince's dismay, however, his cousin did not flinch at the sudden movement. Instead, the other smiled in a manner that made Milliardo even angrier with him and, if at all possible, stood taller, prouder than he had been before.
"You'll never best me, my friend, if you allow yourself to be over taken by anger every time we face each other."
Milliardo's eyes narrowed to tiny blue slits and without warning he lunged forward, but Treize had anticipated his attack and had dodged to the side and rounded on him almost too fast for the younger of the two to retaliate. However, before Treize could land his first point, his opponent had parried the blow and was moving into position for another lunge.
Good, Milliardo, but not good enough.
With a graceful effortlessness, Treize sidestepped the coming attack as it reached him and before his opponent could recover, he brought the circular edge of his blade to rest against the underside of his prince's neck. The move did not grant Treize a point, but it did effectively stop his opponent and put them at an impasse.
"A perfect resolution to our little tète a tète do you not think so, cousin?"
Milliardo swallowed, the underside of his skin moving against the steel membrane of the foil as the muscles in his throat retracted with the action.
"It was not fair."
"Oh?" Treize asked. The other's ire rose as he recognized the upbeat note of amusement in his older cousin's voice. "And how was it unfair?"
"You know how." Milliardo snorted.
He was just grasping at straws and he knew it, but Treize had already wounded his pride, he would not allow him to get the last word in too.
When the prince dared a glance up at the boy still holding his blade to his throat, he noticed Treize staring at him in a strange manner, as if coming to some conclusion about something very important.
Then to Milliardo's surprise the foil at his neck was lowered and Treize stepped away from him.
"Perhaps, you're right." He conceded initiating a stunned silence between them for a few moments before Treize walked over and replaced his foil next to the untouched practice mask on the wall.
The prince was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to think. Was his usually so-self-assured cousin accepting his flawed logic as the actual truth? Even, Milliardo knew it was said just to spite him. He didn't mean anything by it, really.
"Where are you going?" Milliardo asked. "We still have one more match to go?"
"Not today, cousin, I have other things to take care of."
The prince just stared at his friend, at a loss for what to say. Treize had never bowed out of a match before, never would he even consider it. Wait a second…
"Treize!"
The other boy stopped as he reached the door and turned to back to regard the prince.
"The knight." Milliardo swallowed again before he could continue. "The chess piece. It's yours for the day."
It was a custom between the two boys which had been started by their first great fencing teacher, the Duke Icely, in which whoever won the last bout of a match would be granted the carved and painted wooden knight of one of the antique chess sets in the game hall. The small prize would denote who the best of them was until their next fight and the loser had the right to try to claim back the prize and their own personal honor.
It was to remind them what it was they were fighting for, not any one material thing, but for themselves, for what they were and what the world was to them. In the practice room, all of it could be made and unmade by one fell stroke of a foil. All you were, depended on how you fought and what motivated you to do so. That was the measure of a man.
"Keep it." Treize said, starting out of the doorway of the practice room and out into the foreyard without missing a beat. "Be the better man for now."
Milliardo took a few uncertain steps forward still holding his foil in one hand as if he expected his opponent to come back, but as he heard the soft footsteps fade away through the grass, he knew better.
Alone with himself and his thoughts, the prince brought his foil up so that the point shone in the mid afternoon light splaying through the open doorway under his thoughtful gaze.
He knew why his cousin had abandoned him. Treize had become fed up with his overzealous pride, his need to always win and to counter, to beat him one last time in the most graceful way he could: Treize Khushrenada had bowed out of their match respectfully, with dignity and with honor. His cousin had refused to continue a fight that, on the fairer field, he could only win by relinquishing his claim to the winning title, a claim he had well deserved but would not take without being given consent, however grudgingly.
Treize had given him a choice.
Be the better man for now.
Angry with himself, Milliardo threw the foil down so hard that it bounced off the hardwood floor of the practice room and rolled to a stop in a semicircle, the rounded blade tip bent beyond recognition just like the young man's pride.
----
"Richard!"
The hunters coming in from the woods on horseback preceded by their dogs had been the first sight that had greeted Treize after departing the prince, to wander the grounds and they had only advanced close enough for him to recognize one of the younger men as his brother, Richard Khushrenada riding beside the former Baron Ackley's son.
The stopped their horses near the stables and dismounted so their grooms could take them. Richard removed his gloves and continued to walk towards the main house of the palace with Sebastian Ackley at his heels.
"So Cecile isn't that good in bed?" Richard asked uninterestedly, just trying to pass the time.
"What does it matter now? We're stuck together." The newly titled Baron ran his hand through his short, sweaty hair in tandem pushing it back from his face.
"Come, come now, Ackley." Richard continued, slapping his once white gloves against his black riding pants to get the dust off of them and not really caring. "You and I both know that marriage is not a prerequisite to fidelity. Just because you are married does not mean you have to be faithful to your wife."
Sebastian shook his head with a smirk that precluded indecent thoughts, "It's too much work to find myself a decent mistress. Besides, I need a legitimate son. I should sleep with her for at least that long, don't you think?"
Richard gave his companion an incredulous glance as the other's eyes dropped to his boots.
"I want a family." Sebastian defended himself when he finally felt Richard's cold stare finally leave him. "And she's really not that bad."
Richard sighed and looked forward towards the house where his younger brother was beginning to walk to meet him.
"You know." He began, watching his brother in his slow, measured gate. "It is 'ever the fool who falls in love' as they say." Richard paused, tossing a steely look towards Sebastian, "But today we are both guests of the King. Good luck with your family, Baron."
With that Richard left the Baron Ackley speechless behind him, and advanced on Treize. As he came closer to the ten year old, a genuine smile spread over his face. Granted there was an age difference of five years between the two, but despite it, if there was anyone in this insane, screwed up world that Richard Khushrenada was close to it was his little brother.
"Treize!"
The younger boy jogged the last few remaining steps between them and his older brother caught him in a tight hug on the last step.
"I thought I would not see you before you went back to school." Treize said, pulling out of the embrace, a little sheepishly to his credit.
"You thought I would be able to go back without coming to see my favorite brother?"
"Sorry that you would have to make such a hard choice, but I am afraid I am your only brother."
"Well, I would choose you anyway." Richard continued the running joke between them. "Not that Pasha wouldn't make a fabulous boy, but I much prefer her the way she is."
"And I am sure she would appreciate your reasoning in that respect." Treize returned with an equal smile.
Richard released his brother completely except for one arm which he held loosely by the elbow to coax him to start back towards the house where Richard could change out of his riding clothes and the two could have lunch together before he had to leave again for his boarding school in Brussels that evening.
"Come, we'll have lunch together." Richard continued on, with Treize following closely beside him. Then the elder purposefully lagged a step behind and lassoed his arm around his brother's neck, restraining him next to his chest in an informal half nelson before bending down to whisper in his ear, "Perhaps then you can tell me about the women you have been so shamelessly flirting with at court and one in particular I have heard interesting stories about."
With minimal effort, Treize pulled out of the loose restraint and bounded enthusiastically forward towards the house, never once looking his brother in the eye. "Done!"
----
Mr. Otto sat in the southward study facing the garden the queen and his wife were now in with the young princess through an open wall of windows. His breathing was labored from rushing through the palace to find them after coming back and realizing that they were no longer in the northern gardens. A fresh sheen of sweat covered the skin of his slightly drooping face and neck while it also served to plaster the silvery threads of his graying hair to the old steward's forehead.
He was too old for this.
Outside, in the garden, his wife had put her hands over her eyes and was crouching next to one of the fountains in the yard, counting down from some number he could not hear while the queen led her daughter behind a nearby bush, holding the giggling little girl as they took to their hiding place.
Then his wife, finished with counting, stood up and began looking around the bushes and a couple statues comically appearing stumped when she didn't find her expected quarry in each spot, though he was sure the little girl's constant giggles had already given away their hiding place.
He smiled and let the shadow of a laugh escape his lips as his wife, 'by accident', stumbled upon the queen's hiding place and the little princess squealed jovially as they were found. The queen smiled down at her and hefted her daughter up with her to settle her against her hip as she stood, standing to talk to his wife who was also smiling.
Otto bowed his head and ran his hand over his drying face and hair, letting a deep breath rip from his lungs.
He couldn't do this. Ever since he had been brought to this house, he had devoted himself to being the royal family's most capable servant, but this, this he could not do. He just couldn't….but he had too.
The Duke of Icely was dead and he had been the first one in court to know about it so naturally it was he who had to tell the queen that her only brother was dead. Him. It was his job. No one else's.
Otto moved his hands from the back of his neck where they had stopped and brought them down to hold his face, hiding his eyes from the, beautiful sunlight, seeming all too abrasive to him in his gloomy stupor.
God forgive him for having to hurt the most noble lady in all the world on this most beautiful of days, for he was not about to forgive himself.
Just then his wife walked in through the side doors and he looked up at her as she turned to close them. She almost walked right past him in the relative dimness of the room, but then spotted him and started.
"Oh dear!" Nada brought a hand to her chest as she recovered from her surprise and took a deep breath. "You startled me, Otto."
He gave her a weak smile. "Sorry, I hadn't meant to."
"It's alright, beloved, but why are you sitting alone here in the dark?" Nada seemed confused as she came to sit beside him on the ottoman he was occupying. "I thought you had a meeting with the foreign ambassador who was arriving today?"
Otto swallowed the lump in his throat. All he wanted was to curl up in his wife's arms and surrender to the day, but he couldn't do that, not here.
"Otto?" Nada laid her hand on his where it rested on his knee. "What's wrong?"
He blinked his eyes several times and cleared his throat to keep the emotion from his voice.
"It was canceled." He managed weakly, before trying to change the subject. "Why are you not out in the garden playing with the queen and the princess?"
Nada seemed not to buy his little attempt at distraction, she had known him too long for that, but she sighed and indulged him.
"The queen wanted a few moments alone with her, just long enough for them to play together so she relieved me for a few hours."
Great. That makes what I have to do even harder, Otto thought as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly with his free hand.
"Otto."
The quiet call brought his attention back to her and Nada squeezed his hand in hers and his eyes finally met her own.
"I know how often your meetings get canceled." Her voice was quiet as she addressed him and the weariness in Otto grew, knowing where she was going with this. "We've been here for seven years and this is the only meeting of yours you haven't attended. Now, tell me, what's happened?"
Otto swallowed again, but he could not and did not want to run away from the sincere concern in his wife's eyes. They had been married for ever forty years, raised three children together, and had worked together in varying settings all over former Europe. If there was anyone he could tell anything too, it would be her.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he looked down at their joined hands instead of directly at her, slightly afraid that the courage he was attempting to muster would drain out of him one he saw the kind worry in those eyes he loved so much.
"The Duke Icely, he…" Otto swallowed as his throat tried to close up on him. "He was murdered at the Alliance summit meeting yesterday morning."
He heard his wife's shocked intake of breath and moved to hold her, his hands at her waist to keep her steady, but she brought her hand up to her chest and held it over her heart. Closing her eyes, Nada leaned heavily against him as the new sunk in.
"God deliver him." She whispered, failing to keep the emotion out of her voice and one tear from sliding down her cheek. "He was a good man."
Silence stretched between them, the only sounds being Nada's quiet hitching sobs barely breaking the sound barrier between them.
Finally, wiping away her tears, Nada turned to look at her husband, who held a similar fear in his eyes.
"Does the queen know?"
"I….I have to tell her, still." Otto managed looking back out through the windows where he caught a glimpse of sandy blonde as the queen darted from one side of a bush to another, the little girl trying to catch her, smiling and giggling her delight with every attempt. "I saw the two of you with the princess in the northern garden earlier, but I thought it an in opportune moment to approach her."
They both watched as the little princess toddled around the bush and finally caught her mother's dress, effectively stopping the queen with a goofy grin on her face.
Nada's eyes began to tear up again at the innocent sight. "It's so cruel. He was so young and what about his family? His children will have to grow up without their father. It's so unfair. And the queen and the children….the poor dears."
Otto nodded his agreement, but kept silent, watching as Relena was twirled around in her mother's arms before being brought to rest against her hip as they walked up to one of the fountains, the queen pointing out some of the small fish in the water to her daughter's complete awe.
Then he felt his wife's hand on his knee and he looked up at her. Nada's face was wet with the residue of newly shed tears, but her eyes had taken on a controlled outer calm that he could not muster.
Taking a shaky breath, she spoke. "She must know, Otto. You cannot keep this from her."
Otto swallowed for what seemed like the hundredth time, but his nerves still rose up in him again like a bed of stabbing needles.
"But she's with the princess." The weak excuse sounded like a joke, even to him and he was unsurprised when Nada stood, his hand still in hers, nudging him to do the same.
"I can take the girl, but you cannot keep this from her. It will destroy you inside if you do and it's not fair to her. You know it, I know you do."
He did. Slowly, Otto rose and held his wife's hand in his own, taking solace from her silent strength as they both opened a door and entered into the sunlit garden together.
----
Forte de Crecy
Calais, Former France
It was past sundown and evening had settled over the coastline. The waves smashing against the beach rocks were well hidden by the moonless darkness as were the men running undetected around the perimeter of the Alliance Forte de Crecy.
They had split up into groups early, so each faction of men was on their own if they were found out before the mission was accomplished.
There were many on Earth who had been labeled 'colony sympathizers' and were been pursued for treason against the Earth Sphere Alliance as rebels and terrorist extremists. The population of these people was believed by military intelligence to be highest in the coastal regions, as that was where the traitors had gone into hiding hoping not to be caught in the obscure towns there.
A large group, calling themselves the 'Libertines' was rumored to be entrenched around Calais, though no ground unit had encountered them to conclude that the rumor was true…..yet.
That was all about to change very soon.
Explosions lit up the sky all along the roof tops from one end of the fort to the other and the alarms began to sound as the soldiers who had survived stumbled out of their rooms.
The men outside of the fort, their jobs finished, proceeded to flee, though sirens were going off and men were shouting all around them. Out of a one of the groups of men, two stood out from the rest.
Two young boys.
One was in his early teens, the other one still younger.
There was absolute confusion as shouts could be heard behind them as well as the droning of the sirens, which almost canceled out every other sound in their ears.
The smaller of the two boys, lagging behind in the tail of fleeing men tripped, his toe caught on a piece of debris from the explosion which upset his balance and hit the ground hard.
He did not get up, but instead cradled his knee bleeding from the fall.
"Eugene!"
The older boy came back for him and picked him up, trying to hurry him along as the shouts behind them got louder and louder and trucks being revved up in pursuit egged them on.
Still, the smaller of the two struggled as he hobbled on, tears running down his cheeks at both his own fear and from the stinging pain in his knee.
"Eugene! Hurry up!!" Frustration edged the other's voice, "Eugene, hu-"
The older boy would have said more, but the crude connecting of a rifle butt with the side of his head caused him to fall face down in the mud of the night. The younger squealed as he was grabbed sharply by his collar and restrained kicking and punching by two soldiers.
Several groups of the rebels ahead of them had also been caught and were being restrained in similar groups of soldiers, half uniformed and fully armed.
"Hey!"
The two soldiers holding the boy Eugene Poirson, both just rudely awakened from a good night's sleep, were having a lot of trouble restraining the kid's flailing limbs.
"Boy! Knock that the hell off!"
Finally, one of them caught a particularly close thrashing arm and reciprocated with his own fist, causing the boy to stop struggling for the most part and continue sobbing only quietly.
As he cried, the boy opened his eyes to slits. The darkness blurred in his watery vision to light and then became very bright as a military jeep pulled to a stop in front of them.
"I grow tired of these gorilla attacks executed by cowards late in the night." The staff officer next to the driver grumbled under the engine's roar. "Don't they know we'll catch them anyway?"
The man, still relatively young, jumped out of the jeep, two soldiers stepping from the back of car and flanking him with machine guns.
Eugene couldn't really tell what he looked like, as most everything but the man's profile was lost to him in the uncomfortable glare from the jeep's headlights.
A soldier stepped in front of him and saluted the staff officer.
"At ease, Lieutenant." His voice was smooth, but sharp like silk with barbed wire at the edges, then the officer turned his eyes on to Eugene who was suddenly shaking. "I am Colonel Auber and you, young man, are under arrest for treason and for threatening the peace of the Earth Sphere."
The colonel stepped up close to him and Eugene could smell the distinct potency of his aftershave as the colonel grabbed his chin and examined his bleeding lip which was beginning to swell. Then Colonel Auber turned and motioned towards the prone boy on the ground. "Lieutenant Halevy, check on him."
The soldier who had saluted the colonel walked over to the still body laying face down in the mud and slid his hand under his neck, feeling for a pulse. Then not finding one, he turned back to his superior.
"He's dead, sir. His skull was probably fractured in the hit."
Eugene's sobs weren't silent anymore and as he turned towards him the colonel, knew the two boys had been close. Auber pulled a small dagger from his belt and, holding the crying boy's face, he cut a small gash in his cheek.
"His life for a little of your blood." Auber stepped away from him and looked to all of his men and then back down to the boy. "I claim both for the young men you killed here today, my men."
The last few words were spoken with a vehemence which made Eugene cower in the arms that held him as the colonel returned his attention to him for effect and then looked back at the lieutenant as he began to bark orders.
"Throw him in prison with the other young ones. Take all of the captured men old enough to carry or operate a weapon to the shooting grounds, tie them up and assemble a firing squad. Tell every soldier who lost a friend here tonight to each grab a gun, they deserve a little target practice after all of this."
Lieutenant Halevy snapped back into the attention position and saluted as the colonel passed him. "Yes sir!"
Colonel Auber passed him without acknowledging him, then hopped back into the jeep and drove off back towards the base, bypassing pockets of prisoners being pushed and harassed along by his angry recruits.
It had been an interesting night.
AN: I hope you all enjoyed the story. Let me know what you thought of it!! Thank you all for reading!!