The Ties That Bind

Author's Note(s): Thanks to all those that reviewed the first chapter.

For those of you wondering, the toughest part about my OC was finding a name for him. I'm still not sure the one I finally settled on fits, but that's really a discussion for another time.

Chapter 2: A Land at Peace

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Azel!" Elena blurted out. "Crimson Rider Azel!"

Yggdra frowned. "Azel? I don't think I've heard that name before…"

"He…" Elena shook her head. "You were my brother's… you were the Black Knight's second-in-command. His lieutenant…"

What would he be doing here?

"Correct." Azel replied with a fair amount of venom as he sat up from the bed he had been placed on. "And you, of course, are Elena, the traitorous assassin."

At his words, Elena felt her face grow hot, and she glanced away from him. Even after having been called that so many times by so many people throughout the war, she still couldn't look any one who called her that in the eye. She supposed she should have grown thicker skin by now, but in the end, every accusatory glare was justified, and the weight of it caused her to lower her head.

Swallowing nervously, she was about to stammer out a reply when she heard Yggdra's calm voice.

"Many terrible things were done on both sides of the war." She said. "To assign blame and punishment for each act of malice and rage would simply lead to the cycle of hatred turning over again." At this, Elena looked up to see the Queen, a gentle smile on her face. "Sir… Azel, was it?"

The knight merely nodded.

"I have to ask that you remain here until our physicians and healers pronounce you healthy enough to leave. Beyond that…" Yggdra nodded once. "You may do as you please, whether you would stay here to remain under our care or to return to Bronquia." Having said this, Yggdra stepped back, and turned towards the doorway.

"Wait a moment, Lady Yggdra." Azel called after her.

"Um… it's Queen Yggdra, actually." Elena ventured softly. She knew this was silly, but she'd long gotten into the habit of addressing people by their correct titles… Sir Milanor notwithstanding.

Azel's grey eyes never shifted in her direction. "I wasn't talking to you." He said shortly. Elena winced and subconsciously took another step back.

Turning back, Yggdra frowned at Azel. "Sir Azel, if you wish to talk to me, I must request that you treat my subjects with a bit more civility."

Azel breathed out a sigh. "I take it from the way you talk, and your treatment of me – the war is over, isn't it?"

Yggdra's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir Azel… it's been over for nearly two weeks. Where were you that you never received this news?"

Azel's smiles held no trace of levity within it. "After Sir Leon was slain, I ended up being reassigned rather often. I believe my last battle was at the gates of Flarewerk. The destruction of the Twin Ankhs left me incapacitated for… a rather lengthy period of time."

"Enough of this talk." The healer said abruptly. "This man needs to rest."

Yggdra sighed, nodded, and started to head out of the room, signaling for Elena to follow after her, which she did, pausing only to take one last glance back at him.

Clad in matching navy tunic and pants, her signature maroon scarf draped around her neck, Elena stood on the battlements of Castle Paltina, overlooking the rather colourful procession far below her. The mass of humanity that daily flowed in and out of the castle and surrounding city never seemed to stop, even into the latest hours of the night. Simply put, Elena didn't feel comfortable around a large mass of people, and frankly, that had been the most galling thing about the time spent in Queen Yggdra's army. Under Master Zilva's Special Forces, she had operated as part of covert group that understood each other's capabilities well, and how to make use of it. A circle of close friends was really all she felt truly at ease with.

As she stood staring at the battlements, thoughts shifted once more to Azel. Prior to her defection, he had been a swiftly rising star in Bronquia's army; and rumours had flown that he would have become the sixth Dragon General before the year was out. Being one whose occupation was largely devoted to the act of sneaking around, Elena had managed to keep one ear to the ground, soaking up all those rumours. She'd even heard discussions that when Azel would be raised to Dragon General, his title would be the Crimson Rider, owing largely to his flame-coloured hair and his traditional red armour (which, for some reason, he had not been wearing when she had met him at Manthre woods). And of course, there had been the jokes about the connections between 'Scarlet' Princess Emilia and 'Crimson' Rider Azel… She had seen the short blood-red hair on his head, but somehow she hadn't made the connection until recently.

And of course, he had been her broth… he had been Leon's must trusted knight, his second-in-command. She supposed he must have been there at Bardock Stronghold, where she had killed… where the Black Knight had fallen in battle. Briefly she allowed herself to wonder if he'd been the one to rally the survivors of Leon's Black Cavalry, and get them out of there.

The soft thud of boot on stone caused her to glance backwards, her violet eyes widened in surprise as she saw Azel step out into the stone path. His eyes narrowed, and he almost seemed to want to turn back, but after a moment's hesitation he continued his slow walk forward.

"S – sir Azel…" Elena stammered. "Should you not be resting?"

He paused slightly, as if debating whether to reply. "The healers thought it prudent for me to get some fresh air." At this, he continued walking until he was a fair pace away from her, before sitting himself down by the ramparts and closing his eyes.

Elena continued watching him nervously, wondering if she should walk over and attempt to initiate a conversation with him. Finally, she decided that her poor conversational ability coupled with his apparent hostility towards her would hinder efforts at a relationship more than help it, and with a sigh, she turned away.

"Sir Milanor's group has returned!"

Yggdra glanced up from the veritable mountain of paperwork spread out across her ornately (and in her opinion, garishly) decorated desk, a smile breaking out across her face. "Send him in."

In seconds, the door's to her study were opened, and the familiar figure of the Silver Wolf strode in, his weapon resting comfortably on his shoulder.

"How was the raid?" She inquired hopefully. In recent times, Milanor had been leading his band up against known bandit hideouts, seeking to root them out, and if p

"Got 'em all." Milanor's grin widened, and he carefully leaned his weapon down by a wall. "The leader didn't put up much of a fight; after that, the group scattered." He snorted with amusement. "Even got a couple requests to join my gang! I don't think they'll be making any more trouble for a while."

Yggdra nodded her thanks, dipping her head back to read the latest form – something about requisitions for skilled craftsmen to rebuild destroyed villages south of the border…

"So where're the rest of your men?" Yggdra inquired as she continued scanning the form, trying to pick out any important details.

"Back in their quarters." Milanor chuckled. "They don't feel comfortable dealing with all the high-class folk."

"And I'm sure the 'high-class folk' don't feel very comfortable with them." Yggdra replied with a smile. "I hope they like living in the castle though."

"Oh, sure." Milanor leaned against the wall, pulling off the gloves from his hands. "'Slong as no one gets on their goat about acting uppity and all. They're not used to such riches, that's for sure."

"Mm…" Yggdra glanced up. "You say you got a request from those gangs to join you? What happened?"

"Ah, they just came up to me, spoke some rubbish about me being the 'great' Silver Wolf and all, and asked if they could be part of my gang. 'Course, I'd never say no to a bunch of honest, sincere faces like that!" After a moment's pause, Milanor sighed, the expression on his face growing more serious. "After a while, it gets real easy to tell which ones are bandits because they like causing a ruckus, and which ones joined the gangs because honest work just wasn't putting food on the tables for them and their families."

Yggdra's pleasant expression vanished. "It's like the war all over again… Many fight because they've no other choice… and we kill them because we've no other choice." She closed her eyes. "When I let Gran Centurio be sealed in Ancardia… I truly thought…" She shook her head. "I thought we could just… just make everyone stop fighting. Renounce all wars, forever."

She raised her gaze to the thick stacks of paper all about her desk. "And look now. We haven't been able to release a single soldier from active duty – all we've done is split them up into smaller core groups so they can more efficiently patrol the lands. Bandit raids are increasing all over the continent; there's practically no infrastructure with which to increase communications… Bronquia is a complete and utter mess – and just the other day we had reports that the Bronquian Knights are overstretched, so we're going to have to send some more troops up there." She blew out a long sigh. "The war's over, but the whole world is still a wreck."

"…" Milanor remained silent. "Yggdra… I believe in you. We all believe in you. You haven't forgotten, have you? You promised Kylier you'd make a new world, one without pain and suffering. And we're all going to help you out." Walking over to where Yggdra had left the Scepter of Wisdom leaning by the wall, he hefted it up, feeling the weight of the instrument. "You see this? Even God's on your side."

Yggdra managed a smile. "Thanks Milanor. It's going to be a long, tough road… but we'll get there one day. I'm sure of it."

"Attagirl." Milanor grinned. "By the way, how's Durant doing?"

"Oh, he set out just the other day. We haven't received word from him yet."

Halfway across the continent, the young commander of 3rd Royal Cavalry dismounted his snorting warhorse.

"Check for any survivors." He said softly. "And tend to our wounded."

"Yes, sir!"

The knight gazed around the stricken field – bodies were strewn carelessly about in every which direction. Far too many of them wore the simple, rustic clothes of villagers and farmers – mute testimony to the fact that they had arrived too late.

"Sir, we've found a family in the northern portion of the town! It seems they hid out and managed to survive the bandit onslaught unnoticed."

Durant nodded. "I suppose we should be grateful. Any brigands still remaining?"

"No, sir. Those who haven't been slain have fled by now."

"Sir," another knight approached him. "We've managed a body count. Of our side, three have fallen. We count sixteen dead bandits, and… twenty seven dead villagers."

Durant sighed and shook his head. "We'll bring the fallen knights back with us. As for the villagers… We'll bury them here. And let's pray no one comes to desecrate their graves."

Half an hour later, the deed was all but finished. With a heavy heart, Durant clambered atop his mount again.

"Sir Durant?"

"Yes?"

"…Do we pursue the bandits?"

Durant shook his head. "We can't. The bandits know the mountains too well. I won't lead us straight into an ambush of some sort or the other." Gripping his lance tightly, he turned to two of his trusted knights. "The family we found… bring them to the village of Naras. It's relatively near, and there's a garrison nearby. They should be safe there. Afterwards, head for the Castle."

After saluting, the two knights departed. Durant watched them move farther away before raising his hand and nudging his horse into position.

"We return to Castle Paltina." He called to his units. "Move out!"

Milanor swung open the wooden doors that led to what had been affectionately termed as 'the wreck room'. No one had been able to figure out whether the 'wreck' in the title was a clever play on the abbreviation of the word 'recreational', or whether it was because just about everything in the room was a wreck, and frankly, no one much cared.

To the group that spent their time here, even such broken down furniture was more luxury than they would ever have imagined possible.

The Silver Wolf flashed a confident grin as he strolled into the room, greeted by the yells and cheers of his gang.

"Boss!"

"The boss is back!"

"How'd it go, boss?"

"Can we come along next time? It's boring doin' nothing all day!"

"Shut yer yaps!" Milanor's smile never wavered as he collapsed onto a plush silk couch that the castle attendants had thrown out because some of the upholstery was torn. "And it went fine! Hey, Flunky, did they give you trouble?"

Flunky, as he was known, had been found half-dead somewhere in the Norn Valley, and when nursed to health (Milanor's opinion had always been that Flunky had survived in spite of their care, not because of it), he had apparently lost much of his memory. The gang had taken to calling him Flunky because of his newcomer rank, and it had stuck despite his battle skill allowing a meteoric rise in reputation amongst the Silver Wolf's gang. Shortly prior to them having met Yggdra for the first time, Milanor had officially denoted Flunky his second in command, and the guy with the grey wolf's skull had fought bravely for the Royal Army for the duration of the war. (Even though it was still acknowledged that compared to most, Flunky was a little slower in catching on. But then again, so were most bandits.)

"No problem at all, boss." Flunky grinned. "Taking care of this bunch's easy as anything we ever did."

"Good to hear." Milanor shrugged. "Wouldn't want us getting kicked out of the castle now, would we?"

"But boss, don't we… you know, own it?"

"Sure, keep telling yourselves that." Milanor snagged a bread crust that had apparently been lying unattended and swiftly polished it off. "Yggdra's been kind enough to let us stay in the castle, but don't push it. If any complaints about rowdy behaviour find its way to me, you can bet your bones I'm taking it all out on you guys."

"N- no fair, boss! It's boring this way!"

Milanor shrugged. "Never said you lot couldn't act like barbarians. Just don't do it on castle grounds is all. That shouldn't be much problem."

"Right! So when's our next raid, boss? Someplace big?"

Milanor was silent for a long moment. Then a devil-may-care smirk blossomed on his face and he leaned forward. "Right, gather round, you lot! If you wanna know we're heading next…"

Elena knocked hesitantly on the door of the healing chambers. A second later, it was opened by a physician with a kindly expression on his face.

"I've been told to deliver this to package to the healers." She spoke in a low tone, aware that many of the people inside would have been resting.

"My thanks, lass." The physician nodded, Elena saluted, and then the door was closed. Elena turned around and promptly collided with Azel. Both of them staggered backwards, but managed to remain on their feet.

"Sorry – I'm sorry!" Elena blurted out.

"…" The Crimson Rider shook his head. "I appear to be running into you rather often lately."

"…Sir Azel…" She caught the frown that passed briefly across his face.

"Please do not call me that. I've no desire to be addressed in a respectful manner by a traitor."

"…!" Elena shook her head, burdened by the weight of her actions. "I… you were Leon's second… you know what he was like! You saw how he treated any prisoners he captured; how he terrorized those under his command!"

"…Generals are made Generals for their strength in battle, not for their personality. This is especially so in Bronquia." Azel's steely grey eyes bore down on her. "And if we're going to talk of despicable, unforgiveable acts, what about your killing of your own brother?"

Elena simply gazed miserably at him. She had been right in slaying Leon – she simply couldn't have allowed him to continue his reign of terror – but there wasn't a single night that the guilt didn't weigh on her.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Azel shook his head and walked past her. "When I saw you back at Manthre Woods… I had every intention of killing you. Of course, that didn't happen. I was wounded, and you helped me bring me here to be nursed back to health. I am in your debt – and Lady Yggdra's, as well. I have no intention of betraying that debt, and as such, I will not raise my hand against you or anyone under Lady Yggdra." He paused, fists clenched, obviously trying to rein in his emotion. "But pray do not delude yourself. I hate you, traitor. And it will be a long time in coming before I am reconciled to you, if ever."

Briefly, he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then he shook his head and vanished into the healing chambers.

Meanwhile, a very confused and depressed assassin stood there, staring silently at the doorway through which Azel had passed through.

The spell matrix glowed green, red, and blue hues. The four ankh pieces whirled about, their magic powers surging and coalescing, forming immensely complicated, arcane runes that flickered and twinkled for their brief existence before vanishing once again into whatever nether it was birthed from.

Roswell cupped his chin, musing thoughtfully as he studied the matrix. It was still incomplete, of course, but hopefully the package he had requested for arrived soon-

A soft knock on the door to his study, and a servant stepped in. "Master Roswell?"

"What now?"

"The package you requested for from Castle Paltina has been delivered." The servant bowed, offering a tiny box.

After thanking and dismissing the servant, Roswell hurriedly opened the box, holding the fifth and last ankh piece in his hand.

"How fitting," he mused, turning over the artifact in his palm. "To be shaped like a crucifix."

At his mental command, the fifth ankh piece rose to join the other four fragments, causing the brightness of the spell matrix to intensify.

Roswell allowed himself a confident smile as he raised a hand, moving the fifth piece into precisely the correct position needed to influence to spellwork. Just a bit more and-

Abruptly, the energy levels of the matrix spiked dangerously, threatening to overload the spell. Roswell's eyes widened, and instantly he waved his hand, siphoning away the excess energy as best he could while simultaneously shifting the ankh fragments away from each other.

The spell wavered slightly, then collapsed upon itself.

The danger averted, Roswell sighed tiredly. He had obviously messed up somewhere; the process of arranging magical artifacts such that their inherent energies fed and built upon each other was an extremely complicated and tricky one, but any sorcerer of his stature should have been able to manipulate the artifacts without causing such risk to him or herself.

"Master Roswell?"

He turned again. The same servant as before was now standing behind him, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?"

"Master Roswell, I – we're getting worried, sire. You've not had a good night's rest in nearly week, and most of the meals with bring you are virtually untouched when we remove them again."

Roswell was silently, considering his subject's words carefully. It was true that he'd been feeling rather fatigued these past few days…

"I suppose you're right." Roswell said with a sigh. "Tell the maids to prepare my bedchamber. I'll be there once I tidy up a bit here."

The servant bowed and left, leaving Roswell to his own reflections, leaving Roswell to his ponderings. While it was true that passion for his newest project had eclipsed much of his normal life, it wasn't the sole reason he had neglected proper sleep.

"Another bout with the nightmares it'll be, then…" He murmured to himself as he gathered up his various writing utensils.

Guilt could do that to a person, he supposed.

Just to clarify: Azel's name is supposed to pronounced Ay- zel, not Ah-zel or Ai -zel or anything like that, okay?

Thanks for reading. Please review.