Part 1 : 2


"Your Highness!" Beyond turned toward the voice, one hand still tugging at the greave of his left calf, which he had just put on. He stood and haughtily brushed a strand of hair back from his face. "What is it, Iblis?" His name, that of the Islam devil, suited him. Harsh black eyes, rather cliché goatee, hawk like nose, uncombed, wild black hair, and burnished armor more of a bronzy hue than a silver hue, he was the head captain of military matters, second only to the King himself.

Iblis briefly dropped to one knee then stood again. "Beyond," he said, dropping the formal titles which he knew that Beyond loathed to some extent, "they're moving."

This news surprised Beyond. Father is actually making the first move? Henh henh henh... that desperate? "What kind of movement, Iblis?" B grabbed his armored gloves and slipped them on with ease. His having worn them so many times had shaped them to perfectly fit his hand and bend easily with his joints. Steel, ribbed back covered with a soft gold which could absorb glancing blows easily by itself, it had no other adornments. Beyond simply hated the gaudy things that he was forced to don as a king... he figured the elegancy nature outweighed any sort of thing man could sculpt using nature.

Corrupt, evil, malevolent... when our hands defile that which is perfect, we merely smear its true glory. Humankind is doomed... that was Beyond's everlasting philosophy, he figured humankind was headed straight for hell. In truth, he could care less about his kingship... in fact, once his goal was accomplished, he planned to hand the throne over to Light, who was only loyal to him since he knew Beyond planned on handing the throne over to him anyway, and also because he knew that if he ever betrayed Beyond, Beyond would personally find him and torture him using the most painful and heinous techniques. This mix of respect, fear and anticipation kept the eager Light Yagami in check.

"Not exactly forward movement... about one hundred mounted troops on each side are heading toward the bases of the hills which are on each side of their encampment. I'm guessing either normal cavalry or archers."

"Unfortunately, that rules out the possibility of a frontal attack with which we could utilize our greater numbers, doesn't it?"

"Of course, if they plan to cut off our most forward troops with those soldiers."

But I don't want to win the battle... I merely want to get to Father, fight him one on one, forcefully explain to him everything... then kill him and leave the rest for Light. The rest of the soldiers can all die and rot on the battlefield for all I care. Of course, the only two who know this are Iblis and Light... "I would rather just avoid engagement altogether and get to the duel, Iblis. You know that."

"Of course, but I was thinking that later...?"

"That later, when they are losing, that we can offer a duel between the two commanders, thinking they wouldn't refuse since their defeat is inevitable otherwise? No."

"Might I ask why not? You don't care about the lives of the soldiers."

"Because we might lose."

"Beyond, you can't be serious!" If anyone besides Light or Iblis had talked to Beyond like this, he would have killed them then and there, but only to keep up the façade of a power hungry warmonger. In truth, he could care less if he was disrespected by humans, the low, humble, pitiful creatures that they were. He cared nothing for power, nothing at all... only the utter decimation of one, single person.

"I am very serious, Iblis. My father is extremely intelligent, an amazing tactician and a very skilled fighter with extraordinary people on his side. I have no problems whatsoever complimenting him where he deserves it. Why should I risk defeat and risk all that I have worked for insofar because of petty pride, when I could merely offer the duel now, and, assuming he accepts, be done with war, your country, my father's people, and man in general, for good?"

"If he is good as you say he is, what if you die?"

"What of it? After I kill him, I would have nothing to live for anyway... dying at his hand would be an honor, and killing him would fulfill my entire purpose. Either way, I am content. Life to me does not hold the same meaning it does for other mortals."

Iblis bowed his head. "This is what I love about you, Beyond," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So straightforward even though you know your reasoning means nothing to us."

Beyond barely acknowledged his last statement. "Bring Light. I have special instructions for him."

Iblis raised his head and saluted, placed two fingers across his heart and bringing them to his forehead. "As you wish, Beyond." With that he turned and strode off, pushing his way through the mass of bodies. Memento mori... Beyond thought as he looked at the soldiers whose blood would soon stain the grass.


"What if he doesn't do a frontal attack?"

"It doesn't matter. The point wasn't to trap him but to discourage him from utilizing his numbers. If we make it to where his numbers are almost insignificant, we might have a chance at winning this fight."

"We have a chance anyway..."

"Not really, no, not if he plays it right. All we can do is discourage him from certain moves... we can't attack until he attacks us."

"You're right, of course..." the tactician, Nate, nodded slowly as he listened to the king speak. Nate Rivers... a young orphan taken in by the king's family himself, same as Beyond Birthday –that traitor- Mail Jeevas – the armorer in chief, and Mihael Keelh – the leader of all military matters. The king was a very anti-social man who, if possible, never showed his face, and couldn't stand the thought of marrying. Thus, he adopted orphans who showed extreme potential from a nearby but secluded orphanage as his successors. Something he would have been loathed for if it wasn't for the fact he was an exceptional king; just yet merciful, prideful yet not arrogant, attentive to the needs of the people. Those facts made it so that most supported his decisions, and he was trusted immensely.

That trust would probably have been shattered if they knew the full story of Beyond Birthday...a young, foreign orphan with an odd name, even odder pastimes but a brilliant mind, who betrayed him because of the king's own failings, he knew. And that fact, more than anything, hurt him. Deeply. And as the king looked at young, calm Nate, with prematurely white hair and large, innocent eyes, he couldn't help but think of his traitorous 'son'... his favorite son, he would readily admit, despite the fact he had seen the betrayal coming for a while. Similar to himself in almost every way, including looks. He loved that boy as much as he would have a blood relative... and that is what the king considered his successors. Blood relatives. His parents and grandparents long dead, his only brother murdered, his aunts and uncles... if he had any... not stepping forward to claim his blood because that he refused to continue his actual bloodline through marriage, but instead adopting young orphans, foreigners no less... his successors were really the only family he had. Which is why it hurt so much when Beyond had betrayed him, no matter how predictable the move had been.

"Your Majesty!" The king winced when he heard Mail calling him by 'your majesty'. "Mail, how many times must I tell you? You're my son, do not call me Your Majesty, please."

"Sorry, Father," panted Mail, smiling at his father. The king, never one for pomp and circumstance, he was dressed plainly, like any commoner, and his hair was long, black and wild, complementing his onyx orbs well. Few people actually knew that he was, in fact, the king, sitting in a removed tent not surrounded by any guards or any kind of distinguishing marks. Those who didn't know he was the king thought he was just a commander, and a fresh one at that... about two hundred of the ten thousand soldiers knew his true identity. Such secrecy was rare in a king, but it suited this one. "There is a messenger coming from the opposite camp. He bears a message for you."

The king closed his eyes and bit his lip, knowing exactly what was entailed in the letter. "Very well, Mail. Thank you for delivering the message." He stood and grabbed a brown, leather cloak... it was cool out. He put it on and exited the tent, subtly slipping into the mass of soldiers preparing for the upcoming battle: sharpening swords, polishing armor, trying on new breastplates and helmets, sparring with sticks on the outskirts... he had seen it all before. Once he reached the northern edge of the mass he saw a lone man upon a black horse. Immaculate brown hair, soft sepia eyes, a shirt that was half red and half purple (on a diagonal bias), leather breeches, riding boots, and an aura of an odd mixture of pride and innocence. "I am looking for a man called Ryuzaki!" he said, using the king's fake name, the one he used when pretending to be a fresh commander. How Beyond had found out the king's alias was still a mystery.

The commander right under Mihael, Damon, stepped forward. "Ryuzaki? Why him? He's a young commander, barely worth your king's consideration! Hand it to me, third only to Mihael and the king himself, and I shall deliver directly to His Majesty!"

The horsebound man smirked, all traces of innocence gone. "My king specifically asked for this to be given to Ryuzaki. I will not be giving it to you or to the king," the man spat, "himself. I will only give it to Ryuzaki, and no one else. If you attempt to take it by force, I will gladly relieve you of your life... Damon." The name slid from his mouth like venom from a snake's fangs.

"How do you know my name?" asked Damon, slightly perturbed, but not one to stutter and show it.

"I have my ways," the man said coolly, drawing a bejeweled dagger that was by his side.

"You looking for a fight?" snarled Damon, easily drawing his two-handed sword, holding it lightly in his left hand.

"Perhaps..."

"Stop, Light!" said Ryuzaki, striding up toward the horsebound man, knowing he wouldk now that he was Ryuzaki as well as the king, and would obey him, not because of his rank but because Beyond would have told him to. Ryuzaki knew this man... he had been a rather normal citizen except for his extraordinary mind, which Beyond had noticed a few months before the coup. He had found him and confided in him his plans after manipulating him with a mixture of vague threats, and, of course, promises of glory. The promises of glory Beyond had fulfilled to the fullest so far. Ryuzaki had met Light once before and had disliked him almost immediately, but yet had felt a kind of connection with the young man.

"You finally show yourself, Ryuzaki!" laughed Light, flipping his hair haughtily. He oozed of overconfidence.

"Lowly peasant, get back!" growled Damon, shoving Ryuzaki unceremoniously out of the way, still holding his sword. "I say we cut the whelp down now!"

"That would be a foolish idea," said Ryuzaki softly.

"Really now? Who are you to order me?!"

"I am not ordering you, Damon. I am merely saying if we killed this man, we would violate a pertinent rule of conduct, and in doing so would make our dishonor known to not only the king's traitorous son, but also to the rest of the world. Would you jeopardize our country's amazing reputation because of petty pride and anger?"

"Silence, whelp! Lowly commander, you have seen fewer battles than a newborn babe! Have you ever even tasted the blood of your enemy cut down, experienced the thrill of battle and slaughter? Do you know anything of politics, anything at all?"

"Quite a lot..."

"Just get back, fool, or I'll take this up with the king and tell him of your insubordination!"

"That would be difficult..."

"You think I cannot talk to the king?! I can quite easily! Mark my words, you will..."

"DAMON!"

Damon turned and squeaked when he saw Commander Mihael striding toward him, red in the face, his long blonde hair swirling around him, his mouth twisted in a snarl. "What do you think you're doing?!" he yelled, fists clenched. Damon winced and dropped to one knee. "M-master Mihael!" If there was anything Damon feared, it was Mihael Keehl.

"Are you trying to get in trouble with the king?! Are you trying to ruin our reputation as a country?! Are you trying to get me at your throat?! Put that sword away, you idiot!"

Damon was visibly trembling as he sheathed his large sword, still dropped on his knee. "Milord, please forgive me..."

"And where do you get off abusing this commander? He is young, yes, but so were you once. Being new is nothing to be ashamed about, so don't try to give him reason to be ashamed!" Mihael's lightning blue eyes were fiery. "Apologize to Ryuzaki now and report to the whipping post for punishment!"

Damon apologized to Ryuzaki through ground teeth, and hissed, "I swear I'll take this up with the king, whelp, and I'll have you suffer twofold what I will suffer..." With that, he stood and marched away.

"Discord in the camp?" asked Light smoothly.

"It would seem so," said Ryuzaki, who was now walking toward Light, feeling the stares of soldiers boring into his back.

"None of my business, in any case. This if for you," said Light, then said quietly with a slightly inclined head, "Your Majesty."

Ryuzaki took it with a graceful bow. "Thank you, Light," he said. "I can guess its contents."

"You probably guess correctly," Light said, looking innocent once more.

Ryuzaki walked away, the letter dangling delicately between his thumb and index fingers, ignoring the piercing stares of his comrades.