TIR'S AGE NOTE: so according to Suikoden Radio Drama 2, Tir is 14 years old in S1…DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT *growls* so he might pass as one by appearance…but seriously! Aren't they exaggerating it a little…I mean, Luc was 14 too, and his voice was like that of an 18-year-old. Lelouch's voice disappointed me!
So Tir will remain SIXTEEN, born under SY 399
True Runes: Freyjadour of the Rebellion
Chapter 3: the enemy of the enemy
A disturbing woman, a disturbing comment, a disturbing feeling – Freyjadour did not know how he managed to stand still, facing eye to eye with Lady Windy. He never really knew the Court Magician, but he remembered being approached several times, even when he first came. He was a bit uncomfortable when she was around, but he had always thought it was due to the lady's strong magic, but there was obviously more to that. He wasn't clueless too of the unexplained hostility between Lady Windy and Lazlo.
Of course. Freyjadour's knees suddenly felt strong. Lady Windy never liked Lazlo. She must be twisting the truth to satisfy her pride. Besides, what exactly did she mean by 'a habit of killing queens'? Freyjadour thought it was a figurative speech using irony, since Lady Claudia was queen (or would have been, if she still lives after the emperor's coronation), but it felt more devious than that. It wasn't too suspicious enough to indulge Freyjadour to ask though.
"He is not here," he said, expressing bridled anger, which only Lady Windy's eyes could possibly see flickering. "There's no traitor in this house."
"But there are traitors," countered Lady Windy. "Wherever they are, they are traitors."
Something about the last statement made Freyjadour's stomach churned, but he remained strong and impassive on the outside, making sure Lady Windy has no reason to do anything else within her power. Freyjadour was given no reason to believe in Lady Windy's words, but he has many to believe Lazlo. Even if he was up to something, there was an explanation Freyjadour is willing to listen to on the right time. Right now, he has to make time for the right one.
"What exactly is your evidence against him, Lady Windy?" he questioned, only partially interested in his own question. He was just stalling, finding the need to occupy Lady Windy, though he has no idea if his tactics would work or not.
She chuckled softly. "Evidence? Are you seeking to find a counter against it? For his crime, he does not deserve a trial. This isn't a crime that will call to hear out the two sides, Freyjadour...it's a shame, really," she said with a suppressed sweetness in her voice.
"What is?"
Her eyes disappeared behind her eyelids. "If he had murdered an ordinary person, then the emperor would have been lenient, but even if he decided to show mercy to the murderer of his wife, the people would rebel..." Lady Windy's eyes reappeared, bearing a different sparkle the Court Magician rarely shows. "Only his death would satisfy the emperor and his people. Even for so many years...even if hundreds of years had gone by, this could not be forgiven...a victim has to be a murderer to kill a murderer."
Lady Windy suddenly left with the soldiers, leaving Freyjadour holding his breath for a few seconds, waiting for them to disappear before rushing in their house.
Something in Lady Windy's words felt different. It was frightening, yet there was a saddening feeling too somewhere in the roots of anger...
It was...familiar...
"This is the first time to meet my sister's apprentice."
Freyjadour looked at the two adults whose experiences made him much more little. Lymsleia insisted on staying at home. The former prince felt suspicious as the girl was fidgety and anxious about something. When Freyjadour asked if she was up to something, she raised her voice angrily at Freyjadour, but even the Lym-scolding-Frey mode behaviour felt different.
Lazlo felt it better for Lymsleia not to come, since she would simply grow bored in their tour around the palace. Freyjadour thought the same too, but his reason was quite different.
He can still remember the marble walls of the Sol Falena Palace. It was bigger than the emperor's palace, but that could be because of its architecture. Sol Falena Palace was like a mountain towering overhead while the palace here was like a labyrinth. There were many light-bearing chandeliers, painting the marbled walls and floor to gold. There were red carpets rolled on the ground and armours, paintings, and ornaments along the wall. The palace was filled with many people, none of them taking notice of the three figures having a discussion inside a semi-enclosed room.
Lady Windy welcomed Lazlo and Freyjadour into the palace. It was awfully busy, but the people had taken notice of them when they pass, providing a gentle nod of the head. They were courteous, but too busy to give hospitality.
"I am Lazlo," the man introduced himself with a smile.
"I'm Freyjadour," the young boy followed, bowing slightly.
"She is the Court Magician, Lady Windy," said Lazlo, gesturing to the blond maiden. "Lady Windy, thank you for being our hostess tonight. We appreciate your hospitality."
Lady Windy returned the gesture with a smile. Something in that smile felt wicked, but young Freyjadour figured it was simply his inferiority.
"You are good friends with the emperor. I am honoured to welcome you on behalf of the emperor. So, how is my sister?"
"She is fine, Lady Windy, though with two children under my care now, Lady Leknaat would have to reschedule for my delays."
"Why not bring the children in the Magician's Island? It would be of more convenience."
Lazlo shook his head. "That would make them isolated." He put a hand on Freyjadour's head unconsciously. Caught off-guard by the touch, the silver-haired prince dodged, casting an alarmed look at the hand. Both Lazlo and Lady Windy looked at Freyjadour, helping the boy realize what he has done. A small blush crawled on his cheeks, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.
"I'm-I'm sorry," he said with the most apologetic voice he has.
"No, I should be sorry," said Lazlo hesitantly, trying to smile. He let it out with a chuckle, setting down his hand on the boy's shoulder. "What kind of guardian I would be, haha..."
Lady Windy fixed her eyes at Freyjadour. "You must be a strong boy. After being abandoned, left to take care of a handicapped sister, you wandered for months. Yet, you appeared to be fine...tell me, where did you come from?"
Freyjadour avoided her eyes. He'd rather keep quiet than lie, or else they might become suspicious...
"He probably won't remember anymore," answered Lazlo for Freyjadour.
"Don't be ridiculous. They didn't grow in the streets. It hasn't been years for him to forget."
"It doesn't really matter where he came from, Lady Windy. He already has a home."
Lady Windy gazed at Lazlo, sensing an indirect and implied hostility over something from her sister's apprentice.
"You're growing to be a protective parent already, Lazlo."
Lazlo decided to answer the half-joking statement with a laugh. "I just hope I wouldn't have to deal with teenage rebellions."
"No, I think he can do more than that," she replied ominously. This made Freyjadour look at Lady Windy, only to regret this decision later on, finding her eyes met his. "He will start a rebellion."
"A rebellion?" Lazlo's eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, a rebellion...a rebellion like no other. You must be familiar with it, Lazlo. Rebellions that were meant to change the course of history and gather the stars..."
Lady Windy's crooked smiled gleamed with her eyes. A bit of excitement rushed into her expression as if before her stood the future she greatly spoke of.
The eyes Lady Windy had at that time were the same pair he saw with the same woman just a while ago. Freyjadour was silent for a few moments at the flashback...
"Yes, a rebellion...a rebellion like no other. You must be familiar with it, Lazlo..."
Freyjadour's eyes snapped. Could she be talking about the Anti-Imperial Movement? No, it can be something that had happened in the past, something that doesn't involve Lazlo at any uprising. The two of them never met before then. He shouldn't assume Lazlo had done something in the past, something to give anyone the reason to mark him a traitor.
Still, Freyjadour didn't understand what Lady Windy meant about rebellions that were meant to change the course of history and the gathering of the stars...
Later that night, Miakis and Lymsleia came home. Freyjadour saved the sighs of relief later after he would demand where they've been.
"Miakis, Lym, where have the two of you been?" he demanded. Honestly, he sounded like a mother sometimes. He only needed to add, "I was worried sick" to prove it.
Miakis only grinned. The twenty-three-year-old woman was acting childish on the contrary. "Lym and Tir went on a date!"
"No, we didn't!" Lymsleia denied indignantly, curling her fists at Miakis. Her honest, desperate face that didn't want to make her bother mad faced Freyjadour. "I wanted to go outside, so Tir offered to walk me..."
"Why didn't you ask Miakis?" asked Freyjadour suspiciously.
"She was still asleep..."
Freyjadour glared at the feigned innocence on Miakis' face. Liar.
"Was Gremio with the boy?" he further asked. When Lymsleia swallowed guiltily, Freyjadour's frown deepened. "Lym!"
"Bu-but we were planning to walk just for a while! But then we heard noises near the forest..." Lymsleia's voice was starting to shake, knowing that she was saying too much that she should—or shouldn't—tell. "We found...someone. He was injured and chased by some bad guys, so we helped him."
"He could be a bandit chased by the guards!" the older brother berated, getting hot in the head.
"No, he wasn't! I know it!" Lymsleia defended.
"How should you know? You couldn't see—" He bit his own tongue. The heat on his head cooled down suddenly, suddenly taking in the words he was harshly saying to his sister and the words that he could have said. "Lym...I..."
The girl's face melted into a calm, matured expression. She leaned back on her wheelchair and smiled. "It's all right, big brother."
"I'm sorry, Lym. I didn't mean..."
"I know, big brother. I understand."
Freyjadour stared at her sister's face. She was so fragile. Her mind has been scarred by a trauma that he could do nothing to erase. He feared that she would become broken beyond repair, with Freyjadour unable to do anything again for her.
"I...was just worried."
Lymsleia smiled wider. "I know, big brother! Don't worry. You don't have to worry about me all the time. I will be strong for you."
His blue eyes snapped. Lymsleia stretched her arms to her brother, inviting a hug. Freyjadour bend over and accepted her arms around his neck. As the siblings embraced, Freyjadour's fake smile faded to a sad, thoughtful facade.
After a quick dinner (with Miakis cooking, no one had much appetite to eat), Freyjadour helped his sister to her bed. He carried her like a bride and gently put her down to her bed.
Freyjadour knelt beside her bed, whispering, "Good night, Lym."
Lymsleia smiled, taking his hand and tightening it like a hug. "Good night, big brother."
"Lym," he said quietly and gently. "What would you like to first see when you open your eyes again?"
"You, big brother," she answered. Her face turned to the ceiling. "And a peaceful world where no one fights for power."
Freyjadour recalled Falena, their motherland, their home, their past. They couldn't be a normal family, and now they have it. This bit of happiness was enough to last forever as long as they're together. It was all he asked.
"It will happen, Lym."
Yet, so many try to ruin this peace—the Godwins, the Jowston, the Anti-Imperial Movement…
It angered him to how far they will kill the innocent to achieve their ambition. Their foolishness, their stupidity—idiocy!
"I will make it happen."
People like them made Lymsleia like this, people like them killed Lady Claudia, people like them separated people.
People like them…
Suddenly, the weight of his heart tripled. His knees weakly fell to the ground and his hands shook uncontrollably. Lymsleia screamed in a forced, tight one. Her hands reached to cover her ears, afraid of the horrible, screeching cry. The sealed window behind the curtains was penetrated by a red, bloody light. It shone like ruby from the skies.
"Bro-brother…!"
Freyjadour gasped between his pants. He stood up and held to Lymsleia's hand. "Stay here, Lym. Miakis!"
Even before he made the call, the door opened and Miakis arrived with a serious face. Her knives were drawn, ready for the worst.
"Miakis, take care of Lym," he told her without waiting for a reply. Lymsleia tried to call him but he was gone.
He took his tri-sectional staff and made a peek through the window in the living room.
"What--!"
He saw the empire's guards and soldiers lying dead on the ground. Their blood were fresh and even glinting because of the light Freyjadour could not detect its source. He could hear voices outside, but he can hear his staff rattling. He didn't look at his shaking hands. He slowly went to the door. He stared at its rectangle shape as he approached.
There were cries, cries suffering in agony. He came closer and in his mind, they were getting louder. Cries from the past…they were cries from the past. Screams that couldn't scream for years. Was this his? He didn't know these screams but he quivered under them. Such sorrow scared him.
It was frightening.
Cries from war.
A pulling feeling made him reach for the door and slam it open. Everything was bathed in red. The darkness did not conceal any dead men because of the red light from the sky. He ran past these dead men under the light, just like how he ran the corridors of Sol Falena. He was deaf to the cries and the clash of swords by those remaining.
He was anxious, anxiously looking for someone.
"Lazlo!" he shouted. He was here, but where?
His feet stopped and his head turned. His braided hair whipped in the air. Then, his blue eyes saw what it dreaded.
He didn't scream. A beast within him suddenly ordered his whole body to attack. His legs sprinted while his hands raised his staff vertically. The man who held the sword swiftly turned a surprised look at the red blur that was once in the air then suddenly gone. Instinctively, the man pulled his sword from the flesh and raised it to defend himself. He had not predicted, but the instinct protected him the mighty swing of a long staff.
The man gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure rising in his arms. They locked weapons. The surprise attack made his lose advantage, but his opponent was smaller than him. He pushed, but he can hear the beast roaring. Fire was burning in his enemy.
"A member of the anti-imperial movement," he thought. His enemy's clothes said nothing of his allegiance. The man was slowly pushing his enemy. In their locked weapons, he couldn't dodge his enemy's eyes. His black eyes gazed at the pair of blue eyes, eyes like a ferocious, angry river.
"You—"
Freyjadour expertly switched one hand to the other end, splitting the staff into three. The lost of resistance gave a startle to the man. Freyjadour swung his divided weapon like a nunchuk. For the first few blows, the man blocked with hastiness, but the speedy blows tired the arms carrying the heavy sword. Suffering from the blows, the man jumped back, staying far from this beast.
"You're—"
But his throat growled beastly and sprung to dig his fangs on his enemy. "ARGHH!"
The sword aligned to block the next blows, but then it staggered. A strong, beating pulse trembled in his left hand.
"What the…!"
His knee weakened. A pain erupted in his left hand. His whole body began to shake. His eyes were shut tight. With force, he peeked to see the boy coming at him to kill him. His eyes were losing focus. He wasn't dying. He couldn't, not at this time when… "Fre…Frey—"
"Georg!"
The man named Georg had fallen into unconsciousness. The newcomer came with a sword ready to intercept. His speed threatened Freyjadour to pull back and defend himself from a powerful blow. Freyjadour had no way to fight back this close while defending himself with the real form of his staff. The new general didn't use this to take him down now though. He had to pull back to secure his ally's safety.
And besides…
"Don't get involved," he said. "I know you're not involved, Freyjadour."
He didn't reply, breathing in and out heavily but quickly.
"Put down your weapon now." It was an order.
Freyjadour didn't. His fingers were wrapped on his weapon, knuckles white already.
"Do it now, or you WILL be involved!"
"NO!" he roared. He wasn't going to listen to this man! No one will order him, not him! "YOU KILLED HIM!" His hands transformed his weapon back to a staff as he lunged.
"When we come back, Lym, let's smile and…" Freyjadour blushed slightly. He was excited to meet … again. He was happy he was fine, but he wanted to make … happier. "And Lym, do you want to call him…dad?" He hesitated and added hastily, "it's less formal than 'father'! But if you don't feel right…" …
… He didn't know how to approach him, because he wasn't the same man who promised to come back. He felt like … hadn't, like his heart was left behind in the war. It was as if his heart died in the war…
… … looked at him with unfamiliar eyes. Freyjadour's voice disappeared and his breaths went shorter. He opened his mouth, loosely hanged…
…"Welcome back."…
The general gritted his teeth, having no choice but to defend. Perhaps with one swing, he can finish this boy, but he wouldn't kill an innocent boy, especially one who did not deserve what he had already gotten. Yet his face didn't soften, but a cry surprised him.
"Dad!"
Somehow, both two men stopped. An eleven-year-old boy stood not too far from them. His clothes were tattered and torn and it looked like he is worn out. He held his staff to partly support himself, but stood with dignity in front of the two people he admired.
"Why are you two…"
"Tir, it's not safe here!" General McDohl cried out. "Tir, where's Gremio?"
But he was cut short by footsteps coming behind his son.
"Tir!"
The general put a wary eye at Freyjadour and a quick glance at Georg. But his son! He greatly hoped it was an ally, but a cry of his son's name from an unfamiliar voice assured him that it was no enemy. The general heard a bow pulled back as the stranger walked near his son. He saw the stranger's appearance quickly with the red light from the sky that was slowly merging with the darkness. There was an exchange between the two with a hint of strong recognition. Both sides suddenly pulled their weapons up.
The boy in between became confused and apprehensive. "Wait, Dad! Ted's—"
The bow-wielding stranger quickly noticed a body lying on the ground. The shimmer of two duel blades was unmistakably—
"You…" his voice toned to a whisper, muttering a name that sank into silence, just like how darkness governed the night once more.
The general's quick reflexes blocked a swift arrow. He turned around, heads turning too to the direction where it came from. The general knew he was slowly being cornered. He could hold them off, if not for an unconscious ally and his son in the battlefield.
But he has to withdraw.
The general grabbed his ally's arm and fled. He prayed—oh what a fool, praying amidst the battlefield, but he earnestly prayed, his son would be alive tomorrow.
Voices were approaching from the direction the arrow came from. At the same time, the voices from the imperial army were approaching.
"Quick, get his body! We can't let the imperial scums taking it as their trophy!"
"Withdraw quickly," a woman's voice ordered quietly.
Ted clenched his hands. "Odessa…"
The woman's blue eyes were turned away from the man's corpse as if it didn't exist or it did not matter. She looked at the man with white hair whose grips of his weapon had not lightened. She felt his pain, but her façade was strong. It was just like her.
"Frey."
He was silent.
"This isn't the time to talk, but I'd like you to join our cause."
"Odessa—"
Odessa raised a hand to signal silence from Ted.
"Frey, join us, the Toran Liberation Army."
She studied the stars in her tower. Even though she was blind, she saw many things. The stars were finally gathering again. They have been confused and dim for a twist of fate. He tried to set them right, with consequences too heavy.
"Time is but an illusion. You may have the power of a god, but you are still human deep inside. It is the humane feelings in mankind that determine their power…but what would it be? For justice, for peace…or for revenge?"
Even she did not know, but she has to trust into the future, for she was simply an observer.
