A/N: Late Merry Christmas? I wanted to finish at least one chapter before the year ends. I don't know why I had so much trouble with it, the beginning had been sitting in my folder for months, but here it is.


"You don't have to cook, you know?"

Philip ignored Lance, continued to chop the vegetable in front of him, focusing completely on the task, as if he hadn't heard the implied meaning, the demand to hear why there is such a depressing mood surrounding the camp even though nothing grave happened yet. Obviously the blond knew that he didn't have to concern himself with their dinner, after all it was a task the managers took care of. But he liked preparing their meal and it took his mind off of other things, Edgar's mild concern being just one of many, the top of his list.

"Shouldn't you rather practise?", he tried again, his helmet hiding his expression which was more curiosity than concern; not that Philip looked at him anyway.

"Edgar isn't here", was the simple reply, yet it was answer enough.

"So you're still working on this combined technique?"

"Yeah", Philip answered, realising that he wouldn't leave him alone until he talked with him, so he laid down the knife, worried that he would cut himself otherwise; he was good at what he was doing, but accidents happened all the time.

"I'm surprised that the captain would just abandon training."

Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest, happy that he finally had his whole attention, and even though he would never accuse Edgar of slacking off, he knew that he could get a reaction from the other one with this statement.

And he was right.

"It's not like that", Philip argued, though any words failed him; now Lance had him where he wanted to. The worst thing was that Philip was well aware of his attempts to get the desired information, that he was merely trying to provoke him, still, he was unable to ignore it.

"What else could be more important than improving?", he continued to interrogate him, bringing some distance between them so that the other one felt comfortable to share what he knew, giving him some space to breath.

Philip was conflicted; was he allowed to tell about his concern?

No.

They were teammates, no doubt, but he was sure that Edgar would, sooner or later, tell the whole team. Besides he had no right to do this and it also might disappoint the trust his friend put in him; at the moment, it was better to keep quiet.

"I don't know."

Lance was well aware that he lied. Philip always knew what was up with his friend, could read their captain like an open book, something not many people were capable of. But in the end he decided that it wasn't worth it, to be a bit more patient. And since there was no further statement, Philip continued with the preparations for their meal and his silence was enough for Lance to finally leave him alone.


"What did you want to talk about?"

Edgar sat at a table of a café in England's areas, across from Teres who asked him to come after their match – it sounded suspiciously like an order but Edgar had tried to ignore this because of the urgency which was also present in his voice. Being their team's captain they needed to postpone the meeting on the next day though and so it was not until Italy's match ended that they were able to meet up.

"Little Gigant", was the simple reply Edgar got, yet there was no need to explain further.

He was aware of the change, or at least that there was something wrong with the team and Teres knew that. The only question was what exactly was not right, so he urged him with a silent glance to go on, to keep from delaying the important information he sought since this tournament started and this unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach.

"They wanted to lose."

And Teres granted his silent wish, didn't hold back right off the bat, stating the truth without any nice phrasing, nevertheless Edgar doubted that this was all which explained the circumstances, so he raised an eyebrow, wanted to disagree, but Teres left him no chance.

"Goushu told me to win. And you must have seen Rococo. He was not enjoying it. Being eager is one thing but focusing on the goal without any emotions is another."

Edgar forgot that he wanted to scold Teres for interrupting him, his interest piqued by his last words, after all the goalkeeper loved the sport as much as a certain other goalkeeper who was a real – to phrase it nice – football enthusiast.

"How did the coach react?"

Teres just shook his head, keeping from voicing his disappointment.

"With no interest, as fas as I could tell."

"That's unusual."

Not that the coaches treated them like children which needed to be protected at all cost and all the time, but it was Endou's grandfather who was always the first to know when something was not like it was supposed to be and his sense of justice was not something he lost within a year.

"How do we proceed?", Edgar wanted to know, after all Teres must have had an suggestion, otherwise he wouldn't have called him; he was wrong.

"Honestly? I have no idea. Not in the slightest. We will observe the other matches and see who else shows a different behaviour. And I'm sure we won't have to wait long, unfortunately."

Not the best plan they could have, yet Edgar had no better idea, not that he needed to, because, apparently, they weren't alone in this matter any more.

"Sounds interesting. Mind if I join you?", a third voice interrupted their talk and when they looked up, they saw a familiar face in front of them

"Roniejo?"

Teres was mildly surprised as the striker sat down at their table before throwing a glance at Edgar who seemed rather displeased by his interruption but just nodded, more or less agreeing with him sitting among them.

"I was looking for you and Diaz told me I would find you here", Ronijeo explained his sudden appearance, a smile on his lips even though he wanted to frown instead.

"Why?"

The defender didn't want to sound distrustful, not after the things concerning the last frontier happened, but he couldn't help the sharp tone which entered his voice; Roniejo suspected something like that, let it slide and asked the question he came here for.

"You played against Rococo. Anything weird happened?"

"Besides the fact that Goushu told me to win? Or that Rococo was fixed on winning in a way he shouldn't? Or that neither of the other teammates were enjoying the game?"

Roniejo nodded understandingly, this being more than one good reason to prove that his own assumption weren't wrong, that there was definitely something going on which equalled the last year's situation.

"Is this about Fideo?", Edgar interrupted them, remembering seeing half of the game on the T.V. In their camp, wondering why their play seemed off..

"Yeah. Hidetoshi and I decided to even the score because we don't know what happened", he answered before he told them about the behaviour of Italian's white meteor, his play style and the reactions of his teammates; when he finished, Teres sighed.

"I can see what Spain is up to. They seemed normal during their match against France a few hours ago", he eventually proposed, on step in a possible right direction. He and the captain were good friends, even though it had been a while since they've heard about each other. He would realise whether he was acting weird as well or not, and finding out who was their ally or not seemed like the most logical choice to him right now.

"Really?"

Roniejo was surprised but supposed that this was the best they could do, still, it put them in a position which didn't favour them and their plan could backfire, resulting in them being someone's target and he really didn't want to be blackmailed again (that has to be it, there couldn't be another reason why Fideo would allow himself such a play, why he would feel pressured to win this damn match).

"Well, we play against Germany tomorrow, so I can see what Jonas' position is", Edgar mused, before he wondered what they should do about Endou, whether they should enlighten their team as well – or more likely Kidou – or keep their doubts concerning his position as well; Teres decided on that.

"Don't tell him. We can't be sure yet that his team isn't involved. We'll play against them tomorrow, so we can see what's going on with his team."

His words were just formalities because they doubted that this team would be able to get influenced by anyone, wouldn't allow this, after all Endou was more like his grandfather than one would think if you considered that their first meeting was only one year ago.

"We could also doubt you", Roniejo suddenly said, not an accusation but merely a possibility, one of many which was not to be ignored.

"But you don't", he replied, a smirk on his lips which slightly widened when he asked why Edgar was the first person outside of his his team he approached on this matter.

"Because he is to proud to be controlled by anyone."

"I take that as a compliment rather as an insult", he clicked his tongue, a small smile tugging on his lips which he covered with his cup as he took a sip, just in case; he didn't need to give him that satisfaction.

"You should."

And that settled it.

"Good luck with your match", Roniejo directed at Edgar his way of saying farewell, a phrase one simply said without any deep meaning behind it. The same went for Edgar's reply, telling him that they didn't need any luck, because "we will obviously win. They don't have a chance."

(Teres and Roniejo's laughter after that were one of the few which weren't forced.)

The question of that they were supposed to do if these teams prove to be different as well remained unspoken.


"Pierre, do you have a minute?"

France' captain wondered why Roniejo showed up at their area, but what surprised him even more was his stern expression.

"Roniejo, what can I do for you?", he asked polity, tucking a strand of his teal hair behind his ear after exchanging a short glance with an equally baffled Julien.

"You played well", he simply said, and even though it was nothing, Rose Griffon's captain gasped audible.

"Excuse-moi? Of course we did."

He seemed almost insulted – that he wasn't showed the amused gleam in Julien's eyes as well as the smile on the Captain's lips. Nevertheless Roniejo clarified his statement, to see how much he knew or didn't know, to observe his following expression.

"I meant your state of mind. You seem to play without any influence."

Another short exchange with Julien who even put the rose out of his mouth, whispering something in his ear which caused his captain to furrow his brow, yet he nodded and turned back to Roniejo.

"I don't really understand what you are trying to achieve here but might you be referring to Little Gigant and Orpheus?"

Roniejo was relieved that it seemed like he didn't have to explain everything, and he thought that this might make things a bit easier than he expected to.

"Indeed, I am"

This time it was Julien who spoke, looking in his direction but eyes lowered on the rose in his hand and whose stalk he rolled between his fingers, a smile on his lips, the question which was more like a statement directed at the both of them.

"We should have a cup of tea, don't you think?"


"And here starts the third day. It's Brocken Bogue against Knights of Queen."

"A classic. I wonder how this match ends this time. They never fail to amaze us."

The crowd cheered, was just as exited as the commentators, unaware of the things which happened on the field and in face of their ignorance, Edgar approached Brocken Bogue's Captain, earning himself some questioning glances from his teammates (aside from Lance who threw a short glance at Philip whose head was lowered, eyes on the ground and a rather thoughtful expression).

"Jonas?"

"Edgar. What can I do for you, shortly before the match starts", the captain asked, an accusing tone hiding under his question which wasn't intended; Edgar knew that it was unconsciously so he didn't address it.

"Do you have a minute?"

He looked at his forwards Maximilian and Peter, a short exchange of glances before they nodded, standing by his side while the rest of the team kept their distance out of respect and also because they needed to focus on the match and not any trivial matter outside (it wasn't anything trivial but they would learn this lesson soon enough).

"I do. What's wrong?"

"You might have realised the latest games."

He and Jonas weren't really close, didn't understand each other very well, but it didn't take him long to get what Edgar was hinting at. He sighed, arms on his hip and looking straight at him, his next words spoken without any hesitation.

"Edgar, I know that you are concerned about the outcome of this FFI, but there are things we can't influence. Shouldn't you talk to your coach about it? Or don't you trust him?"

"It's merely a suspicion."

"A valid one."

He shook his head, eyes closed before he looked at Jonas again, not even sparing the other two a second glance.

"Not valid enough. At one point we might have no other choice but now we do."

Jonas furrowed his brow, still rather unsure, and while he showed his scepticism, Maximilian's and Peter's face was rather expressionless; it seemed liked Edgar wouldn't get trough to him with these words alone, so he restored to a rather obvious possibility.

"Why don't the let this game decide. If we win, which will obviously happen, you have to listen to what we have to say."

"You're betting? On a game where you represent the hopes of all the players who didn't make it, when you're representing your country?"

Jonas was stunned, didn't even ask who was included in the "we" but he was also amused; this time even his forwards weren't able to cover their surprise.

"This should show you how serious we are."

Jonas crossed his arms in front of his chest, a smile on his lips while his eyes were shining with anticipation.

"Sure. But be careful, Edgar.

A bet is nothing to be taken lightly."

tbc


A/N: Not going to write all games in detail, the story needs to progress. France/Spain score (0:2) is based on the European championship 2012.

I hope you guys have a good start into the New Year & we see us in 2015 with a new chapter! Maybe I'm a bit faster then, but nothing's promised!

Have a sneak preview for the next chapter because it always takes me so long:

Mark assumed that his Coach would interrupt him but despite of his temper, he kept quiet, gave him the opportunity of an explanation. Nothing followed. Mark was starring at the floor, unable to look his coach in the eyes.

"Mark. You need to talk to me."

His voice was softer now, calmer, realising that the boy was too scared to speak. Too scared to win.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'm really sorry."

He gently squeezed his shoulder while the boy allowed his tears to express what he wasn't able to with words.

I can't do this.