Kyou Kara Maou – The Disaster Up North
Summary: Greta's marriage ball brings another round of Maou Wedding Curse, only worse. The family is torn apart by the worst disaster in Shin Makoku history. Will Greta marry after all? This chapter:
AN: Sorry for the long delay. For this story, this is kind of a half-chapter, but, maybe it's better to post a half-chapter than take another week or three for a whole one, that visits all the plots and principals.
Chapter 7 – Magic Words
May 23rd
'I love you.' The magic words, Greta thought. Like 'please'. And 'thank you'. Greta frowned at herself for that quip. A wonderful man had his arm around her, professed his love for her. The setting couldn't be more romantic, flying above Gratz on a May evening, on a dragon beneath a starry sky. Both full moons kissed above them, a wonder never before seen. He asked her to marry him. What could be more perfect?
Isn't that what I wanted most? For a man to say he loved me, and ask me to marry him?
"I'm sorry that's unwelcome news," Adelbert repeated, to her scowl in the dark. "Perhaps I've presumed too much." He moved to take his arm from around her and gallantly give her his cloak.
To sit in this cold wind in just your shirt? Not on your life, Chichibert! Greta grasped his arm and hugged it back around herself. "Don't be silly. I just – you took me off guard. I've thought of you as Chichibert for so long. When Conrad added the three of you to Wolfram's candidate list, I never dreamed he'd thought it through before."
Her clutch gave Adelbert hope. His body, stiffened in rebuff, uncoiled against hers more warmly. He returned in her ear, with tickling intimacy, "I dunno about 'thought it through'. We agreed to build Castle Weller when either of us got married. We'd talked about you. I was surprised he asked for your hand himself. He was – no, Conrad'll present his own case. Murata... Are you really considering Murata?"
"No," Greta said firmly.
"I'm relieved," he said, and the further relaxation of his powerful body against hers proved it.
The feel of that muscled security, shielding her from the cold breeze of their winged passage, heat against her thigh, warm breath against her ear, forearm pulled by her to lie between her breasts – these were getting a bit distracting. I could, she thought. I could say yes, and live with this man. Safe and warm, in a beautiful castle, not far from home. Be Frieda's stepmother, instead of big sister. She'd like that! And we'd have more children, half-demon just like Frieda...
Half-demon. Yes, that's why I discounted Adelbert.
"I talked to Manfred about marrying you," Greta said, by way of broaching the subject. Manfred and Adelbert were 'cradle-buddies', as Wolfram called it – cross-fostered from infancy, schooled together, joined the army together. They'd grown apart after Wolfram was born, and had fights that stretched for years. But in the end, the mismatched pair remained closer than brothers.
"Manfred's a racist," Adelbert commented. "I'm not." He didn't mean to be curt. The awkwardness of taking turns speaking into each other's ears brought out battlefield habits of succinctness.
"It's not like that," Greta denied. "He's afraid you'll be hurt. And I'll be hurt watching you watch me get old, while you're still young."
Adelbert's face set into stern lines again. "My heart's braver than that. So's his. So's yours. Life is transient, Greta. People die. Demons and humans both. Love while you can."
Greta gazed at him in awe. You're a great man, Adelbert von Gratz. A brave heart... Yes, I believe you. You have a brave heart.
Adelbert must have caught the gist of this from her face, for he grinned and looked out over the night-cloaked high rangelands again. His land, once – he'd ruled Gratz for decades, then walked away. Just as his father had. To pursue some higher call of his heart.
It's not easy, to love a great man – isn't that what Manfred said? Even deciding whether I love him is like trying to tread water next to a whirlpool. I'm pulled in.
I wasn't pulled in by Murata. I'll always love Efram, but our brief time of matching ages is already gone. I was pulled in by Robichaud...
Robichaud. Her heart felt a pang as she thought of Robichaud. But he may not ask me. Pang. Why would I choose this stranger Shadrach-priest over my known and beloved Chichibert? Pang. Because he's my Chichibert?
Well, he is my Chichibert. No heart pang. But Robichaud... Pang.
Adelbert noticed her look. Very gently in her ear, he asked, "There's someone else?"
"Mn-nn, no... maybe," she said. "Adelbert, what do you think of Robichaud?"
"Chaud?" Adelbert looked surprised. "Great kid, grown into a great king. Why?"
This struck Greta as a weird mix of sensitive insight and bricklike obtuseness. You can tell every time my thoughts change, but you didn't quite catch the 'Who else?', 'Robichaud' simple interchange, eh? This brought a fond smile to her face, for this was so very, very Chichibert. She looked at him, eyes atwinkle, with a few exaggerated blinks. C'mon, Chichibert, you can figure this out!
"Huh?! Chaud said he wasn't interested!" cried Adelbert. "Oh – that was before he met you. Oh." He pulled away and frowned off at the horizon for a bit. "Damn."
"He hasn't asked me," Greta eventually offered. "Not yet."
"He will," Adelbert called out, into the wind instead of her ear. His narrowed eyes drank in Gratz solemnly. Greta imagined he'd looked out on battlefields the same way, before action began, back in his day as a General.
Day? Century, more like. Adelbert is what, 180 now? Greta was used to living with demons. But every once in a while, the sheer vastness of the years of their experience still yawned open before her like an ocean. Where all has he been? What all has he done, and thought? How many people has he known, loved, lost? And for a demon, he's still counted a young man – a full adult at 100, considered mature at 200...
Greta was unsure how to cross the gulf that suddenly lay between them, though she still sat wrapped in his arm and greatcloak. She gazed at his distant gaze, stricken.
In a while, he saw, and gave her a sad smile and brief hug. "That's the Pemunder River," he said in her ear again, pointing to a ribbon of silver below. "Donza tributary. Other side's Bielenfeld."
This was her familiar friendly Chichibert again. His breath in her ear no longer sent shivers of excitement racing along her neck, exciting more guarded places. Greta wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or deeply saddened. Both, she eventually decided.
Adelbert didn't speak of his marriage proposal again that magical night. She considered saying things, but each time... didn't. I've no wish to raise your hopes and dash them. Because I love you, too, Chichibert. Just... not that way.
-oOo-
Fortunately, Big Tam Tamerlane and his enormous family did have a sense of humor. The fact that Greta and company flew in on the most famous – and least threatening – dragon of the Dragon Insurrection, helped. Everyone roused from bed, and a horde of female and child Tamerlanes poured laughing out of the sprawling ranch-house complex to pet Neville in delight, despite their arrival in the wee hours of the morning.
Also fortunately, Adelbert had warned the racially conscious Greta that all Gratz Mazoku were called demons. Anything else was an insult. For Big Tam was indeed big. Greta supposed he couldn't be Troll Mother's full troll-ogre son himself. Surely he'd have died by now, too, though no one knew when or where. But Big Tam was certainly bigger than any of the von Gratz or von Trondheim troll-ogre descendants. The rest of his enormous family weren't much watered-down by shorter demon blood, either. She supposed it made sense in this remote area, that the locals were a tad... inbred.
Big Tam seemed a one-man population explosion of himself, and hells knew how long he'd been busily begetting. Upon learning their errand, the affable teal-haired 9-foot 'demon' , with signature ogre craggy features and flop-top ears, selected a half-dozen or so large adolescents to send packing into the night to pass the word of what was going on. The boys included great-grandsons, grandsons, and a son. And Big Tam was pleased to meet 'young' Friedrich's twin brother Garena – nearly 800 years old.
AN : 9 feet = 275 centimeters
Big Tam's young wife did ask Greta rather worriedly whether she'd be OK eating meat and potatoes for a snack. But Big Tam laughed out loud and swatted her playfully toward the kitchen, explaining that humans could eat demon food just fine. "You'll have to pardon the missus, Princess. We don't get much humans round here."
Greta got to sleep near dawn, when the assorted female Tamerlanes in her assigned dormitory were off to milk the dairy herd – of which some percentage was cattle. She woke again near noon, at the redoubled ruckus occasioned by the elven Lady Guya'k'vriel von Trondheim's arrival, leading six more dragons manned (and womanned) by a decidedly non-demon crew, mostly goblins and her fellow elves. The better to see at night, Guya explained laughingly to Adelbert. True, there were extensive pasturelands in their assigned survey area of Wincott, but also many forested slopes. The only way they'd see people traveling those passes from above, was by their night cookfires.
Guya gently led in a tall blindfolded elf of regal bearing, and long fine cornsilk-green hair, to sit at Big Tam's giant supper table. This man sat with perfect posture, narrow fingers splayed before him on the table, face motionless, and spoke not a word. Guya warned everyone not to speak to him. "A map-working from Elvenhall," she explained.
Greta sighed. 'From Elvenhall' was sure to mean there would be few explanations. For the high elven separatists, helping at all was extraordinarily forthcoming. And indeed, she never even learned the man's name.
Guya spread a large, almost entirely white, map of Wincott on the table. She placed a silver-filigreed quill by the elegant elf's hand. Another dozen or so quills and smaller maps she piled to the side. To the rapt attention of Big Tam and Adelbert and everyone else who could squeeze in, she demonstrated how writing with these ensorcelled quills – they used no ink – marked simultaneously on all the smaller maps and the large one. The blindfolded elf's hand and quill and face remained motionless, his role in the affair opaque.
Greta grinned to see 'Yuuri' written as she watched – in Japanese – in the corner of the map. Guya grinned, too, and quickly drew a mouth with tongue out – apparently her idea of a 'Guya loves Erick' heart, directed at her husband Erick Lord Trondheim, currently with his uncle Ted's forces, as were Yuuri and Wolfram. Then she demonstrated how the feather end of the quill acted as an eraser. The 'Yuuri' was soon erased as well, elsewhere, as well as a brief appearance of some puckered lips directed back at Guya.
Greta could see markings on the large map from other sections of Wincott. It appeared the aerial survey was already underway from Aldrich's station at Winvale. Guya explained the desired markup – draw a box holding an approximate count where they saw refugees, with an arrow to indicate heading. The surveyors were to add an asterisk to the left of the box to indicate urgent need. A circle later would indicate help left from the relief forces, normally a healer lifted in to the group. The markup was magically scaled and tidied and transferred to the large map. A little 4-column running tally in the corner added up totals found by each of the 4 survey stations. After Guya erased her sample box of 20, the tally for the Gratz column disappeared, then was rewritten as zero, after a brief delay.
"What?!" Adelbert exclaimed, jabbing his finger at the map. Even at this scale, a square of 25 was visibly moving down a little Donza tributary in Aldrich's volcano-blasted area.
Guya shrugged. "They must have launched rafts. Oh, I see. Yes, once a group is added, the map tracks them." Even the direction of the tiny arrow seemed to swerve to match the river course. Adelbert watched mesmerized. "Looks like whitewater," Guya added happily. The madcap elf quite enjoyed shooting rapids.
Now grasping what he had to work with, Adelbert figured out routes to be surveyed by day, and those by night. He took especial care to make sure this afternoon's flights would be back well before sunset, to maximize aerial coverage of the passes during that brief key time when refugee groups would have their supper fires lit before turning in. Greta found comfort in the way even Guya was amazed at the quickness and surety with which Adelbert could plan a deployment of such strange forces. Yet even as he worked, real survey tallies already began appearing from Ted's station, from whence Wolfram and Yuuri flew this day.
Wolfram told me Ted was the better general, thought Greta, feeling disloyal. Well, Adelbert had farther to travel! Well, no, Ted probably is a better general. He had to be better than anyone, a Trond trying to prove himself as the first in the Shin Makoku army. Wolfram says Ted was 'born-general', like demons say when they mean someone's a reincarnation continuing unfinished business, like Yuuri was 'born-Maou'. And Chichibert has such wide-ranging interests and experience besides the army. But how galling that must have been for him, to be promoted over Ted, a friend and cousin Lord he knew was the better man for the job. He must have worked so hard to make up for it. And he skimped on ruling Gratz in the process... Aldrich, not Adelbert, had in practice ruled Gratz, while Adelbert held the title of Lord Gratz. He had reason... Though in honesty, Greta couldn't help faulting him for that choice, his generalship over his domain's subjects.
She stared at the master map. Brief marginal notes appeared and vanished, written in several languages, only one of which she could read. What would Robichaud think of this?Greta wondered, then shot a quick guilty glance at Adelbert, who was entirely too occupied to notice it. From what she'd seen of Robichaud, he'd appreciate in a heartbeat the advantages of the magical methods they used. Humans could never do something like this, she thought sadly. And even Lady Alana couldn't ask for this kind of help. She said she just tells the troll reservation and Elvenhall what she's up against, and sometimes they offer help. But they won't give help if she asks. The Maou isn't even welcome to write to them, let alone ask for help. Humans? Never.
If I do leave Shin Makoku, if I do marry Robichaud, should I even tell him about days like this? Conrad Lord Weller, Lord of Human Relations, would probably have something to say about that. Well, he'll say what he likes and I'll listen. But it will be up to me, in the end. In Yuuri's world, I bet humans could do things like this. The first step is believing it's possible, right? She didn't even notice when she quit feeling disloyal to Shin Makoku, because it flowed so smoothly into feeling loyal to her own humanity.
Adelbert's preparations were interrupted by Giesela's relief train arriving from Bielenfeld. They rode all night, plus caught a majutsu-powered lift up the Penumber River partway, to make such good time. With direction from Big Tam, Adelbert ordered the supply train commander to set up camp and field hospital across the rutted road from the ranch house. Minions saw to that, while the bleary-eyed commander and Giesela stayed in the command center of Big Tam's dining room.
Soon Adelbert was handing out maps and quills and orders for the seven afternoon dragon-riding teams. "Greta, you'll stay here –"
"No! I'm dragon-riding!" she insisted. In the first wave, too! If I wait until tomorrow, human refugees might be here already. Then I'll never get to go! "I'm riding with you!"
Adelbert looked at her as if she were quite daft. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm in command of this operation!"
This wasn't Adelbert of the moonlight romance, nor Chichibert of the playroom floor, but General Adelbert in command of a tricky mission with lives at stake. Of course he'd stay in his headquarters, Greta realized, feeling stupid.
Giesela stepped forward. "I'll guard the Princess, Sir!" she offered, a sergeant completely in her element.
Adelbert scowled at her, but directed his orders to her superior, "Commander, I anticipate casualties. Giesela and the other healers, priority sacktime. Now." Greta watched in sympathy as the stricken Giesela was led away to bed, casting longing looks of anguish back over her shoulder toward Adelbert.
Adelbert had already dismissed Giesela from his mind. He surveyed his teams. Guya? Too daredevil. Uncle Gorham? Out of his element. Garena? Unpredictable. Jophin? The goblin Jophin, Lord Erick's top goblin troubleshooter, was a well-known if dim-witted quantity. Clearly Erick and Guya trusted him. Greta and Adelbert once rescued Jophin and his band in the Krist Fens, and brought them home to Blood Pledge Castle, during the Dragon Insurrection. Jophin happily settled in as a bath attendant, as Erick's resident spy for the rest of the year, keeping his Lord well-informed from Günter's late-night gay bath scene. "Jophin," Adelbert ordered. "Take the princess on your dragon."
Jophin clapped his hands and squealed in delight. Greta grinned back at him.
Well, it wasn't a romantic dragonflight with a man who said he loved her, the way she'd imagined it. But with Jophin's all-goblin crew, she did get to be the spokesperson wherever the dragon landed to talk to refugees. And Jophin was pretty bad with numbers, so she got to write on the map, too. He had great eyes, though, hidden behind his sunglasses. And one couldn't ask for a cheerier companion on a dire task.
And the task was dire. Water bad, she wrote in the margin, after talking to a large throng of exhausted, thirsty refugees. Gratz border too far. She stared at her note for a minute, wondering if someone, somewhere, would write back. But the writing simply disappeared – all the acknowledgement she'd ever gotten for a margin note. Someone read it, then erased it. She glanced back at the several hundred desperate refugees, at the mercy of volcano-soiled snowmelt rivulets. And she resolutely mounted up again, to continue their assigned survey route.
First we locate them, then we can send help. But what help, to bring water and food to thousands, maybe tens of thousands?
-oOo-
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