Hey Everyone! Thanks for your patience waiting for the next chapter. Big thanks to the four of you who left comments last time; I really appreciate the support. So this chapter turned out a little longer than I expected it to; perhaps it would have been a little better to have split it into two chapters, but what's done is done. At any rate, you have more to read now than you usually do. This chapter, as you may surmise from the title, introduces our final party member in Generation 1. I'm curious to know whether y'all approve of the way I've chosen to portray her character, so please leave any thoughts you may have, good or bad. For that matter, I'd value any opinions regarding character and plot progression, so let me have it! Alright, enough talk, y'all enjoy yourselves until next time.
Update: Ugh... you'd think 2 proof-readings would be good enough to catch all the typos, but no...
"Comrades! Is this not the life every man dreams of?" asked Winfield loudly and happily. "The clear sky, the bright sun, the open road… the gorgeous women… Gods! I could watch them ride all day, going up and down, up and down…"
Leonhardt groaned inwards as he tried to ignore Winfield's enthusiastic description of Vira-Lorr and Dyshana's riding style. The day was a glorious one to be sure; however, the human mercenary's constant and blithe attempts to engage the women in conversation had worn everyone's patience to a paper thin veneer. In an unspoken agreement, it seemed the women had elected to feint deafness and seek one another's company whenever Winfield launched into one of his talkative moods. Although it had proven effective at holding his attempts to corner one of them at bay, Leonhardt and Zerva found themselves the unfortunate victims of the plan as Winfield turned to them for company instead.
"Gods! What would a man do with women like these except to worship them?" concluded Winfield triumphantly. "What say you Milord?"
"Err…" replied Leonhardt uncertainly, for in truth, he had missed the better part of the last 15 minutes of Winfield's monologue. "Who…?"
"An excellent point, General!" shouted Winfield, cutting across Leonhardt, oblivious to the one sided nature of the conversation. "Who indeed? It is clear to the meanest of men that such a decision cannot be rushed with such women as these for company! Take Vira-Lorr for instance…"
Leonhardt's eyes rolled in his sockets as he desperately searched for any reason at all to leave the man's company. It hadn't been too bad for the first two days, but even he could barely tolerate Winfield's constant and unsolicited commentary anymore. A wry smile broke as he considered how the women felt; surely more than one had gotten to the point of contemplating a physical attack on Winfield.
"Zerva! Come join us!" cried Winfield, clapping the reluctant syrium on the back and pulling him into the discussion. "I've seen you looking at Vira-Lorr more than once, my friend. Quite open minded of you, not too many men would have the courage to pursue an oneltes, something about their third eye puts them ill at ease. Although everything else about her is more than easy on the eyes…"
Zerva pushed Winfield's arm away gruffly. "Enough."
Winfield sighed dramatically. "Syrium; you are all so emotionally distant. Just look at Fyuria."
Leonhardt and Zerva cocked their eyebrows; Winfield was on thin ice in more ways than one, though he bumbled on regardless.
"…but don't let her cool exterior fool you. Just beneath all of that, she burns brighter than any other woman I've known. Gods! Have you ever seen a syrium woman like her? Beautiful and untamable, embodying the spirit and wildness of the Frontier itself. I had heard tales of their fire, their passion, but she puts shame to any legend or boast that I've ever heard in all my nights in the taverns of the Frontier. Give me a single night in her tent and I'd-"
"Utter one more syllable and I shall cut your tongue out here and now, human," hissed Fyuria from the rear, evidently unsuccessful at tuning Winfield's monologue.
"Fyuria!" said Winfield in delight, having successfully drawn her into the conversation. "My dear, we were just discussing your virtues. I do believe you'd be the perfect woman if you did not yell quite so much. Anger blotches your otherwise stunning complexion, am I right, Leo?"
"Winfield…" said Leonhardt in a warning voice as he saw Fyuria's hand twitch towards the scabbards that hung from her hips. "Perhaps you had best give the women a little space. I fear that for all your enthusiasm, they do not appear keen on reciprocation."
Dramatically, Winfield mimed a wound to the chest, "Leo, have a little faith! I am a veteran when it comes to such matters. Women like Fyuria are like melons. Once you've applied enough force, their tough exterior cracks and their sweet, juicy flesh is revealed…"
"That… just went somewhere horrible…" said Leonhardt, abruptly steering his mount away from Winfield, manners be damned. If Fyuria was going to start throwing daggers, a little distance seemed prudent.
Oblivious, Winfield plowed on. "Zerva, what say you? Do you think my charms will penetrate her defenses?" he asked with a suggesting wink.
"Gods, Winfield! That's my sister you're talking about!" retorted Zerva, his cool cracking around the exterior.
"You're right," relented Winfield thoughtfully.
Confused at his sudden demure, more than one set of eyebrows arched.
"Perhaps another one of the women would appreciate my charm and masculinity more!" declared Winfield over a collective groan from the others. "Luana! My dear woman, you've probably had known many men like me!"
"I have indeed," answered Luana with a mischievous twinkle in her emerald eyes.
"Men of fine stature and good taste…" suggested Winfield.
"Hmm… I was thinking more about the creepy stalkers that celebrity attracts," replied Luana cheerfully with a wide smile.
"Ouch, ouch…"
Ignoring Winfield, Luana turned back and gave Fyuria a cheerful wink. "I think we've put enough distance between ourselves and the Dark Knight for now," she said to the group at large, "We should consider returning to Rigulus. Our armies should be ready to march any day now."
Much relieved for a change in conversation, the rest of the group enthusiastically joined in the discussion and came to an agreement.
"We'll take Dedan Pass Road back to Rigulus then," declared Leonhardt as the others nodded, satisfied. "I don't believe we'll make it to the next village before nightfall… We should send a scout ahead to find a campsite."
As one, the entire group turned to stare at Winfield. Even he could not miss the message.
"Ahh..." sighed Ellis with delight as she stretched out on a pleasantly springy bed of moss at the campsite, a little clearing nestled just beyond the tree line by the side of the road. "It's so nice to be making camp!"
Leonhardt gave the girl a smile as he dismounted, "Few your age could ride as far as we did today. You have been doing wonderfully, Ellis."
"She is so young, yet no complaints or hindrances," agreed Vira-Lorr, "Your maturity is a rare gift Ellis."
"Stop it, stop it!" laughed Ellis, blushing furiously, "You shall embarrass me! I'm just happy to be traveling with the people I care about. Besides, I'm not the same girl you met in the forest picking mushrooms anymore," she added, exchanging a glance with Leonhardt.
Leonhardt nodded in agreement. Though it was still easy to think of her as the innocent child he had found cowering from Musaka's spear, Ellis had changed during their journey. Besides being one of the most powerful magic wielders he had ever seen and having saved his life more than once, she was growing up as a person. Her demeanor radiated a shadow of the quiet confidence and dignity befitting her inheritance of the duties and aspirations of the High Elves of Lucrellia. But for all she had grown, the gleam of childish enthusiasm yet remained in her eyes and her intentions were still as pure as when they had met. The gravity of her destiny and its importance to the struggle between light and dark was a terrible thing to consider and Leonhardt gave the Gods a thousand thanks that she yet had time to enjoy her childhood and that he had been given a second chance to keep her safe.
"Leo!" Luana's voice broke his reverie, bringing him back to the ground. All around him, the party was bustling to make camp before night fell. Turning towards her voice, he saw Luana pick her way around the tree roots, her golden hair shimmering behind her and catching the last light of day. "I could use your help preparing tonight's stew," she said, drawing up to him and sliding her arm between his and his body to lead him.
"Wait!" Fyuria's voice came from his other side. "Leonhardt's cooking is just as likely to poison as to nourish us," she said coolly. "Better that he should help me set up our tents."
Luana's sea-green eyes locked with Fyuria's glacial blue and the two women stared at each other calculatingly. An almost palpable tension between the two women flared as the moment dragged out uncomfortably, making Leonhardt's hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
"Luana?"
The atmosphere remained chilly as ever as the women broke their gazes to look at the newcomer.
Ellis's ears twitched nervously, sensing something was amiss. "If you need help with dinner, I'm done with my duties. I can help you easily enough while Leo helps build the tents."
Slowly, Luana's arm drew away from Leonhardt. "Of course, thank you for offering Ellis," she said with a smile that did not entirely hide her disappointment. "Be a dear and go get the food from our packs. I'll be right there," she said cheerfully as the girl scampered off to retrieve the requested supplies. "Well…" she said, slightly flushed as she turned back to Fyuria and Leonhardt, at a loss for words.
Awkwardly, Leonhardt felt that he ought to say something, but Fyuria cut across his thoughts. "Here," she said, pushing one tents into his arms. "Take these over to the other side of the camp," she ordered.
Shrugging, Leonhardt complied, glad to have an excuse to put the thickening tension behind him. Vira-Lorr's words in Rigulus surfaced to the front of his mind.
Alone, Fyuria and Luana both gave each other another look, neither sure what to say first. Somehow, the dynamics of their relationship had shifted in an instant. It was as though they were seeing each other in the light for the first time and neither was sure what to make of the other. Fyuria bit her lip and nodded, turning to follow Leonhardt as Luana winked at her in equal parts cheer and predatory patience before turning to attend to her own duties.
In an adjacent clearing separated by a thin curtain of trees from the clearing the party had decided to leave their mounts and make their camp fire, Leonhardt and Fyuria pitched the tent stakes and pulled the heavy canvas into shape for the tents. It was neither particularly challenging nor difficult work, though neither Fyuria nor Leonhardt made much small talk, both occupied with their own thoughts. A peel of laughter from the general direction of the others caught his attention.
Looking beyond the trees that separated them from the others, he spotted the warm glow of a cheery camp fire and imagined Ellis, peeling vegetables while laughing at some joke Luana or Winfield just told. A sudden whack on his arm jerked him back; Fyuria had lightly swiped at him with a tent pole, holding it out for him to take on his end.
"My apologies, Fyuria," said Leonhardt. "I can't help but to feel a sense of pride about how well Ellis is taking all of this. Even though the journey is difficult and dangerous, nothing ever seems to dampen her spirit."
The syrium sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "Ellis this, Ellis that! She is here on her own volition, you know? With you and Borgnine to protect her, she is probably in even less danger here with us than if she stayed at home on the Frontier. I don't understand what all the fuss is about."
Leonhardt frowned at Fyuria's dissatisfied expression. "You shouldn't be so dismissive, Fyuria. After all, she is barely out of her childhood. The burdens of our journey may weigh on her differently than on the rest of us."
Fyuria continued to pound one of the tent stakes into the ground without looking up or deigning to reply.
"Were you not a child not too long ago yourself?" pressed Leonhardt.
"I wasn't born grown from my mother's belly, if that's what you're asking," answered Fyuria with a mocking tone. Sighing, she set down her tools and looked up at him with something close to an apologetic expression. "Yes, I suppose it was not all that long ago that I was a child my- What?" she demanded in a suspicious voice as she noticed the corners of Leonhardt's mouth twitching with mirth.
"Oh, it's n-nothing," said Leonhardt, stifling a snicker. Seeing her expression, however, he relented, "I was just trying to imagine Zerva as a child. A child with his facial expression would be..." Leonhardt snorted a little.
Fyuria let loose with an unexpected giggle at the idea before composing herself to reply. "Oh stop it, you shouldn't tease him so. My brother wasn't always so occupied with the affairs of our people. I doubt he was any different as a child than anyone else."
"What do you mean, didn't you know him as a child?" asked Leonhardt, arching his eyebrow.
Fyuria frowned as she thought back to her childhood. "Zerva was already grown by the time I could remember. Younger and less burdened, perhaps, but very much a man already. Syrium children mature only a little slower than you humans. It is in our adulthood that we express our longevity" she answered with a shrug.
"So how old exactly is Zerva?" mused Leonhardt, suddenly aware of how little he actually knew of the syrium people.
"Zerva?" she asked in a tone that suggested it was a peculiar question; perhaps to a syrium it was. "If memory serves, he should be one hundred sixty six, about twice as old as I am."
"You-" started Leonhardt, his eyes widening in surprise. "Y-you're more than eighty years old?!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself.
Fyuria's eyes widened in horror and an intense red flush rose in her cheeks as she realized the significance of her revelation. Another syrium would have found her age unremarkable beyond her obvious youth. For the syrium and their centuries of longevity and youth, age differentials meant little, if anything to the happiness and success of a family unit. Belatedly, however, she realized that from a human's perspective, her age had an entirely different meaning where eligibility was concerned.
"I'm sorry, Fyuria, it's just that… you look even younger than I am," said Leonhardt, hoping to ameliorate a bit of Fyuria's anxiety as the syrium looked away.
"I am young," snapped Fyuria. "Eighty years is nothing by syrium standards."
"It's a lifetime for humans," shrugged Leonhardt. "It must be quite a blessing, to have all your youth and beauty alongside temperance and perspective that your life has given you."
The anger receded slightly from her facial expressions as Leonhardt's words began to mollify her. "Well…" she said, looking up into his eyes again, "Perhaps you would do well to pay more heed to my words then. You may start by keeping my age to yourself."
Beyond the ice blue chips of her irises, Leonhardt could see the embers of her fierceness, still glowing brightly. Underneath her cool exterior and reserved manner, he could almost palpably feel the wild and untamed emotions that raged through her. Her pupils widened and Leonhardt felt himself stepping closer to her until they were nearly touching, lost in her gaze. For the briefest of moments, the memory of Luana's sea-green eyes flashed in front of him; his heart pounded and his mind felt disassociated as it had been at Luana's apartment.
As Leonhardt drew closer, Fyuria took the final step, closing the distance, still holding Leonhardt's gaze in her own. Her mind raced and she tried to take in all the details of his face at once. The unruly, yet fitting curtain of hair that framed his face, the gentle, but fine curve of his cheekbones, his full lips, slightly parted; but nothing took her breath away like his eyes. Golden wells of compassion and kindness, she felt herself soften and let go in their depths. A peace, the same as the one she felt during their flight from Zelzagun, stole over her as she submerged deeper and came upon something unexpected. Loneliness. She knew the look and feeling well enough herself to recognize it and felt something cut into her chest, painful, yet wonderful at the same time, unleashing a torrent of emotion and sensation. It was almost too much to bear, nearly spiraling out of control, yet Fyuria could not bring herself to rein it in; it was too fast, too enthralling, to stop now.
The moment, but an instant in time, dragged out for what seemed like hours to her as she raised a hand to his cheek. Her touch was barely a feather's brush on his skin, tentative at first, yet deepening in tenderness and expressiveness as the two kept their gazes locked on each other. Fyuria's own lips parted almost imperceptibly and her eyes blazed as her touch guided Leonhardt, willingly, lower towards her.
"Leo, Fyuria, dinner's rea-"
Winfield's voice and the sound of his boots shattered the moment in an instant, sending the two crashing back into their own bodies. As their heads both whipped towards the sound of his voice and approach, Winfield's head poked out from around a tree trunk and the two could almost see his eyes settling upon them unwelcomingly and the delight creep into his features one muscle fiber at a time.
Fyuria's hand dropped from Leonhardt's face instantly, leaving only a shadow of its warmth where it had been previously. Hastily, the two stepped back from each other, but it was far too late; Winfield's face bore a loon's grin and his eyes, a gleam of insanity. It was too much and Fyuria felt all her frustration at the man burst forward in a single explosive nova of frightening proportions.
Winfield was still delighting in his discovery when he suddenly noticed the quivering hilt of a dagger in the trunk of a tree not half an inch from his nose, the whisper of air broken by its flight puffing gently into his face. The head was hurriedly withdrawn and Fyuria and Leonhardt heard his footsteps fade back towards the camp.
Turning back towards Fyuria, Leonhardt saw that apart from a pink flush in her cheeks, she looked completely composed once more.
"We should go," she said, not meeting his eyes anymore.
"What about the tents?"
"They can wait. Right now, I need someone to make sure I don't try to kill Winfield over dinner."
Leonhardt grinned as Fyuria stalked towards the camp fire, following in tow. "Yes, madam!"
The following morning, Leonhardt and the others broke down the camp and saddled up, eager to be on their way. Once past the Reganu Pass, they would make quick time back to Rigulus and their awaiting armies. Already, their encounter with the Dark Knight had cost them nearly a week of time and, although every day gave Rigulus longer to train, equip, and supply the men of the combined armies, it also gave Gridamas another to prepare as well.
Leonhardt and the others rode with a measured, but determined pace, reaching the pass by midday. As opposed to yesterday's ride, today's was quiet. Winfield, by some miracle or Fyuria's intimidation apparently had the tact to keep his discovery to himself. Looking back at the mercenary riding behind him and getting a roguish wink in return, Leonhardt decided it was probably the latter that held the man's tongue. As for Fyuria, neither Leonhardt nor the syrium had the chance to speak alone again that evening or before their ride this morning. Risking a glance at her, he saw that she studiously avoided eye contact, staring resolutely at the horizon without so much a glance at him. At any rate, Leonhardt wasn't even sure what there was to be said; her hot and cold demeanor left him more confused than anything. Last night's events seemed jumbled in his mind; perhaps he had only imagined her reciprocation? Giving a deep sigh, Leonhardt pushed the thought from his mind. However she felt about him, it wasn't going to make a difference today or any, he suspected, until the war was over.
Something brushed his leg, interrupting his thoughts. Looking to his right, he saw that Luana had brought her mount alongside his until their legs met, eyes sparkling in the sunlight with amusement.
"You look so pensive today, Leo. Care to share your thoughts?" she asked innocently.
Leonhardt coughed, willing himself to come up with some kind of excuse or conversation piece. "Uhh… no," he said, cringing inwardly at his failure.
"Oh?" Luana giggled, "Well this should be interesting…"
"I, um… was just thinking about last night," said Leonhardt lamely, trying to make the conversation as uninteresting as possible.
"I see… well I'm still cross at you," replied Luana in a mock-serious voice. "You haven't escaped your responsibilities to me just yet."
Leonhardt laughed, seizing the opportunity gratefully. "Of course, Luana, it is only fair that I should help you with your chores next time. I shall be yours to use as you please."
"Oh!" Luana leaned in conspiratorially, her green eyes rippling with delight. "But that could be very, very… useful," she said in a low, quiet voice.
Leonhardt felt the heat from the sun hanging directly overhead intensify as Luana pulled her horse away with a satisfied expression on her face.
Alone once again, Leonhardt felt himself frown. He felt almost dishonest, as though he were leading both of the women on, but realistically, it seemed both women were pursuing him, rather than the other way around. How this would work out without someone being devastated, he had no idea. Gods, women were difficult creatures on their own, but, now, with Luana and Fyuria both maneuvering around him and each other, Leonhardt felt completely out of his depth. This was one situation he'd never been taught to deal with growing up as the son of House Raglan. Nobles in Gridamas frequently arranged marriages; such love triangles would have been dealt with through negotiations, not… competition. With a long suffering sigh, he raised his eyes to the horizon, where a ripple of crimson caught his eye.
"Stop! Everyone stop!" he called, squinting in the sun, trying to make out the banner in the distance as the group came to a halt by his mount.
"What is it?" asked Zerva.
"Those are Gridamas banners," replied Leonhardt grimly as the other's in the group made noises of surprise.
"He's right, they're Gridamas battalion standards," confirmed Luana, her face tightening with tension as she peered through a set of lenses at the horizon. Tossing the device to Leonhardt, she shook her head. "This is… unexpected. I have heard no reports of major mobilization on this front. The Kaystros Mountains would be a suicidal front to start an invasion against Rigulus on. And why is there only a single battalion?"
"Perhaps your assumptions are incorrect. Stranger things have happened in history than an army breaching so-called unbreachable defenses," pointed out Winfield.
"A single raven would be sufficient to warn Rigulus of an invasion. Besides an incursion by a lone battalion would hardly be a serious military threat," mused Luana, still trying to work out the logic behind her observations. "There's some other reason why they're here."
"A vanguard for the bulk of their forces?" suggested Winfield, clearly unwilling to give up on the idea of an invasion.
"Damn!" cursed Leonhardt, peering through Luana's lenses. "I think they see us too."
Sure enough, a small dust cloud rose at the far end of the pass, indicating a patrol riding towards them from the Gridamas forces at some haste.
"It's been a little while since I last fought Gridamas forces, I'm probably out of practice." said Winfield with a predatory smile, drawing his firearm and loading it. Around him, the others tensed and readied their weapons as well.
Still looking through Luana's lenses, Leonhardt gave a brief exclamation of surprise. "That's…" Quickly, he tossed the magnifying lenses back to Luana, who caught it gingerly, shocked at their sudden return.
"Leo!" she shouted as Leonhardt's mount suddenly bolted forward, spurred by its rider. "What in all of Lucrellia?" she asked, baffled.
"Quite the reckless one, our general," pointed out Winfield, almost clinically detached. "Do you think he means to fight them all on his own?"
"We're not getting something here," muttered Luana under her breath to herself, but she spurred her own mount after Leonhardt's all the same, closely followed by the others.
"Halt! That's close enough!" shouted the Gridamas patrol leader as Leonhardt's mount stopped at a respectful distance. "Who goes there?" The Gridamas soldiers, numbering eight in total, rode atop brown stallions in heavy infantry armor. Their plate mail was well cared for and their steeds had glossy, healthy coats. Each man carried a large round shield and long spear on his back and a long sword hung from their belts. Their expressions were inscrutable behind their black cowls, although Leonhardt was somewhat reassured that no weapons had been drawn yet. Above them, their regimental banner flew in the wind, the crimson flag of Gridamas emblazoned with a winged blade sigil.
"A strange question, from a military patrol in the wrong country," replied Leonhardt calmly as the others pulled up behind him looking far more concerned. Keeping his voice level, Leonhardt spoke carefully; a single wrong twitch from either party would turn this encounter into a bloodbath. "Mean you any harm to the good people of Rigulus?"
"We are under strict orders to harm no civilians nor to take any offensive military action," replied the leader. "Identification now, sir," he insisted, with a bite of impatience as his hand moved casually from his reins to the pommel of his blade.
"My name is Leonhardt Raglan, former Commander of the 11th Regiment and General of all Frontier Operations," said Leonhardt, watching the men carefully. It was hard to tell whether Gridamas would have allowed his defection to become common knowledge. It depended, he supposed upon whether they had more need for morale or discipline and a scapegoat. "You are, of course, men of the 9th Heavy Infantry Regiment; I'd recognize House Rubech's sigil anywhere. The men that fight under your banners are known for their bravery and integrity. Your Lord Commander, Lady Elaine, why has she sent you here?"
Behind him, the others in the group took the cue from Leonhardt, relaxing a notch and letting their hands drift from their weapons. More than one group member exchanged a curious glance at the mention of Elaine's name; their general was a woman?
The patrol leader reached up with a gauntleted hand, pulling his cowl down, his expression pleased. Respectfully, he bowed as far as his armor and horse would allow. "Lord Raglan, I have standing orders from Lady Elaine to seek your audience with her. Your safe passage and that of your companions is assured. Our battalion is camped at the pass, if you would allow us to escort you to her command tent…"
Leonhardt felt a ripple of surprise flicker through him; what was Elaine doing here with a lone battalion? Outwardly he inclined his head graciously, as though he had expected nothing less. "Shall we?"
The patrol turned their mounts around smartly, one of the men spurring his mount into a rapid gallop ahead of the others to relay word of their arrival. Shrugging, and only slightly less lost than before, Leonhardt's companions followed the former general towards the Gridamas banners in the distance.
Leonhardt, the others, and their escorts dismounted at the camp's boundary fortifications. Orderlies immediately led their horses to a temporary stable to be watered and rubbed down and the gate sentries nodded respectfully as Leonhardt and the others passed through their watch. The Gridamas field camp was a thing of martial beauty. Tents were erected in strict rows, temporary streets and thoroughfares laced their way through the orderly encampment. Walking past a field canteen, smithy, and half a dozen other tents serving various functions, the group could not help but to be impressed by the discipline of the men. Everything about them, from their spotless armor to the manner in which they went about whatever duties occupied their time radiated a cool confidence of professionalism.
"Is it just me, or is it kind of weird that we're surrounded by Gridamas soldiers who don't want to kill us for once?" asked Winfield, somewhat tactlessly. The patrol escort men acted as though they had not heard a thing. The mercenary wore a worried expression on his face, clearly suspicious and more than a little alarmed at the number of Gridamas soldiers in such close proximity. More than once, his hand twitched for his firearm as though longing to grasp it for a small measure of reassurance.
Nobody bothered to reply, but clearly Winfield was not the only one disquieted by the notion of being in a Gridamas camp. Zerva and Fyuria also seemed riled, both of their eyes darting from soldier to soldier and their muscles tense as though expecting an attack at any moment. Ellis's eyes were round as coins as she gripped her staff tightly; Borgnine, perhaps sensing his master's discomfort, flexed threateningly from time to time as well. It was hard to blame them, however, given their previous experiences with Gridamas and her men.
Finally, the patrolmen led them to a slightly larger, but otherwise unremarkable tent. Halting, the subordinate men snapped to attention outside as their leader continued onwards into the tent with Leonhardt and the others in tow. Ducking under the flap, the patrol leader announced their arrival. "Lady Elaine," he said with a bow, "General Raglan and his retinue."
Leonhardt entered the tent, taking in the tent's ascetic and austere furnishings. Like the rest of the camp, nothing unnecessary or wasteful was anywhere to be seen. A large table with a map of the surrounding area dominated the center of the tent. At the far side of the table, a woman, resplendent in fine armor, leaned over the table, her hands gripping each side, pooling over a stack of reports. Her dark, wavy, black shoulder length hair formed a curtain, shielding her face from view, rippling elegantly in the light breeze. Atop her head sat an elegant headpiece, stylized with the two wings of House Rubech's sigil. Her hands, gripping the side of the table, were encased in beautiful, articulated gauntlets of shining steel, filigreed with silver inlays and rising up to her elbows. One of her shoulders was bare, but the other bore a pauldron stylized as a roaring lion's head. The rest of her armor was equally fine; beautiful, yet functional and martial, as was the woman that wore it, the armor was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. A corset-styled set of plate armor of the finest steel, burnished to a high glow, encased her torso, curving gracefully with her body and continuing the delicately wrought filigree patterns on her gauntlets. At her hips, two additional skirts of armor protected her thighs, overlaying a simple, but beautiful white dress that fell to her ankles, revealing armored boots that completed the ensemble. As Leonhardt and the others came to a stop at the threshold of the tent, Elaine straightened up and shook her hair back, revealing a smile and dark, gray eyes that danced with pleasure.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, excellent work. Send word to our other patrols to return. Dismissed," ordered Elaine, her voice soft and melodious.
The patrol leader bowed again, taking his leave.
"Lady Elaine, it is a pleasure to see you again," said Leonhardt, bowing politely as Elaine walked around the table to the rest of the group.
Both Fyuria and Luana eyed Elaine warily, their expressions carefully neutral, hoping to conceal their uneasiness. Everything about Elaine conveyed confidence and martial prowess tempered by noble refinement and elegant femininity. Gracefully, she walked the perfect line between warrior and woman, taking elements of both and, somehow, becoming more than either alone.
As for the others, Zerva and Vira-Lorr both seemed impressed by the woman's poise. Ellis's eyes were wide with curiosity, her initial hesitation giving way to trust, perhaps from Elaine's comforting composure. Borgnine and Dyshana remained neutral as ever. Winfield's eyes had taken on a dreamy glaze and his jaw seemed strangely slack as he gazed upon Elaine. Nobody noticed, however, as all eyes were on Leonhardt and Elaine's exchange.
"Leonhardt," greeted Elaine with a fresh smile and a brief curtsy. "Please, no need for formalities. Just Elaine, if you would be so kind. May I call you Leo?"
Leonhardt returned the smile, "As you like. These are my companions…" he said as he introduced the others one by one.
Elaine greeted them in turn. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Leonhardt and I go back to our childhood, so any of his friends are mine as well. Please, no formalities from any of you either."
With introductions finished, Leonhardt's face settled into a more serious expression. "Elaine, what are you doing here in Rigulus territory?"
"Looking for you, of course. After I heard about what happened on the Frontier and how you defected to Rigulus, I knew it was time."
"Time for what?" asked Leonhardt, confused.
"Time for change," answered Elaine grimly. "You know, of course, that House Rubech opposed the war with House Raglan. After the fall of your house, we had no choice but to supply our men and materials to the war effort. We never stopped fighting against it, however. I've spent the better part of the last 5 years in the capitol, trying to rally others to peace." Shaking her head, her voice turned sad. "It was no use, I could never get enough traction with all the other generals hawking for war. It's not just them, either. A madness has gripped our Emperor and new powers motivate the throne. Among his advisors, a knight in all black. Since his arrival, nobody will even listen to me anymore."
Leonhardt and the others nodded in grim recognition. "So Gridamas has truly fallen to the Dark Forces," remarked Leonhardt sadly.
"No, not Gridamas, just our Emperor and his toadies." Anger laced Elaine's words as she tossed her hair furiously. "We were once a proud and just nation and those parts of Gridamas still remain. That is why I came to find you. Our intelligence indicates that something massive is about to happen. It doesn't take much of a stretch of imagination to see that the Frontier and Rigulus have come together to resist the darkness that has consumed Gridamas. I'm here because I want to join your cause and to restore Gridamas to her former self."
"Elaine, that's treason and civil war…" breathed Leonhardt.
Elaine shook her slowly. "No, Leo. It is our Emperor and the other generals that betrayed us to the darkness that now fouls our country. If I must give up my house and titles, as you have done, to see that light and goodness may prevail, then so be it. I have mobilized all of House Rubech's men and war materials; you'll have no trouble assuming command of them."
"One battalion will hardly make a difference," said Zerva pointedly.
Leonhardt's lips quirked upwards. "Be thankful that the 9th regiment was tasked with protecting the capitol, Zerva. A single one of their battalions is a match for any three other battalions from any other regiment. House Rubech maintains Gridamas's only truly professional military service."
"At any rate, the 9th Regiment has another two battalions alone, we number nearly five thousand men." reported Elaine.
"How were you able to deploy without being noticed?" asked Leonhardt. "Surely Melchior and the others would have noticed your absence."
"Unless they want her to be here," cut in Winfield bluntly, clearly unwilling to put aside his suspicions about Gridamas, and by proxy, Elaine.
"It's possible, but Elaine's story is consistent with our intelligence about Gridamas politics," chimed in Luana. "House Rubech has always opposed the war, although the time was never ripe to incite a civil war clandestinely."
"We can trust Elaine and her men. Their integrity and honor could never be questioned," urged Leonhardt.
Elaine inclined her head gratefully. "As for your previous question," she said, addressing Leonhardt, "Gridamas's war resources are stretched to the breaking point with so many of our forces tied up with the occupation of the Frontier and maintaining control over the rebel provinces. For once, fate was on my side. I was able to maneuver such that the 9th regiment was deployed to the border to reinforce our military posture. When the order came to send one battalion to fortify Zelzagun, I took the opportunity to seek you out. With any luck, High Command will assume that I was delayed during the march there for another day. My other two battalions are stationed at Mudas Gate, awaiting my orders. I believe it should be possible to seize it with minimum bloodshed."
"Mudas Gate?!" exclaimed Luana, "That's…"
"Precisely," said Elaine with relish. "Mudas gate is a tactical strongpoint between Rigulus and Gridamas. With Mudas Gate under our control, Rigulus will be able to send reinforcements and supplies down the river all the way to Gridamas City itself."
"We'll also be in a perfect position to lay siege to Zelzagun instead of attacking it head on," remarked Leonhardt dryly. "Can that be coordinated?" he asked Luana. "If the syrium and men from Rigulus attack from the north and we sweep up from the south from Mudas Gate, Zelzagun will be complete cut off from any support. The lives saved would be immeasurable."
Luana nodded at once, "Of course. I shall write to the capitol immediately. If our forces leave now, they should be in position by the time we're ready."
"Then it's settled," declared Leonhardt. "We'll make for Mudas Gate. Elaine… the Gods smiled upon us today by guiding you to us."
Elaine waved a hand dismissively, somewhat embarrassed, "It was my duty to our country Leo. My only regret was that it took so long for all the pieces to come together so that we stood a chance." Addressing the group at large, "Please, my men will show you to your accommodations," she said as she gestured outside. Everyone nodded gratefully and turned to leave. "Leo?" Elaine asked.
Leonhardt turned back as the others filed out.
"Please, stay a moment."
"Elaine and Leo seem to be familiar with each other," remarked Luana, scribbling on a piece of parchment with a quill.
Night was almost upon the camp and Luana and Fyuria had retired to their assigned tent. Luana sat with a writing station across her lap, her quill making scratching noises as it glided across the parchment. Across from her, Fyuria sat cross-legged, eyes closed with focus as she practiced channeling light magic by maintaining a glowing ball of light to illuminate the tent and Luana's writing.
"And why not?" asked Fyuria, "They're both generals in the Gridamas military. They probably worked together before."
"Perhaps…" mused Luana as she sealed the letter with a seal of hot wax. "Did you see the way she held herself though? And her voice and intonation. There's more familiarity there then mere colleagues have."
Fyuria shrugged, allowing the light to dim now that Luana was finished writing. Casually, she pressed the ball of light between her hands, plunging the two into a moment of darkness before she threw her hands up as though scattering seeds in the wind. The ball of light fractured into a hundred individual motes that hung in the air, showering the entire inside of the tent with even, soothing light.
"Nice," said Luana appreciatively. Casually, she sized up the syrium. Something about her had also changed in the last day… She was more at peace than Luana had ever known her to be. Case in point, the magic light display she had just put on. Before, her energies would fluctuate moment to moment with her mood, yet today, for once, the light had been steady and warm. Probably an after effect of the little victory that Fyuria won against her at camp last night. Though the sting of defeat had bruised her ego slightly, Luana could hardly fault her for playing the game. 'About time too' she thought to herself with an internal smile. Things were getting boring without a little competition.
Speaking of competition, Elaine was yet another woman she would have to worry about. In this respect, Luana was not quite as confident. The general was undeniably beautiful, but also strong and intelligent, the kind of woman Leonhardt would most likely be attracted to. A little voice in Luana's head chided her for the suspicion. Surely she was being paranoid about Elaine? Without any more facts, any narrative or motive she could come up with to explain Elaine's warmth when greeting them was entirely guesswork. And yet, her mind refused to let go of the idea that there was, perhaps, more to the story than she had guessed.
Standing up, Luana made up her mind. "I'm going out for a bit."
"What for?" asked Fyuria curiously as she dug her honing kit out of her pack.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know when I know," replied Luana enigmatically as she ducked out of the tent into the dark.
'It's been too long since I did field work,' thought Luana to herself as she crept through the camp silently. The thrill of passing unseen, stalking from shadow to shadow. She had missed the cloak and dagger exhilaration that attracted her to such work in the first place.
Slowly, Luana made her way to Elaine's command tent, her feet carrying her almost subconsciously to the object of her curiosity. Pausing outside the fabric of the tent, she heard Elaine's tinkling laughter, like bone china chinking together. Slowly, so as to not attract any attention, she peeked around her cover and saw Elaine and Leonhardt sharing a meal in her tent. Their conversation did not reveal much of interest; they were only exchanging gossip and memories of Gridamas politics and figures from their youth, catching up in other words. Their body language, on the other hand, told her far more.
Elaine leaned forward slightly, her attention completely focused on Leonhardt. In the intimate dark of their table, her eyes beautifully reflected the candlelight as she batted her eyelashes subtly at Leonhardt. Everything about her conveyed warmth and intimacy. Lauana was too much an expert at the art of courtship herself to not recognize a master at work. Leonhardt, on the other hand, though pleased, kept a more neutral stance. Although his voice was warm and unguarded, it was clear that Elaine was more an acquaintance to him than a close confidant.
'Well that's reassuring… I think' Luana mused to herself as she ducked back to safety. So long as the two were occupied at dinner, however…
Luana's feet carried her next to Elaine's personal tent, into which she ducked before anyone could see her. The inside was only marginally more luxurious than those of her subordinates, furnished no differently than any other officers quarters. Whatever else Elaine was, she was certainly no spoiled noble. A spartan bedding set, meticulously made, a trunk of various garments, and a stand for her armor; none of those drew her attention. Instead, she gravitated towards the bureau at one side of the tent and began to rifle through the stacks of parchment papers, careful to replace them exactly as she had found them.
'Correspondence, requisition forms, supply and personnel logs… none of this stuff matters. Let's get to the good stuff already.'
Feeling a pang of guilt at violating Elaine's privacy, Luana opened the bureau's drawers one at a time, examining their contents. Was it wrong to dig through her business like this? Probably, but Luana's past as an intelligence agent coupled with her curiosity buried the guilt almost as soon as it rose up.
'Oh! What have we here…'
Delighted, Luana pulled out a neat stack of letters, carefully bound with a ribbon. Something about the letters suggested to her intuition that this was what she came for. Gingerly, she unbound the letters, separating them and skimming through their contents.
'Gods…'
Luana's eyes widened as she read and her hands shook. Returning the letters, she made one more sweep to ensure that the room appeared exactly as it had before she entered and walked out of the tent before anyone could catch her there. Nervous energy carried her back to her shared tent in a flash. As she ducked through the flap, she stopped dead, standing and staring at Fyuria, still awake and sharpening her knives with the care of a mother caressing a child.
"Luana?" asked Fyuria with concern, eyeing the human's pale complexion. "What's the matter?"
"It's Elaine…" whispered Luana hoarsely.
Fyuria arched her eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"She's… Leonhardt's betrothed."