Here be Chapter 11, as promised. Enjoy. And, as always, thanks for reviews, alerts and favorites!
Lyra had known Major Swift was making a mistake when he decided to return to the castle, but she hadn't really expected him to be captured and killed so… swiftly. She had met up with Ben Finn at the castle after hearing a town crier announce that her despicable brother was going to make some kind of speech. She followed Page's suggestion to see what it was about despite the pain she was in from her injuries and found that it was more of a public execution than a royal speech. Ben was devastated and surprisingly, the princess sympathized with him. Major Swift was to him what Walter was to her. Well, what he used to be. She was still unsure of their relationship at that point and after visiting Jasper in the Sanctuary for some more of his famous stitching and a change of clothes, Lyra made her way back to the Bowerstone Resistance's headquarters.
When she came into the strategy room, she found that a conversation was already taking place. It regarded a note that Swift managed to send before his untimely death and Page, of course, was uncertain of its validity. "I still don't understand how anyone there could help us. Aurora is a dead land. There's nothing there," she said, looking at the sandy wasteland on the map. Walter shrugged and said, "Or at least that's what we've been told. It's still the only lead we have anyway." Ben, impatiently fidgeting and, for once, not trying to charm Page, slammed his fists against the circular table. "Can we get on with the plan? I have an overwhelming urge to shoot someone."
"First thing," Walter said, turning towards Lyra, "We'll need a ship. You and Ben will get a hold of one while Page and I make sure the rest of the fleet doesn't follow." The princess frowned and nodded, childishly refusing to speak to the old knight for the time being. "You'll need to go via the back alleys. And they'll be crawling with soldiers," Page warned. "Not a problem," the captain smirked, "I know my way around the place." He then turned to Lyra and bowed his head forward slightly. "I'll meet you at the back of the sewers. We're going to show Logan just what traitors can do." That said, Ben went on ahead to scout their path and gather his own belongings for the trip. "Go on," Page nodded, "My men are putting together the materials we'll need. It should be quite a display."
The resistance leader then sauntered off to attend her own business, leaving Walter and Lyra alone at last. He moved around the table to lay a hand on his protégé's shoulder and spoke in a fatherly tone. "Aurora is a distant place, it could be a while before we return. If there's things you need to do, now's the time." Shrugging off his hand, the princess' took a few steps back, glaring at him. Again he was confused by her coldness towards him and frowned. "There is something I need to do… Why didn't you tell me about Elliot?" Shocked, Walter's lips parted slightly as he struggled to find the words to explain. "He was in Industrial all this time and you let me think he was dead!" The old knight seemed to pat the air between them with both hands, trying to signal her to remain calm. "I didn't think it was anything that concerned you, Lyra. You didn't care about that boy," he said.
Lyra shook her head, teeth grinding as her jaw clenched in anger. "That isn't the point. You shouldn't have kept something like that from me." "I was going to tell you the same night we left the castle, but in the cave under the mausoleum… Don't you remember? You admitted that you let him die on purpose. I didn't see any bloody reason to tell you after that. Why should you care after saying something like that?" Though it was a very good explanation, the princess was not convinced. It wasn't about Elliot being alive or dead, or her having the satisfaction of knowing she was the reason he was dead; it was about one of the only people in the world she trusted keeping something important from her. "Well, I did care," she said, "And I've rectified your mistake."
Walter went rigid and his eyes widened. "What did you say…? Lyra, what did you do, child?" His words were barely above a whisper as he leaned forward slightly. For only a moment, the princess seemed to shrink under his accusing stare, but she boldly lifted her chin and smirked. "I… Well, I killed him, Walter," Lyra said. The man's jaw dropped and he was struck speechless. He had always known the princess could be needlessly cruel and even, at times, downright villainous, but he could have never guessed she was capable of murdering a once close friend. Allowing someone else to execute Elliot had been bad enough, but to think that she could do the deed herself shattered Walter's heart into a million pieces. Where was the sweet little girl that used to sit on his lap and listen to his stories? What ever became of her?
"I… I need to sit down," he said, suddenly feeling very weak and tired, "I can't believe it. When did you become such a… such a heartless wretch?" Lyra frowned deeply at her mentor and took another step back. She shook her head, swallowing hard before saying, "You can't call me that." Looking up at her, eyes blazing, Walter slammed a fist against the surface of the map. As much as it seemed to hurt her to hear it, it hurt the old knight even more to say it, but it couldn't be helped. He was appalled by her behavior and the woman she had become despite all of his efforts to steer her down a righteous path, or at least a neutral one. "Oh? And what would you call yourself? Surely you don't think its okay to go around killing innocent people!"
"You can't call me that," Lyra repeated, her voice rising, "Anyone else can call me whatever they like, but not you!" "Then tell me you didn't kill Elliot. Say it isn't true, if you can. I don't want to think of you as a murderer, but you're not giving me any choice," he growled. The princess took a deep, calming breath whilst glaring at the irate knight. Yelling wasn't going to get her anywhere and she couldn't bring herself to physically hurt Walter no matter what he said to her. He was lucky, in that regard, but Lyra knew of a different way she could get back at him for speaking to her like he had. "I cut out his tongue, you know," she said, smirking coldly. The man shook his head slowly and pointed at her. "Stop it, Lyra. Don't say another word."
The princess shook her head and continued, speaking as though what she had to say was no worse than discussing the weather. "Elliot's last words, if one could call those garbled sputters words, sounded distinctly like a cry for help, but I was too busy being fascinated by Boy's unique talent to rip various chunks of flesh from the body without killing the poor sod right off to be sure. I wish I had that sort of finesse. I would have gone straight for the throat if I had been a dog," she said with a shrug, carefully gauging Walter's reaction. Not surprisingly, he didn't take it well, but Lyra could not have guessed he would do what he did next. He struck her. Her fingers grazed the slowly reddening skin of her cheek, eyes watering from the resulting sting.
For what seemed like hours, the pair simply stared at one another in shock. Even Walter was confused by his reaction, but it was the only thing he could think of that would bring her to her senses. The way she was talking, delighting in her own cruelty, was madness. "Lyra… I'm…" The old knight wanted to apologize, though he still felt that she deserved to be slapped, but when the princess' hand dropped from her cheek to her belt, his gaze followed warily. Her fingers twitched over the pistol on her hip as her eyes narrowed on Walter. At the last minute, it seemed, she changed her mind and instead grabbed the Guild Seal. Before he could stop her, she had transported herself to the Sanctuary.
Walter knew that Lyra would come back, or wait in one of her usual spots for him to come and get her. That was the only reason he didn't round up Page and Ben to tell them that they would have to go on with the plan without the princess. She just needed time to cool off, he hoped, and he supposed he did as well. Nothing could ever change the way he felt about that girl or the faith he had in her ability to lead Albion, but it was going to take him a while to get around what she had done and what she was capable of doing. He realized now that he had been fooling himself for a long time about Lyra's true nature. Just like a parent who, blinded by their affection for their child, refuses to believe that they are capable of doing any wrong, Walter had conveniently shielded himself from the truth. "Balls," he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face as he leaned against the map table.
Meanwhile, Lyra had barely stepped foot in the Sanctuary when she patted her leg to signal Boy and then transported them both directly into the Mercenary Camp. Jasper hadn't dared to say a word when he saw the look on his lady's face. Thanks to the Guild Seal, he was fully aware of what had transpired and knew better than to even offer any consolation. He couldn't say that he blamed Walter for what he had done and he quite agreed with the knight that Lyra was becoming somewhat of a villain, but as her loyal butler, he would never turn against her. No matter how bad she became, he would be there by her side, just like Walter and Boy. However tough she was, however strong, she would always need them whether she knew it or not.
At that point in time, of course, Lyra was under the impression that she didn't need anyone, least of all Walter, and would much rather binge drink all of her sorrows away. She and Boy stalked straight into the camp and, without letting on that she was suffering emotionally, declared that the mercenaries were to throw her a going away party. "You're going where? You can't be serious," Saker said as his men began preparations for the celebration, carting out kegs of beer and wine. "I am serious," the woman confirmed, a bottle of rum already in hand, "Aurora. I think I'm actually going to miss all the bloody sewers and caves. That god-forsaken wasteland is going to be a million times worse. Especially with him there."
Saker wasn't quite sure which him she was referring to, but he knew better than to ask. Instead, he slapped the princess on the back and laughed heartily. "Aye, then you better drink up," he said, lifting her bottle-wielding hand towards her mouth as if she needed the encouragement, "Drink 'til your heart's content. Won't be a drop of spirits where you're going." Lyra nodded and tossed her head back as she gulped down several portions of the alcohol. Wiping her mouth with a satisfied sigh, she linked her arm with Saker's for stability and moved with him towards the center of the camp where logs were being piled up for a bonfire. "I'm going to get smashed."
Lyra made good on her word, thoroughly intoxicated even before the bonfire was lit at dusk. She then sang and danced drunkenly around the fire with several of the camp's miscreants and prostitutes who'd been called in to make it a real party, as she would say, sloshing her stein of beer everywhere along the way. The wayward princess even tried to entertain the crowd by bragging that she could shoot an apple off the top of someone's head. Of course, when she tried it with a shaky hand and blurry eyes, she ended up putting a bullet through the poor sod's head instead. Those gathered were still highly amused even so. But as the night wore on, and Lyra's fellow merrymakers began to pass out one by one, she found herself in deep conversation with Saker, who, like her, was able to hold his liquor better than most. He patiently listened to her slurred speech, though his eyes did begin to droop wearily as she prattled on.
"And then… and then he just, he goesh... 'Dear me, I missed'! Reaver doesn't miss! He didn't knew me, know me, I mean… 'Til Page, that shewer rat, tol' him. Why'd he do that, hmm? Why? You tell me, 'cause I don't know," Lyra said, swaying slightly in her chair, eyes glazed over. Saker shrugged, his elbow resting on the table and propping up his head. "I dunno, Ly. I never met the man. I hear weird things, though. He's just… weird," he replied, sluggishly lifting his mug to his lips. Lyra followed his example and took another swig of her beverage as well before slamming it down empty. "I'll tell you weird. That shtupit old man, Walter. He's so mad that I killed idiot, I mean Elliot. So mad! What did that incompetent little jackass ever do for this country? Not a damn thing. Meanwhile, I'm out here gettin' shot, shtabbed, and beaten regularly because it's my destiny… And Walter has the ball to slap me right on my face. That's right, I said it. He's only go one! Geez, I hate him."
The princess tried to get up and refill her empty mug, but ended up falling over instead. Saker looked down at her only to find her snickering like a child there on the ground. "I think you've done what you set out to do. Maybe it's time to call it a night," he said groggily, laying his head flat on the table. Lyra stopped laughing and crawled over to wrap her arms around his leg, rubbing her cheek against his knee. "I'm not done yet. I've had my drinks, but now I want my fun. What do you say? You and me…" Though she had made the offer, the woman would have passed out right there at his feet had it not been for the loud snore that erupted from the table above. She peeked up over the edge and scowled. Saker was out cold.
With a sigh, Lyra pulled herself into a standing position with some difficulty. "Boy… Boy, where'd you go?" The dog was nowhere to be seen, so she shrugged and wobbled off towards a pair of male prostitutes leaning against one of the fort-like walls of the camp. "You two all that's left? Shame," she said, stumbling into the men with a giggle. They gladly helped her stay on her feet, though they couldn't really pass for sober themselves. "Well, jusht for that, I'ma give you a generous tip when we're done. My cabin's thisa way." The two men practically had to carry the princess back to her tiny abode and she only had enough consciousness left in her to count out their pay on the dresser and discard her clothes and weapons before passing out across the bed. Without attempting to wake her, or run off with her money and valuables, the prostitutes simply joined her on the bed. Perhaps in the morning, they thought, they would have the chance to earn that gold.
Well, Lyra certainly cooled down thanks to Saker's mercenary style of hospitality, but she may regret having partied so hard next chapter. A mercenary camp, even one you are currently sort of the boss of, is not a wise place to pass out, naked and unarmed. Lyra will have to learn that lesson the hard way. Hehe. Oh, and no, it is not fact that Walter has one testicle, not even in my story! That's just the drunken insult of a disgruntled protégé.
The next two or so chapters will be among my favorites, so I hope you'll come back for those and, as usual, reviews are appreciated!