Ollen70: For some odd reason, they've decided we don't get to use asterisks anymore. Are we not grown up enough for asterisks? Are they a safety hazard? Have people been choking on the asterisks? Maybe they were too pointy-looking or something? Hmm. Anyway, practice safe reading and be wary around the x's, okay? (And in case you're wondering, it's finals week here and I lost my mind quite some time ago. So now you know.)
In story notes, the Latin in this chapter may not be totally correct. It's been awhile since I took that class, so the translations may or may not be word for word. Also, this is taking a bit longer to develop than I anticipated. I'm thinking it should max out at 14 chapters, rather than 12 as I'd hoped.
As always, thanks yet again to Rai Dorian, Macky, Lord Anime, and Atari for reviewing for me. You guys are my heroes. If not for you guys, I probably would have given up on finishing this quite some time ago.
Disclaimer: For eleven chapters, I have not owned the premise of Escaflowne. That's an established trend, and it would be a shame to change it now.
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Chapter Twelve - - The clearest choice
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Already old, the question Who shall die?
Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?
Karl Shapiro
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Allen stood perfectly still in the guymelef bay, barely daring to breathe while he looked up at what stood before him. The suit of armor was so far removed from what he'd been expecting that he didn't know what to say. He watched the metallic titan with horror and awe, half-expecting it to come to life on its own, as the Escaflowne had.
Made of dark metal and covered with silver bright silver plates, it looked more like a work of art than any sort of weapon. Instead of a sword, it carried a long, black spear as its primary weapon. Its cloak was of a dark, glossy material that was not silk of any kind of fabric that he recognized.
Fortified silk, Merle told him meekly when he asked. His jaw dropped. It cost almost as much as the rest of the armor.
Reinforced silk was incredibly rare because it was so hard to make. Spun with the fibers of spiders in alongside that of silk-worms, it offered as much protection sewn into a jacket or tabbard than the plates of metal worn under it.
Is your guymelef built like this?
To that, Merle only laughed. I barely know how to use one. It would be a shield to me, and it cost too much for that. It's designed from some of Folken's old schematics precisely. There's nothing else like it in the world, and I think the Ispano guymelefs are the only things stronger. She gave him the sidelong, considering look he expected from her. You can use it like Van might have. That's why I wanted you to have it. To make up for... for... what happened to the Schezad.
Allen lowered his eyes without meaning to. No one had spoken of the Schezad since the end of the war. Allen hadn't asked them to. It was just something no one was anxious to bring up again - they all knew what the armor had meant to him, even though it was only a machine. After all, Van wasn't the only one who'd poured his blood and his soul into his vessel, even if it was in a different sense.
He looked up at the armor, its helmet wide and tapered, its shoulders reinforced and the layers of plate made to be ablative against blows from swords or fists. Designs and patterns were cut into the silver of the plates, dancing and twining in all directions without beginning or end, but subtle in their intricacy rather than overwhelming. With a smile he could not suppress, he took a step forward.
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Merle marveled at Allen's form while he moved toward the guymelef - his guymelef. She knew enough of his past, having heard Dryden discuss it deridingly during their voyage to the mystic valley to know that he had once been a bandit, schooled by Balgous into becoming the hero of Asturia. His second transformation was partly due to her own involvement in his fate.
What is it named? he called to her, never taking his eyes off of his prize.
I... well, I... wasn't really sure... She still didn't know if it had been appropriate for her to name something that was now meant to be a gift, but this guymelef wasn't originally built with him in mind. She'd initially ordered its construction alongside the newer models that Van had designed to test it as a prototype. After her return with a knight of Heaven in tow, she'd asked the engineers to enhance her own armor to construct a war machine for Allen. Since they'd had no time to build anything from the ground up, they simply refitted the existing model and made the enhancements she'd requested. The name had already been engraved into the guymelef's right breast when they had returned from Palas.
At first, she considered asking them to rename it in honor of the Schezad, but hadn't. The Schezad had carried a legacy bigger than a simple name. He might have been insulted. Instead, she left the original name, which now seemed perhaps a bit too appropriate.
It's called the Ultionis. The Vengeance.
Gere curam mei finis, Allen read, the verse inscribed under the name. Protect me in my final hour.
Merle set off toward her own war machine, harbored at the other end of the room. It was in many ways similar to the Ultionis, though its framework was more like those of Van's design.
A raised band of dark metal encircled its brow, the stylized embellishments of one of the engineers. He'd told her it was to help distinguish her from the others during a battle, but Merle wasn't so sure she liked the idea. distinguishing marks left few with any questions as to who the leader was, which was rarely a beneficial thing on the battle field. The fact that it looked considerably like a crown was also not lost on her.
Climbing up into the vessel, she didn't try to keep her hand from tracing over its inscription as she glanced back at Allen. The Providence Lost. Merle snorted. The Powers that Be had more of a sense of humor than she'd first thought.
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It took three days for the forces being constructed near the Dilate to reach the main of the army in old Chesario. For another four days, those forces were refurbished and outfitted, if it was needed. Rested and prepared, there was not one man in the force that could not and would not commit himself solely to the task at hand - Hitomi had seen to that personally.
Now, after all her labor, there was little that could be done. At first light, the soldiers would depart and she would go with them. They would not return to this place until the pendant had been retaken and the final parts of fate captured irrevocably. Nothing would allude her this time. She wouldn't allow it.
Sinking back into the throne, she shifted. The minister was stationary in the corner, waiting in case Hitomi might need something. The woman's visits had been more frequent as of late - probably because rumors of Hitomi's increasingly strange behavior were growing more widespread. If she'd wanted to, she could focus her power to keep such thoughts from occurring in those around her, but it seemed a wasted effort.
No one cared if she was eccentric, as long as they were on the winning side. Quite the opposite, in fact. Eccentricities made men more wary. No one would even consider usurping her if they thought her unpredictable and all-knowing, as she nearly was.
You continue to flatter yourself with such deluding thoughts, do you not?
She groaned at the sound of the voice, drawing a crooked glance from the woman. Instead of faking an explanation, she shut her eyes and pretended to be drowsing. Undignified, perhaps, but more effective than a great many tactics.
Oh, my dear, don't think you can ignore me. I don't just go away, as you may or may not have noticed.
A frown creased Hitomi's brow, but she didn't open her eyes. Who would have assumed Dornkirk would even be capable of humor? She found that it only served to further infuriate her. Why would he not simply leave her be?
There was nothing she could say to him without rousing the minister, so she stayed silent, but looked up at him warily. He was haunting her, trapped within her, as he'd said. Otherwise, the woman would have been able to see him. It was a pointless observation, but it made her resent both the woman and the emperor without meaning to.
Things are coming to a conclusion, it would seem. You are rising up against Fanelia, the very nation you fought me to rebuild, the very nation you watched burn not so very long ago. This time, when its citizens are lying dead in their own blood and the forests weep for the flames that devour the homes and lives of all, rest well in the memory that you and I are not at all different, my girl. That should bring you some comfort, at the least. He tapped his cane on the metal floor forcefully. I hope that it is cold comfort, though. You hardly deserve it.
Something about the scorn in his tone stung her. Why should Dornkirk treat her so foully? After all, they were nearly of the same mind... weren't they?
If the woman hadn't been present, Hitomi would have raged and sworn, would have torn at her garments and hurled her scepter blindly at anything in the room. She would have gone to any length to cause as much damage as possible. Anything to distract herself from him. Anything to forget what once was...
She was already starting to forget. Van was almost gone, so buried in the arms of Eries of Asturia that he would never sway her again. If she had to stand against him, she knew even now, even beyond the point of every kind of denial, that she would lose. That was exactly why she'd wished him away, when she still had that ability. For some reason, that wish tore from her the key to granting wishes. She hadn't been able to determine why it had cost her the pendant, but it mattered very little. Soon, she would have it back again, and nothing could stop her. Not even Van.
You aren't real, old man, she whispered as faintly as she could, knowing that the woman probably heard it anyway. They thought she was losing her mind, and they probably weren't far wrong, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The end was so close. It was in her grasp.
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Rows upon rows of guymelefs set out from the looming fortress of Asgard. Serena kept her own pace at their head, leading in her ornate, vast armor. Eventually she would give the order to activate stealth cloaks, but it didn't matter at the moment. They were still a day or more from their destination, and there was no need to waste power. There was also no real need to hurry.
The Empress, whose towering golden guymelef strode along amid a crowd of guards and the general's war machine itself, was at the back of the column. She had at first been upset with the speed of the columns, but was resigned now to following without complaint. Serena saw no need to press them forward. They would arrive inevitably, and their enemies would fall with just as little reverence. Nothing could stop Asgard.
Well, almost nothing. Serena gazed through the falling snow at nothing in particular, remembering the warning the empress had given her before their departure. There would be a man on the battle field - one that she had known very well, and he would try to stop her. Though Serena hadn't let on, she knew full well that it would be Allen.
Initially, when she was first appointed captain of the armies, she expected that this day might come. She and Allen were only ever partly on the same side of things, but she was going to change that. Even Allen, the golden hero of the other lands, would cower before them. How he might actually come to be in the battle was a bit of a mystery to her. As far as she knew, he was still banished from Asturia and hadn't been reinstated, but it made little difference. The empress had not yet been wrong, and Serena didn't expect her to be now.
Further and further the warriors went, slowing for nightfall but not stopping for more than an hour or two at the very most. Even so, Serena felt rested and completely at peace. No nervousness disturbed her rest, and the little food she ate was more than enough to fully satisfy her. The same seemed to be true for the rest of the forces. In fact, the only person who seemed out of sorts was the empress herself.
When Serena saw her out of her guymelef, she was trudging wearily through the snow as if she was carrying the entire army and all of the equipment on her own. The woman never closed her eyes. If she did, she made certain it was after Serena did, and she was always awake before anyone else. Serena would have said something if she thought it would do any good, but the empress was in no mood to be approached. Serena knew better than to push her.
On they went, while the journey blurred into a constant haze of snow. Each step brought her closer to inevitable confrontation, but it was a confrontation that she hungered for. In mere hours, Gaea would feel the strength of Serena of Asgard, who burned even brighter than Allen Schezar. The key to fate would be recovered. Asgard was going to win.
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There was nothing but silence in the castle. Only a scant few lamps still burned in the halls behind her, leaving Eries alone in the dimness. She looked out over the city from her chamber, watching the water sweep by in the causeways below her. Clean and black and cold, it slipped easily through the stone channels into the darker reaches of the night.
Eries wrapped her stole around her a bit more snugly. Van was standing in the courtyard below, wearing his helm and armor. His sword was not drawn, but it was obviously loose in its sheath. How long he'd been there, she couldn't say, but he remained stock still, watching the night just as intently as she was watching him.
Dryden had been right to be concerned about him. Each night he found and led the young king from the courtyard back into the castle, and each night he bathed him and sat him before the fire before leading him back to Eries's chambers. Eries would have done it himself, if Dryden had not suggested they both distance themselves from each-other for a while. Eries grudgingly had to agree.
Each day that passed presented more distance between her and Van. The passion that had once burned so brightly in her for him now seemed hardly real. She still looked on him with affection, still held his shuddering form to her in the night, but it was a very different sort of world that they were now a part of. Her love had dimmed and settled into a much more matriarchal sort of fondness. Though she had said nothing to anyone, she doubted very strongly now that they would ever be married. Like everything else, those desires felt very far away.
She stood where she was until Dryden passed the balcony. he quietly intoned. She held up a finger, watching for just a moment longer before turning to him.
Are you going out to him?
I don't have much of a choice, now do I? The merchant king's face twisted into a wry smile, laced with an ill-concealed concern. He'll freeze to death if I don't do something. I don't understand what's wrong with him.
I think that I do now, after a fashion. Her fingers closed over the railing and she leaned out further, letting the snow wrap around her.
Dryden huffed once, and she could imagine him cocking an elegant eyebrow at her back. She blew out her breath into the cold while it heaved and wreathed into delicate, ghostly forms. Behind her, he shifted impatiently, apparently still waiting for an answer.
When you're done being mysterious, come find me and tell me what this is all about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go fetch your fiance. Again.
Before he could draw back into the corridor, Eries left her post and caught his wrist. Her gaze was likely desperate, holding in it much more emotion than she'd wanted.
There is only one thing we can do for him, Dryden.
He looked at her uncomprehendingly, his lips just slightly open but making no sound. Slowly, the first fingers of understanding took hold in him, but her intentions still alluded him.
Open the gates, Dryden. It was the smallest fragment of a whisper, helped to his ears by the stirring wind. Open the gates, and let him out.
When exactly it was the Dryden left her, she didn't know. She stayed on the balcony, looking down again after an imagined eternity. Van was gone. Eries turned away, back toward the warm interior, but not for long. She had done this much for him because there was no real choice. He needed it, and she was willing to give it. Now, as she sent servant to fetch Dryden back again and to summon the generals and captains, she readied herself for a much bigger decision. She was not yet done helping Van. If it was in her power, there was more that she would do for him.
Ollen70: I'm sorry that there isn't much action in this chapter, and I hope I didn't disappoint anyone because of that. It's coming very soon, and hopefully it will prove to be worth the wait. Thanks for reading.
