Chapter 12

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Blood Pledge Castle's pink rose garden was absolutely delightful. The table was set, the weather was perfect, and a white butterfly flitted past. Murata sat there with a plate full of warm tea cakes in front of him. There was a silver tea set, too, highly polished to the point where he could see a distorted reflection of himself with freshly dyed brownish-black hair.

It wasn't his natural color, but it would do.

The breeze had died down and Murata was waiting for…someone. The chair before him was empty but a place setting was ready.

"What am I doing here?" He craned his head, looking.

Shinou's shadow appeared first followed by the rest of him—ridiculously dressed in his bright, archaic royal robes.

Recognizing him, Murata scowled and stood abruptly from his chair. "Whatever you have to say, I'm not listening," he said darkly. The chair scooted back as he tried to make his way to the garden gate even though he was certain, now, that this was an elaborate vision and inescapable until the Original King's spirit decided to let him go.

But, still, this was what he would do in real life.

"That's most unfortunate," Shinou sighed a bit melodramatically as he took the teapot in hand. "I was hoping that you'd stay for an apology."

The sage turned back with "Apology? Since when do you apolo…?"

Murata froze, his mouth open to reply that he didn't care what the ancient spirit had to say. Instead, he lost his words as he watched dark green ink pour in a thin stream from the teapot and into Shinou's own cup.

"Ink?" He readjusted his glasses with a finger. "The letters…" Murata said in wonder as he approached the table. "You've figured out who has been writing them..."

The cup was full of the poison brew and Shinou, arms folded, leaned back in the chair. "Oh, someone is very smart…very…" He picked up the cup and swirled the contents. For a half second, Murata worried that the blond would drink it until he remembered, and wanted to dope slap himself, that Shinou had died eons ago and that, in fact, he'd been the one to pluck out his soul—causing Murata to feel emotions better left buried in his heart.

"Someone at the castle has a means of shielding the knowledge from me. I have searched but to no avail." Then he put the cup down. "What I can suggest is that you question the prisoners again in the dungeons. I know that they will be taken away for trial soon. But, it couldn't hurt to question them."

Murata shook his head. He knew only too well what Shinou was implying. And, even now, those methods still existed and worked. However, with Yuuri as king, things were different. "As for just questioning them, we've done that and got nothing out of them. And Yuuri is especially determined that we cannot use force or even the suggestion of force."

Shinou smiled winningly at that and stretched his arms over his head—almost purring like a feline. "Well, that means…I can question them, doesn't it?"

The black haired sage worked hard to suppress a grin. "You're really getting involved in this one."

The blond pushed his cape over his shoulder smugly. "Someone is trying to poison my descendent…not to mention they are shielding themselves to get away with the matter, and using a highly unusual poison for the task—Thrussian Green ink."

"Thrussian?" Murata's eyes widened with possibilities. He had, in one lifetime, been a metal worker who had thick leather gloves stained with the green stuff. Back then, he'd preferred simple mill and lathe work and charged extra for the use of the green ink. He'd had an expensive antidote on hand, too, just in case. "But wouldn't rat poison be far easier to use? Not to mention that Monk's Hood grows just down the lane along with Water Dropwart."

"My viewpoint exactly." Shinou smirked at the tulip shaped white china cup.

Murata nodded. "When I awake from this…dream..." He emphasized the last word as he sat down again. "I'll search all of the chemists' shops in the village. And I'll get a list of everyone who has bought some."

"You'll find nothing."

Murata shot him a hard look. "Fine, then, I'll try the herbalists."

Shinou quirked a grin at him. "You could…" It was followed by a knowing chuckle. "Or…you could search for an ingredient list and, then, there's always… the new herb garden next to the royal kitchens."

Murata took a sharp breath. "Who ordered that to be planted?"

"No one recalls."

Black eyes widened and he leaned forward. "You possessed someone else and searched around?"

Shinou grinned sheepishly.

"Several someones?"

The Original King shrugged a "maybe."

Then, seeing the smug look, Murata continued. "Of course you did. Why did I even bother to ask?"

"What I couldn't believe was that Sir Weller and Yuuri Heika actually thought I was snoring loudly on the royal bed all of that time." He scratched the side of his nose when a stray strand of blond hair tickled it. "But, afterwards, I'm sure Yuuri Heika enjoyed his moment in the dark with Wolfram. He seems so determined these days to have his blond by his side." The spirit wiggled an eyebrow.

A king and his blond… In the sage's memory, he caught a flash of a five month pregnant Rufus looking up with pure adoration at Shinou. How incredibly lucky she was—lucky above all others. A battle-scarred hand laced fingers with her and she blushed.

Murata wore a sour face and looked away.

"Oh, and by the by," The Original King said as he leaned forward, "I do apologize for the comments I made about your hair. I went a step too far, didn't I?"

Gruffly, Murata made a gesture to wave it off. "It's nothing. Forget about it." But his tone was still bitter and the sage's posture seemed rigid.

Looking at him from the corner of his eye, Shinou went on with, "There are other things I should apologize for, too, but…"

Sternly and with shoulders back, the sage replied, "I am Murata Ken now. And there's nothing that you've done to me. So, just drop it, okay?"

The blond across from him nodded. "Nothing…yet," he agreed and watched with a flicker of joy as Murata took the bait.

"Oi! What do you mean, 'nothing yet'?" But the ancient spirit faded away with an annoying laugh and Murata found himself so irritated that he wanted to scream.


Something moved in his arms. Another moment passed by and it shifted again, trying to get comfortable. Slowly, Yuuri opened his eyes and realized that he had a certain blond clutched possessively to his chest. Wolfram was calm, dead to the world, with a slim smile gracing his face.

"When you're like this," the double black whispered, "I can almost believe you're an angel." He stroked Wolfram's cheek with his thumb. "…Almost…"

Then, he noticed it.

A thin piece of hair twisted up at an angle and Yuuri couldn't resist the temptation to toy with it.

A tiny spiral.

A curve to the right.

A straight line that withered at the top.

He teased the golden curl until it curved to his every whim and, then, his fingers delved into blond hair—brushing the strands and then letting them fall silkily between his fingers.

He had been so afraid of this, of being close. Now, it seemed, it wasn't just Wolfram or the ways in which they'd gotten engaged or married that bothered him. It was simply being intimate with another person.

At school, he'd been on the outside looking in when it came to relationships. Yuuri had noticed boyfriends and girlfriends, the hand holding, and brief "goodbye" smooches at the school gate when the couples thought no one was noticing. Obviously, he noticed but pretended not to. That was proper, after all. But, being with someone was so new that it was positively alarming. And distancing himself from Wolfram and from their situation didn't make things easier. Quite the opposite. It made him lonely and it made him crave for something that he could not name. But, now, with Wolfram next to him like this and, finally, recovering—he felt at peace. And, if he could, he'd wish for his life to be filled with moments like this—simple ones.

"Yuuri," the blond sighed with contentment and the double black picked up the edge of the comforter and draped it around Wolfram's cool shoulders.

Still dozing, Wolfram smiled and Yuuri stroked the blond locks to his heart's content.

More like this. I want more time…more moments…with you.

My wish for us.


No matter how many times Yuuri ordered it, the servants couldn't scrub away the smell of "city zoo" from the ancient dungeons below. Patiently, Conrad had tried to explain why, but Yuuri wouldn't hear of it. It was the Japanese in him that dictated the necessity of keeping everything clean and smelling nice. And that included the dank, rising damp of the dungeons underneath the castle.

In one cell, two unwashed men were sleeping on their cots. Their snores had been irritating from the start, but the Mazoku noblewoman in the next cell had gotten used to it. After all, she'd learned to tolerate the stone walls around her and the single, barred, tiny window way above her head. So, the sound with nothing, really.

She combed her lemon hair as she sat in bed with blankets wrapped around her, thinking of it all.

How long had she been kept here without trial? She didn't know, but she'd been told by a servant who brought dinner that night that their trials would be soon. Apparently, down in the village, a judge had just arrived with a small entourage of clerks.

They should have been tried much earlier on than this considering the circumstances, but Yuuri Heika had insisted upon the justice system going at its usual pace and that no special treatment should be given just because of his own, gladly "bungled" assassination attempt. Of course, to everyone in the kingdom, that very modest and understanding statement translated to, "I'd like the bastards kept in the dungeon for as long as possible. So, stretch things out a little."

It was a pity that Yuuri didn't understand that. And even Conrad didn't bother to correct it.

So, now, the woman known as Lady Agnes Rochefort, who was once the toast of the Mazoku upper class circles four decades ago, now found herself behind bars and awaiting judgment.

She snorted, arms folded as she took in her dim cell again. The blasted servant probably wouldn't come by to collect her food tray until almost noon. Set on the floor, there were still the thickening remains of her chunky, black bean soup—the scent of which was beginning to turn her stomach.

Yuck! Peasant food!

If things had gone off as planned by her contact and financial backer from Big Cimaron, she would have been able to leave quietly and without anyone suspecting a thing. She simply had the connections that their group needed. And, her only real part to play was supposed to be in gathering information and introducing the "right people" to the "right people." But, she was determined to kill the half-breed king by her own hand if it came to it—most likely around the time of the reception if they couldn't get him during the ceremony. But Lady Agnes knew from past royal weddings that the guests were commonly scrutinized for weapons. So, that was why one of her cohorts, playing the role of an usher, was to pass her a dagger at the right moment. She was quite skilled with throwing them, she discovered, after a little practice at her summer home.

Too bad Wolfram "the King's Whore" von Bielefeld spotted her accomplice with the poison-tipped dagger in the far left corner.

Oh, it was so frustrating when she really thought about it! All it would have taken was a scratch—just a single one—and the king would be cold in the ground by now.

And, then, that half-breed…Conrad Weller. Agnes made tight fists and stared a hole into the thick, wooden cell door. He jumped in, too, didn't he?

A half breed protecting a half breed.

It was so upsetting—no, down right embarrassing would be a more accurate description—that the country was being ruled by such a "beneath her," "dirt under her foot" underling. But that was the way that Shinou had planned it and, clearly, the ancient spirit had been fooled into thinking that a better life was possible under this child's care. Yuuri Heika's main goal, ridiculous as it was to think of, was peace between the races.

Absurd!

But it wasn't just Yuuri Heika. Now that she thought about it, Lady Agnes didn't trust The Great Sage, either. He was much worse than anyone could have imagined—a human in this lifetime. And, in her humble opinion, he was no more than a sage who had degenerated into a passive sympathizer for Shin Makoku. The only consolations would be that his advice would be weak, ineffective, and tainted.

Dirt! Vermin! Humans were filth and their blood, dirty.

Sunrise had not come, making the sky outside of the woman's window a deep blue color. Half hidden by the clouds, the moon hung in the sky, almost glumly.

A sharp breeze blew in, making her shiver and dive down in her pool of blankets—five in all, which some of the servants called "excessive." But, prisoner or not, she was used to making demands and getting what she wanted of only she yelled loudly enough.

"Lady Agnes, isn't it?"

With a sharp gasp, the Mazoku turned abruptly to see that standing next to her modest, narrow bed was The Original King, dressed in the finery that he typically wore for his portraits. His body held an opaque, ghostly form but it was solid enough to take a seat at the foot of the bed while she trembled.

Her heart raced. Shinou! This was really Shinou!

He was here! Right here! In her cell! Oh, this was a blessing. Agnes clasped her hands together as in prayer. The ancient spirit was here—supporting all she had done and had planned to do. She had not acted against the country after all. She had done Shinou's will. She just didn't know it at the time. He must have guided her, step by step, from the very beginning.

"S-Shinou…sama…?" her voice hopeful.

Leaning in, The Original King grinned at her with a cruel smile and his eyes flicked into slits.

"Let's have a little talk, shall we?"

A freezing cold hand cupped her face and there was the sound of material ripping to shreds.

A victim's scream followed, but no one came. All of the prisoners and guards down below were in a deep, dreamless asleep.


Wolfram shifted again against Yuuri's chest, waking him once more. The double black smiled with a sheepish grin as a pale hand groped for the silk sheet that had fallen away from him yet again.

The hand searching was cute.

Wolfram muttering under his breath about it was cute.

Then, giving up with a dissatisfied grunt, Wolfram cuddled closer to Yuuri—hoping to find both warmth and comfort.

"Wolfram, you're going to get cold," Yuuri whispered to him in a soft admonishment as he pulled the sheets and blankets up once more.

"Yuu…ri?" Wolfram gave a grumble and a groan, moving against the double black sleepily until Wolfram's leg fell in between both of Yuuri's.

"EH???"

The double black was awake now—very much awake! And his face flushed with heat until he told himself that this was just Wolfram being restless. He had a habit of doing weird things like that.

"Nnn…" Wolfram rubbed his nose against Yuuri's shoulder.

"Wolf?" Yuuri said, eyeing the blond to see if he could be awakened gently. At the same time, he was debating how he was going to rid himself of Wolf's invasive leg. "Wolf?"

Sheesh! All I need now is for you to suddenly make a knee with that leg of yours and push up. And I don't feel like getting my nether regions racked this early in the morning. No, scratch that. Let's try…ever!

"Wolf?" he called softly and tried to move his crotch out of the way by shifting his hips. "You…awake?"

He glanced down at Wolfram's profile as a green eye looked up at him.

"Wolf." The name was said with affection and a sigh of relief. "Wolf, I…uh…"

The blond head moved away from Yuuri's chest and a blue eye winked up at him. "Good morning…my king."

"Wait!!! What?!"

A Shinouish smile greeted Yuuri as he did his best to scramble away—as far away as the bed would allow and then some—taking covers and blankets with him.

Still going, the double black tipped off the bed and fell on his back, legs spread in the air in a wide "V."

"Is that an invitation…Yuuri Heika?" was asked with mock innocence.

Before he could utter a comeback, Shinou laughed at him.

Yuuri straightened himself up and leaned across the bed at Shinou. "You could have at least warned me when you decided to possess Wolfram's body again!"

"Yes, well… You didn't seem to mind where I put my leg just then, so…"

Yuuri could feel the blood flush to his face. It wasn't fair. That was a private moment that he thought he had between himself and Wolfram.

"No, actually…" Shinou chuckled at him and then dropped the blankets away from his shoulders. "Truth be told, it was just Wolfram rolling around as he usually does. He'll have no memory of it and the only reason I knew was because I was possessing Wolfram's body again." The smile faded and Shinou gave an even stare to Yuuri—which felt much, much worse. "So, you're off the hook."

"Ah…I see…" Yuuri looked down to break eye contact with him. For some reason, he just needed to.

"Well, actually…you don't." Shinou finished it with a yawn and a good, hard scratch of the golden locks. "I found out a few things while you were sleeping."

"Really?" Black eyes widened. "What?"

"My advice would be to have Anissina analyze the daggers for poison."

Yuuri shook his head. "We already know that they were. Gwendal could just glance at the daggers and tell."

Shinou tossed an annoyed glance at the double black. "Let me finish a thought, will you?"

Now, that sounds more like Wolfram. Yes, those two are definitely related and both are not morning people.

"What I was going to say… before I was so rudely interrupted…" Shinou kicked the blankets away from his legs. "I would suggest seeing whether or not the poison on the daggers were made with the same herbs and elixirs as the poisoned ink in the letters."

"Well…yeah!" Yuuri nodded at that. It made sense.

"Even if the recipe isn't exactly the same," Shinou went on, "there's a good chance that the 'cook' of this poison tends to prefer the same ingredients…or similar ones."

Wolfram's body stretched a little and, then, Yuuri saw it circling the bed. Shinou reached out a hand to him to help him up.

Hesitating for a second, Yuuri took it and Shinou grinned at him.

Maybe, Shinou's not so bad after all.

"Whoa! Wait! Shinou!"

In the next second, Shinou had taken Yuuri roughly around the waist with both arms. "Also, my dear…" he whispered in the double black's ear, "there were four people in that party of assassins, not just the three you have locked up in the dungeons right now. And that's not new information for some of the people who are around you…protecting you…"

There's one more out there?

Yuuri's jaw dropped a little and he shrunk back when Wolfram's face neared his to take advantage of it.

"So, you're saying that Gwendal or Conrad or some of the others knew that…and didn't tell me?"

Shinou chuckled and leaned in again.

Yuuri made an "eep" sound when his back hit the not-quite flat, eastern stone wall of his bedroom. The double black glanced around him, troubled. How did this happen? He narrowed his eyes, hoping to give a "don't mess with me" vibe. The blond, in turn, released him but, instead, put palms on the wall—to the right side and the left side of his head. Shinou used his chest to pin Yuuri in place.

"So, who is it?" Yuuri gritted out, turning his face away so that Shinou couldn't take advantage and kiss him. "A name…"

A name. He really needed a name and a face to connect with this. In his mind, it gave the final assassin less power if he simply knew that much.

"Don't know," floated in his ear followed by a puff of warm air.

It wasn't sexy at all. Yuuri wanted to scratch his ear now. Maybe, The Great Sage liked that kind of thing, but he didn't.

"What I do know?" the blond went on in a seductive tone, and he was enjoying this moment very much. "The person's from Big Cimaron, has connections which funded bribes for the little failed attempt, and…" He smiled against Yuuri's cheek. "All of the communications to the three would-be assassins at your wedding… were by letter…not in person. But that fourth assassin was definitely in Shin Makoku…and believed to be at your wedding…somewhere…during the ceremony."

Shinou was quite proud. He'd done an excellent job of persuading Lady Agnes to cooperate. Yes, a most excellent job even if he did say so himself.

Shinou moved his palms to Yuuri's shoulders, fingers pressing in.

A sharp intake of breath. Blue and green eyes suddenly brightened into a highly polished emerald color. "Get your hands off of Yuuri, Shinou!"

Yuuri blinked in surprise at the body still pinning him to the wall. "Wolfram!"

"And, Shinou, if you so much as lay a lip on him, I won't let you possess me anymore AND I'll tell The Great Sage about all of those times you peeked on him in the shower AND those times you made him have dreams about touching…!" He wiggled his eyebrows in meaning. "You know what I'm talking about! Hear me? I'll do it!"

Wolfram, chin turned up, was shouting at the ceiling, but Yuuri knew what was really going on.

"A…Agreed…" was gritted out after Wolfram's body crumbled against Yuuri's. The double black caught him, steadying him.

After a few shallow breaths, blue and green eyes returned and Shinou sighed with frustration. "Fine, fine… He's yours…" Shinou released Yuuri and took a few steps away. "I was only joking anyway" he grumbled to himself.

Leave it to Wolfram and Yuuri Heika to take the fun out of things.

Yuuri ruffled his own hair with a disbelieving "Yeah, right" while his heart went out to Wolfram. Even trapped where he was, Wolfram somehow knew Shinou was taking advantage and he wouldn't allow it. Then, Yuuri thought about it. "By the way, why don't you just let Wolfram have his body back…if he's so much trouble, I mean?"

Yes, he would like that. Even Wolfram's fireball-nature was preferable to the unpredictable power of Shinou.

The Original King gave him a crooked smile. It was surprising how quickly he could switch gears like that. "Well, to begin with, I'm not the hot head that he is."

Yuuri almost scoffed at that openly.

"Plus, he'd probably walk right past a clue and never know it. And, then…" He turned to face Yuuri. "Someone's got to be your chaperone." He laughed at his joke, not being able to keep his face straight any longer. "Besides, someone's trying to shield their actions from me and I want to know how it's being done."

Okay, that last one sounds more like the truth, Yuuri thought. But he frowned at the Original King when he heard him continue to utter the word "chaperone" with devious chuckles in the background.

"Seriously?" Yuuri crossed his arms in disbelief. "You? A chaperone?" The words "Shinou" and "chaperone" were as alike as bookends. "Do you even see yourself as being the morally responsible type?"

The blond turned and placed hands at his heart and in a mocking tone said, "I'm crushed that you'd think I lacked a moral compass."

Meanwhile, down in the dungeon, Lady Agnes, still naked from the waist up, was hanging, suspended by her wrists—tied up with her very own lace bra to the iron bars at the window looking into her cell.

Rat whiskers had been drawn on her face in black bean soup as well as a long, curvy "tail" painted on her back with the word "traitor" on her forehead.

And it had taken her a full thirty minutes of deciding what to do. But, finally, she did.

She'd call for help.

"Hello?! Guards?!" She shook her head violently, fat breasts doing a lumpy bunny-flop. "Guards! Oi! Shinou's ripped off my bra and it's stretching out!" She struggled, pulling hard and only managing to stand on tippi-toes. "Somebody get in here and help me with my bra!" She yelled even louder, "And it's getting cold in here!"

"Guards?"

"Guards?!"

"SOMEBODY!"