Hey guys! I would just like to say that I'm so so so so so so (1000x) sorry for the really realllllllly long delay. D: Writer's block can be really mean, especially when it targets my favorite story (this one)! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, because I had lots of fun writing it! :D Go ahead and read!
Chapter 25: The Duel
The next few days didn't go so well. The sedition, which Jérémie did pretty good on thanks to Herve's previous breakout, angered the government, causing them to push the date of the duel two weeks before the expected time.
This means that Jérémie now has two days to practice for the duel. Unfortunately, a large chunk of that will have to be spent in a carriage.
Of course, the whole of Eurasia's Army was freaking out. Ulrich and Jérémie practiced hard the night before, but due to his lack of skill, Jérémie couldn't get it quite right. When the royal mode of transportation was there to pick him up, Ulrich had no choice but to tag along with two swords in hand. Thankfully, the body of the carriage was spacious, so it was fairly easy to practice swinging and handling during the ride. Although, the bumpy roads almost caused a few accidents.
Aelita was already at the duel site the morning of the duel. Her throne was set up outside at the site, which was nothing but mere dirt. It shockingly resembled the battlefield back at headquarters.
That left Odd and Brynga, who both decided to stay at headquarters. Like usual, Brynga trained and Odd taught his classes.
Or so they thought.
"Theo Gauthier?"
"Here."
"Claire Girard?"
"Here."
"Brynga Heringsdötir?
Silence. Odd tucked the pen behind his ear and rose and eyebrow in question. "Brynga?" he called again. By this time, everyone began to look around with him, searching for any sign of that blonde hair. "Where could she be?" he mumbled.
Odd left the assembled group of warriors and sauntered towards the girls' side of headquarters. It wasn't like Brynga to miss practice, so a look of worry chose to settle on his features. He tried his best to think of all the possibilities, but none succeeded in satisfying him. Once in front of Brynga's door, he raised his fist to pound on it–that is, until he heard a strange string of words coming from the other side. All thoughts of Brynga's weird absence flew out his mind and it surrendered itself to the words.
"Dashiel, I have to go–I'm already late," said a voice that shockingly resembled Brynga's Icelandic accent. "Yes I know, we're proceeding on to the next step."
Odd's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in pure fury. A mixture of anger and confusion began to fill his mind to the brim until he couldn't think straight anymore. Dashiel? Why would Brynga be talking to Dashiel? Unless...
She's part of the Kinimods!
Odd's eyebrows began to twitch as a bead of sweat rolled down his left temple. His heart was beating out of his chest so hard that he was afraid that Brynga could hear it. Shaking his head, he quietly inched himself closer to the door and pressed his ear against it, straining to grasp the next sentence.
"Yes, yes, I got the plan down."
Another mental blow to the head, and a slight ache began to grow within Odd's skull. His hand hovered shakily around the door's handle; he was deathly afraid to see what was on the other side of that door. But he heard enough and had enough. Taking a deep breath, he furrowed his brow to brace himself, then pulled the door open with the master key.
A wave of dizziness assaulted his mind for a second before he regained his balance.
What he saw proved his theory right.
Brynga veered her head to look at Odd, her locks of blonde hair flipping around to reveal her face. Tucked inside her ear was a black communication device, revealing her dirty tricks all along.
"Brynga..." Odd trailed off. Narrowing his eyes, he inhaled through his nose and balled his fists. "How could you?"
"Y-you didn't just hear all that, did you?" she quietly asked.
Odd shot her the best glare he could currently muster and turned away. "I heard everything, Brynga." A mix of betrayal and hurt hit him like a shockwave, and he almost couldn't breathe. The cold, hard truth struck him before he could prepare himself–all along, he was crushing on a-a... criminal.
Brynga's eyes widened considerably in response to Odd's current revelation. Stiffly, she walked past him towards her door and closed it, wanting for some privacy. Meanwhile, she wanted to punish herself for being so stupid–for letting someone so easily find out her secret. She didn't want this, and she was almost on the verge of tears.
She hated the lying. She hated everything about being a Kinimod. Knowing how much this hurt Odd and everyone else that trusted her made her finally realize the truth. But it was too late.
Her acts made her a Kinimod. No one else. Walking towards Odd in desperation, she wrapped her hands around one of his. "Odd.." she pleaded, "please don't tell anyone."
In response, he only pulled away and took a step back. "How can I keep something like this from Jérémie and the others?" he asked. Slowly, quietly, a knife sawed its way into Odd's heart, and he had to grip his chest to keep himself in control. Otherwise, he'd lose it. "You're a Kinimod, Brynga, and that's unforgivable."
"If only I could explain-"
"There's nothing to say," Odd cut her off, shaking his head slowly. "There's nothing at all you could say to make things better."
Odd swiftly turned on his heel and began his walk towards the door. The Icelandic stared in pure shock as he did–she never knew that Odd could become so despondent and serious despite his usual lighthearted attitude.
She clenched her fists and tried her best to shake out of her daze. "King Dominik... is my father," she choked out in a last single attempt to get him to understand. "That's why I had to become a Kinimod, Odd," she continued. "I-it wasn't my choice!"
Bam!
Brynga's words took form of the spikes of a club and dug themselves deep into Odd's brain, causing himself to freeze in a shock. His muscles tense, he tried to fathom the fact–the pieces fit together so well to the point that they became so inconceivable. Odd wanted this whole thing to be a lie–a nightmare.
His legs threatening to falter beneath him, Odd narrowed his eyes and opened the door.
Instantly, he was hit with a wave of battle cries. In the arena stood the Kinimods in uniform rows as Eurasia's Army stood in a cluttered mess.
The eccentric teen spun his head to look back at Brynga. "You called them, didn't you?"
Melting away from her previous pleading demeanor, an evil smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She didn't need to act so vulnerable now that the rest of the Kinimods were here. "Of course I did," she answered tauntingly.
Taking her cue, Dashiel emerged from the group of Kinimods, his hands clasped behind his back. "Pleased to see you again, #625," he coldly greeted.
As Odd narrowed his eyes in confusion, Brynga let out an evil laugh. With a few backflips, she propelled herself to merge with the rest of the Kinimods, and she high-fived a few of them as they welcomed her back.
That cut deep into Odd. He just didn't know what to think anymore. Shaking his head, he took battle stance with the rest of Eurasia's Army–he refused to show pain or weakness. "Brynga might've let the secret slip too soon," Dashiel began, "But it doesn't really matter, since we already have done what we wanted."
Dashiel glanced at his watch. "You have... let's say half an hour before this whole place blows up." Odd widened his eyes in shock and slowly lowered his fists as Dashiel continued, "A couple of our trusted spies have planted explosives in the building's vital areas. Of course-" he snapped his fingers and a few Kinimods flashed towards the exits. "-We're not letting you out."
"What about you guys?" William asked. Odd veered his head to look at him, a faltering smile growing at his lips. He was thankful for the assistance–too much was happening right now for him to speak for himself. "You're going to die as well if you guys don't get out."
"On the contrary, my friend." Dashiel opened his palm to reveal a sapphire ring. "The Guardian's Ring is in our possession. A simple conjuring, and we're protected."
William seemed taken aback. "B-but I thought-"
"We stole it," he answered simply. "The government's security is just a mere pest, to say the least."
"We're getting out of here, no matter what you say," Odd retorted, not feeling the slightest bit deterred by the given challenge. "We can take you and your teammates down!"
Dashiel chuckled. "We'll see about that," he replied. Taking battle stance, he ordered, "ATTACK!"
Meanwhile, Odd pointed towards the Kinimods and dove in. The rest followed.
The two separated groups, one clad in white, one clad in black, merged and began battle.
...Today, the light and dark really did collide.
Mick trudged up the steps to get to the top of the elevated platform that held the Queen's throne. Stopping next to Aelita, he pulled out a scroll from the depths of his jacket and loudly cleared his throat. "We all gathered here today to witness the battling for the Queen's heart," he began in a sumptuous voice which was much unlike his usual tone. "The competitors!" He raised his arms up in front of him as the spectators applauded.
"To the left, we have Jérémie Belpois, chief of Eurasia's Army!"
As Mick happily motioned to the left of him, Jérémie approached the center of the site, clad in loose fitted blue cloths. On his head was a metal helmet with a blue feather protruding from the top, and in each hand was a katana–Ulrich was only able to teach him how to handle that type of sword. Large applause was given to him when he appeared, and he tried his best not to glare at the government, who had front row seats.
Meanwhile, Aelita gripped the armrests of her throne until her knuckles turned a shade of ghostly white. Her lips pursed to a thin line, a bead of sweat rolled down her face as she locked eyes with Jérémie; she was worried, and it was made very apparent. Jérémie, quickly noticing this, gave the pinkette a reassuring nod–a smile wouldn't be possible, for the helmet was obscuring view of his face. Aelita mustered a weak grin in return–she was thankful for his willingness... Besides, what could a baker possibly do to the head of the police department?
"To the right, we have Hervé Pichon, son of the most well-known baker in Vézelay!"
Aelita's head snapped up and away from Jérémie's comforting gaze as Mick's now slightly downcast voice rose up again. She directed her line of sight to the right of her, where Hervé was just approaching the center to meet Jérémie. Much to her delight, not as enthusiastic applause erupted from the crowd, clearly showing their desire for him to lose. The baker didn't seem deterred, though, for he continued to wave in a celebrity-like manner, a large smile occupying his lips. Aelita then shifted her gaze to watch the government's reactions and disgracefully found them to be smirking. She swallowed hard as she tried to comprehend their looks–it looked as if they had trained Hervé to the furthest extent they could. His outfit even reflected that, for he was clad in a more impressive get-up: loose fitted green and gold cloths with a helmet which resembled Jérémie's–though the feather was larger and green in contrary to his blue one.
"Will the rivals please shake hands?"
The two competitors reluctantly moved their gazes to look at one another. No one, not even the audience made a sound to break the still humid air. Jérémie looked at Aelita, then Hervé's hand–he wasn't sure if he should make the first move or let Hervé do it. He hated his guts, and he found the baker to be ill-mannered; the thought of him slapping Aelita made the blonde clench and unclench his fists in a futile way to vent out his anger.
He was going to win this with all he's got, especially after the way Hervé treated Aelita.
Meanwhile, Hervé looked to the side away from Jérémie–he was enraged that someone dare take away his Queen. But he wasn't worried; the best trainers were at his side. At that comforting thought, a boastful smirk grew at his lips, quietly setting off his competitor.
Surprisingly, Jérémie was the first to stiffly bring out his hand. A smile graced Mick's lips as he did; at that moment, he knew that Jérémie was the right guy for his little Aelita. Shaking out of his thoughts, the smile quickly dissolved and was replaced by another one of his impassive gazes–he wasn't to show any expression that would go against his impartial façade.
In response to his sudden approach, Hervé looked down at Jérémie's hand with disgust. With a grimace, he slowly intertwined palms with the blonde, and they rigidly moved their hands in an up-and-down manner.
Once that was finished, Jérémie and Hervé recoiled from each other's grasps and spun their heads to gaze at Mick. "Fantastic," he spoke.
Looking down at the scroll, he began to discuss the directions: "I will be holding two flags: one blue, the other green," he said. "Clearly, the colors correspond with each of the competitors' outfits–the flag that is raised at the conclusion of the battle signifies the winner. Now, to win, one of the two men will have to simply wound the other with the cut of a sword; once blood is shed, the victor is determined. Plainly, the award is the right to take Aelita's hand in future marriage–to take power of the throne as King."
Jérémie and Hervé gave impassive nods which told Mick that they understood.
The blare of an air horn, and the duel began. All thoughts of losing were dispelled from Jérémie's mind, and the vacancy was filled with thoughts of pure determination. The fear completely dissolved within him, and only adrenaline began to pump through his veins. Ever since his first meeting with Dashiel, he hadn't felt like this in ages. It was... great. He tightly gripped his swords and pointed them out in front of him, daring Hervé to make the first move. A look of utter stoics graced the blonde's features–he wasn't going to give in!
Hervé clenched his teeth and let out a snarl in response to Jérémie's sudden calmness. With this, he quickly advanced and fell on his knees, sliding across the dirt until he was in proximity with Jérémie's exposed legs. In a second, he then took a quick slash... but missed due to Jérémie's keen jolt back.
The blonde then bent his knees slightly and took real fighting stance as he watched Hervé get up. Ulrich gazed at the growing battle with pure intensity from the bleachers–he knew that Jérémie was going to make his move now. Sure enough, he did, and advanced on Hervé just as quickly with one of his swords pointed out in front of him. Then once he got close enough, he threw Hervé off by imitating a slash with his left sword and taking a quick spin, elbowing him in the stomach with his right arm soon after.
As Hervé fell back and dropped his sword to grip his now throbbing abdomen, Jérémie intimidatingly approached. Meanwhile, Ulrich stood up from his seat and shouted, "YEAH!" with the rest of the audience as pure pride at his successful teaching flooded his veins. Aelita also smiled at the joyful sight and leaned out of her throne to gaze even closer. She braced herself for the final cut, until-
Jérémie seemed to have blacked out for the moment. As the tip of his sword barely hovered over Hervé's pasty skin, a feeling of utter guilt took over his body, and a frown instantly grew.
He couldn't hurt someone, even if he was holding back.
It just didn't seem right!
Needing to think, the blonde dug one of his blades into the ground fairly close to Hervé's left arm, and he impulsively flinched away, whimpering in response. Then, with his free hand, Jérémie gripped his locks of gold hair and sighed exasperatedly through his clenched teeth, angered at himself for not going through with this.
If only he didn't live purely by morals. Then he'd take Hervé down with no problem. Picking up the sword again, Jérémie brought it back to its previous position: barely grazing Hervé's chin. He kept it hovering there and not moving, for he didn't want him to take advantage of this sudden set back. He just needed some time to get over this, that's all.
"C'mon, Jérémie–only a small incision, and that's all," he thought to himself.
Meanwhile, Ulrich's cellphone buzzed within his pocket. Looking at the caller ID, he rose an eyebrow at finding it to be Odd. "Hello?" he whispered.
"Ulrich!" he called. Ulrich grimaced at the sudden blaring of his high-pitched, yet masculine voice. "The Kinimods are here!"
Ulrich's heart took a stab at the sudden surprise. His chest suddenly felt constricted. "What?" he half whispered, half yelled. At first, he didn't believe it, but after straining his ears, he could barely make out the yells of battle cries and the clanging of weapons in the background. Nevertheless, he impetuously let out, "You're kidding!"
On the other side of the line, Odd shook his head vigorously. He was hiding in one of the many rooms of headquarters, counting down the seconds until he would get caught by one of the black-clad commandos. "We have half and hour before the whole place blows up. What's more, Brynga is one of them." He swallowed hard at the pain that came rushing back. "Head spy, in fact."
Ulrich widened his eyes. His breathing instantly hitched. "Th-that's impossible," he shot back.
But once he said that, he instantly regretted it, for the facts came running back to him again: Brynga's 'natural' fighting talent. Her flexibility. Her split personality; one time she could be naïve, the other flirty and deceiving. Ulrich then eyed Aelita, who was looking back at him suspiciously. She noticed the phone call as well, and wanted to know what was going on.
"I'll pick you guys up with the Dragon's Barrette," Odd instantly offered. "I'll see you later- GAH!"
The line was then quickly cut off. "Odd!" Ulrich yelled into the receiver, shaking it hard. "ODD!"
All of it was in vain. Once he shut his phone, Ulrich locked eyes with Aelita once again. When she quirked an eyebrow at him, Ulrich mouthed, "Trouble," and silently rose from his seat.
Aelita, meanwhile, straightened her posture within her throne. Shifting her skirts, she mouthed back, "Kinimods?"
Ulrich nodded gravely in reply. Aelita's green eyes then grew considerably in size at the sudden alert, and she proceeded with trying to get Jérémie's attention. She leaned out of her throne, and began to call out his name. "Jérémie!" she whispered.
Jérémie impetuously took his gaze from Hervé and spun his head to face the pinkette. "Aelita, is there something wrong?" he asked.
He immediately regretted asking the question. Hervé, taking advantage to this sudden lapse of concentration, jabbed Jérémie in the stomach with his left foot. The blonde instantly fell back as the wind was knocked right out of his lungs–he collided with the ground much sooner than he wanted to. Then, taking no hesitation at all, his competitor clad in green and gold cloths rose his sword and inevitably-
Aelita grasped her armrests tightly. Her facial expression contorting into that of distress, she yelled, "JEREMIE!"
But it was too late. Hervé gave his cheek a shallow slice, and beads of blood began to slowly drip from it. Jérémie, feeling the sudden sting, placed his hand against his assumed wound and brought it back to his eyes–it was stained with red. He widened his eyes at the sight, then fell back in shock. He couldn't believe he could be so stupid.
Like that, his heart shattered like glass. Aelita had the same reaction as she collapsed within her throne.
The green flag was risen, and Mick couldn't believe his eyes. Most of the audience screamed in pure outrage, and the government had content looks on each and every one of their faces, the complete opposite. Tears welled in Aelita's eyes–even though she knew that the Kinimods were more important than this, this was still important to her. Staring blankly at the sight, she took time for the fact to sink in.
Hervé won. And there was nothing anyone could do to change it.
Author's Note: I'm very satisfied with this chapter. :D After weeks of writer's block, I finally got the inspiration to continue just a few days ago. This came out of me fairly quickly. (: Before some of you blame Jérémie's loss on Aelita, I would just like to say that she was only trying to tell him to get the duel over with so that they could get back to headquarters. LOL, so yeah. Feel free to review, guys! They're really appreciated! If you're very confused about the Kinimods' plan in taking over the continent, don't worry, because all of it will be cleared up... soon enough. XD
Explanation of this chapter's events: Brynga really was Dominik's daughter and #625. That would explain all of her weird dreams, right? Plus, she really hates being a Kinimod–she was forced to by the pressure of her own father. Of course, once she joined, she quickly grew to liking it because of the exhilaration that came with it. But once she knew how much it hurt Odd and everyone that trusted her instantly made her change her opinion.
Also, I'm very sorry if you feel that Brynga's reveal as a Kinimod is a bit rushed. It was either this, or make Ulrich and Brynga fall in love and have them find out that way (I'll explain that in the deleted scenes once this story is finished). XD You guys like this choice a lot better, huh? You're welcome. (; As always, I love you guys! Thanks for anticipating this chapter, and motivating me to update! Next chapter shall be fun and exciting, yeah? :)))