(A/N) Late update again, but by now I think late is on time...isn't it? Anyways, this chapter is action-packed. If any of you have watched the Symphonia OVA, I took care to align this part with the United World Opening. Rewatch it if you want, and you'll spot the scene I'm talking about~ Hope y'all enjoy, please R&R!
Disclaimer: If I did own, I wouldn't have to speculate about ambiguous but awesome openings in order to get them to line up with my story...
Chapter 28
The pitch dark made even the palest of objects near impossible to see. All Kratos could make out were the cold iron bars and the boundaries of his cell. The dampness of his clothes had reverted to a stiff coolness, but left an unshakable chill behind. Despite feeling lethargy seeping into his system, Kratos stood and began to pace the tiny, rectangular encasement. Feet tread lightly, making the measured and softly scraping noise of boot on stone.
"It's useless." The voice Kratos knew to be Zerai muttered with exhaustion, "Pacing isn't going to get you out, trust me." However, Kratos was definitely not in the mood for skeptic doubts.
"Pardon me if I don't take a dead man's word for it." He quipped back, never ceasing in step. Perhaps it was a bit harsh, but really- the Sylvaranti had obviously given up. Why should Kratos? A long silence gave the impression that the cool remark might've shut him up, but Kratos was not so lucky.
"Fair enough." He chuckled amicably, "So you were with the civilian population just yesterday if you know about my execution. That means your capture was recent. Here I thought you'd just been elevated to solitary with me." Despite a sound logic, Kratos was not amused.
"Don't waste your dwindling breath telling me things I already know." He hissed. He could not formulate any sort of plan to get them all out with such a constant chatter. Pointless drivel, more like.
"Ooh. Friendly aren't you?" The voice drawled on, unperturbed by Kratos' desire for quiet. "By the hostility I'm sensing, I'll venture to guess that you're Tethe'allan." Kratos would've pinched the bridge of his nose were his hands free.
"Do not mistake my aversion for regional disgust." He stopped pacing just long enough to locate what he thought was the still body of the Sylvaranti across the hall. "I dislike you because you are a liar." The ensuing calm was longer, thankfully, and Kratos was contemplating how he might use his current possessions to pick the lock. Well, he was, until his fellow prisoner finally gathered his thoughts.
"What might have given you the impression that I'm dishonest?" Guardedness told Kratos that he was being reconsidered. A short conclusion later, Kratos figured that he might as well enlighten the man- they would likely both die anyways.
"I heard you confess to the charges against you." His words, while begrudgingly spoken, were hard and unforgiving, "-and I am certain that you could not possibly have committed at least one of them." He made sure to emphasize his disapproval, "Ergo you are a liar." Kratos fingered the sliver of metal on his tunic sleeve, holding the flap closed. If he ripped it off, the thin piece might just fit into the lock. As hard as it would be to pick with such a rudimentary and angular piece, it would be impossible to do behind his back, where his hands were bound.
"Which crime do you pretend to have knowledge on?" Kratos wanted to groan when the question was asked with curiosity and not defensiveness or caution. He did not want this man warming up to him. He huffed at the renewed strand of conversation.
"The sabotage at Latheon Gorge." He deadpanned as he knelt down into a sitting position to clumsily attempt to get his bound hands under his legs. If he could just shift the bindings so that his wrists were in front of his body then-
"If you are so certain, then you must either presume to know the real culprit, or you believe yourself to be guilty. So which is it?" Thoughtful silence broken and train of thought thoroughly wrecked, Kratos grit his teeth.
"Irrelevant. Now please, stop trying to be clever. And. Shut. Up." His patience was thin enough as is, and he did not prefer idle speculation to action. On a different level, he recognized he was being vastly callous and rude to a man that was probably going to be hanged by morning. However, if he saved the man's life in the process, it really didn't matter, did it?
"I'm beginning to think you're just not a people-person." Of course he wasn't granted silence, but instead an irritating tone of voice- edgy and begging to start a quarrel.
"What was your first clue?" He bit back spitefully, every bit as confrontationally, finally yanking his boots through the unbreakable circle of his bound arms.
"I somehow get the feeling that you don't want to talk to me." The cheeky replies were grating Kratos' nerves. Regardless of innocence, the Sylvaranti needed a telling-off. Kratos would not be drawn into an argument, though. He was far too busy.
"Tch." He did not deign to respond, but focused on loosening the ropes the best he could from this newer angle.
"Luckily enough for me, you are a captive audience. You'll have to deal with me until I die." The chipper voice hid the familiar hopelessness Kratos had first heard. Kratos sighed, almost tempted to voice his thoughts on the matter. Instead, he tore the metal strip off his sleeve and fingered it thoughtfully.
Captive audience, my ass.
He moved to work on picking the lock. It would be quite a feat if he succeeded, but it was worth a shot no matter how slim the odds were.
Mithos' fingers curled, itching for the weapon he no longer had in his possession. He glanced up to the slits of light weakly pouring through the grates bordering the top of their cell. It was getting dimmer outside. Night would fall soon enough. They were shut up in a dirty, musty smelling pit. The adjacent rooms were filled with other halflings of all ages, some young like him and Martel, and even much older ones. The kind that could be several hundred years old. Who knew how long they'd been here?
Luckily enough, he was given the same space as Martel, and they were presently attempting to remove their bindings.
"Sometimes I feel like I don't have the slightest clue what's going on." Martel sighed behind him, tugging on the thick ropes numbly. A dull whisper had been droning on among the other cells, so her words went on unnoticed.
"D'ya know why they were after Kratos? They were so serious about it, too." Mithos didn't like what Nyx had suggested about death if captured. The buzz of voices abruptly hushed down, so much so that Mithos thought a prison guard might be coming. No guard was forthcoming, but the woman across the aisle shuffled closer in her cell. She wasn't too old- it was hard to tell with half-elves once they reached their mid-twenties- and she had long silver locks that swayed when she moved. Oddly enough, her pale eyes were trained on Mithos through the two layers of rusty iron barring.
"Did you say Kratos? Is he still alive?" A murmur of discord went around, breaking the fleeting quiet. Mithos inched nearer to the bars as well. Another person that knew him? In prison of all places?
"You know him?" Mithos retorted dubiously.
"He may not be alive for much longer." Martel spoke darkly, "He was captured when we were." The elven lady stood quickly upon the news.
"He had to return now of all times!" She exclaimed. "If only it had been earlier." Evidently, they shared some sort of tie, but Mithos was still ignorant to whatever it was. Perhaps he could finally get answers.
"How do you know him?" He pried, curious.
"I was a servant to the Palace before the military took over. Most of us were." She glanced to some of the others. "I was there years ago, before he set off." She exhaled as if reliving some memory. Mithos' brow scrunched. Kratos lived in the castle?
"I'm not sure I follow, exactly." Martel's green eyebrows crept together in confusion. "What business did Kratos have at the castle?" Those being precisely Mithos' thoughts, he gave the woman his rapt attention.
"You don't know?" Obviously. Mithos wanted to say as much, but it would've only slowed down the conversation. Instead he shook his head in response. "Kratos Aurion? We are talking about the same man?" she continued. Mithos blinked.
"Aurion as in the royal family." Martel said softly, as the revelation sunk in. "That would explain quite a bit." Royal. Mithos squirmed a bit as he thought about it. A couple of odd pieces floated about in his head-
"Daisuke Hayato?" Mithos didn't miss Yuan blanch at the name and slightly hang his head.
"It's true that I went by that name five years ago." Kratos sheathed his blade with the grating noise of metal on metal, looking a bit put off by revealing such information.
"Are you some kind of fugitive? A celebrity?"
"Something of the sort. I'll only tell you that it would hinder our progress."
Kratos stepped closer to the desk, and leaned over it- mumbling something too low for Mithos to hear. The soldier behind the desk paled considerably, and his eyes shot back to Kratos' expressionless face in a soundless analysis. He stood quickly, pushing back his stool.
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I'll take you to see her right away."
Martel was right. It did make sense. So much sense, Mithos wondered how he missed it the first time. Kratos was a- a prince. Living in Kharlan for the most part shielded both Mithos and Martel from some of the finer points of noble gossip, but when they did arrive, he remembered there was a big deal about the King's son going missing. Kratos had left the palace willingly, on purpose even, for some reason. Rumor had it that he didn't want to inherit the throne, but Mithos was so far detached that he really knew next to nothing about it.
So all this time they were traveling together, with a mute Kratos and a secretive Yuan, really they were avoiding attention. Yuan had known. Somehow, Kratos had figured that dropping his name was worth the risk to get into the Queen's chambers, -er his sister's chambers. Mithos partly agreed, if it weren't for the woman's limited power.
He wondered why Kratos hadn't told them.
He might not trust them. Mithos, shell-shocked as he was by Kratos' secret, somehow didn't think that was true. He felt trusted when he talked to him. Maybe Kratos saw his status as a disadvantage rather than helpful. Like a handicap? Mithos shrugged the thought off. Knowing why he was here helped a bit, but it made the material no easier to digest. Mithos did his best to focus on the here and now.
If the military wanted Kratos because he was a threat, then Mithos could be sure that they would get pulled out of their cells for interrogation soon. They still had hope in Yuan and Xilia- both free and hopefully under the radar. Maybe they could spring an escape then? His thoughts were broken with a new hush of the ever whispering voices and the clunk of boots. Martel leaned on his shoulder reassuringly, but he peered around the bars down the aisle anyways.
Soldiers had come for them.
Yuan was one more precarious situation away from a full-blown panic attack. He had ditched Xilia in favor of traveling in stealth, but at every turn he was second-guessing himself. Perhaps stupidly, he had daringly snuck into the prison without any backup. He'd told Xilia to stay low and monitor the town square for any activity regarding their companions, but she seemed just as lost as he was. Yuan's hand fell to his pocket as he thought about it, fingering the cool, hard stone that was tucked inside.
"I-I don't know what to do." She muttered desolately. They were both standing in an abandoned alley way two blocks away from the prison that Martel, Mithos, and Kratos had been dragged into. Yuan's hand clenched around the fabric of his cloak, kneading the material frustratedly. He couldn't help but agree.
"I have to try to go after them- even if it's a lost cause. It was my fault for letting him get you guys in." Teal eyes darted out to the street. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched in the militaresque town. Xilia opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again.
"Do you know anything about the prison? I don't have a clue as to how it's organized." They were on the same track. Yuan shook his head grimly.
"Me neither. You should stay here. If they plan on publicly executing any of them for whatever reason, at least you'll know." Yuan made sure not to mention how useless knowing would be, since she obviously wouldn't be able to do anything about it if she did stay. She left it unspoken as well, tugging on the strap of her pack to pull it off of her shoulder.
"I know you might not like the idea, but I have some extra Cruxis Crystals. You don't stand a chance against so many guards, but maybe, it could help?" She didn't sound so convinced, and Yuan was frowning already. She was offering him the same rock that gave Kratos all those difficulties? It was true that they said the majority of the problems revolved around the fact that he was human and not elven, but on principle he just couldn't accept.
"Hell would freeze over before I put one of those things on." It sounded bitter to his ears. But Xilia's eyes were trained on him behind her glasses, calculating.
"If it was the only way to save them?" She slid one of the glittering jewels out from her bag and held out the dark stone to him. He couldn't help but think that the deep violet looked like potent poison, but-
"Then Hell's already frozen over." He sighed as he took the crystal, cut into a glossy diamond. It was so clean and cool to the touch, that to Yuan it was unnatural and synthetic. His skin crawled at the thought of fastening it to himself. He'd only use it if it came down to him against insurmountable odds.
The Cruxis Crystal lay like a weight in his pocket as he peeked around the next corner. He'd gotten in by slipping between the scheduled patrols, and found himself in a mostly empty building chalk full of corridors leading to hall after hall of cells. Only a few of those large rooms had been full of criminals to Tethe'alla, but he'd come across empty ones, too.
Yuan bounced on his toes nervously as he came across another staircase leading down. His primary goal was to find Kratos. Together they could all get out much faster as Kratos would know how to find the elven siblings more efficiently than he could now. That begged the question, would Kratos be below? Or on his current floor? He'd turned so many corners and flown down so many hallways that he was beginning to believe himself hopelessly lost.
Yuan Kaafei didn't get lost, he told himself, mustering as much confidence as he had left. Six years ago, if someone had told him that he'd be breaking the heir to the Tethe'allan throne out of a Tethe'allan prison in the country's capital, he would've laughed until he cried.
It took him half of a moment to decide that Kratos would be deeper in the prison. Jails were designed to keep people in, not out, so it would make sense that someone of a significant threat to the government would be stuck as far into the building as possible. He took the steps two at a time going down, noticing the lit torches mounted on the walls becoming further apart. Gradually the scene darkened and the halfling had to be much more carefully finding his footing. Each floor he descended, he scoured for another stair well. Eventually he could find none.
The dank basement had several rows of cages- cells, Yuan corrected himself, lying in neat aisles. After a bit of searching, the half-elf was almost willing to admit he'd made a mistake in delving so deep. There was no one there. But when his feet traced the final steps down to the last remaining row of encasements, Yuan could make out light breathing and the murmur of words.
He opened his mouth to call out, pace quickening to reach the end of the row where the voices were coming from, but a growing flicker of light around the region kept him from speaking. He immediately dropped into a crouch and retreated around the corner he came from, watching the men come with torches. There were at least six of them, from what Yuan could see, and easily more were waiting at the stairs, evident from the orange glow by the only exit on the floor.
Their heavy steps echoed in the empty chamber, their voices loud and peculiar to the silence that had grown. The jingle of keys was obvious, and Yuan narrowed his eyes as the red light carved a bright circle around his would-be destination. A barred door swung open.
It was Kratos who they pulled out of the cell, and Yuan cursed that he wasn't two minutes earlier. The man's hair was mussed, his arms bound, and tunic torn, but he looked fine. Well, he looked irritated, but that was normal.
Yuan's feet stalled. He couldn't expect to break Kratos free from a group of men with endless backup. He could either wait for him to return, or he could follow the soldiers. Either way, it was a testy situation and Yuan grimaced at how stupid his timing had to be. Hadn't it been less than four hours since Kratos had been captured? Why would they move him so soon?
"General Tristan wants to speak to you." A particularly loud guard mentioned as they escorted their bound prisoner towards the stairs. A general? It smelled very much like one of those 'counsel' things, so Yuan crept back around the corner as the torch bearers retreated to the steps with Kratos in tow. The last of the soldiers had noisily clanked back up the stairs when he finally reached Kratos' cell, now empty. He stared at it vacantly for a moment while he gathered his thoughts.
Follow, or wait.
"I don't think that you're supposed to be here." Yuan almost jumped out of his skin at the voice that sounded behind him, spinning automatically to face the cell on the opposite side of the aisle. The dimness made it harder to see, but after overcoming his initial shock, Yuan stepped closer to get a better look. The dark hair and thin frame confirmed his suspicions.
"Zerai Mysan?" Yuan narrowed his eyes. He'd been daft to not have expected another person, he'd heard voices, and Kratos would most certainly not have been the one talking, especially to himself. At hearing his name, the imprisoned Sylvaranti hoisted himself up to stand directly across from Yuan.
"You know my name, too? What are the odds of that?" Yuan could more easily size up the man's disheveled appearance when he was closer, and it was made abundantly clear that he had been mired in this pit for quite some time. Yuan was cautious, though. His priority was Kratos, no matter how much Kratos thought he was responsible for this man's crimes.
"Do you know where they took him?" Yuan tipped his head back towards Kratos' old cell, constantly aware of the time he was losing should he choose to follow the Tethe'allans.
"The grumpy one? Not a clue, though it looked like a Counsel meeting from the number of guards. Seriously, how many people do they need to put on him?" Yuan's lips quirked at the Sylvaranti's description. "Are you here to bust him out?" The half-smile dropped from Yuan's face.
"Yeah." He nodded, finally making up his mind. Two were better than one, right? "If I get you out, will you help me?" The steely grey eyes of the other flashed in the dark.
"I'd be stupid to refuse a deal like that."
Mithos felt a frown tug on his lips when Kratos was dragged into view in front of them. They must've all been going to the same place. A small part of him had hoped that the redhead had made a miraculous escape, but clearly not. They were all shuffled in an immense group of soldiers not out of the jail, but further into the labyrinth than Mithos had been before. Martel fidgeted at his side, calm but not anxiety-free as she might like him to believe.
They were none too kindly pushed into a very spacious central room. It was the first of which Mithos had seen in the prison that had tall windows, letting in the dusky light. It was so roomy, in fact, that Mithos was genuinely curious as to the need for such a large room. It could only be for some luxury reason, because it was vacant of cells, and though the ceiling was low, it had an imperial feel to it. A feel that was reinforced by the decorous chair resembling a throne placed at the end of the room. A low platform sat to their right, and the walls had rows of ionic columns hiding any furniture that could have humanized the place.
The floor had been draped with a long red carpet that was reminiscent of the castle. From the well-dressed group of men awaiting them on the platform, Mithos figured that this was their version of a trial. Not a real trial, but an audience with the Counsel was as close as they were going to get, so he wasn't complaining. Even the excessive number of axe-bearing guards did not put him off too much.
A few of the men murmured in discord as Kratos, Martel and himself were tugged in front. One of them addressed another standing in the center.
"The first act of the new system cannot be to undermine the core of the last." The older, grey-haired man spoke uncertainly, his voice gravelly, yet distinguished. The man he was speaking to was considerably younger, but as he sat in the center, Mithos figured he was important.
"But by creating this 'new system', we must undermine the old one. Without the necessary changes, the new system would be the older one." He paused, daring a patronizing glance at his elder, "and that obviously worked out well." The opinionated general (for they could be no less to occupy those seats) stood from his chair, having effectively silenced the other. Mithos was positive he was in charge now, and he got a good look at him. He was possibly the same age as Kratos, or Yuan- young for a general, but he seemed to hold all the strings. Dark hair was cut severely, but he had a short beard and moustache as well, making him look older than he was.
"I believe I would like to personally interrogate these people before any further action is taken." He faced the rest of the Counsel, "Afterwards, the plan we discussed should be our next step unless the examination results in a change to it." Fine, Mithos snorted darkly, don't tell them anything important. One by one the Counsel members filed out, tossing wary and even apologetic looks in their general direction. Mithos' attention was then drawn to Kratos. The swordsman's arms were unbound by guards in a peculiar act of ...kindness? His wrists were already red, but he regained his posture when he was released. Coattails flicked behind him as he righted himself, and already Mithos could see a change taking place.
He was released without reason, but he could do nothing about it. Unarmed and without assistance, the voiceless guards could dispatch him with ease should he move to attack. Mithos and Martel, however, were shoved unceremoniously to their knees in the back. The sole remaining general stepped down from the platform, opting instead to come nearer to them.
"If I recall correctly, you were once First Lieutenant Tristan." Kratos' voice carried some authority. The Counselman's face twisted into surprise before blanking itself again.
"You remember me? You were only a boy when we met that one time." The look on Kratos' face was of irritation, as if he wanted to interject. "That was an era ago, though. Now, you're looking at the Head of the Military Counsel, General Tristan." The man had continued on without pause.
"I was hardly a boy. You were nineteen." Mithos blinked. Contrary to Kratos' seemingly perfect memory, the words were disturbingly casual and only mildly irked. Tristan dismissed his comment with a wave of the hand.
"Despite that, I have business to attend to. You've been a nuisance." The shift in tone scared Mithos. It was grave. "You fail to respond to any of my questions and the half-elves die right here." Fists clenched and unclenched quickly. Mithos had frozen, barely aware of Martel's breath hitch in surprise.
"Very well." Kratos' reluctant answer was tinged with caution, his stance was rigid once again.
"I would like to know," he began cordially, pacing in front of Kratos' ducked head, "why you fled Meltokio." Genuine interest was laced into an unspoken threat. Kratos did not shy away from the question, as Mithos thought he might. The slightest hesitation prefaced his response.
"I did not want to be King. I did not think I was suited." A careful tone and a prodding sentence. It was clear Kratos was still considering his position. Their captor laughed once.
"And what about now? Would you seek to land yourself on the Tethe'allan throne?" The line of questioning had reached a critical point, but the dark haired veteran seemed complacent. Kratos did not hesitate this time.
"No." The corner of his lips turned up, "Though, I understand current leadership does not have the country's true interest at heart. Even I could do a better job." Kratos scoffed darkly, and looked to be anticipating a fiery response. Mithos watched closely, but the expected strike never came.
"Spirited and patriotic, then." The man laughed, ignoring the insult, "And I thought you a coward. Are you even afraid of me? I can end your life whenever I please." At this, Mithos could see Kratos' head rise up, hair shaken away from his smoldering eyes to meet the dark ones of the Head of the military counsel.
"I would not give you the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Death does nothing to change that fact." Stony, cold words that still held a hidden blaze. Mithos watched the exchange silently, clinging to a hope that they might come out unscathed. A wicked smile curved into Tristan's face.
"Fantastic," he walked over to a guard at the wall, "tell the others that we should put off the Aurions' deaths a while longer." The plural was not lost on any of them.
"You would kill your own Queen?" Kratos' voice boomed with incredulous anger. Standing to his full height despite the guards encircling him, he was the picture of outrage.
"No, the reports will say that you killed her. Just as you killed your Father." Tristan chuckled at the confusion that flickered across the redhead's face. "Two birds with one stone- the Aurion line will be discontinued, and the military painted as saviors. You gave us quite the opportunity." Tristan's voice was snide and dark, but his eyes gleamed with joy. Kratos was taken aback, and his hands clenched.
"It was not my intention." He growled, but Mithos could see that the words had affected him. "Nyx is beloved by the people!" He gestured harshly, furiously as if the veracity of the words should have the power to change their course of action.
"As much, if not more than King Aurion was." The veteran agreed affably, with no intent on elaborating. Mithos could only guess that he enjoyed gloating, and that was the sole thread keeping them alive. He was giving Kratos his undivided attention, leaving Mithos and Martel to silently struggle with their bonds to no avail.
"So you plan on killing both myself and Nyx? Why even explain it?" Kratos was hesitant to suggest it. The military man's face lit with the warmth of being asked the right question. Mithos might not actually call it 'warmth' come to think of it- it was definitely a colder expression.
"I do. Though I have to admit, you are nothing like I expected. Your capture was fascinating, and I wanted to see who I was killing before I killed him. I might wait a bit longer even, until your words become more dull than interesting." Mithos wanted to throw up, but Kratos was unperturbed by the general's cruel and disgusting streak.
"If you only care to exterminate the royal line, release the halflings. They are not involved in any struggle for power." Calm. Cool. Collected. Mithos was hyperventilating whereas Kratos was facing the noose and not batting an eyelash. Tristan only glowed with the amusement of a new hook.
"But they know the truth. They must die." A casual flick of the wrist faux-apologetically.
"They are innocents!" Kratos' voice became raw with desperate anger. Mithos was comforted by the fact that Kratos stood between him and their would-be-killer, but it terrified him that they could both perish.
"They are also half-elves," Tristan's eyebrows rose, "they are expendable." Mithos felt himself growing more furious than fearful. This man couldn't just kill them all and hide the truth, could he? What kind of world was that?
"Race makes no difference." Kratos bit back, openly arguing with him. "They are subjects of your rule. You must care for their wellbeing even if you poorly protect it." The presentation of ideals was quickly snubbed with derision.
"This is a time of war. We have no time to cater to the lifestyles of every citizen." He scoffed, still examining Kratos with something like curiosity. "Your words are naive, and your argument is useless. There'll be no changing of minds today, no matter how righteous you think you may be." He turned his back to Kratos with a sneer.
"Disillusionment is not naiveté." Kratos grumbled softly, causing the man to spin around once again, eyebrows raised. He must not have expected a battle of wits, or for his opponent to be so well armed.
"Are you disillusioned?" Oddly, he seemed almost pleased with the concept.
"Only with humanity." A very obvious look was sent like a dagger at the general, who had aimlessly paced across to the opposite wall, casting a long shadow from the near window. He stood by the singular tall-backed chair at the wall. A throne. He sat down, condescendingly looking down upon them all.
"Disrespect," he hummed, "the elven woman is going to be very sorry you took that risk now." Mithos jerked his head up to Martel's, watching her emerald eyes widen with fear. Kratos was already yelling back, unbridled rage.
"You don't touch either of them." His back was turned to Mithos, but the barked remark was enough to twist Mithos' gut. "As filthy as it is to-" His words were cut off by the swinging of the main door open and harried footsteps clattering with armor.
"Sir," everyone's movements were arrested in surprise at the interruption, and even Tristan had stood from his chair. The guard that had called out gripped his axe worriedly.
"The Sylvaranti's escaped."
(A/N) Excitement~ Thanx for reading, and drop me a review if you wanna!
