Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Ch 10 – Part 7
The world could change in an instant. At one moment, a stately procession of Tristain's finest. The next, terror, a mob fleeing for their lives. Guiche had learned at Dunkirk that the anything could find him on the battlefield. It had not occurred to him that the battlefield itself could follow him, could find him anywhere.
All was anarchy. Guiche could smell nothing but sulfur, and the taste of charcoal was heavy in the air. The royal gala of Tristain's finest had descended to chaos. The madness of hundreds of people trying to do something and accomplishing absolutely nothing with their squandered energy. Worse, making it all but impossible for anyone else to do much better.
Guiche was no different, he knew more than most. He knew that someone had called Mortimer an imposter. He knew that the 'Imposter' had immediately tried to put a knife into the belly of Prince Wales, only to be stopped by Miss Asuna and Miss Midori in an otherworldly display of speed and swordsmanship. He knew that Mortimer's imposter had fled with Miss Midori and the Royal Knights in desperate pursuit. He knew that some of the mages and nobility around him were turning their wands uncertainly on the Fae. He knew that they all were under attack; the castle grounds were suffering bombardment by mortars, very likely the same fireworks that had been planned for the celebration.
But knowing all of that, the most Guiche could manage to do was keep out of the way, shielding Montmorency and trying to gather the concentration to put up a wind barrier to shelter them. To hell with the rest of them if they got themselves killed!
Even in the confusion the Royal Knights had proven themselves deserving of the title of 'the elite'. While Musketeers directed the guests and their retainers inwards, towards the safety of the Palace, the Knights and the martial nobility fought the raining fire.
Wind spells had started going up almost at once, the continued barrage of fireworks striking and skipping from the magic surfaces, some careening into the sky to explode while others slammed into the high walls surrounding the Palace Grounds, illuminating the Gardens in flashes of star burst and hellfire light.
Then it was their turn, Montmorency and himself, to be taken and moved inside. But before Guiche could follow, before he was really sure what was going on, before he could even get a say in the matter, he had found himself being lifted into the air over his eldest brother's shoulder.
Bidding Montmorency goodbye, trying to sound reassuring, and then the unpleasant sensation as his sternum was crushed up into his ribcage by the sudden acceleration.
Montmorency, the crowds, and the Palace had all begun to quickly shrink away behind them as grass and then cobblestones blurred by below with each motion of Reinhardt's bounding gate. Dare he to think that they had to be traveling nearly a league a minute!
Founder knew why brother had thought to drag him along. Probably because he was the only one of his brothers slight enough to be carried like some damsel. All the while being shaken senseless.
"Broth-er-can-you-put-me-down!" Guiche stuttered, nearly biting his tongue on the last word as his teeth chattered together again. This was ludicrous!
"What's that now?" Reinhardt rumbled, seemingly barely winded between his strident gallop and the accelerating charms that he continued to cast with every other breath. "Not up for saving the Kingdom again, brother?"
Again? He hadn't saved it the first time! Guiche wanted to shout something unflattering and immature back at his brother but opted against it. The question had been rhetorical of course, they were Gramonts, and their martial duty as Gramonts, unfortunately, undeniable. Though the timing was unfortunate, the crown was in need of their services once more.
Father knew it as he no doubt stormed in the center of the chaos, demanding order and organizing a response. Reinhardt knew it as he chased after Miss Midori and the Manticore Knights. Erwin knew it as he gathered up the water from the fountains and ponds of the garden to form a hemispherical barrier against more of the improvised projectiles. Axel knew it as he joined with the other Nobles, making a sport of detonating the missiles that fell short of the Palace before they could burst in the streets or on the rooftops beyond.
And Guiche knew it too, much as he hated the thought of what it might mean. And yet he had the gall to feel shame?! He grit his teeth. Making the best of the situation, Guiche pushed himself up as best he could atop Reinhardt's immense shoulder and tried to make sense of where they were going and what was going on.
In the span of a mere handful of breaths, they had covered the distance from the garden balconies of the Palace to the front gates, explosions bursting overhead all the while, and had joined ranks with a second squad of dismounted Manticore Knights heading in the same direction. An enormous pair of wrought iron gates set on heavy metal hinges, still firmly held in place by a strong lock and chained cross-bars barred their way out onto the streets of Tristania.
The Imposter had managed to climb the gates with almost preternatural speed, and Miss Midori had less climbed than simply jumped, tracing a shallow, inhuman trajectory that just barely threaded the needle between the top of the gates and the bottom of the stone archway that they were set in.
Brother had whistled faintly, an achievement in itself. It wasn't like him to be impressed easily. Now it was their turn to pass the gates and not nearly enough time for something so daring.
But these gates were for show, a facade as it were. The main gates that backed them, thick iron strapped, solid hardwood, had been opened wide until they hung against the inside of the walls. All that blocked their way was some fairly mundane ironwork, not much for a quartet of Manticore Knights or a battle-hardened triangle of wind.
Before Reinhardt's mighty gale the gates burst open, nearly torn from their hinges and driven deep into the outer stone highwall of the Palace, chain and lock utterly shattered. The musketeers and Griffin Knights who had been standing watch on the far side were sent leaping for cover again as they raced onto the narrow streets and then continued onward and upward.
Magic gusts, featherweight charms, acceleration and flight spells, and unique creations were all brought to bear as the Knights used every technique at their disposal to move swiftly from the ground up onto the rooftops where they could get a clear vantage from which to give chase to the imposter.
Guiche was breathless. The evening lights of the Capital, usually a soft twinkling like the stars themselves, had been utterly subsumed tonight. Their light seemed as nothing before the releases from the yet-steady barrage of explosive rockets, the smoke rising from across the commoner and merchant districts, and the hundreds of mage lights that had been cast by countless Nobles as they tried to see the source of the confusion.
As Reinhardt vaulted the distance between two buildings, Guiche was treated to a brief glimpse of the street below. The packed masses of humanity, intent on enjoying a night of celebration, were now at a loss for what to do or where to go. Bells echoed out from church towers across the city as the shorter, faster clang of fire alarms demanded to be heard.
"Do you see them, brother?" Reinhardt shouted, squinting as he always did when he forwent his spectacles.
"From this vantage?" Guiche wondered, feeling a little offended by his elder brother's utter lack of thought. "And how am I supposed to be doing that stuck over your back?!" If this got back to Malicorn and the others, he'd never live it down. "This wouldn't happen if you just used your blasted spectacles!"
"Bah! Rubbish things!" The Captain dismissed out of hand. "Anyways, that's what I've got you along for. We all know you got Da's vision. Now look ahead brother!"
Hissing reluctantly, Guiche did as he was told, his head craning and pivoting around in search of any hint of where Miss Midori and the others had continued the pursuit. If the Imposter had dropped down to street level then they would likely never find him. Hidden beneath the eaves and twisting, narrow, back streets he would be nigh invisible from the skies and would easily vanish into the crowds, becoming as one with the masses. And then, then he would be gone.
One of the greatly understated advantages of wearing another's face for an assassination was that it left one's own a sight unseen. The assassin would simply slip away, very possibly as himself.
So there was no point in looking below for him. But he might not be able to go to ground just yet, Midori and the other Knights had been close behind him. If they'd stayed on his trail, then it would be imperative for the imposter to get high to escape or else be trapped by the crowds on the streets. And if that were the case...
A streak of red was briefly visible by the light cast from the still detonating fireworks leaping unto a second story rooftop, and behind it, shapes of black and white.
"Brother!" Guiche pointed, hoping that Reinhardt's vision wasn't so hopelessly addled that he couldn't see where he was being directed. A grunt of acknowledgment told Guiche just about all he needed to know, and they were off again, leaping their way across the rooftops of the capital.
Wind magic, especially while under the influence of secondary acceleration spells, demanded swift wits and concentration. At these reckless speeds all it would take only on slip, a rotten shingle, a loose tile, a single errant firework or spell, and that would be the end. It was not the most pleasing thought to have on hand as Reinhardt charged forward at yet higher speeds, oblivious to all danger. Guiche whispered a prayer to the founder all the while, keeping his voice low to avoid his brother's recrimations.
A Manticore Knight alighted on the rooftop next to them, keeping pace with them. The Knight shouted to his brother. "Captain Gramont, Sir!"
Reinhardt grimaced. "Where the blazes are our air cavalry?!"
Yes, where were the air cavalry? Guiche wondered as his eyes turned up to the sky in search of the familiar shapes of flying mounts in the clouded night sky. There was an entire contingent of Dragon Knights stationed at the Champ de Mars, and the Griffin and Manticore Knights had their own mounts as well.
The Knight grimaced as he shook his head. "We've only two flight pairs kept at the Palace stables, the rest are at Champ de Mars or on extended patrol. "And . . ." He shook his head. "Our mounts were staggering drunken when we brought them out. Poison in their water…"
Reinhardt cursed. Guiche was inclined to agree. Poison strong enough to weaken a Manticore's constitution would be murderous to humans. It was likely not fatal to the Manticores or its effects would have been more apparent and thus alerted the Knights to foul play. But the dosage has been enough. Enough to keep the powerful beasts grounded, out of the sky, yet not so much as to grant forewarning of the conspiracy.
"We've sent word to the Champ de Mars, they'll sortie dragons at once." The Knight assured his brother. "If all this hasn't caused them to do so already!"
"Hm." Reinhardt grunted, though whether it was in acknowledgment or exertion from his latest jump, Guiche couldn't tell. "Keep a man back to send up a flare then, we'll need to mark his location for the dragons . . ."
"Er-uhm-bro-ther . . ." Guiche tried to say as he was shaken again. What he wouldn't have given for a proper mount, or even Faerie wings at this very moment. But no, the Fae Lords were currently in the midst of being stood down by their detractors, and each had brought only a handful of guards as was proper of those trusting their protection to the Crown.
"What is it? Speak up brother!" The wind mage barked, heedless of the oncoming thatch rooftop full of chimneys.
"I-just-do-n't-think-they-ll-see-it-oh-ver-that!" Guiche pointed to the smoke and fire filled sky. The irritated snort from his brother told him that he knew Guiche was quite right.
"Such an elegant little plan they've made themselves." Reinhardt grumbled. "Bah! No time to let that stop us. The enemy lies ahead of us, don't let their tricks slow you!" Waving his wand exuberantly, Reinhardt charged onwards, the Knights in hot pursuit. Albeit, he was oblivious as to which direction he ought to be running. Guiche had to correct him more than once, but now they were angling toward the rooftops where Midori and her own trailing knights had nearly run the Imposter to ground.
The man, or whatever he was, was quick, Guiche gave him that. Almost falling forward as he ran full speed without any sign of magic. Certainly he couldn't be a Fae or he'd have used his wings to make his escape by now. Not that it would matter to the hundreds of witnesses of an attempted assassination. They would, to be sure, draw their own prejudiced conclusions, and something in Guiche made him wonder if this wasn't itself anything more than a fantastically executed diversion.
But if it was, it was one that carried all the hallmarks of a good distraction. The Imposter could not be ignored, they had to give chase. Had to run him to ground and capture him to prove without a doubt that he was not in fact the Salamander Lord.
Now they were close to doing just that. The roof tops of the Capital might have been free of crowds, but they weren't devoid of their own hazards and terrain. Two, three, even four story buildings, were built side by side, offering abrupt changes in the topography, steep roof tops made for treacherous footing and gave many places to hide behind and eaves to take cover beneath, a tactic to evade aerial surveillance.
Two of the Knights following after Midori had taken to the sky using flight spells, but it was a poor stand in at best for Faerie wings and left them unable to direct their magic to more direct measures of stopping the fleeing assassin. What was more, they had risen into a sky that was very much inimical to them, one Knight being forced to hurriedly dodge as a blazing mortar occupied the space he had stood previously.
And it was no accident. Guiche realized. The Imposter had been angling towards the river since they'd spotted him. Now that they dropped down from the rooftop of a nearby church, there was nothing obstructing their view of the water and the two barges sitting at the river center, long, dark, and low to the water.
Only one of the barges was firing, the other appeared to be dead as the tomb, even its lanterns having guttered out. Had the crew been killed? Had the barges and their crews been traitors to begin with, or had they been infiltrated sometime in the night? Caught unawares, the commoner barge hands and the workers trained to aim the launching racks and light the fireworks would be no match for even a small group of mages.
Whoever manned them now, they were allied with the Imposter, that much was obvious as the mortars and rockets began to fall closer and closer to the pursuing Royal Guard. Smashing into chimneys or through windows to burst like bombs, skipping off of rooftops are skittering over thatch to light the city on fire.
They dashed, they dodged, spells deflecting the ones that got too close, and luck saving them from a few very near calls. But this was slowing them down, making the Imposter who braved the oncoming fire like a condemned man, difficult, nigh impossible to get close to. Impossible for all but one.
Miss Midori was still close on his heels, as near to him as his own shadow and closing the distance all the while. Her elegant dress had long since been shed, reduced now to an innermost layer, a short sleeveless, black skirted slip that left her arms and legs free to move and to fight.
'Superb.' Guiche thought, admiring the view. And not just at the way the dark stockings modeled her elegant legs.
The Imposter gave her a single angered glare over the shoulder, vaulting the next rooftop before expertly flicking a knife hidden within the jacket of his coat. How had he managed to infiltrate the party while possessing so many weapons, Guiche wondered.
The knife was deflected just before Midori's eyes, her slender black blade batting it aside at the final instant. For someone who could cut crossbow bolts in flight, a throwing knife would have been child's play. And in return, reaching behind her back, Midori withdrew a trio of tapered silver darts held between fine fingers. Not being designed for such, the throwing needles would almost certainly fail to be lethal, but they might distract, or cause a flinch of pain; at these speeds, a single stumble would almost certainly bring this chase to an end.
Three little drops of silver crossed the distance, but far from striking true, the imposter merely raised a guarding hand, the needles sinking into his forearm.
"You there!" Reinhardt shouted to one of the nearby Knights. "We've the chance to pincer him! Go!"
And indeed they did go. By Guiche's estimates they would cross paths with Midori and their assailant just as they reached the docks lining the river. If there would be any advantageous time and place to put this to an end, that would be it.
"Yes sir!" The Knights all roared at once. Though Reinhardt was not a superior in their chain of command, they were more than willing to follow the orders of an experienced officer in this crisis.
Scattering along the rooftops, Reinhardt and his men to formed a web coming in from the west as Midori and her group, seeing Reinhardt's idea, formed the same formation and charged in from the east. The Tristainian hammer closed in on the Imposter from all directions. Now was their chance.
Taking aim one by one, mindful of the pursuing swordswoman, the Knights slowed and began to fire. A flurry of wind and water spells, intended to stagger and hurt more than to kill, descended upon the Imposter. They missed or grazed at this range; the few that came close to connecting having already spent their energy in flight.
Something amiss: a gout of spellfire to their left had just come out of seemingly nowhere and hit an ally. When Guiche looked to the problem he was treated to the sight of one of the Manticore Knights tumbling end over end across the roof tops until he was brought to an abrupt and final end by a chimney.
"Brother!" Guiche shouted.
He saw what happened next, a window crashing open as someone inside snapped off another shot of spellfire, flame blossoming across a nearby roof to intercept a second Manticore Knight. The Knight managed to get away, jumping into the air, slowing and redirecting himself with a powerful wind gust. A second Knight fell back to join him as the hidden assailants climbed out onto the roof tops, garbed in deep blues and brandishing sword-wands.
"Go on, we will have this!" The first Knight urged to Reinhardt and Guiche; he snapped a command gesture to the final remaining Knight. Taking first guard stance, the two men faced off against the conspirators and then burst into a brutal exchange of spell fire, trading shots so fast and intense that even wind barriers and protective charms would do little if they were hit.
"Brother?!" The Manticore Knights were the finest in the Kingdom, but if this attack was as planned as it appeared, that would be no guarantee of success without help.
"Trust your allies, brother!" Reinhardt yelled by way of answer as he continued the pursuit. "Trust them like they trust us. We Gramonts can do no less. Honor their sacrifice! Now onward!"
It wasn't a matter of trust, Guiche thought; rather it was a matter of if they were going to be the next ones killed tonight!
By the time the brothers caught up with Midori the Imposter was rapidly being cut off and surrounded, desperately running out towards the docks as the Knights closed in from all other sides. Only two of the Knights were still following Midori, but Guiche could hear the sounds of battle and see the flashes of spellfire in the streets, a sure sign that they were still alive and fighting their own battles.
As the brothers loomed over the dockyards, Guiche was dazed, confused ,as to why he could hear the sounds of battle so clearly, and then he realized why. The fireworks that had been launched in a steady barrage for the past minutes had abruptly stopped while at full roar. It was not as if they had run out, but rather, as if they were waiting, biding time for a counterattack.
"Now we have him!", Reinhardt roared and leaped to the streets below.
"Wait brother!"
Fire spewed forth from the dormant barge. The air reverberated with the simultaneous roar of dozens of incendiary projectiles, all their fuses lit. They weren't aimed at the massive Air Knight, nor Midori. Rather, the rockets were all aimed haphazardly, set to burst indiscriminately at short range. They all burst like a wall of chromatic suns, dazzling the eye and nearly dooming them to what was coming. Hidden in the glare like the web of an insidious and evil arachnid, a veritable wall of steel wire and cabling.
The Knights reacted swiftly, unleashing wind gusts to throw themselves out of harm's way, brandishing wind swords to simply cut through, or casting wind shields to protect them as they crashed into the unforgiving wall of taut metal.
Midori forewent all of these option, eyes sparking, she simply picked her opening and shot through like a dart. Sword brandished as she arched through the air, plummeting down towards the turned back of the imposter. At the last instant before the final blow was struck, the wood wall of the structure exploded outwards, catching the swordswoman in a cloud of debris and sending her in a misshapen tumble across the street.
'No, Miss Midori!' Guiche only had time to think.
Reinhardt and Guiche had been closer than the other pursuers; there was simply no time for any measure of evasion, no time for brother to even raise his wand. They crashed through the cabling at full tilt. Reinhardt lurched. The earth mage felt himself losing all sense of weight as he separated from his brother's shoulder.
Inside of his own head, Guiche's monologue exploded with obscenities as he wildly waved his wand. As a dot mage, a skilled dot approaching line rank thanks to his father's experienced tutelage, and as a scion of the noble line of Gramont, he loathed to be inelegant. But elegance wasn't going to save them. He needed something simple, something quick. Bronze petals burst from the end of his wand, conjuring and expanding, unfolding into a thin bronze shell that encircled them both. It wouldn't be much protection against the hard ground, but it would have to do.
Praying it would be enough, Guiche grabbed hold of his brother, tensed into a ball and closed his eyes.
The impact, the sheer force of striking the earth had been astonishing. Guiche had been hit before, slapped by angry girls, punched by more powerful men, and of course his near fatal run in with the undead. That failed to describe the shear bone rattling roar as the bronze shell he had wrapped around them crashed through all the cabling, then bounced off the opposing building, and finally rolled for a good long ways before another moment of gut wrenching weightlessness and then a final crashing, sparking, skid.
Compared to that, the silence afterward did a rather good job of convincing Guiche that he was dead.
When he opened his eyes to inscrutable darkness, it took him a moment to remember himself, muttering to dispel the conjuration, the bronze barrier dissipating into a cloud of dust and base earth. Every fiber of his being hurt, but his first concern had to be his brother.
"Reinhardt?" Guiche turned over, pushing himself off the ground. "Reinhardt, speak to me . . ." Guiche let his voice drop as he went pale.
His brother coughed heavily, groaning as he slowly propped himself up. "Aye . . . That was bit of a spill." The wind mage winced as he began to brush himself off with his free arm, rolling his shoulders as if to test for injury. "But any landing you can walk away from I'd say, eh?"
"Brother." Guiche felt his voice trembling, he felt like he was going to be ill.
The elder Gramont brother grimaced, it was clear he was in more pain then he would admit. "And what are you about, stuttering like that? You're to be a soldier aren't you?" Shifting as if to get his right leg under him, Reinhardt winced in pain, reaching down to rub at the offending limb and then giving pause as he found that beneath the knee, his right leg was no longer there. In the dim light, Guiche could see the white of bone among flowing rivulets of red.
It would not have been an exaggeration, Guiche thought, to say that his brother's eyes nearly burst from their sockets as he gave out an agonized hiss. A Gramont man would never cry out, but that small sign of pain shook Guiche from his own shock. Quickly, they had to bind it! A tourniquet, something to stop the bleeding.
Stumbling through a quick chant, Guiche conjured a knife and began cutting strips of his own jacket. "Aye, hold still brother!" He ordered as he went to work, fingers fumbling. Reinhardt would need a proper water mage for this, the little healing magic that Guiche knew would have been worse than useless with something like this, he could in fact make things worse, do damage rather than heal
Reinhardt had none of it. "What . . . the blazes did they throw at us? It looked like wire?"
"Strung from the warehouses." Guiche agreed. His brother wasn't going to stop talking so soon as well answer his questions. "The assassin fled when he failed, but it must never have been his intention to be caught if possible. They must have prepared for our pursuit if their plan had failed. Which means he and his allies had this route planned from the beginning." And stupidly they had followed at his heels like loyal little Guards of King and Country. "And, remember what the Knights mentioned; their mounts have been poisoned."
Reinhardt growled in rage and pain as the tourniquet was set. "The villains had help from within our ranks. Blasted traitors in our midst . . ." Reinhardt groaned as he clutched at his right knee. His pained hisses were only overshadowed by the crashing of debris and the groaning of wood coming from not far away.
"Listen to me Guiche . . . gah . . . we cannot allow this to go unopposed. We cannot allow that man, that imposter, whatever he is, to escape! Our family has made alliances with the Fae already, for the good of ourselves and for the good of all Tristain." As if Guiche needed to be told that. "This . . ." Reinhardt sucked in breath, "If it is some sort of trick to drive a wedge between us and our allies, this could doom the Fae and us along with them."
Like the standoff that had erupted in an instant at the party. All it would take was one wrong move, one spell cast in fear. It could erase so much, unleash the hatreds bubbling just beneath the surface of much of the nobility. Civil war in Tristain with a mounting invasion from Albion on their doorstep. All could be lost.
"Guiche." Reinhardt leaned back against a wall as he finished with the tourniquet. "You are a Gramont, you know your duty, to King and Country and family." A pained smile. "Now don't disappoint, little brother."
How could brother say something like this?! His leg! He'd just lost his leg and he was worried about the family and the kingdom?! He was…Guiche stood up slowly as the crashing sounds came again. He was . . . an inarticulate, angry shout. Guiche turned toward the noise and broke into a run, roaring. He was absolutely right!
And even as Guiche ran, feeling every step of the way as though he was going to wet himself, all he could think of was what it would mean for them, for all of them if they lost now. A chaotic country descending into chaos, or worse, outright civil war and invasion, nobody would be safe. Least of all soldiers like the Gramonts. But mostly . . . 'Montmorency'.
He wanted to weep at that. When she was angry, she was more than he knew what to do with, when she was happy, she was the best friend he could have, and when he was lost he could tell her anything. He was lucky, so very lucky to have her. And she would be in exactly as much danger as everyone else if Tristain was invaded, if this imposter was allowed to escape. Intolerable!
The dust rising from around the corner obscured his view, but a weak wind cleared the way as he rounded the corner and stopped, feeling his legs nearly give out as he saw what was emerging from the shadows of the collapsed warehouse.
It was impressive on the merits of size alone, he'd admit, though father would never have tolerated such a clumsy, hideous arrangement of stone, wood, and rubble. It was the mark of a powerful mage that it could be made to work, and of a sloppy mage that time hadn't been made to prepare better materials. Slow, methodical, lurching motions, one stone limb rising to beat aside the remains of the roof as it rose to its full height, nearly five mails tall and half as broad across the shoulders, head a shapeless lump of stone, overly long arms a crude assemblage of crumbling earth, gravel and wooden beams.
It was advancing, a methodical, startlingly human gait, limbs swaying with each step towards a doorway on the far side of the wide thoroughfare that serviced the docks, and the solitary figure struggling to stand in the midst of the rubble.
"Midori!"
Guiche saw her pulling herself free from the ruins of a doorway, the stained oak at her back back smashed to splinters by her impact. Arms wrapped around her stomach as she trembled in pain. Beaten and bloody, her dress and stockings torn to reveal bruising and cuts all over her legs. She hardly resembled a skilled swordswoman now. More alike to a hurt little waif that had no business here in the midst of battle and death.
The golem seemed to think the same, raising one arm in a powerful motion, readying for a crushing downward swing. Midori managed to look up through one eye, gathering her legs, and in the darkness, a faint glow flickered at her back; a trick of the light?
All of his determination from moments before came into question. What could he do against something like that?! It was the work of a high line, no, a triangle at least to make such a mishmash of rubble and earth move so easily. And yet . . .
Don't sell yourself short Guiche.
The arm began to gather speed, began to fall. He thrust out his wand.
The Golem stopped . . . its motion ended, its arms shuddering as if held in place by an invisible hand of power. Guiche felt like that same hand was pressing down on his own skull as he threw all he could into ripping apart the construct's magics. With all the different materials comprising the golem, it wasn't hard to interfere with the internal web of magic, but he couldn't hold this attack for long. Already he felt the pressure building towards migraine, the feedback from trying to control a construct that he, a dot, had no business interfering with.
Suddenly overbalanced, it staggered forward, stumbling and pulverizing the street before it, but slowly enough for Midori to recover and rush out of the way, regain her bearing and turn back to face it.
"Midori?" Guiche asked breathlessly.
"I'm fine." The swordswoman called. "Don't worry about me."
Long forearms dug into the earth, correcting balance, allowing the monster to turn itself precariously about, head turning from side to side as if deciding whether to go for Midori or Guiche first. It settled on Guiche. Leaning forward with an unusual level of dexterity, the rubble Golem broke into a sprint, intent on simply smearing Guiche across the paving stones. Guiche's attempt to slow its progress was now doing next to nothing as the Golem's controlling mage now poured all of his will into driving his construct forward to battle.
One broad stone fist swung in a hook; if it connected, Guiche was sure it would simply tear him in two. With a powerful tug at his collar, he felt himself flying backwards, the Golem's knuckles passing like a cannonball so close he could feel the wind of its passage. And then he was tumbling back out of the way. Midori had taken his place.
"No! Miss Midori! Run!"
Without a sword, without any sort of weapon at all, what could she ever hope to do? Another titanic fist descended to smash her to paste. With nothing but a small inhalation, Midori rushed forward, the Golem's blow digging a furrow in the earth where she had stood a breath before. Guiche watched, and even though he knew what he was seeing was real, he still didn't believe it. The Golem's only connecting strike had been by surprise, now that it was really facing Midori, here, in the open, it couldn't land a single hit.
The Master's frustration showing through in its movements, another fist crashed into the earth where Midori had been standing, the construct again overbalanced, and this time, Midori was ready, assuming a low stance, and gathering her hands close to her side.
'But she hasn't a weapon.' Guiche thought, her sword had been lost in the confusion, she only had her bare hands. Her bare . . . hands . . .
It would have been impossible to miss it, the glow gathering in the palm of her left hand, flickering and building up, causing her skin to shimmer all the way up her forearm like she was holding a fistful of mage light. And then, as the Golem tried to stumble away, she released it, blow building through arms to shoulder, then down the back to her leg.
The Golem staggered, nearly falling backwards, forearm still smoking where the entire fist had been shattered at the wrist. Guiche never would have imaged that there would be any being of flesh and blood that could manage that stone splitting force. But, impressive as it was, t wasn't over yet.
"Guiche." Midori ordered. "Swords."
Guiche obeyed without a word. It was the least he could do, the very least. Casting quickly, a shower of bronze petals came forth from his wand, settling to the ground where they began to transmute, gathering up the local earth to reshape into a half dozen simple, but perfectly serviceable, short swords.
He'd meant to produce the extras simply to give Midori a choice of preference, he hadn't been expecting her to grab a second blade as she made her way towards the behemoth in front of her, stalking forward with supreme confidence.
With the Golem's next punch she jumped, alighting on its fist and rushing up the arm, and then in a blur sparks raged as the construct recoiled back, blow after blow striking against its head until it began to chip and shatter, until the blade's in Midori's hands broke under the onslaught. A clumsy swipe with its handless arm knocked the swordswoman free.
Landing and rolling backwards, she grabbed the next two swords before dashing back in, delivering a metal shattering double strike to the golem's left ankle and then again with the last pair of swords to the same place, weakening the leg.
"Guiche!"
"Right!"
He understood now, unleashing another wave of bronze petals, not just a sprinkling, a shower falling all around Midori. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Dozens of blades came forth around the battlefield. Whenever one broke or grew dull she'd simply grab another, never relenting in her double handed assault, chipping away at the stone and rumble, cracking and splintering rock.
The Golem and its Master couldn't possibly take much more. A final punch, thrown from the ruined arm. Midori crossed her two latest swords but it still sent her skidding, tumbling backwards until she caught herself barely mails from Guiche.
By now, he wasn't worried about her, he just needed to know what she wanted from him. A small glance, picked up from the corner of his eye and understood instantly. More swords formed, one after another, two rows extending arm lengths apart towards and then past the golem. This was the end.
Midori surged forward, and for the barest moment Guiche thought he saw something at her back, a smoky blackness rising from between her shoulders, but there was no time to wonder, throwing his concentration into one last act of sabotage. Again he nearly ruptured himself throwing everything he could at the insides of the Golem, again it was slowed, not by much, but maybe by enough.
Enough that when Midori hit, blow after blow landed without any chance to defend, no final defense or hardening of its skin was allowed. Limbs began to crack, wood and stone chipped away, slowly stumbling backwards between the line of conjured swords, each failing after a single overwhelming strike, opening the way for the next. Never ceasing, never slowing.
It had had enough, arms crumbling, falling to the sides, suddenly unbalanced, Midori cast away the last of the swords and in a final blow, drove a spear hand strike into, and through the behemoths earth and gravel chest. Falling still, with a last rumbling groan, the Golem began to collapse on itself, sustaining magic falling apart, falling inward, until at last all that was left was a pile of beaten rubble.
And beyond the cloud of dust and smoke at the far end of the dock, free of them, the Imposter running towards one of the water outlets that fed beneath the city. If he got into that maze they'd never find him! They were close, only a short span of water separated them.
"Midori!"
A last sword conjured out of thin air, the girl grabbed it, blinking in surprise as she felt the familiar weight and balance. Guiche for one thought it a nice touch, he'd taken the liberty of very carefully memorizing the nature and form of the swordswoman's preferred weapon. Whether she cared to comment was academic; displaying her speed once more, Guiche ran after her, even though he knew he could never keep up.
The Imposter was scaling the gravel and stone along the shore, he was climbing the last steps to the entrance to the waterway, he had only mails to go. Then something, perhaps a sixth sense made him turn …bronze flashed.
Guiche felt his breath slow, eyes unfocused for a time until he felt something cold and wet strike his cheek, and then another and another. Drop after drop, the rain beginning to fall until at last he found himself standing in the middle of a downpour.
A by now familiar, almost comforting voice reached him. "Guiche?"
There was no time to lose. The Golem! Where there was a Golem, there was usually a controlling Golemetrist nearby. This brute was simply too crude to be a proper Alvis.
"Miss Midori, do you see him?"
"Guiche?"
"Do you see the mage, the mage who was controlling that Golem?"
"Guiche."
"He must be around here somewhe . . ."
"Guiche!" Spoken for the last time, loud and commanding, he fell silent as if scolded by his childhood nanny. Midori looked up at him, shaking her head slowly. "He's probably long gone by now. Besides, we got what we were after."
The most unpleasant expression of distress suddenly crossed the young swordswoman's face as she held the form in her hands by its hair. "I really hope this wasn't Lord Mortimer . . . otherwise his brother is going to kill me."
Perhaps literally. Guiche thought as he found himself face to face with the Imposters last expression of profound shock.
"Perhaps a more restrained technique could have been used." Guiche speculated.
Midori shook her head. "He wasn't going to come quietly, and we already lost people." She looked around suddenly. "You were with someone…?"
Guiche's eyes widened. "Brother! Please, we have to hurry back to him now, please just this way…."
All else forgotten, they ran the way back, Guiche leading to the alley where he had left Reinhardt. By the time they got there, they found the Captain in the company of two of the surviving Manticore Knights. Uniforms shredded from close calls, and one baering a bandage over his right eye, it was clear that they'd been in a fight and come back victorious, if barely.
"Brother!" Guiche cried as he saw Reinhardt laying still, covered to the neck by a cloak.
A heavy hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder. "He's just been put under so that we can move him without pain." The bandaged Knight said. "Fortunately the cut is fairly clean, and the tourniquet prevented too much bleeding. We'll send him to the Champ de Mars infirmary as soon as our cavalry lands."
A loud cry came from above, the noises of dragons as they began to circle, minutes too late to be of any use, but a comforting presence nonetheless, a reminder that control was reasserting itself. They rest would have to be left to them.
'This rain should help with the fires at least . . .' Guiche thought darkly. It was small comfort for a disastrous evening.
Turning his eyes back to Midori, Guiche saw her hand the severed head off to the second Knight for verification. She was standing in the cold, soaked to the bone. The remains of her once beautiful dress clung to her skin, making her look even smaller and more fragile than usual. She gave a small shiver, well hidden but still there.
Guiche shook his head. He was a Gramont, and Gramonts were gentlemen. "Miss Midori?" He offered his jacket, gently draping it over her shoulders.
Midori looked down at the garment, hands feeling at its materials. A small frown crinkled her delicate features. "Guiche . . . this is soaked all the way through . . ."
"It's . . . the thought that counts?" He offered the only comeback he could think of.
Midori opened her mouth to answer, but instead just sighed. "Guiche . . ."
"Yes?"
"Just stop talking."
"Okay."
The remaining Manticore Knights arrived not long after, being mostly unscathed despite the battles against the Imposter's allies. They had been victorious but had failed to capture any of the attackers. They'd either escaped into the underground or else refused to be taken alive. Which meant they could only hope that something of wisdom could be gleaned from the Imposter's disarticulated corpse.
While the Knights secured the rest of the body, scoured the area, and investigated the now abandoned river barges, Midori and Guiche were taken back to the palace to make their report.
Arriving, they found that the chaos they had left behind had not much improved. Guard officers were still shouting orders and nobles were still squabbling with one another, but at least no one was pointing wands at one another, and there seemed to be some sort of higher purpose to the madness that had taken hold.
"Guiche!" Montmorency cried when she saw him, fighting through the packed hallways to embrace him tightly. If this was the reception he would receive every time he ran off into danger, then maybe the idea wasn't as unpalatable as he had first thought. But here wasn't time for a long reunion. With the scarce moments he had, he hugged her tightly before letting go, promising the crying girl to return soon.
Their female musketeer escort led them directly to a parlor where Captain Hammond of the Manticore Knights was conferring with his officers and directing the lockdown of the Capital, or at least, he was trying to, if not for the bellowing old man leaning over him.
"Incompetence piled on incompetence! You had only one duty tonight, yet failed utterly! Find her or I will have your head!" Finally, allowing himself to be taken by the armsmen, the person of Lord Justice Richmond was escorted from the room while a bemused Captain Hammond watched on.
"Sir! Guiche de Gramont and Miss Midori here to speak with you." The musketeer offered a clumsy salute before retreating to stand beside the closed door. Curious that a musketeer wouldn't be carrying a musket . . . Guiche squinted at the girl. She was so very familiar…
Musketeer asude, here were yet more peculiarities in the room. For one, it was not occupied merely by the Captain's subordinates, nor did he appear to be the only one giving orders.
"We need to take advantage of this rain. Sir Bowen, you said your earth Mages can open up these streets?" The Lady Asuna leaned intently over the table, one slender index finger tapping the surface of a map of the Capital. "Do you think we can use the district dividing street as a firebreak?"
A Griffin Knight, stroking his chin thoughtfully gave a small nod. "It's wide enough. But we'll need earth mages for work like that."
"There's a team of Gnome Geomancers at the training camp right now. I've already sent messages to them." The Lady Asuna replied, crossing her arms. "If we isolate these sections of the commoner districts that should free up people who would be protecting their own businesses and homes to aid in fighting the fires."
"Very well." Sir Bowen said. "I'll have my men put right on it."
Looking curiously to Captain Hammond, the Manticore Knight simply shrugged. "I've been indisposed I fear, and once the Nobility were calmed enough to free up the Fae, the Faerie Lords made themselves immediately available to assist in fighting the fires and capturing any remaining conspirators. Lady Asuna has been liaising with us at Prince Wales' suggestion."
"Asuna is a very adaptable girl." The Prince agreed as he leaned against the table, looking much more tired now than he had less than an hour ago. "I don't think we could ask for a better mind to coordinate our efforts tonight."
Midori's eyes lingered on the Faerie princess until Asuna glanced up, meeting Midori's eyes. She gave a small, reassuring smile before another Noble officer came forward, clearly looking to have his questions answered.
"Now then." Captain Hammond eyed them both. "Your reports."
Brief and to the point, underlining everything they had seen and gone through. The Captain listened calmly, stopping them each at several points for clarification until he was at last satisfied with their story.
"It's an unfortunate turn of events that you couldn't bring him back alive."
"Though I believe I am in your debt once more." Prince Wales added. "We really must turn an eye to preventing this in the future wouldn't you say?"
All too right. Guiche and Midori nodded together.
"If I might be so bold, is that what the Lord Justice was hounding you over?" Guiche asked cautiously. Though, it left him to wonder what the consequences would be for his own family. He shuddered to think.
"No, that would be another issue." The Captain said as he turned back to his map. "Sir Bjorn, cordon this section of the river, it's the most likely outlet to be used."
"Yes Sir!" The Griffin Knight saluted before hurrying from the room. In his absence Captain Hammond continued.
"It would appear that the Princess has been kidnapped."
The words hung in the air for entirely too long without anyone batting an eye. Guiche felt sick. He'd been right to suspect it was diversion. The Prince of Albion saved, the Imposter exposed and killed. Had this all been for nothing?!
"But . . . how . . . how is this?!" Guiche began to stammer. The very idea. The Crown Princess was a person of the highest importance, her security was all but impregnable.
Yet a traitor had been the captain of her most trusted royal guard not long ago…even if the rest of the Griffin Knights were loyal, who else might betray her? Just how deep did this web of traitors go? Again he was reminded of the poisoned mounts…
"In the confusion, the guard detail was separated from their principal." Captain Hammond hung his head. "If this reflects poorly on anyone it is I. There is every sign that they made use of the servants passages to escape in the greater confusion. It shouldn't have been possible, but it appears that there may have been an old tunnel that connects the Palace proper to the House of Peers. I can't imagine how they discovered it or who would even have known of its existence."
"Then . . ." Guiche stammered. "I volunteer at once to help with the search for her highness. We must . . ."
"We must remain calm, Mister Gramont." Captain Hammond replied. "Think of how your father would react. We have a plan, we need only wait for it to come to fruition."
Guiche glanced to Miss Midori who still looked as calm as ever, in fact, everyone in this room. Was he standing in a den of traitors?! He wanted to scream. What plan?! Their fair Princess was in the hands of traitors and murderers and enemies of the kingdom!
He didn't have long to wait as a knock came from the door, a pair of servants, a black haired butler and maid, dressed like those that had been serving through the night, were admitted without escorts, the door quickly closed behind them.
"And what do you two have to report?" Captain Hammond asked calmly. Everyone in the room turned their attention to the two new arrivals.
Expression souring, the butler crossed his arm, an unconscionable act that creased his dark uniform in an utterly unacceptable fashion. "We confirmed the tracer took hold, it is still transmitting and the rest of the team is trailing in pursuit. Now can I please get out of this clown suit?" The man shifted uncomfortably.
The maid at his side shook her head. "But . . . you look like a total Sebastian in that form man!" Then, without another word, she raised her hand and swiped at the air, a small cloud of light gathering in her hand and then expanding into runes. Fae Runes.
Guiche's eyes widened. How was this possible, unless . . . "You're Fae!" He bleated. Pointing an accusing finger.
The two servants rolled their eyes. "You figure that out all on your own?" The butler grunted. "You know, if someone's going to try and kill the Prince of Albion while masquerading as a Faerie, you didn't think we wouldn't be involved, did you?"
Well . . . no . . . but. He was too tired for this. "Please." Guiche rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Do explain."
"It's quite alright to be confused." Prince Wales chuckled softly. "But put simply, as Captain Hammond said, it appears that Henrietta has been kidnapped. Of course, appearances can be deceiving . . ."
"Deceiving?" Guiche shook his head.
"Basically." Midori smiled. "The person who was kidnapped isn't the real Henrietta." She turned and pointed to the musketeer fidgeting beside the door. "She is."
"Did you really have to ruin it so quickly?" Petulantly scowling as if disappointed, the musket woman started to undo her short ponytail. Hair spilling down, shaken free, and turning down the collar of her uniform. Actually looking at her, her identity was clear as day. But of course, nobody would ever have thought to look. Especially not at a lowly musketeer. "I thought I was doing a good job!"
Not the real Princess. A fake! Guiche felt ready to collapse.
"You were doing a marvelous job." The Prince assured the not Musketeer, now revealed as Princess Henrietta de Tristain, before turning back to a stunned Guiche. "Our decoy is more than capable of taking care of herself and has been tagged with a number of Fae spells so that we might follow her. This was always a contingency of last resort but I must confess it is working out remarkably well and might lead us right to the den of traitors."
"Now you're just asking for more trouble." The disguised Faerie butler grumbled.
The hammering that followed at the door seemed like some omen and all eyes turned inexorably to Prince Wales as if to offer silent accusation. A long, low breath, escapeed from Midori as she, along with everyone else in the room, turned to see who it was.
The sounds of arguing on the other side cut off suddenly, the doors were thrown open to Admit Lady Alicia, Lady Morgiana, and what Guiche could only think of as some sort of horrid specter in the company of General Eugene and a very battered looking Salamander swordswoman trailing close behind.
"Lord . . . Mortimer?" Captain Hammond asked. The real one most assuredly.
Before anyone could say a thing, Lady Alicia stormed forward, eyes slit and face filled with feral anger. "I'm going to ask one last time. WHERE THE HELL IS SAKUYA?!"