A/N: Sorry for the veeery late update. Yes, I'm still alive and writing, but life's gotten in the way, so expect slower updates from now on. On the bright side, the conclusion is almost near, so... Enjoy!
"Magister Zelgabaarth."
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Your brother is an interesting man, isn't he?"
It was almost midnight. The throne room had been emptied, save for the two who were still conversing.
"Pardon me Sire, I am unsure of what you mean."
"I had let him stay here as Magister because Ghish asked me to. Said he was a toy for his amusement. But now that Ghish is… away, I'm not sure what to make of him… or how to use him."
The Magister Zelgabaarth kept quiet; he knew that the King was in one of his rambling episodes.
"I put him into a test, right then. Didn't take his weapons away, purposely. And purposely got close to him. See how he'd react. Still, nothing!" The King threw his hands up in the air. "I, The King of Nordgard, his enemy, stuck my neck in front of him, and his hands stayed still. It was as if he wanted to prove he was a loyal subject of Nordgard all along."
Vaynord turned to face Zelgabaarth.
"Interesting, isn't he? And here I thought by testing him I'd get some reactions. Oh… that's right, were you not the one who instigated the test? It was your idea."
"Indeed it was, Sire, but I can only offer my apologies. I am but as at loss as you are about this."
"Truly? Tell me, what do you know of him, Magister Zelgabaarth? He's your brother, isn't he?"
"Be as it may be, Sire, but I have neither recollection nor information to go by, save for those that you are already aware of," Zelgabaarth nonchalantly scoffed. "We may be brothers, but we have never known each other."
"Why? Is that not strange?"
"To begin with, there is a considerable gap in our ages. When Hans was but a babe, I was already groomed for command, to be a statesman worthy of the Westergard lineage. That was all I was, all I had to do, said my father. All consolation I had in my adolescence was her."
"Her? You mean…"
"My late wife, yes. We were not yet married then, but she was all that mattered to me. And even then we could only meet sparingly-"
"Spare me your life stories, Magister," the King callously cut in. "What you have been meaning to say is that due to your commitments and preoccupations, you had not the freedom to interact with your own brother, is that not so?"
"… Yes, Sire." Zelgabaarth nodded.
"Fine, I get the gist of it," Vaynord waved dismissively. "Rather droll isn't it. You can find siblings who do not get along everywhere these days. Among royalties, most notably, what with the inheritance issues. I'd even say those who do are a blessed rarity." He let out a derisive laugh. "Speaking of siblings, how is Lars doing lately?"
"Lord Lars is doing well, Your Grace. He is ever preoccupied at his studies but is otherwise in good health. Might you require his presence anytime soon?"
"Unlikely," Vaynord shook his head. "It's but a concern from an older brother. It's good to know that as his protector, you take your duty with utmost care."
"My life is his," declared Zelgabaarth. "As it is yours," he added. "Whatever harm may befall Lord Lars, I will shield him from."
Vaynord laughed. Patting Zelgabaarth's armored shoulder. "Very good. I shall be counting on you from now on too." And he strode off at last, leaving the Magister alone inside the throne room.
Gripping the hilt of the sword on his hip and squeezing it, Stefan whispered,
"Indeed you shall, My King. Indeed you shall."
KNOCK KNOCK
"Come in!"
A click, and the door was ajar. From behind it peeked the Princess of Corona's concerned visage.
"Rapunzel! Come on in!" Anna said excitedly. "Oh, and Eugene too!"
"Hey there, Anna," greeted Eugene. The two entered and gently, he closed the door behind him.
Hurriedly, the Princess Regent stood up. She was about to reach for the tea tray when Rapunzel shook her head.
"Please, you are tired. Let me serve you instead," she said.
Anna nodded, and she settled herself on the settee across Eugene. Rapunzel came bearing a tray of pot and cups, settling it before them.
"Thank you," Anna whispered, receiving a steaming cup from her cousin. Rapunzel herself sat beside her.
"Hey… how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine, Punzie," Anna lied. "Tired, obviously, with all the stuffs that have been happening lately. But I'm… okay."
The Princess of Corona was obviously unconvinced, and Anna knew it. She cursed herself for her lack of skill in the art of deceit. Perhaps she should have taken more lessons from Elsa or Hans when she had the chance.
"You've been overworking yourself lately. It was like that time with Elsa, when… Hans passed away. Something's on your mind, Anna, we know it," said Rapunzel.
"And we're here to help," Eugene added as they saw Anna about to protest.
"Help?"
"Yes. We heard about Kristoff," Eugene continued. "He disappeared a few days ago, didn't he?"
Anna's silence confirmed their query.
"Listen, I have an idea, but we have to be secretive about this," Eugene leaned forward, his bearing turning serious.
"Wh-what do you mean, Eugene?" Anna stammered, seemingly confused by this sudden and unexpected turn in the conversation.
"I'm saying I will help find him and bring back home."
Anna couldn't hide her shock any longer. Her lips agape, she eyed the rogue-turned-prince before her, who was still looking back at her with dead seriousness. Her gaze switched to her cousin sitting beside her, who was nodding and now had the same stern air as her husband.
"Wha – how-"
"Think about it, Anna, it has been more than ten days and yet we've heard nothing concrete," said Eugene. "I suspect foul play is aloft here."
"That's…"
"Don't believe me? How many squads of soldiers have you sent out? To find Kristoff? Five? Ten? And yet they didn't manage to find the smallest speck of information. Isn't that strange?"
Anna bit her lip, anxious. What Eugene just said certainly had a sound logic. Arendelle was a small country, comprised of only few cities and villages in an enclosed fjord. The only way to leave the country was through the sea. No one should be able to sneak in or out undetected. And there had been no ship leaving the harbor even since the day before Kristoff's disappearance. Or after, since Anna herself had placed a lockdown on the harbors. That left only one possibility: Kristoff was still somewhere in Arendelle.
"Still, to say that you'll help find him… I can't let you put yourself in danger, not knowing whatever the ones that took Kristoff may have for us!"
"We've discussed it at length between ourselves, Anna," said Rapunzel firmly. "As you know, before all this, before he married me and became the Prince Consort… Eugene was a man of many talents. I believe this is the exact situation where those talents of his would be put into best use."
"And do take comfort in knowing that yours truly can keep himself safe just fine!" Eugene winked, making a show of flexing his muscles. "Also, my muscle's all stiff from all this idle royalty life. They could use some exercise."
Anna couldn't help but chuckle. "But… this is my problem. To put you in danger because of me, that's-"
"Hush now," Rapunzel held up a finger onto Anna's lips. "We're family. Isn't this what family all about? To help each other in times of need? Unless you don't share our feelings, of course…"
"No, no, of course not," Anna shook her head. She leaned in towards Rapunzel and pulled her into a hug. The Princess of Corona was surprised, yet reciprocated the gesture of affection all the same. "Thank you, Punzie."
"No, thank you, Anna," Rapunzel smiled. "This is the least we can do for you."
"Well," Eugene clicked his fingers, grinning. Glee was all but etched over his face. "Shall we begin, then?"
"HOO-AH!"
"Again!"
"HOO-AH!"
"Again!"
"HOO-AH!"
The Aries Company. A newly formed company inside the White Wolf Army, consisting solely of freshly recruited youths. Its purpose was clear: to be the shield of King Vaynord during the peace negotiation with the Alliance. It was not a decision without calculation: by specifically deploying fresh, inexperienced recruits, Nordgard was making a declaration of non-aggression. After all, how would a legion consisting of merely two hundred rookies measure up against the thousands of fully trained soldiers from the Alliance?
And of course, this "honor" of overseeing the training of the recruits fell to none other than Hans.
"Here," Hans grabbed a recruit's sword hand, twisting it into a steadier, less awkward position. "Your grip was weak. And your swing should follow the line of your blade, unless you'd want it break easily. Carry on."
And again the chorus of shouting echoed through the barrack halls.
So it seemed that Vaynord hadn't the intention to botch the peace negotiations, after all. The existence of this Company seemed all but proved it. But was that really that straightforward?
The unease gnawed at him…
… So much that he failed to realize that the entire training hall had gone silent.
"What is it? Why'd you stop?" Hans snapped at the recruits. Their nervous visages and a few stolen glances made him realize: someone was standing behind him.
The Magister Zelgabaarth.
He almost couldn't hide the shock emerging on his face, yet Hans managed to master his poise.
"Magister Zelgabaarth," he greeted, his voice steady. "Apologies. I did not expect you."
"Evidently," Zelgabaarth's flat voice came from behind his helmet. "You seem… preoccupied. Is something in your mind?"
"It's no trouble, Your Honor," Hans shook his head. "I am thinking of a few ideas to implement in the training regiment, is all. At any rate, how can I help you?" he added, trying to prevent further inquiries from Zelgabaarth.
"I'm here to check on the progress of the training. It seems to move along rather well, if I say so myself."
"Your approval is most appreciated, Your Honor," Hans nodded.
"The day of the Summit draws near. I trust you'll see to the completion of the training," Zelgabaarth nodded. "Speaking of which…"
He turned and glanced at Hans, who looked back quizzically.
"I think a demonstration might be a good idea."
Hans held back an urge to raise an eyebrow. "You are proposing a spar."
"Indeed," said Zelgabaarth.
"Apologies, Your Honor, but I'm afraid would not be a worthy opponent were we to match blades."
"Nonsense, the stories your deeds and valor are known wide and far. And I believe this would be a good time to demonstrate to the recruits about the art of combat. Would you not agree?"
Hans could feel beads of sweat starting to form on his temple. With a faked smile and composed voice, he said,
"I concur."
At Hans's agreement, the Magister Zelgabaarth snapped a finger, and came from behind him a page.
The page was a young boy; Hans noticed, thirteen or fourteen the oldest. Slim, rather skinny, with a curtain of shoulder-length black hair, he had a refined air that made him look more akin to a noble than a lowly servant.
"Your Honor," he bowed twice, once towards each Magister.
"Lorentz," Zelgabaarth nodded. "Fetch me a training sword."
The page named Lorentz bowed out and returned not long after with a training longsword. He promptly handed it to Zelgabaarth, who took it with evident zest.
"Pardon my armor," he said, inspecting the dulled wooden blade, "I really would not rather part with it in public. To even the odds, how about you put on yours?"
"I believe there would be no need for that, Your Honor, if we follow the one-point rule."
"Whoever gets the first clean strike, wins," Zelgabaarth nodded. "I concur."
"Then, shall we begin?" said Hans, readying his stance. He took an orthodox Ox Guard, pointing his blade diagonally towards the opponent.
In response, Zelgabaarth readied his own blade with the stance of Roof Guard.
Roof Guard? Hans thought, focusing his attention on Zelgabaarth's sword positioned over the head. Seems like he's opting for an aggressive approach, just like on the chessboard.
"At the ready…!" came the page's voice.
Hans couldn't help but notice something: Roof Guard was also Edvar's preferred approach when he wasn't dual-wielding. Perhaps Stefan was-
WHOOSH
Hans cursed inwardsly - he was deep enough in thought that he failed to notice the metaphorical gong of battle being rung. Zelgabaarth was already inches from him, and with blinding speed brought his sword down towards him.
Not wasting a moment, the Former Prince Consort of Arendelle deftly dodged to the side, and the strike hit empty air. But Zelgabaarth's blade did not linger; it swiftly whipped to the side towards Hans' exposed torso.
A two-stage attack! Hans realized. He twisted his wrist and positioned his own sword sideways, deflecting the sweep. The momentum switched; now that Zelgabaarth's sword had been knocked aside, Hans took the initiative and positioned his own sword for a thrust.
THWACK!
Before Hans managed the lunge, however, a swift kick had already planted itself at the side of his stomach. Fortunately, he noticed it in a split-second and managed to place an elbow to block it.
Both combatants took a step back. Hans flexed the elbow where Zelgabaarth's armored shin hit him; a gesture which Zelgabaarth did not miss.
"Apologies for that," he said sarcastically. "Perhaps if you were armored, you could have shrugged that off."
"It's only a slight discomfort, I assure you," said Hans, resuming his stance.
Zelgabaarth followed suit, and within seconds, they were already locked in combat, again.
Hans's blinding thrust to Zelgabaarth's chest was easily deflected, and he again found himself on the defensive. But the pressure did not linger; being unarmored might had its advantages, after all. What Hans lacked in defense was made up in agility and flexibility. He didn't bother to guard; nimbly dodging strikes after strikes, the younger brother was able to counter each attack with a precision strike of his own.
Were Zelgabaarth a lesser duelist, this fight would have ended a long time ago with Hans' blade striking him multiple times on his vitals.
THWACK!
The sound of wood banging against wood echoed across the hall. Hans had brought down his blade against his brothers', who managed to timely block the helmetbreaker. Zelgabaarth put strength into his arms and pushed Hans back, who jumped to regain his footing.
The end of the duel was nigh; both brothers lashed out at each other with their mightiest strike, their weapons meeting-
CRACK!
And broke.
It took several seconds after the dust had settled before the hall erupted into a cheer. Half cheered for the armored Magister, Zelgabaarth, while the other half applauded his unarmored opponent. Both combatants remained in their ready stance… and minutes passed before Hans finally dropped his guard.
"I believe it is concluded, Your Honor," he said.
Zelgabaarth followed suit and clapped his hands, to which the page reappeared by his side.
"I concur," said the Magister coolly, handing to the page the remains of his broken sword. "Lorentz, let us leave."
"So soon?" Hans said with a feigned dejection. "Would you not like to stay for a while? I'm sure we can use additional… supervision."
"No, I'm satisfied," said Zelgabaarth. "And I have other matters to attend. I'll leave this in your capable hands, Your Honor."
Both the armored magister and his page turned to leave. The hall remained quiet with bated breaths, until Hans clapped loudly to signal the restarting of the training session.
"My capable hands, eh…"
Beat.
Darkness. Comforting darkness.
Beat
Cold wintry air. Strangely comfortable.
Beat.
The sound of heartbeat in silence. And throbbing head.
He was lying motionlessly on his bed, trying to get some sleep. His day had been long. His tasks were numerous.
And he was exhausted.
Not just physically, but mentally as well. Of course, his list of duty in preparation for the peace treaty was long. But that was not the source of his distress. It perplexed him so that no matter how hard-
WHAM!
A thunderous sound and Hans jolted awake, sword in hand. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he scanned the darkened room.
There was nobody.
He could neither see nor feel the presence of another inside the room.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" he tried calling with the most intimidating voice he could muster.
Still, no response.
Slowly, Hans removed himself from the bed. He thought of lighting up a lamp, yet quickly decidNed against it. It would be most unwise to drop his guard when the assailant hadn't even been identified, after all.
Time passed as he crouched still beside the bed, sword still at the ready. Five minutes… ten…
His legs were numb, yet if the enemy would test his patience, they wouldn't-
Oh wow, what a bore! You're really going to sit there all night like that?
"… What?! Who!? Show yourself!" Hans shouted back, fear and confusion evident in his voice.
This was the first time he'd heard a voice like this, one that seemed to come from every direction. No, wait, it wasn't – the time when Elsa lost control of her magic… didn't she speak like this too? But this voice wasn't hers, so-
"I can hear you! You'd better show yourself and say what you want before-"
Whoa, whoa… calm down! You can… hear me? Said the voice. Hans detected disbelief in it, which stuck him as odd.
"Yes I can," he repeated with a steadier voice. "Who are you!? And what do you want?!"
Wow, I never think… there was someone that can hear me besides her! Not even anyone in the Northuldra can hear my voice. Neither could her sister, or anyone. But you-
"Anyone – Northuldra? What on earth are you talking about? And who is she?"
I'm talking about Elsa, of course! said the voice cheerily. You're Hans Westergaard, Elsa's husband, aren't you? Nice to meet you, I'm Gale!