CHAPTER 6

The papers spilled across the desk, each carrying their own messages requesting aid for some crisis or other; the border of Basram needed a guymelef pilot, thieves were ransacking the villages in Asturian countryside, an on it went. Every part of the world, it seemed, was in shambles, and the need outpaced the Knight Caeli's ability to keep up.

Allen Schezar let his tired gaze sweep over the sea of parchment, and with a sigh, he reached over to his right to stroke the head of his faithful owl, Natal, who was resting on her perch.

"It's a lot, isn't it girl?"he asked softly, smiling thinly at the owl's bright, inquisitive gaze. Natal cooed, as if in sympathy, shifting closer to his hand to affectionately nip at the gloved fingers. Allen felt grateful for her presence. Natal might not be able to help him with his work, but her companionship had become more and more invaluable as of late, especially at this lonely outpost.

And now a new message sat atop all the others, just arrived this morning from the capital, the seal in the shape of the king's crest staring solemnly back at him, the dark red wax livid and foreboding. He knew it contained no good news. The courier had a harried, exhausted look about him when he'd delivered it, explaining only that it was "a matter of grave importance, sir. Directly from Princess Eries, sir."

A matter of grave importance, indeed. Among many other matters of grave importance that seemed ready to drown him these days.

Allen's first thoughts had immediately gone to his sister when he'd taken the letter, a chill settling in stomach at the thought of something happening to her. Had she been in accident? Was she ill? Had she-

No. He forced that question back into the deepest recesses of his mind before it could present a host of terrifying scenarios he didn't care to dwell on. No...he would not dare to imagine that would ever happen.

Upon seeing the king's seal, however, he'd felt at least a sliver of relief. Eries wouldn't have used it if it had been a message about Celena, which meant that his sister, was for the moment, at least, safe. This letter was strictly political.

Allen took the scroll, feeling the heaviness of the parchment in his hands before splitting the seal and unrolling it. A grimace creased his fine-boned features as he began to read the first few lines, pausing to screw his eyes shut against them, a deep sigh escaping his lips and sagging his shoulders. He opened them again to finish, making himself take it in:

Dear Sir Schezar, Knight Caeli of Asturia,

It saddens me to announce the passing of His Royal Majesty, King Grava Efud Aston, who departed at nine o'clock in the morning on the Twenty Fifth of White Moon. His passing was peaceful and painless, which is as much as any daughter could ask. Your presence is requested for the Royal Funerary Rites to be held at the Jichia Temple at seven o'clock in the morning the Thirtieth. I pray your arrival may be swift and without incident, for I have much I need to discuss with you. This time is very difficult, and I and Millerna greatly need you.

Your sister as well, needs you. I will not burden you with the particulars here, but suffice to say, I cannot begin to reach her. You may be able to do what I cannot. Jichia only knows.

Come quickly, dear Allen. I pray that I shall see you two days henceforth in Palas.

Eries, Princess Asturia

Allen's arms dropped heavily on the desk, re-reading the letter a few more times, noting the desperation behind the otherwise cool formality in the writing. Eries must have been hurried, and he could understand. He could only imagine the pain she and Millerna were going through now, the incredible burdens they were going to have to shoulder. Millerna was going to have an entire kingdom looking to her for guidance, and who knew when and if Dryden would show back up to fulfill his duties as her husband and king? And Eries-poor Eries, doomed to live a sad and shadowy life behind her sister, spending her days caring for Celena.

A profound sense of guilt swept over Allen then. He'd never really forgiven himself for asking Eries to take on such an incredibly difficult task. What right had he, anyway? It wasn't as though they were related; Eries had no obligations to him. But, who else could he have trusted more? His country has needed him. His men had needed him. He was in no position to offer Celena the stability she deserved.

And a small, evil part of himself whispered that he was glad not to witness what was happening to her. Allen loved his sister. That went without saying. He'd spent the last ten years of his life looking for her, and now that he finally had her, his happiness was tainted with the manner in which she had returned to him. He still wasn't fully able to accept what she was, what had been done to her. The knowledge that she had spent the better part of her life as someone else...a monster, disturbed him far more than he was ready to admit.

She was his sister, yet he was utterly terrified of her.

There were times when he couldn't look at her, because Allen swore he saw him staring back.

And he'd given her to Eries. But Eries was strong, possessed of a quiet, enduring wisdom that without her, they'd have been nowhere. She'd guided him, not always gently, but always managing to steer him in the direction he needed to go. And for that, Allen could never repay her.

Sighing, he laid the letter down and rose to his feet. He had to find Gaddess and get him and his crew together to depart for Palas as soon as they could.

He ignored the niggling sense of fear tugging at his mental shirtsleeves that something bad was waiting for him there.

Slice.

The sword swung in a graceful arc around the boy who wielded it about the practice floor, creating a killing circle that was deceptively beautiful in the fluidity of its movements.

Slice.

The blade wove through the air, flashing in the thin early morning sunlight that seemed to creep warily over the window sills as though it were afraid of being cleaved apart.

Van pushed himself through exercise after exercise, mind only aware of the exertions of his body and the sword ever-dancing before him.

Merle knew to keep away during this time; whenever Van went to the armory, it usually meant he had frustrations better taken out on imaginary enemies than living comrades.

Reconstruction was so slow...so agonizingly slow. Just yesterday they'd lost Duran, an architect, when a section of the outer wall had collapsed due to a weak foundation. It had been a senseless death. It never should have happened and Van blamed himself; he'd been the one to order Duran to the project, after all.

Why didn't I order stricter safety checks? Damn it! Why was I so shortsighted?

Slice. Slice. Slice.

He grimaced as his movements became more violent, his anger directed mostly towards himself for his lack of forethought, feeling just how deep the responsibility for that death went. He'd compensated Duran's family as much as he could; he'd paid for the burial, offered his widow a stipend to support her and her children. She had refused, stating that her husband had taken a risk for the good of his country, and that his fate had already been decided.

Van wasn't satisfied. He was going to see to it that she would receive the stipend as soon as he was able to afford it. Money was simply too tight at the moment, with most of it going towards construction and worker's salaries.

So slow...

But they were moving forward, and that was all that mattered now.

Never look back, he told himself as the sword sliced out a transverse slash, knowing that Hitomi would have said something similar if she'd been here.

She would have told me to do my best, to not dwell on Duran's death, but to look to the future. I can't pretend I won't feel guilt over it, but I need to look at the bigger picture. That was my mistake the last time Fanelia was attacked. I wanted nothing more than single-minded revenge.

"Milord."

Van's feet skidded to a halt at the sound of Ruhm's voice from the doorway, weapon at an awkward angle. He shook his head to bring his mind back to the present and save his ruminations for later. He sheathed his sword and turned to face his companion with an expectant, if slightly annoyed expression.

"Sorry to disturb you, milord,"Ruhm apologized with a brief bow. He held out a hand, and Van saw a scroll clutched in the beast-man's giant claws. "I'd not have come if it weren't urgent. A message came a little while ago from Palas. It's from Princess Eries."

"Princess Eries?" Van asked, moving closer to take the scroll from Ruhm and noticing the grim look in his eyes. Furrowing his brows in apprehension, Van tentatively unrolled the paper and began to read, his grip slowly growing tighter and crumpling the parchment as he did so.

"King Aston's dead," he said softly, voice husky with sadness, as if he hadn't had enough of it in the last few days. "We've been asked to attend the funeral."

"Sire?"

Van heard the question without it having to be spoken. He met Ruhm's eyes and the beast-man saw the resolve settling in on the young king's face, admiring his ability to emotionally pick himself up and keep walking in spite of fate's capricious dealings. He was growing up.

"Of course I'm going,"he said with a hint of a reprimand behind his words that anyone dare to second-guess his loyalty for his friends. "We leave tomorrow at dawn. Prepare the Escaflowne and go tell Merle."

Ruhm bowed in acquiescence, clapping a large hand on the boy's shoulder in an almost paternal gesture of support.

"As you wish, milord. "