Waking up slowly, the first thing that Ciaran's mind took in was the bed he was in. It was a four-poster bed, similar to the sort you'd see in an old English country manor, with a red silk blanket over the bed and a large canopy made from the same material. It was soft too, much softer than his own bed.
Looking around with his one good eye, Ciaran took in the detail of the room. 'Gaudy', was probably the best word to describe it. The room had marble, Greek style plinths, plush purple carpets and a huge mirror that, he suspected, hid a large wardrobe behind it.
Just then, the door to the room opened. Looking quickly, Ciaran's eyes settled on the large form of the general he had met yesterday. He was still wearing the same uniform he had on, but now he had a large newspaper nestled in the crook of his arm. The giants eye's settled on the young man, as a warm smile took over his face.
"Well, good morning, Ciaran." The man said, closing the door behind him before walking to stand beside the bed, placing the newspaper on the bedside table.
"Good morning to you too, sir." Ciaran replied, a little bit hesitantly before he rubbed his face to remove the built up sleep. However, doing so caused to wince in pain as his hand brushed over the bruise on his left cheek.
"Still a bit tender, I see." The giant said sympathetically, to which Ciaran nodded. "Well, the doctors had a look at you last night, and it's save to say you'll live."
The young man couldn't help but smile at the generals candour. Gone was the sternness he saw yesterday, replaced by something more... fatherly. Even if he did have the body which could crush you if he wanted to.
"Best news I've heard over the past few days." Ciaran couldn't help but joke as he made to stand out of bed. He stopped himself though, withdrawing his legs back under the covers.
"Ugh... where are my clothes, sir?" Ciaran asked, a little bit sheepishly.
The general crossed his arms as he began. "They are in a secure locker, I'm afraid. After what happened yesterday, myself and the princess decided that it would be best if you were made to blend in. As well as you could with those injuries." The last bit was added quite hastily.
Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. "So where does that leave me?"
As if on cue, three measured knocks sounded on the door.
"Enter." The general called out, and a dark-haired maid walked in, carrying a large white, cardboard, box.
"By the order of the viceroy, sirs." She placed the box on the end of the bed, curtsied and then walked out.
Picking up the box, the general looked inside, and a broad smile came to his face, before placing the box next to Ciaran. Looking inside, Ciaran saw that it was a similar uniform to what the older man wore, except the gold was replaced by a blue fabric.
"I hope everything fits. I'll be waiting outside." The general turned to leave before he paused.
"By the way," he began, turning back, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. General Andreas Darlton." He offered his hand to the young man on the bed.
Ciaran looked at the hand, before smiling and grasping it with his own.
"Ciaran Forsyth."
Darlton nodded at the exchange before pulling his hand back.
"Now hurry up and get changed. The princess wants to have a word with you." And at that, he exited the door, leaving Ciaran to get dressed.
After a few minutes, the door opened and Ciaran stepped through the door. He was dressed in the immaculate uniform: a deep maroon jacket with blue trim, cream trousers tucked into black jack-boots. The outfit was completed by a pair of white gloves. Standing outside the door, Darlton couldn't help but smile.
"I think the effect is a bit ruined by bandages." Ciaran said, pulling the cuffs of the jacket over the gloves.
Darlton nodded in understanding.
"Before we continue, I think I should give these back to you." Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out Ciaran's watch and MP3 player, holding them in the palm of his large hand. "I took the liberty of setting the watch to the correct time."
Taking them in each hand, the young man stared at them both for a few seconds before putting the music player in his pocket and attaching the watch to his wrist.
"Thank you, sir."
Gesturing down the hall, the two walked down in amicable silence, before Darlton spoke up.
"Did you wear uniforms a lot where you came from?"
Confused, Ciaran looked down at his uniform. "Why? Am I wearing it wrong?"
Darlton chuckled. "No, it's just that you're wearing it better than I thought you would."
Ciaran shrugged. "Well, school uniforms were mandatory until you were eighteen. Plus, I was in the boy scouts for a while. Also, I wanted to get into the army, and I had a pretty big interest in military history before the nineteen-hundreds."
Darlton nodded. "What did you want to do in the army, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Armoured corps. Wanted to be tanker."
Darlton scoffed. "Tanks? You mean those boxes that rolled around on tracks?"
Ciaran just gave the general a hurt look before raising his head in a huff. "For your information, it's a matter of family tradition. Two of my family members have already been in the armoured corps, and I very much intended to carry on that legacy."
Darlton held up his hands defensively. "All right, all right. If it's tradition, I won't fault it. Out of curiosity though, would you still consider it a choice if you're forced to stay here?"
Ciaran mulled the thought over in his head a bit before answering. "Honestly, I would."
Darlton nodded as they continued on in silence again. After a few minutes, they reached a large set of double doors. Turning to face the young man, the general spoke again.
"I think you impressed the princess yesterday with your manner. But here's some tips: always address her as 'your highness' or 'my lady'. Never 'ma'am' like you did yesterday." Darlton raised his hand to give the door three measured knocks. "Other than that, keep your head up, eyes straight and keep calm. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." The young man replied, straightening himself up.
The door opened, the bespectacled man from yesterday holding it open.
"It's general Darlton and our guest, your highness." The man said, turning his head to look at the other side of the room.
"Well, let them in, Guilford." A woman's voice commanded, at which the door opened wider, the man standing to the side to let Ciaran and the general through into the room.
The room they were now standing in was huge and even though Ciaran kept his head looking straight ahead, his vision roamed all over the room. Marble plinths lined the walls, although now they were accompanied by busts and portraits. A large wooden desk occupied a large amount of space at the end of the room, above which a flag was raised: it had a blue field, with a red cross over which was imposed a crowned shield bearing a lion and a snake.
Behind the desk, in a large chair, sat the purple-haired woman from yesterday, the princess, reading over a document file.
"Your highness." Darlton said, bending down to kneel before the desk. Looking quickly, Ciaran copied the same manoeuvre, kneeling before the desk.
No sound save for the sound of rustling paper came from the desk, before the woman spoke.
"Rise, Darlton."
Ciaran however remained kneeling before the princess, his head held low.
"You may stand too, Mr Forsyth." The princess said, her voice managing to suppress a small chuckle.
At that, Ciaran pulled himself up, keeping his head up, and his eye focused on the princess. The woman was leaning forward, her elbows on the desk top and her hands linked under her chin, her eyes intently looking at the young man.
"How are you feeling this morning?" She asked.
"I'm well, your highness," Ciaran answered. "Face is still bit tender though."
The princess nodded. "And the uniform? It fits well, I take it."
"Indeed it does, your highness."
The woman nodded before pushing the chair back and standing up. Reaching down, she took the file she was reading through before and turned it so Ciaran could read it.
"Have a look through that, and tell me what you notice."
Stepping forward, Ciaran opened the file and saw several photos. They were slightly grainy, but the quality was still good enough for him to know that the photos were from a security camera of the hall he found himself in yesterday. Only this one was empty. Leafing through the photos, his eye widened as he looked at one of them: it showed a large white blur that filled the right half of the photo. Then in the next one... well, there he was.
"Bugger me." Ciaran said softly to himself.
"I won't say I'm not impressed," the princess said, crossing her arms over her chest, "Since that is a very good magic trick, if it is magic. Do you know what it could be, Mr Forsyth?"
Ciaran shook his head.
"Your guess is as good as mine, your highness. The only things I can suggest will sound like they belong in the realm of bad science-fiction." He said with a slight chuckle, looking up at the princess.
"I thought as much," the princess began, "Well, considering our situation here, how you got here is of secondary importance, I'm afraid to say. Find Zero comes first."
"About that, your highness. What is the situation regarding me and... Zero?" The young man asked, hesitantly.
"If you're wondering if we, meaning myself and my senior staff, think that you are Zero, then no. We have all agreed that you are not Zero."
Ciaran nodded, letting a smile come to his lips, which seemed to please the princess, as she made her way around the desk to stand near him.
"Now that that's out of the way, I believe that some formal introductions are in order." Darlton chimed in, clapping his hands together. "Ciaran, allow me to introduce to you, Princess Cornelia li Britannia, second princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, viceroy of Area 11 and chief general of His Imperial Majesties armed forces."
At that, Ciaran took a single step back and bowed. "Ciaran Forsyth, at your service, my lady."
Stepping forward, the bespectacled man came to stand beside the princess. "And this is Sir Gilbert Guilford, personal Knight of Princess Cornelia."
"My lord." Ciaran said, bowing his head.
"A pleasure." The knight said.
"Well, introductions out of the way, I'd say it's a good time for breakfast. No?" Cornelia said, looking around.
The three men chimed their agreement as the princess made for the door, the trio following behind.
The quartet made their way down the hall, Guilford and Cornelia at the front with Ciaran and Darlton bringing up the rear. Every now again, Cornelia would look back at Ciaran, who would look back and give her a small smile which she returned.
They walked in silence until a loud cry reverberated down the corridor.
"SIIIIISSSSTEEER!"
A bright pink blur came barreling down the corridor and collided with Cornelia who, either through habit or natural strength, managed to resist the blur and keep her footing.
"Euphemia, what have I told you about doing that?" The older woman scolded the pink blur, who turned out to be a young girl who, to Ciaran's eyes, seemed to be made entirely out of pink. She was the same height as Ciaran, but her body was more thin. Her long hair was a bright shade of pink that reached down nearly to her waist, and her eyes were a shade of purplish-violet, which was close to the shade of colour as her older sister, marking them out as related.
"I'm sorry, sister, but you disappeared from the room and I thought you'd be in the dining room but you weren't there and... oh." Her tirade subsided as her eyes settled on the bandaged young man, her hands covering her mouth.
"Ah, yes. Mr Forsyth, allow me to introduce to you my younger sister, third princess Euphemia li Britannia, the sub-viceroy of Area 11."
Ciaran bowed from the waist. "My lady."
Euphemia smiled and curtsied in return. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr Forsyth. So you're the guest sister told me about."
Ciaran's mouthed opened and closed in confusion as he looked at the older woman.
"Don't worry. Sister told me that you were innocent of the whole mess and, if it's any conciliation, I'm sorry for the treatment you received."
"Treatme... oh." Ciaran suddenly started. "THAT treatment. Thank you, your highness."
Euphemia simply nodded and begun dragging Cornelia down the corridor she came from, the remaining trio merely smiling at the young woman's antics.
Soon, the group arrived at the dining room, the door opened by a pair of butlers revealing a long wooden table, with several dozen chairs at the ready, along with various teapots, coffee pots, cups and newspapers ready for use.
"I'd have loved to have met the designer of this place," Ciaran mused to himself, looking around at the decor of the room, which was a near exact copy of the other rooms he had been in before.
"It was the choice of my younger brother, Clovis. He was the former viceroy of Area 11." Cornelia said, as she began sitting down at the head of the table. It seemed like she was the only person who heard him.
Ciaran nodded his heads as he took his seat, him and Darlton sitting on Cornelia's right and Euphemia and Guilford on her left.
A butler soon appeared beside the table, seeming to glide in silently.
"Is her majesty ready to order her breakfast?" The man said.
"Since Mr Forsyth is our guest," Euphemia spoke up, "How about we let him order first?"
Ciaran glanced over at Cornelia who merely nodded her head in acceptance.
"All right then," he said, flexing his hands, "I'll have... two poached eggs, two pork sausages without the skin, with a side of a baked beans. Two pieces of white bread toasted, and I do mean toasted, and a glass of orange juice, please."
The butler nodded at the order.
"I'll have the same," Darlton chimed in, "But with three eggs and three sausages."
"I'll just have a bowl of cold cereal with bananas, please." Euphemia chimed in.
"An omelet with a side of bacon for me." Guilford spoke up, placing a napkin on his lap.
"And her majesty?" The butler said, addressing princess Cornelia.
"A mushroom omelet will be fine." she said.
The butler bowed and walked out of the room with the same lack of noise as he had entered.
Soon, Euphemia was talking animatedly with her older sister, while Darlton reached across and began reading one of the various newspapers. Guilford however leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and looking intently at Ciaran.
"So, Mr Forsyth, how do you think you'll be spending your time here in Area 11 after you injuries heal?" The bespectacled knight said.
At this, Darlton looked over his newspaper to look at the man across from him. "Actually, Gil, Ciaran and I had a conversation about that topic earlier."
"Did you now?" The man responded, raising an eyebrow in interest.
"Indeed. It seems that before he came here, Ciaran was intent on joining the armed forces."
This seemed to pique the interest of the table, as the two princesses ceased their conversation to listen to the conversation.
"Is this true, Ciaran?" Cornelia asked, leaning back in the chair.
"It is, your highness." Ciaran replied, nodding his head.
Before the conversation could continue, the same butler from before walked in, announcing that breakfast was ready, as several maids came in carrying trays with plates of food, which they placed before the group. They all ate in silence, the only sound being appreciative murmurs and the clink of cutlery on china.
"So, Ciaran," Cornelia said, having swallowed a forkful of her omelette, "If you did join the forces, which part would you see yourself going into?"
Ciaran paused, his fork, with a piece of sausage on it, an inch or so from his mouth. "Umm... well, I wanted to join the Royal Armoured Corps. Become a tank crewman."
Cornelia nodded. "I'm not sure about the tanks, but we'll see what can happen." Saying that, the two carried on eating their breakfast.
A few minutes later, with the dishes clean and cleared, the group sat around the table, enjoying their drinks.
"So... what's gonna happen with me now?" Ciaran asked flatly, staring into his glass of orange juice.
Cornelia took a sip from her teacup before placing it on it's saucer.
"Well, your desire to join the armed forces does certainly help. But I'm afraid until your injuries fully heal, you won't be of much use to us."
"Fair enough." Ciaran nodded, taking a drink from his glass.
"Intent for something to do?" Darlton asked, his eyes never leaving the newspaper before him.
"Not a huge fan of sitting around not doing something." The young man replied.
"Well, then," Cornelia said, finishing her drink and standing up from her chair, "Until your injures heal, you'll assist my sister in her role as sub-viceroy. Does that sound fair?"
Ciaran nodded, while Euphemia clapped her hands together. "Oh, that sounds lovely! I want to know more about you."
Darlton gave Ciaran a sly look. "Been in a uniform for less than two hours, and you've already got an easy gig. Lucky sod."
Ciaran merely shrugged as he finished his drink. "My luck seems to have been very subjective as of late."
"Well, that settles it," Euphemia said cheerfully, either ignoring or not having heard the conversation between the two. "Sister, is that all right?"
Cornelia, who was rising from her chair, smiled. "Of course it is. Now, I'm afraid I must be off." At that, both Darlton and Guilford rose from their chairs to follow the princess. On her way out, Cornelia paused by Ciaran's chair. Bending down, she brought her head level with his ear.
"Remember that you're a guest. Don't do anything stupid."
Even though her voice was calm and level, Ciaran felt a slight chill run down his spine. Shaking his head to clear away the unpleasant feeling, the young man stood as Euphemia came to him.
"Ready to go?" She asked, alternating between her toes and heels.
"Lead the way." He gestured with his arm towards the door.
The trip to Euphemia's office took roughly five minutes, although Ciaran's mind still couldn't comprehend how someone could easily find their way around the place.
"This place is more like a labyrinth than a palace." He mused aloud, looking down each corridor they passed before they came to another set of double doors.
"Yes, it is quite large," The young girl admitted as she opened one of the doors. "My older brother was the designer, and he certainly liked to be... extravagant."
"Hmm... Cornelia did mention him. Clovis, correct?" Ciaran asked as he entered the room, closing the door behind him. The office he was in was similar to Cornelia's, except the desk was a much simpler affair and the plinths and busts were replaced by flags and their flag poles.
"That's right. He was a creative soul." Euphemia said, sitting down. Ciaran noticed that her voice took on a hint of sadness at the mention of her brother.
"You majesty, I don't mean to seem rude but I'm guessing that Clovis is..?"
"Dead. Killed by Zero." Euphemia said, her downcast eyes focusing on the table. Ciaran sucked in air through his teeth, mentally chastising himself.
"I'm sorry. That... that was rude of me." Ciaran said, shaking his head ruefully.
"It's all right." The girl said, her cheer coming back. "You simply weren't told, so it's not your fault."
The duo shared a smile before Ciaran clapped his hands together.
"Right. So what's on the agenda for today then?"
"Well," The princess said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small pile of folders bound together, "Since my sister handles all of the larger and more important issues, that leaves me with all the small details. Public events, museums, what have you."
"Righto." Ciaran said, cracking his knuckles. "What do you want me to do?"
Euphemia unbound the folders and placed the pile at the end of the desk. "I need you to go through these files, check the dates of when they need to be completed and then sort them so that those which need to be done first at the top."
"As you command." The young man said, bowing his head which brought a smile to the princess' face. Taking off his gloves, which he placed on the desk top, he opened the first file and began reading as Euphemia took out another set of files and began doing the same.
"And... done." Euphemia said, setting the last file onto her pile. "Are you finished?"
Ciaran nodded. "Checked, double checked and all bound, ready for... well whatever you do with these."
Euphemia giggled as she checked the clock on the desk. "And it's only 11 o'clock."
"Really?" Ciaran asked, checking his own watch. "That certainly was fast. Now what do we do?"
The pink girl placed a finger on her chin as began thinking, before she finally spoke.
"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to know more about yourself." She said, bringing her chair around to sit closer to the man.
Ciaran drummed his fingers on the desk top, before he shrugged. "All right then. What would you like to know?"
Euphemia crossed her legs as she sat down on the chair. "Well... what did you do before you came here?"
"Not much to say really," Ciaran answered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his fingers. "I was a kitchen-porter in a hotel near where I lived. I regretfully didn't have the right grades to get into a university, and my application to the army fell through."
The girl nodded as he finished. "What about your parents? What did they do?"
"My dad was a police officer and my mum was a teaching assistant."
Euphemia nodded, in rapt attention at the man before her. Ciaran noticed.
"I'm not really all that interesting, princess."
"Now that's not true!" Euphemia said, looking slightly offended at the remark. "Like... what about your hobbies? Certainly you had some interesting ones."
The young man chuckled. "All right then. You asked. Well, firstly: I'm an archer. Been doing that since I was thirteen. I've been into tabletop war-gaming since I was... ten? Eleven? Ten or eleven." He waved his hand at the confused memory. "Uh, what else. Well, those are the interesting ones. I've written a few things, mainly for the war-gaming thing, and also a lot of reading on military and historical fiction."
"An author, eh?" Euphemia asked, her interest piqued. "Did you get anything published."
Ciaran shook his head. "'fraid not. A lot of the stuff I've written is either sitting on my hard-drive on my laptop or on the internet." At that, the man lowered his head, looking down at his hand as he began playing with his thumbs.
Reaching over, Euphemia placed a small hand on top of his hands. Looking up, Ciaran was treated to a small smile from the girl.
"I can't imagine what must be going through your mind right now," The princess said in a soft voice, "But don't feel like you have to go through this alone. Okay?"
Giving a small smile of his own, Ciaran placed one of his hands over hers, giving it a soft squeeze.
"Thank you, Euphemia."
The smile on her face broadened, just as three knocks sounded from the door.
"Come in." Euphemia said, letting go of Ciaran's hands as she pushed her chair back to it's original position.
The door opened, revealing the formidable form of general Darlton.
"Ah, Darlton." The princess said gleefully. "What brings you here?"
"Well, princess," Darlton said, his long legs carrying him towards the other end of the room, "The viceroy has given me a bit of free time, and so I decided to give our young friend here a bit of a treat." The last bit of the sentence was reinforced by the general placing a large hand on Ciaran's shoulder.
"Ooh." Euphemia said, intrigued by the idea. "Can I come along?"
"Of course." Darlton nodded, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm.
Looking at this watch again, Ciaran merely shrugged. "Be a good way to kill time until lunch." At that, he rose from his chair, collecting his gloves and putting them on. At that, the trio made their way out of the room, Darlton closing the door behind them.
AN: And that's chapter 2 up. Wanted to get this done before I had to leave for work. I'm not gonna lie that the hardest thing to write of this whole chapter was trying to figure out what everyone would have for breakfast. Hehe.
One of you, Demons Anarchy of Pride, that Darlton had taken a liking to the main character. I chose to do that because it is mentioned in his character material (and the episodes themselves) that Darlton adopted several boys as his sons. The Glaston Knights. As such, I kind of went with the idea that, even though he's a stern and serious military man, beneath the rough exterior is a gentle soul. Plus, he kind of looks like my granddad. Heh.
So yeah. Read, review, whatever you want. But most of all, enjoy. c: