Kasou ~ Flower Burial

by littlemaiko





Disclaimer: Gensou Suikoden 2 and all its elements are properties of KCE. Title is taken from "Kasou", property of L'arc~en~Ciel. Stealing is prohibited.

Note: Hisui is the name of Hero from Suikoden 2.





:: Chapter 1 ::





Miklotov rose before sunrise like any other day, giving his broad body one good stretch before sliding out of the bed. He made the bed as a good knight should, although a maid would come in during the morning to change the linen. A look outside the window told him that the day was going to be a beautiful pre-spring one. The season was in the process of changing for the better, shedding harsh Matildan winter for a mild spring. There was not a speck of cloud in the barely dawning sky.

Pulling on a freshly-pressed blue uniform, the dark-haired knight readied himself and left the room for yet-empty corridors. He had a few things to do before entering his work office. As was his custom since the return to Matilda, he headed to the back of the palace where the stone staircases led up to the topmost floor. It was not a place he wanted to frequent so much, but he had his reason to go. The day could not begin without him going there to fetch his best friend.

The dimly-lit stone hallway extended long, almost forever to eyes with shadows hanging over the end of its far reach. Miklotov felt his legs become heavier with each step toward the place where he'd find the former Red Knight Captain. Although the smell of blood had been washed away with time, the air of grievous death still hung over the place. It was a death everyone wished to undo. An arrow had taken the life of a girl whom all had adored.

"Camus."

Finally entering the central corridor of accursed memories, Miklotov called to the amber-haired knight who was kneeling midway into the room. At his call, Camus nodded without turning and stood slowly. The movement seemed painful, lacking the usual grace. It was always like this; every morning, Camus would spend a long moment by the place where the young girl had fallen. Miklotov did not know what was passing through his friend's mind during that time. He didn't dare to ask; there were some feelings which even the best friends weren't supposed to probe.

"Good morning, Miklotov." Already regaining the elegant smile and soft demeanor he was famed for, Camus joined the younger man at the doorway.

"Good morning. ...Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." The Red Knight answered softly. He followed his companion after a short look back to the spot where he'd been for the past hour.

**********

The Dunan Unification Wars had ended the summer before. Deaths and other damages accumulated on both sides had been devastating, but the rebuilding process was slowly making significant recoveries under the new chancellor Shu's administration. By mutual agreement, two Matildan knight captains had returned to the nation of their initial loyalty to re-establish the triparte order. Three full seasons had passed since the finale of the dreadful battles and loss of so many dear ones.

Camus sat at the head of the long conference table, listening intently to the well-controlled debate over the use of resident taxes. He had never involved himself in such politics when Gorudo had been the head of the region. Now, with Miklotov shockingly incompetent with such worldly matter, most decisions lay upon the Red Knight's shoulders.

"How is the economic recovery since the restoration of the Order?" The amber-eyed man interrupted the argument over the table, fixing his beautiful gaze upon the two men who were becoming a little too heated over the problem. One was his own vice-captain, Alces, and other was a former White Knight who'd been the leader of secret protest organization against Gorudo during the war. Both men were very trustworthy and able, but they didn't get along well.

"It is almost back to the same level as the pre-war times, sir." The White Knight answered immediately, taking a breath and sitting back into the chair.

"There are merchants from other regions coming and going, so the flow of currency is smooth, too. Sir, it would be to our best interest..." Still not out of the passions of the debate, the vice-captain began.

"Silence." Camus finally sharpened his tone, commanding obedience. He respected some extent of hot-headedness or else he wouldn't be friends with Miklotov. However, this was not the appropriate place and he expected his men to know that. "I see your point, Alces. However, it is still too early to raise the taxes. We do need the capital for restoration of the buildings damaged during the invasion, but that can wait."

Others, mostly lower-ranked knights chosen to be present for their thoughtfulness and diplomacy, all nodded in agreement. Alces nodded humbly, not daring to hold hard feelings against his liege. Pleased, Camus turned the page of his notes on the agenda.

"Sir Camus."

The meeting was interrupted by one of the gate-guards. Rightfully alarmed, Camus nodded for the young man to report whatever emergency had led him here.

"There is a young woman at the gate. She wishes to see you."

"...Is that it?" Narrowing his eyes disapprovingly, the temporary co-ruler of Matilda shook his head. "Don't disturb us for such trifle matter. Escort the lady to the inn and tell her I will see her when time allows it."

"No, sir. She... She claims to be Lady Nanami." The young guard shuffled nervously by the doorway, cold sweating visibly.

Murmurs broke out in the conference room at the said words. Everyone present knew the fate of Nanami. It was known to anyone who read the recently compiled records of the war.

Rare anger showing on his face, Camus rose from his chair and addressed the guard in a tight tone. "...How dare you... No, how dare she. Such lies are insults to Lady Nanami's name."

The youth, merely out of squire-hood, shivered at Camus' anger. Receiving similar looks from others in the room, the poor guard croaked out the last of his report. "Sir, I've seen Lady Nanami a few times during the war. The girl looks exactly like her from head to toe. Even the voice is the same."

"...Meeting will resume in two hours, gentlemen. Excuse me." Not waiting for affirmations, the red-clad man left the room with the young guard to lead him to the unwelcome impersonator.

**********

Miklotov was met with Alces, who should have been in a meeting. When he questioned the man, he was given an excuse that more than answered him. Barely muttering a reply to the Red Knight, he snatched Dunceney from its resting place on the rack and hurried to exit the palace for the city gate. Momentary rage took over him and he broke into a run, almost determined to hack down the one who dared to take the name of the deceased.

"Miklotov."

"Camus." The dark-haired knight saw his friend coming from the other end of the hallway. They joined and were led by the nervous-looking gate-guard.

"Alces, is it?" Camus inquired simply, remembering that his right-hand man had left the meeting right after himself.

"Yes." Gritting his teeth a little, Miklotov looked straight ahead at the approaching gate as the three of them advanced very quickly. "...How shall we handle this?"

"We'll decide later."

Reaching the stone gates of Matilda, the two knights came to a halt and waited for their guide to bring the said woman. Camus shook his head in negative when he found Miklotov's hand tense upon Dunceney. They weren't here to execute a criminal... at least not out in the public. In honesty, the Red Knight was as tempted to violent rage as his companion was. His sentimental tie to Nanami had been stronger than that of Miklotov and the girl.

A lithe figure clad in an off-white cape with a deep hood obscuring the top half of the face appeared through the massive gates, following the young guard closely. Camus watched the woman intently, his hands curling into loose fists by his sides. He had to do so to keep from becoming angry again. Miklotov, however, was not so deft in keeping his emotions in.

"Show your face." The dark-haired knight demanded immediately upon the stranger's approach.

"Couldn't you greet me in a friendlier fashion, Miklotov? We haven't met in ten months." The light voice was a familiar mezzo-soprano. A beige-gloved hand emerged from folds of the loose cloak and reached for the hood.





"It's been long, Camus, Miklotov... How have you been?"





The chestnut-brown-haired girl smiled brightly at the two knights, her revealed face winsome under spring's sun.





To be Continued