Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!
* * * * * * * * * * *
The days until her father's return seemed to crawl by. Carenza read and re-read the statements of accounts she had collected from the office, and sent notes back requesting further details of the companies involved, but could find no direct evidence of unethical dealings. Was Dryden's story of slavery a figment of his undoubtedly wild imagination? Or, more likely, had their father been cautious enough to keep his shady dealings quite separate from his children's finances?
In the absence of any objectionable investments, she satisfied herself by making a list of the fastest-growing funds, which just happened to be in a number of Asturian manufactories. Instinct told her that such large profits must have hidden costs somewhere, and if Zaibach needed slaves for its manufactories then those costs were presumably paid by the workers. Well, her share in them would be going into something less exploitative in future.
If she had a future as an independent woman, that is.
When her father finally returned, she sought him out immediately with the intention of getting the horrid business over with as quickly as possible. Arriving at her father's apartments thus unannounced, she was surprised to see a chambermaid just leaving.
'Thank you for the prompt...service, my dear.' her father was saying. 'I trust you'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.'
'Oh, er, yes sir,' the girl stammered, and slipped past Carenza with a perfunctory curtsey. She didn't look a day over fifteen.
'Ah, Carenza, my dear!' Meiden was lounging on the chaise, smoking a black, evil-smelling cigarette in a tortoiseshell holder. His presence was a dark blot in the gold-and-white elegance of the room.
He patted the chaise seat next to him, but Carenza perched herself on a low stool just out of reach.
'Father, I, well, I've heard that you have been seeking to make arrangements on my behalf.'
'Indeed I have, my dear, and what father would not do as much for his lovely daughter? I should have done this long ago, of course, but the king's needs took precedence...'
She suddenly remembered the conversation she and Dryden had overheard all those years ago. She guessed that King Aston still opposed marrying one of his daughters to a Zaibach leader, leaving her father to seize the opportunity.
'H-have you found me a husband, then?'
'Indeed I have, though of course the negotiations are at a very early stage. Nevertheless I am confident of eventual success.' He smiled complacently and drew on his cigarette. 'Would you like to know who he is?'
Carenza nodded, though she really did not care since she had no intention of marrying any man her father approved of.
'They call him Lord Strategos, though I confess I do not know if that is his name or simply his title. He is military chief-of-staff and the most powerful man in Zaibach, apart from the emperor hmself, of course. Nothing but the best for my little girl, eh?'
Carenza tried to smile, but had to press her lips together to prevent their trembling. She knew her father's ambitions ran high, but she had been expecting his choice to be a fellow industrialist, not a military leader.
'Now,' he went on, 'where did I put the present I brought back for you? Belkin!'
The study doors opened, and the round-faced clerk looked out.
'Sir?'
'Belkin, where did I put my daughter's present?'
'I think I packed it in you portmanteau, sir. Shall I go and look for it? I believe the servants took it through into your bedchamber.'
'Ah, no thank you, I'll find it myself.' He stubbed out the cigarette and disappeared into the bedroom.
The clerk started to close the study doors.
'Um, Belkin?'
'Yes, miss?'
'You were with my father in Zaibach, were you not?'
'Yes, miss.'
She had to know, and she might get a halfway honest answer from the man; she certainly wouldn't get anything but flattery from her father.
'What was Lord Strategos like?'
'Well, I only saw him the once, miss, and he didn't say much. Very tall man, he was, and serious-looking, with sort of blue hair and peculiar tattoos on his face.'
Not very promising, she had to admit.
'Young or old?'
'Young, I'd say, but then they reckon Emperor Dornkirk is over two hundred years old, so this Strategos could have been older than me, maybe as old as your father, even.'
Old as my father? Could it get any worse?
'Oh, and one other thing,' the clerk went on. 'I never saw it myself, but they say he has a metal claw where his right hand should be.'
Carenza shivered. This was even worse than she had imagined. There was only one thing for it. She would have to run away before the marriage negotiations could be completed.
The important thing was not to let her father know her intentions. The man who had twisted the law to his purposes in order to keep his wife from seeing her own children would surely stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from thwarting his ambitions. So, she sat and smiled and thanked him for his gift - a clock that could be set to ring a little brass bell at a given time of day - and even kissed him dutifully on the cheek when she left.
Once she was safely back in her rooms, however, she wrote a letter to Dryden. A heliogram would have been faster, but she was not about to have her escape plans flashed from hilltop to hilltop for anyone who knew the code to read. Letters could be opened and resealed, of course, but since she wrote it using a script that she and Dryden had invented when they were children, no-one would be able to read it anyway.
'Dear brother,' she wrote. 'I have just found out that Father intends me to marry some creepy old Zaibach general. Of course I have no intention of doing so, but I need your help to prevent it. I am due to visit Marlene in Fried next month, and I hoped you might come for me there at less risk than if you came to Asturia. Pray God that our father's negotiations do not bear fruit before that time. Your loving sister, C.'
How she got through the next few weeks, she hardly knew. A few days before their departure for Freid, a letter finally came from Dryden.
'My poor sister! Of course I will come for you. As you rightly guessed, as long as my ship stays outside Asturia's borders there is not much our father can do against us. At the worst we may be obliged to remain in permanent exile, but that is better than the kind of fate you describe. I hope to be in Fried on or soon after the 11th Moon of Red. Yours, D.'
Even better than the news from Dryden was the fact that their father had made no more mention of the marriage, at least not in any concrete terms; she guessed that his mercantile instincts were even stronger than his ambition, causing him to haggle over the details of the settlement despite the delays it would cause.
The day of their journey to Freid came at last. Carenza had thought that Allen might accompany them, but it seemed that he had duties elsewhere. Lately he had been spending much of his time refurbishing his family guymelef, Scherezade, and the princesses had seen little of him. She wondered if he knew that Prince Chid was his son, or if he was simpy jealous that Marlene had apparently had a child by the man she been so reluctant to marry. Carenza could think of no tactful way to find out, and so on the few occasions she did see him could offer no comfort.
Once the leviship took off she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her. She had not realised until that moment how she had been constantly tensing her jaw, her shoulders, her hands. Now the relief she felt bubbled up into joy, and she chased around the narrow corridors of the ship with Millerna, giggling like a schoolgirl. The captain of the leviship was not impressed, but could hardly reprimand the princess or her lady-in-waiting.
They landed at Godashim, the capital of Freid, on the following day. Marlene came out to meet them; she was looking radiant, and hugged them all with cries of delight. She exclaimed over how much Millerna had grown, and apologised to her sisters that they would not see their nephew straight away as it was his afternoon nap time. Then the duke stepped forward to add his own greetings, and Carenza was surprised to note the mutual tenderness between him and Marlene, that showed itself in every glance and gesture. Was it possible that Marlene had gotten over Allen and was now truly as much in love with her husband as he obviously was with her?
* * * * * * * * * * *
Author's note: A heliograph is basically just a mirror used to transmit messages by reflecting the sun's rays in a series of flashes (using Morse code or similar); the message sent by these means is therefore a heliogram. In my non-fan fictional world, these are used in lieu of telegrams for fast communications, and I thought they would fit the tech level of non-Zaibach Gaea nicely.