Noin forced herself to stay perfectly still as she picked up a duffel bag and suitcase, trying hard not to let the freezing cold affect her. The plane from Cinq to southern Austria*, the province of Carinthia to be precise, had been three hours late, and she was reaching a new level of exhaustion.
"Aren't you or Prince Milliardo cold?" Treize asked.
"Yes, we both are," she bit off, straightening with a glance in his direction. "But to show it would be impolite." He nodded. Milliardo came up next to her, and she shook her head at the silent question, what's bothering you? Noin hated it when he acted so concerned; she was supposed to be the one taking care of him, after all.
She had been mildly surprised that Treize had no security detail. Truly enough, Milliardo tended to travel only with her on the rare occasion he did leave Cinq, and she was all that was necessary inside the country's borders. Treize, however …
The Cinq pair reluctantly relinquished their luggage to some silent, seemingly local servants that came out of the house they were approaching. Treize led them into the large stone edifice, pausing inside a small hallway to the left of the main doors. Noin shifted uncomfortably in the heavy gray coat she was wearing.
"This place looks like an ancient castle," Milliardo murmured to her. Treize stopped and turned.
"It is one. More than a millennia and a half old in age, and has been in the Khushrenada family for about as long**," he informed them. She met his eyes unflinchingly as he spoke, neither impressed nor amused. Treize continued evenly. "I'm afraid I must be in the city for business for today. I assume you'll both be fine here; it should give you a chance to relax from the plane ride."
Noin mentally wondered what it could mean, and listened with half an ear to Milliardo's acquiescent answer.
A few days in a foreign, possibly hostile country where we don't know the language … She mentally grimaced at the thought. This idea appears worse by the hour …
+++
Noin halted abruptly with a surprised look as she nearly collided into Treize. He didn't respond to her reluctant deferential nod. She remembered with some annoyance Milliardo was in another part of the house.
"Captain," he started, speaking with the precision of one trained to do so. "I hope you are aware that I will be unable to protect the Prince from any danger that may follow." Treize held out a small pistol to her, and she blinked. "Additional protection from you may be necessary."
She hesitated. The security issues had occurred to her, but she had been raised in a pacifist nation. Which is more important … Cinq's ideals, or Milliardo?
Noin took the handgun. It's only temporary … we'll be leaving here in a few days; it doesn't matter …
"You do know how to use it?" His tone was nearly condescending.
"Yes, I do," she replied, somewhat acidly. "Thank you."
+++
"Noin," Milliardo called out as she entered the small study. "Look at this."
"What is it?" she queried, bracing her hands against the desk he sat at, skimming the handwritten books and ancient carbon copy papers over his shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, startled. "These are-"
"Yes." Milliardo nodded grimly. "The old black contracts of the Khushrenada family. Sir Khushrenada the senior, to be exact. Treize tells me the only people who know of this will be permanently silenced with the Federation's fall."
"I don't like this," Noin said bluntly. "It's dangerous; he is dangerous. If something were to happen, Milliardo …"
"This is important to the Earth Sphere's peace, and Cinq's place in bringing it about. We've been biding our time for far too long."
She exhaled, straightening. Her thoughts went unwittingly back to the gun Treize had given her, now locked in the room she was using. The instrument of death, of war - the exact opposite of the total pacifism ideals of Cinq - frightened her even as she was reluctantly beginning to recognize its necessity. It was a guilty requirement she didn't dare tell him about.
"I worry," Noin said, frowning. "Just be careful."
+++
Treize glanced up from the papers spread on the cast-iron table. A gust of wind pushed snow about the small greenhouse, providing stark contrast to the humid, chlorophyll-scented warmth inside. Craggy rock emerged from the ground; the estate was set quite firmly into the side of a mountain.
He returned his attention to his two companions. The prince, Milliardo, was simple enough to understand. The eldest living Peacecraft child, he knew his duty and would probably kill himself to fulfill it.
That pet guard of his, however …
Her duty was to protect the prince. She appeared to fulfill that - but also some things that were entirely inappropriate for someone of her position. Captain Noin didn't appear to be his guard - rather, she seemed to be Milliardo's companion. As of yet, Treize still wasn't certain "companion" was in a platonic sense.
The nineteen-year-old OZ major turned as he heard the captain's voice, in anxious, slightly high-pitched Italian - the same peasant dialect she had been speaking before. He didn't understand a word of what she was saying, but managed to note it was somehow connected to the papers she was gesturing to. Milliardo's voice returned in the same language, in an attempted soothing tone. Yet more odd behavior, Treize thought wryly. They continue to be horribly rude - I'll have to do something about that.
Glass shattered, sprinkling cold clear shards over the area as gunshots rang out. Argument forgotten, Noin pushed Milliardo onto the floor quickly, kneeling next to him and drawing the gun she had been supplied with two days prior. Treize whirled to locate the shots' source, and was irritated to see the two black figures disappearing. He was startled to see the Peacecraft guard fire at the snipers, missing intentionally but frightening them off. No one moved to pursue.
Noin quickly unloaded the gun. She truly does know how to use it, he thought, perturbed by the knowledge.
"Noin, you …" Milliardo stared at her, shock in his face. She turned away, looking desperate and guilty, having been caught in this ultimate transgression.
"I told you I was worried."
+++
She opened the door and stepped out, waiting for Milliardo. He deliberately ignored her, closing the taxi door and walking forward. Noin had already paid the driver.
"Milliardo, I am sorry for upsetting you," she said quietly.
"But you don't regret your decision?" He no longer sounded dismayed - rather, his voice held anger and disappointment. Noin hesitated.
"No, I don't." she sighed. They began to walk through the open-air market in front of the palace.
"You went against everything just by accepting his offer." Milliardo frowned. "How could you?" He spoke in a whisper to keep others from overhearing.
Much as she hated arguing with him, she was glad for it. The entire plane ride back to Cinq, he'd barely said two words to her. Now, home, she was even uneasier. She couldn't help but get the paranoid feeling that there were people watching her. Cursory glances confirmed they were coming from townspeople - rather than treating them as part of the scenery, Noin saw several distinct glares. It was disconcerting in the friendly country.
She opened her mouth to answer, but shut it and turned at a sharp rapping. It originated from the old flower-vendor's booth, and Noin smiled forcibly.
"Good day, Madam. I'm sorry I didn't notice you earlier," Milliardo greeted abruptly. She echoed the salutation, moving out of the way as she waited for the ritual to continue. Every time the prince passed this booth, the old woman would give him a white rose. They would accumulate in a vase outside Milliardo's room, as decoration.
"For purity," the old vendor said as always. But her voice held scorn rather than kindness, and what she handed him was a dried scarlet flower.
"Thank you, it's very pretty." He executed a slight bow, hiding surprise at the broken custom. Noin, too, hid her unsettlement. "Farewell."
"Let's go," she whispered, reaching out for his wrist. Ignoring philosophy be damned, she was more nervous here than she had been in Austria. "Let's go," Noin repeated, slightly more urgently. "We'll talk later."
+++
* Despite my theory that Cinq's royalty originated in Sweden (the Swedes tend to be blonde and blue-eyed; the country is entirely pacifistic. Sound familiar?), I'm assuming that because the country's coastal and seems to be warm that it's in the Mediterranean.
** Treize is listed simply as Aryan. Nazi definition notwithstanding, "Aryan" refers to the Nordic/Germanic race of people, which includes the nation of Austria.