How invigorating, to be free.
...still STINGS...
And, wouldn't you know, someone had to deliver a to him a welcoming present! If he'd only had more time to enjoy it before they took it away.
Nevertheless, it was thrilling to enjoy the few moments that he'd had with his fingertips against his neck, pressing the tiny nerves here and there, the thick veins and the corrugated windpipe yielding beneath his palms. He wanted to push and push and push until the flesh and bone exploded and his hands met together in a splattery, gore-enhanced clap.
...Prick. Prick. Prick prick prickprickprickPRICK --
-- STOP! Oh, gods, stop...
Then there was the Dragonslayer. The female Dragonslayer. Disgusting, staining the memory of his loyal followers this way. What were those idiot Generals thinking? Maybe he could make over that pretty, pale face with his fists. An ugly woman could be mistaken for a man. Maybe later he could carve off those awful protruding mammaries with the sharpened edge of a Crima claw.
Oh... Oh no... Help me help mehelpme AllenJajukaFolkenhelpmeOHPLEASE--
...Prick.
Silence.
The girl came into his room every two to three days. How she managed to sneak away from whomever and wherever was beyond him. To be honest, he never considered the possibilities.
They noticed that he was a bit more vigorous in his studies, and someone swore they caught him whistling in the hallways. It was just too bad that the private rooms were tightly locked and soundproofed (so that no one could interrupt the other's studies); more than one of the other boys would have liked to find out what sort of whore he'd managed to sneak into the facility. A few ribbed each other about the possible notion that it was one of then that was entertaining the stuck-up bastard. In the meantime, while most of the students his age were still muddling about Molecular Biology and Atlantean Mythology, he'd been set up with a private laboratory with unlimited access to both the chemical and organic supply storage. He'd also been deprived of the usual red tape; the only people he answered to were Strategos Kyr or the Emperor himself, though it soon became much more preferable to answer to the ancient, metallic monstrosity that was the Emperor than the sneering, pasty-faced wraith that was the Strategos.
Peaceful enough, the first three years.
It was not a lonely existence, though the other young men shunned him and the instructors loathed him. He was allowed to roam outside freely (though there were sections of the facility itself that were barred), and therefore discovered more about the elusive Zaibach Empire than he suspected any foreigner had. He explored a country that was rich in knowledge and technology, and, strangely enough, without a set class system. Both men and women were outspoken regarding the state of the country and its people, and it was delightful to hear their public speeches or (once he'd gained a better grasp of their writing system) read through their weekly publications. It was fascinating to see assembly lines at work, cranking out everything from shoes to Guymelefs in vast, but controlled, amounts. The land itself was rather poor, lacking in the proper nutrients to supplement much in the way of botanics, but through trade the people continued to flourish. The single outpost (located within walking distance of the main entrance) was rich in foreign foods and materials which were traded for either bulk manufactured items, such as crates of leather armor, or exquisite metallic craftsmanship that were only capable using Zaibach's advanced tools.
Though the intellectual crowd branded him clearly as an outcast, the soldiers were at least outwardly friendly. They were more used to seeing those maimed or crippled by combat, and therefore were more fascinated than disgusted by his unique situation. They welcomed his presence in the barracks, where he visited at least once every seven days, and often took drinks with them, though he never became senselessly inebriated. They welcomed him as a sparring partner, though he'd been reluctant to do so at first. It was delightful to once again hone his swordsmanship, and he used what he now had to every advantage. The soldiers often clapped him on the back shaking their heads, remarking what a waste it was that he was becoming a Madoushi and not a General.
He even discovered a few "pets" on one of his outings. Though the twin beastgirls Naria and Eriya were distrustful of both him and his frequent companion at first, kindness and time brought out their sweet side, and they often fell asleep curled near his head or his chest, purring happily.
The first few months of apathy and regret seemed like a dream. Fanelia seemed as far away as the Mystic Moon. And it was all because of Celena.
Aside from a haunted look behind her deep blue eyes, the child had a seemingly limitless well of cheer that she could draw on that made the gloomy interior of his simple quarters bright and livable. He now had a set of two rooms to "play" in; one to sleep in, the other to study (his bed, now far more comfortable, had become a trampoline). She loved to watch him work, and her favourite pastime was to doodle, using rejected diagrams to scratch drawings of people, flowers, and animals. Her second favourite pastime was to pull Naria or Eriya's tails while they were taking one of their frequent naps... and run. This ended up in a rough wrestling match that often ended with Naria and Eriya sitting on top of Celena's back or front with some part of her (be it hair or dress) gently caught between sets of sharp kitten teeth. Even when she was bruised or cut, it never failed to set her off into peals of giggles.
As for her imaginary friend, he brought himself to fore only when she was alone. Celena talked to the invisible figure in whispers, giggling at unheard jokes, gasping at inappropriate silent comments. She also blamed many of the little mishaps on him. The spilled ink was Dilandau's fault. Dilandau had ripped the blank parchment. Dilandau had toppled the books. It was sometimes frustrating, but she was so apologetic that he couldn't help forgive her. Luckily, though, the "other" friend disappeared nearly completely when Naria and Eriya arrived. Perhaps it was just the lack of similarly aged children that had created the little fiend.
The three girls were in the midst of rumble, tearing through the study room, knocking over books and papers and causing a small ruckus (which he'd learnt to ignore), when someone began to urgently knock on the heavy wooden door.
The four froze, Celena and Eriya in the midst of a wrestling hug with Naria nibbling on Celena's ankles, him at his desk, quill in mid-sweep. The three girls scrambled for the small space underneath his bed while he stood, adjusting his cloak, to answer the door.
A beastman, canine, stood in the doorway, looking fervently left and right, as if expecting an attack.
"Where is she?" he whispered, obviously aware of the presence of the other students.
He pretended ignorance. "I believe you are mistaken. There is no one else here. If you would excuse me..." He began to close the door. The dogman thrust out his paw, forcing himself inside before hastily shutting the door.
"No, I am not. You are Folken, yes?"
He nodded hesitantly. "You have me at a disadvantage."
"I am Jajuka." The beastman bowed. "Celena's keeper."
"Jajuka!" Celena's tiny figure wriggled out from underneath the bed. Eriya and Naria's furry forms remained hidden, although a barely audible hiss floated up after the little girl. She snatched up one of her many sketches before throwing her arms around the dogman's waist.
"Come now, Celena," he said, gently stroking her hair, "we need to go back now."
"Go back?" Folken echoed. "To where?"
"I'd heard you were an intelligent man, Master Folken," scoffed Jajuka.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Master Folken, that perhaps it's time you opened your eyes."
"To what?" he cried.
Jajuka sighed and removed the little girl's arms from about his waist, taking the proffered drawing at the same time. She immediately streaked for the bed, trying to coax the anxious twins out from underneath the mattresses so they could meet her "other bestest friend." The beastman took a glance at the paper, then folded it neatly. "Celena tells me about you all the time. You are kind, she says. You are her friend. I have asked her, 'And what does he say when you tell him where you are from?' She says, 'I do not tell him. He would be angry.'"
The young man's eyes opened wide. "Damn it all," he whispered, "will you provide me the answer?"
"She says you are busy all the time," the beastman continued, ignoring the question, "and I have heard your name quite often from the Sorcerers and the soldiers. You are more physically active than most, I have heard, quite commendable. Many students prefer only their studies. Here."
Folken realized the man was babbling, avoiding the answer to his question. He looked down, only seeing his own rejected scribblings. "I have seen her drawings before."
"Celena!" Jajuka called, "It is time to go." He turned back towards the confused boy. "Yes, you have. I have heard from the Sorcerers that you will be appointed and transferred quite soon. When you do, more of the Madoushi's secrets will become open. More of the complex's rooms will be unlocked. You will find Celena then."
Celena came obediently, disappointed that the cat-twins were quite adamant regarding their refusal to meet with the canine. She wrapped her smaller hand into Jajuka's furry paw and they turned to leave. The little girl raised a hand and smiled brightly, cheerfully bidding farewell.
"Wait!" he cried. He had to know! How could he have been so blissfully ignorant all this time? What could he have been thinking?
The beastman had opened the door, and was now mindful of curious bystanders. "I thank you for finding her, Master," he said, bowing respectfully. "I apologize that she caused you so much inconvenience."
He almost shouted at him. How could he have just barged in here like this and disrupted everything? How could he leave so many burning questions unanswered? Instead, he made an approving grunt, just enough to be polite without giving the others the impression that there'd been anything more than business between the stupid creature and himself, and slammed the door. Once their footsteps had faded away, he sighed and opened the parchment...
...And beheld a child's clumsy drawing of a Madoushi strung by his neck from a scraggly, leafless tree (the trunk merely the downstroke of a hard-pressed quill), whose innards, a conglomerate of amoeba-like organs and a trail of scraggly double lines, had been spilled onto the 2-dimensional earth. Away from the gruesome remains stood a widely grinning stick boy with shoulder-length hair wielding two darkly stained hands. An arrow pointed from his head to a set of ill-written Zaibach words.
"Dilandau iz hapy now!"
"You're a woman."
"And?"
"The Dragonslayers were boys."
"And?"
"What do you mean, 'And?' What are you doing in that uniform?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Yes!"
"Strange concerns coming from the man that slaughtered the first of the Dragonslayer regiments."
"How do you know about that?!"
"I wonder, half-breed beast, did you enjoy hearing them scream?"
Van's fingers clenched over his sword hilt. "You fucking bi--"
"Van!" Eries snapped.
"Good grief," Gaddes said, exasperated.
"Zhi," said Dineer, peering at her through his spectacles over a half-filled glass of vino.
The chaos at the reception had been, eventually, militaristically dispersed, with all the guests sent back to their rooms under a full Asturian guard. No one was to leave without an escort, no one was to go home without identifying an emergency. In essence, the princesses had managed to "take hostage" nearly all of Gaea's prominent dignitaries. Many were outraged but were willing to put it aside in exchange for knowing the fate of the infamous Dragonslayer Commander Dilandau Albatou.
The boy in question was now sleeping quite peacefully in a down-filled bed, his formerly malicious appearance only marred by the clean-cut scar that blemished his right cheek. Allen had hoped that whatever medicine the Strategos had given would have reverted him back to his original form. Instead, he'd remained asleep, and the sight of what had been his sister's body in such a dead-like state made Allen want to scream.
Gaddes, along with the Princess Eries (as the reigning royalty Princess Millerna, though curious and concerned, was forced to deal with the throng of angered guests), had been allowed into the spacious tower suite, and, per Dineer's request, so had an armed Van and Zhi. Allen politely refused his weaponry, fearful at the chance to use it. Other than the wide bed, the stone and wooden room held a dresser and a thick rug, and several modest tapestries. A few padded chairs and a light meal of bread, cheese, and vino had been brought up as well. Two slender windows let in the moonlight, and offered a splendid view of downtown Palas. A long line of guards had been posted on the stairwell to the upper room.
Dineer took a long pull at his glass, sighing appreciatively afterwards. "Delicious!"
"My Lord Strategos," said the Princess, "perhaps it's time you tell us why you have brought us up here?"
"Ah yes," he replied, setting down his drink, "you must forgive me. Our country has been a bit lacking in good vintage these days."
"We'd be happy to send you home with several of our best bottles."
"Excellent! Much appreciated, my dear, thank you."
"Are you going to tell us what my brother has to do with him or not?" Van snarled.
Dineer clasped his hand together, two human hands, Van noted, and paced a bit near the window. His long, black cloak trailed after him, whispering on the cold stone floor. "Yes, well, this will not be easy. You must give me a few moments. I think, perhaps, you may all want to have a seat."
"Why?" Van was leaning against the wall, arms folded. Zhi was standing near the princess, hand comfortably resting on the hilt of her sword. Gaddes was fidgeting, hands in his pockets. Allen was the only one not standing, sitting protectively with Dilandau near the head of the bed.
"Not many have heard what I am about to tell you. Some of it... will not be pleasant. It will be a long telling, too. King Van, please."
After seeing the scathing look Eries hurled his way, Van plopped into a nearby chair. Eries let herself into another one, settling her skirts immediately. Gaddes slid onto the floor. Zhi remained standing, scowling in annoyance.
"Well then," Dineer said, pushing his spectacles back to their appropriate
place, "I met Folken Lacour de Fanel about three years after he'd arrived..."