Disclaimer: Though all the GW characters from the series aren't mine, the story is, and so are the other characters. I'll send Heero after anyone who steals them!

Warnings: shounen ai, swearing, magic

Notes: Thanks for the reviews, and please keep reviewing!

Chara: Yeah! Me finished now. *rubs eyes blearily* Can I grab the pocky now? *reaches out and catches Duo's braid instead. *'Oi!'... 'Whoops.'*

Skulled: I'm glad you liked the plot and the characters... I like Quatre and Trowa too, though I'm trying not to make this a romance-based fic. Thanks for reviewing!

yaoilover: Hehe! I'm glad you liked the story. Hope you enjoy the next chappie too, and thanks for the review!

KaT aka Mistress Shinigami: I'm glad you found the chapter! Where were you gone? (you don't have to answer, me just curious) And yeah, no evil cliffhanger. Hehe...

Mariel Yuy: Hi! Did you get the chappies? I sent nine to you yesterday, in three emails. One of the emails may not have gotten through. Oh, and I snipped one line of your last email and put it in a review, just so I could legitimately say you guessed Dorothy correctly. Do you mind?




Part XXIV: Parting

Though some of the Maguanacs were still unconscious, they all appeared to have survived. He checked their injuries carefully. Then, nodding to himself in satisfaction, Quatre responded to Rashid's mental query with a smile; none of his men's injuries were permanent, and with a few days of rest, the Maguanacs would be fit for battle once more. The mercenary sent a note of acknowledgement then tilted his head slightly to the left.

Quatre followed his gaze to where Hilde was kneeling beside the gypsy Elder, who was sprawled on the ground. The Healer shook his head mutely. Nobody but the Goddess could save those whose spirits had flown to the heavens. He glanced around the area once more, confirming to himself that there were no others who needed his service, then walked over to where Rashid stood on alert. "She's the Mage?"

It was Abdul who replied. "The back-up, yes. Although she wasn't distant enough to coordinate the fighters through coercion, she still had access to a large store of energy. If she had not fallen... many more of us would be dead."

Quatre crossed his hands in the sign of the Goddess, then studied the girl curiously. "She appears to be quite young." He paused, drawing on some memories. "And yet, she must be an Adept to have fought so strongly."

"She's a Master," Abdul corrected, shaking his head. "It is her power source that makes her appear powerful."

"But Adepts are the only ones who can work on the Magical plane, are they not?"

The mercenaries exchanged glances. Finally, Rashid shook his head. "She is not working on the planes."

Quatre stared at him for some time, then realisation dawned. "That's right... you were talking about energy sources the other day." He frowned in concentration. "But..." It doesn't make sense. I'm missing something; I know that much. But they can't tell me and still retain their honour, so I can't ask them. Besides, they already said that they don't know where the energy comes from. If not from the Magical plane, then where? And how can the Mage access the energy?

Rashid rested a hand on his shoulder. "Would you at least like to know who the Mage is?"

He glanced up in surprise. "You know?"

A nod. "Just don't ask how. She is Dorothy Catalonia. She works in close affinity with Anokiv Ronterdo of Oz."

Quatre's jaw dropped slightly. "Lady Catalonia?"

Rashid met his eyes. "None other."

The Healer closed his mouth with an inaudible snap. Two generations ago, one of the most powerful men in Oz was Duke Dermail. A ruthless, infinitely manipulative politician with a genius for controlling politicians and politics alike, he was both feared and grudgingly admired. He had goals and visions which extended in ways that only he understood, and held no qualms about using people around him to reach them. But that was until his sister changed his life.

At the beginning, not much was known about the sister, who had, until her eighteenth year, been veiled under her brother's shadow. Then, one night changed her life, and through her, that of her brother's. One night when, before an audience of thousands, King Khushrenada proposed to her. A month later, the couple was royally married, and the sister who had become queen began ruining the duke's careful plans.

She had not done so intentionally, or so the story was told. But being almost fifteen years younger than her brother, the Queen had had a rather peculiar upbringing; one one hand, she had been exposed to her brother's political manipulations from a young age, but on the other, her parents had taught her over and over again that peace was something wonderful, if rather elusive.

And thus, the girl utilised her brother's manipulative methods to convince both King Khushrenada and his council to introduce anti-corruption laws that brought the duke's plans tumbling down. Bitter and revengeful, he disowned his sister and faded from the political spotlight. For a half a decade, peace reigned in Oz; there were no foreign wars, and because of the Queen's charm, the court was as peaceful as any court could ever expected to be. Then, the twenty-four year old queen fell pregnant, and soon afterwards died in labour. Her son Treize was named the heir to the throne.

In the meantime, however, the duke had found other ways to further his ambitions - but instead of doing so blatantly, his tactics had changed to focus on subtle, unnoticeable moves. Yet still, one irritant remained in his family, and she was his twenty-two year old daughter Anna. Not only was she an officer in the army, but she had married Major Catalonia, and to the duke, this spoke of both disobedience and stupidity. While he himself stood high - though hidden - on the political stage, pulling the strings and controlling Oz through subtlety and cunning, his very own daughter had defied him and joined the ranks of one of his mere tools. Angry and growing increasingly bitter, he disowned Anna also.

That was where the official stories ended. Rumours, however, said that five years later, Anna herself was fatally injured in a training accident. The Duke somehow managed to gain custodianship of her three-month old daughter, whose name was Dorothy Catalonia. Major Catalonia did not disappear altogether, but it appeared to some as though he had; he was never in Oz for more than several weeks at a time.

Dorothy had remained an enigma until the age of twelve, when the duke suddenly arrived at an official function with her arm linked in his. From then on, the rumours about Lady Catalonia intensified and spread like wildfire, especially because she was only ever seen at the Zolte celebrations and at the biannual royal balls. [1] It would seem, however, that not even the rumours had done her justice.

Just then, the Mage stirred. Abdul immediately strengthened his shields on her, and Rashid lowered his sword to her neck. Slowly, a pair of blue eyes opened, blinked once, then roved around calmly, finally settling on Quatre. He felt himself growing uneasy at her scrutiny and made a conscious effort to put on a polite smile. "Lady Catalonia, I believe?"

She responded with a small smirk of her own. "You can believe what you will."

Quatre paused, momentarily uncertain of how to act. Finally, he gave a nod. "Then I shall." He reached down and clasped his fingers around her wrist, holding on firmly even as she tried to snatch it away. Straightening, he said mildly, "Those wounds are not fatal, but they will have to be tended to."

There was a fleeting frown of confusion, then - "It is none of your concern." She tried to stand, but the sword pressed harder against her neck. Her lips thinned. "Do to me what you will, but I will not be treated like a fool."

"Very well." Quatre sent a quick command to Rashid, and when the man still did not act, he sent, She cannot run, not with her injuries, and if she wished to Teleport away, the sword will not prevent her. The mercenary lowered the sword reluctantly and Quatre reached out, offering Dorothy his arm. While he helped her to stand, his mind probed at his companions', sending them an unspoken signal. Heero responded with a simple negative, but Zechs, Trowa and Suri gave mental nods.

Quatre turned back to the girl. "My name is... Kat. I understand that you would not want to betray your allies, but will you at least tell us whose cause you're fighting for?"

A proud glint. "I fight for nobody's cause but my own."

"I see." He tilted his head slightly. "Not Anokiv Ronterdo's?"

"So the Windriders have heard of him?" Her tone was mocking, and her words were followed by a humourless chuckle. "Never fear; he does not control me, nor will he ever. I would never lower myself to his standards."

Quatre kept his tone light, masking his surprise. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean exactly what I said, Healer. He corrupts the purity of war with his methods."

"War... pure?"

She gave a slow smirk. "War is not merely the absence of peace, Healer, nor is peace merely the absence of war. Think on this - if there was no war, how could people know peace? But while peace is the elusive dream of unrealistic people, war is not. It is glory, it is passion, and it is what happens when people fight for their own beliefs. War is a part of all of us, and that makes it pure."

This new perspective unsettled him; it was wrong, and Quatre's heart told him as much, and yet it made sense in an incredibly twisted way. Finally, he shook his head. "Peace is not elusive, nor is it unrealistic. How can it be? It's forged by people who believe in looking at the goodness in one another, in striving for harmony. Love... love is the root of peace."

There was a derisive chuckle. "And so the naive may assume. But if that is true, why does war destroy peace time and time again? Taking away all the weapons won't stop wars. You have to change the hearts of the people."

The girl's tone made it clear that she doubted that such a change was possible. Just when Quatre was ready to argue - against the cynicism in her tone as much as anything else - he felt his brother step up behind him. Quietly, he moved aside. Dorothy glanced at the newcomers, then settled her gaze on Zechs. "The leader of the Windriders." It was not a question.

"Yes, indeed." Zechs offered a slight bow. Quatre was mildly surprised at his brother's manner, but then, he chided himself. Of course someone who was brought up as a monarch would remain as courteous as a courtier, even when dealing with enemies. Had he not done the same himself? Besides, even he would have to admit that the enigmatic lady had captured his interest; the cold sense of purpose combined with the almost arrogant dignity was intriguing, and her conviction about the purity of war even more so.

"Lady Catalonia, I apologise for not introducing myself sooner. I am Zechs Merquise." A pause. "I have heard much about you."

Quatre felt a rush of... something from Dorothy, but it was quickly quelled and his Empathy had not analysed it in time. The girl took a sudden step back and spun around. Beside him, Trowa pushed forward and attempted to grab her arm, but she was already gone. Rashid swore.

Abdul stared at the spot for some moments then turned to Zechs, his expression contrite. "I am sorry. My shields were not strong enough."

The prince shook his head. "It was not your fault; I ought to have suspected that she would try to escape, but I assumed that her injuries would prevent her from doing so."

Unnoticed, Hilde had walked up behind him, her eyes dull. "So she escaped, huh?"

Quatre turned to her. "Hilde, I'm so sorry..."

She was silent for a moment, before giving a single nod. Quietly, the gypsy said, "I doubt any shields could have held her. Besides, if blame must be assigned, then I deserve it as much as any other."

Hilde blames herself because her father died in her defence. Quatre regarded her sadly, then touched her shoulder in a gesture of support. She sighed. "There is something you should know. Whoever coordinates these attacks and provides the energy for them - Anokiv Ronterdo or not - is using Blood Magic."

Quatre blanched, and his Empathatic gift sensed an abrupt chill in the atmosphere. Trowa was the first to speak. "They invoked the Hareisva?"

"That's what my Father told me."

Suri looked at all of them. "Uh, what is the Hareisva?"

Abdul sighed. "It's an ancient Magic, an invocation used by Mages before it was banned by the law. A Mage who invokes that ritual binds his own life force permanently to the Death Plane, and thus becomes able to tap into the corrupt energy that flows there. You see, all beings have a life force, and when they die, their life force becomes transformed into energy. The younger and healthier the person, the more potent the life force, and the stronger the energy."

"Oh." She thought it over. "It makes too much sense for comfort, doesn't it? You know... now, I understand why they took the children in Yvanolé."

Zechs shot her a sharp look. "It does explain that incident, doesn't it?"

"And Sally's clan," Quatre added, though he looked somewhat pale. "Healers have stronger life forces."

They were all silent for some moments. "But what can we do about it?" Suri asked finally.

"Well... stopping other people from accessing the energy will not be impossible. They are currently connected to the plane through the primary Mage, or through an object in the Mage's possession. Quite possibly a power stone... that is more likely, to tell the truth. Of course, power stones are expensive, but I doubt that cost is an issue. All one has to do would be to break that stone."

"But what of Anokiv himself?"

"That would be more difficult. There are several ways - one is to use a physical attack, since shields against those are never perfect. Another is to attack while he is unconscious, or to catch him at a time when his shields are lowered... but I don't think that any of those ideas would be good. If he is linked to the energy and the link is suddenly terminated, the backlash may be disastrous."

"Do not forget - while we are assuming that Anokiv is the Mage, we cannot act upon that assumption." Zechs almost glanced at Rashid, but stopped himself in time and half-sighed. "Heero ought to be here." He looked at Suri. "He went to speak to Duo?"

She nodded, then glanced quickly at Hilde. The gypsy met her gaze and shook her head slightly. It's okay, Suri. I... I need to be alone.

Suri acknowledged that, but added softly, I'll always be here if you need me, Hilde. Always.

I know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, his cousin was kneeling beside the nun's body. Heero took several steps closer, then stopped. Duo looked up at the sound and when he saw the Mage, he tried unsuccessfully to smile. "Hey, Heero... do we have to go, or something?"

He made as if to stand, but Heero forestalled him by resting a hand on his shoulder. "No, not yet."

A raised eyebrow. "Then why..."

What were people supposed to say in these situations? Heero hesitated, then crouched beside him. "Are you okay?" Before his cousin could reply, he shook his head. "Sorry. That was... a pointless question."

The violet eyes were red-rimmed but at Heero's last words, they creased slightly at the corners. "Isn't that what people are supposed to ask, though?"

"...I suppose."

Duo's lips quirked slightly, then he sighed and turned away. "Heero, why are you here?"

The Mage frowned. Somehow, the truth did not seem appropriate, but what else could he say? "Suri said that you needed a friend."

Duo's shoulder stiffened, then relaxed again. After some moments, he murmured, "We all need friends." He turned around again. "It's okay, Heero. You don't have to stay. I know you don't like heart-to-hearts."

Oh. For some reason, Duo's calm acceptance of his desire to leave sent a strange surge of despair through him. He quelled it quickly. I'm being an idiot. If he says I can leave, then I should. And yet... Something told him that he should not. Some inner prompting that he did not quite understand was asking... no, demanding that he stayed.

... Believe it or not, you're the one who Duo cares about the most. And you're the one who can help Duo the most...

He still did not understand Suri's logic, but for some reason, he had grown to trust her judgement in matters concerning other people. She had an uncanny habit of being right. So, Heero compromised. "Would you like me to stay?"

Duo looked surprised. "I... sure." A pause, then he repeated. "Only if you want."

Heero simply nodded. Sending him a brief smile, the braided youth returned to his kneeling position and closed his eyes. Only then did Heero realise he had been praying. They remained in silence for some time, then Duo looked up. "I'm done."

The Mage nodded again. There was a brief hesitation, then he said awkwardly, "You were right. They... they did make the world a better place."

For some moments, Duo stared straight at him. Heero grew increasingly uneasy, and finally, he turned away. Then, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck. There was a brief sense of deja vu, and he realised with surprise that this was the second time that he had been hugged within one week. For some reason, the contact did not feel quite as strange as it had the first time.

After a while, Duo drew away, and his eyes were dry once more. Shakily, he whispered, "Thanks, Heero."

The awkwardness rushed back. "...You're welcome." A glint caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he had reached out slightly. At Duo's questioning glance, he lowered his arm again with a light cough. "I'm sorry. I thought I saw..."

"Oh." The youth's expression cleared. "This?" He fingered a golden cross strung on a chain around his neck. Heero nodded. "It is a prayer cross... a miniature version of the prayer diamond at this cloister. Sister Helen gave it to me."

"Wh-" Heero stopped himself. Asking what point there was in carrying around a holy object seemed insensitive, though he could not quite understand why. And saying that a necklace would be a burden seemed... rude. He tried again. "What's the difference?"

Again, there was a flash of surprise at his question. "Well, in prayer diamonds, the four points are linked so that they form sides, reminding us that the Goddess's power is all around us. In prayer crosses, the four points are linked through two intersecting lines, symbolising the fact that the Goddess is also inside us... I guess it means we should rely on ourselves as much as we rely on the external power of deities."

"Oh." He considered for a moment. "A meaningful gift, then."

Duo smiled - a real smile, this time. "Yes."

Heero returned the smile hesitatingly when a brief knock sounded in his head. What is it?

Uh... Heero, I'm sorry for interrupting, but... well. How's Duo?

He was surprised; Suri sounded rather uncertain. He is as fine as can be expected.

Ah... right. Listen, Hilde's father has died. He died saving her. She says she wants to be by herself, but I have a strange feeling that Duo may be able to help. But...

Heero suddenly understood. But you don't want to tell him if he's too upset already?

A pause, then a mental nod. Duo was looking at him curiously, so he finished, I'll handle it. There was a surge of almost-relief, and he turned back to his cousin. "Hilde's father died in saving her."

The braided boy frowned. "The gypsies came? But she said..." He stood abruptly and moved to the exit, then paused and turned. "I've got to see if I can help. But thanks for... just thanks."

Heero nodded and Duo hurried away. There was a strange tug at his heart. He's in mourning and yet, at the slightest sign of his friends' needs, he put his own troubles aside. He always cares more about others than he does about himself...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duo found her leaning against a boulder, her knees drawn up against her chest. "Hilde?"

She looked up, brushing at the wetness on her cheeks. Suddenly, he was struck by a memory of a small glade where they had conversed properly for the first time. Before that, he had bantered in his usual manner and she had responded politely, and yet, certain turns of phrase lingered in his mind, turns of phrase that hinted at a fiery spirit beneath the gypsy princess. So he had persisted, and soon, he had coaxed out some decent responses, both verbal and emotional.

*** flash ***

"...and they teemed around the garden, whizzing like a swarm of miniature Mage-lights, ducking in and out of the orchids..."

"Flaas don't fly among orchids," she interrupted.

Duo grinned. "And how would you know?"

"The scent of flowers repels them."

"Do not."

"I've seen it happen. We burn dried petals sometimes to keep them away."

He shook his head, smirking. "Not always."

"Fine, name a flower that *doesn't* repel them."

He shrugged. "Don't know the name."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Exasperation, now.

"Of course you are."

"Well, it's too bad for you, isn't it?"

"How so?"

"... I don't believe idiots!"

He turned to face her, challengingly. "Wanna bet I'm wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "Father does not approve of betting."

Duo laughed. "Whatever. But I'll prove it anyway - come on!"

*** end flash ***

The argument had been pointless, mere noises made by his tongue because his mind was still stunned from the loss of his friend. He had simply rambled on, trying to provoke a response, trying concentrate on anything other than the depressing things. It still surprised him that she had followed.

// Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?
Would you run, and never look back? //

Yes, she had followed, and by a strange twist of fate, they found a small swarm of flaas. The sight of the small, glowing creatures had been too much for him - memories burst free, memories of a birthing day ceremony where the quiet youth had gifted him with a jar of flaas that he himself had lured.

And to his surprise, the gypsy girl did not laugh or shy away in discomfort; she had simply reached out and held him as the tears fell, listening patiently as he expressed his grief in words for the first time. What touched him the most was that when he pulled away, there had been a glint of moisture in her own eyes. Having someone to confide in - someone he did not feel he was burdening, someone he did not have to be cheerful around - was an wonderful, and though the grief remained, it no longer drove him insane.

// Would you cry, if you saw me crying?
And would you save my soul tonight? //

They had become friends after that. The more he saw of the strong but infinitely kind spirit, the more he liked her; they were kindreds in ways that nobody else could understand. They understood the need for masks in one another, but more importantly, they understood how much pain could lie beneath those masks. It was almost as though an unspoken agreement had formed between them - outwardly, they would continue as they always had, but her shoulder would always be there for him. And his would always be there for her.

That pact had remained unbroken; when she joined their group in the role of a self-established gypsy Elder, he could see the uncertainty that she refused to show. He told her to talk to him and after a hesitation, she had. The gypsy girl broke down and confessed all her fears, all her doubts. He had tried to help, as best as he could. It broke his heart the tears on her face once more.

"Oh, Duo..."

"I know, Hilde, I know." He knelt beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder. The tears fell once more, then, hot and scalding against the shoulder of his tunic. I'm sorry.

She pulled away almost abruptly. Duo chided himself; telepathy had been too intimate. He ought to have realised that, but he had been trying to let her see that he cared. Baka, me. Suddenly, a barrage of images and thoughts flooded his mind. He reeled slightly, then, realised that she was trying to show him what had happened, why it happened... and why she blamed it all on herself. Oh Hilde...

So he comforted her in the best way he knew - he opened his mind to her. Not completely; he could not do that for anybody. Not yet, perhaps not ever. But he could show her he understood. He had been there. He knew what it felt like to have loved ones dying on him, to face the ever-increasing waves of self-incrimination even when everyone tried to convince him that it was not his fault. He knew... gods, he knew - it never helped.

Slowly, gradually, the tears slowed to a trickle. She lowered her head exhaustedly into his shoulder and he touched her mind with a final, gentle caress before withdrawing. A tremor ran through her body, then, and she looked up at him. I love you, Duo.

// Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?
Would you laugh? Please tell me this.
Now would you die, for the one you love?
Hold me in your arms tonight. //

Though the words may have implied otherwise, Duo knew she did not mean them romantically. He did not take them as such. I know, Hilde. Me too.

A shaky smile, then she sat up straighter. Duo, are *you* alright?

He sighed, mentally. I've been better... but it's not as bad as it was. Silently, he conveyed what Heero had said, coupled with images of what his cousin's words had done for him. She reciprocated with an expression of both gladness and sympathy.

After a few moments of silence, she murmured, You love him, don't you?

Of course.

He... hides things differently, I think.

An image of the incident at the Grounds, and of what changes it wrought. I wish he never had to go through that.

Of course you do. But it seems like he's recovering, doesn't it?

...I don't know. His is not so much a mask as it's... a way of denying things to himself. I... I had begun to doubt that he could turn back into the person he was before.

She sensed the guilt. Don't, Duo. I don't think you would have given up on him. I don't think you *could* have, even if you tried.

...perhaps.

You'd never give up on people you cared about, Duo.

He thought it over, then gave a single nod. Maybe. He turned to face her. Come to me if you need me, okay? It... hurts me when people are hurting and won't let me try to help. Let me be there for you.

// I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain. //

I will.

Promise me.

A light laugh. I'll always go to you if I feel like wetting someone's shoulder, Duo. I promise.

He chuckled in return. Good. 'Cos I'll always be here.

// I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away. //

He meant what he said, and she believed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *** The next morning *** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Windriders sat in a rough circle with representatives of their allied groups - Rashid and Abdul for the Maguanacs, Hilde and Mariel, the most senior of the her advisors, for the gypsies, Sally for the clans and Relena, who Zechs invited as a matter of courtesy.

The prince had spent the first section of the meeting explaining the situation to those who had not attended previous meetings, and asking the gypsies to reveal what news they could reveal. The part about the murder of Ruiore had been interesting, and although Zechs was sorry that the incident had occurred, he could not in all honesty deny that he was displeased that the gypsies had joined their cause.

Then, the discussion had focused on the Hareisva. Relena in particular looked appalled, but aside from that, they had not managed to come to any conclusions about how to deal with the Mage. Zechs held misgivings about that, but hid them carefully, leading the topic onto their plans for the future.

"We do have more manpower than we began with, so we should take advantage of that," Quatre offered.

He nodded. "Yes, I was thinking about separating into smaller groups. Not only would it be more flexible in terms of numbers, but it would mean that we are much more efficient in executing our plans."

"And what would those plans include?" Rashid queried.

"Investigating both Anokiv in Sanq, and Bocherik, Treize and King Khushrenada in Oz," Heero stated.

"The group going into Oz would have to be small one intended for infiltration and spying, not attacking," commented Trowa thoughtfully.

Quatre nodded. "Mm. Either you or Heero, perhaps both of you."

"No," Heero said. "Not together. I cannot risk being Magically detected around Anokiv, so I'll go."

"Not alone you won't," Duo interrupted. "It's too dangerous."

The Mage favoured him with an inscrutable look but shook his head. "I did not suggest that."

Suri glanced at the two of them. "Isn't Bocherik a Mage too?"

"It is a risk, but all our information at the moment suggests that Anokiv is the primary Mage. He would be more dangerous, magically speaking. And I am not as good at stealth as Trowa is."

Trowa nodded. "Abdul did mention that physical attacks may work."

The mercenary Mage shook his head. "They may, but you should not try it; as I said, the backlash would be dangerous."

The brown-haired youth nodded evenly. "I will see."

Zechs regarded each of them then spoke again. "I, too, shall be going to the palace, because I need to judge the situation for myself. I was thinking that Quatre could come with me, because his anti-Healing powers may not be guarded against, and his gift of Empathy will be useful."

Quatre considered, then nodded in acceptance. Rashid conversed quickly with Abdul. "We, too, shall follow."

"Will that not attract attention?" Relena asked dubiously.

"We are mercenaries," Rashid replied calmly, "and more importantly, we are trained assassins. Unless we wish to be detected, we will not be."

"Relena, maybe you should come with us," Quatre suggested.

"But-" she glanced around quickly. "Would that be best?"

"Well, you can hardly stay here, and since we'll be passing cities along the way, you would have a better chance of escaping and surviving if the need arises."

Relena hesitated. Heero noted her reluctance and said bluntly, "It would be the safest."

She glanced at him and thought for some moments. "Very well."

"Good. Now, who will go with Heero into Peirot?"

Suri spoke up, "I'll go. You may need Empathy there too, and if I go, I can pass off as a performer; all I would need is an instrument of some sort. Heero... can be my porter. That would increase my ranking, actually, and the disguise will be more realistic."

Zechs nodded. "That would be a good plan, in truth. A festival is approaching, so bards or minstrels will not appear odd. Heero?"

The Mage's expression remained inscrutable. "The plan should work."

"Fine. Now, in regards to the gypsies and the clans, I was hoping that we could send envoys to see if they are willing to help us."

Relena frowned slightly. "Why?"

Zechs glanced at her. "We are trying to gather allies in preparation for the future."

"What will happen in the future?"

A small smile. "That would be difficult to predict, but battles will be quite likely."

The girl hesitated, then said quietly, "Must you really fight?"

Zechs turned to her solemnly. "We need to recover peace for the people in Sanq. To do that, we must first overthrow Oz control there."

"But... doesn't it appear strange to any of you?" Relena looked up. "You desire peace, yet you are willing to fight for it. Does there not appear to be a contradiction?"

The prince sighed, softly. "If it were possible to attain peace without war, then we would try it. But Oz will not give up so easily. Have they not already slaughtered hundreds of innocent, unarmed people?"

Relena fingered her hair. "They have killed, it is true. My... my parents were victims also. That is why I see war as futile - all it ever does is create bloodshed and grief, and ultimately, more war." She paused. "But I cannot help but wonder if there is another way to attain peace. Through words, perhaps. By changing peoples' hearts, by making them see that they do not need to fight."

Quatre murmured thoughtfully, "Dorothy said that too, you know. That to eliminate war, you had to change peoples' hearts." He smiled at Relena and she returned it, tentatively. Then, the smile faded. "But she did not believe it would be possible. And in truth..." he sighed. "I do not, either. Not a this time. Peace would be wonderful, but as long as people we care about are being killed for no reason, we have to fight. To prevent more deaths." He hesitated. "I'm sorry."

"No, it is not your fault." Her tone held a hint of sadness, but it was firm. "I do not agree with your views, but it is not my place to command your actions."

Zechs looked at her in hidden surprise; Relena had changed from the girl he knew. He had expected a spoiled noble when he invited her to this meeting, and in fact, he had only done so to honour her parents' memories. But instead, she appeared to have matured into someone who had experienced grief and who both had and was true her own convictions. Yes, her views were idealistic, but there was no harm in dreaming, and if all people thought as she did, war could indeed be unnecessary.

Hilde spoke up, "Father suggested that I take my people to the gypsy camp and gather reinforcements there. That is what I planned to do."

"Is it far?"

Mariel shook her head. "It is an old route, if infrequently used. Seven to ten day's journey from the border."

"I will come with you," Duo said suddenly. "You ought to have a representative from Zechs, anyhow."

Hilde sent him a smile. "Your aid will be welcome. Zechs?"

"Yes, I was going to suggest it myself. Duo, you can make any necessary decisions on my behalf. Please send my regards to Ruiore's people."

"I will."

Wufei glanced at Sally. "Sally and I will seek the Tiger clan. She says they may offer us assistance."

Zechs regarded him carefully. "Are you certain you wish to go, Wufei?"

The youth nodded. "I will do whatever I need to fulfil my duty."

"Very well. You, too, have the right to make any necessary decisions on my behalf." He stood. "We shall part tomorrow, then. Send progress reports when possible. We will meet in the capital of Sanq in two months. Good luck to you all, and Goddess bless."

"Goddess bless," they all murmured, and parted to prepare for the next day. Their retalliation had begun.




The End...









...of Roleplay, Section Two. *lol* Did I scare anyone? Section One ended at Ch. 8. There are explanations for all of this on my site, which is currently sitting and rusting in my hard drive atm. *grin* I'll upload it sometime, honest. :)



Notes:

[1] - Let's see... in this story, Dorothy is fifteen and her mother and father would have been 40 and 41 if they had not died. Duke Dermail is/would have been 60 (I'm not telling you whether he's alive or not yet :P), and his disowned sister, the Queen, would have been 45. King Khushrenada is 50, and Treize is 20 (this is an AU, after all).

I may not update before the middle of May; the workload will be huge in the next few weeks. (Assignments by the bucketfull, as well as the Soiree...) I also need to do some planning, and that will take a bit of time. But I will try to write ASAP.

Of course, reviews are always helpful. *grin* .