Ollen70: Whoo hoo! I'm on a roll! I wasn't planning on working on this for a few days, but it really came out of nowhere. I've been trapped inside, mainly because most of central Oregon is on fire, and the smoke in the air around here is so thick that you can't go outside without hacking like a tuberculosis patient. So, that's more or less the inspiration for the first few paragraphs. Yeah, I know I'm strange. I've learned to live with it.

Disclaimer: If you were expecting anything about my non-ownership status to change from the last eleven chapters, I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Chapter Twelve - - Deceiver of Nations


The smoke was thick in the air. Even with the curtains over his carriage windows to stifle it, Folken couldn't escape from the odor. Sharp and very unpleasant, it held none of the spice that usually accompanies wood smoke. It more closely resembled the smell a trash fire made when it sputtered. Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Folken sighed. He was breathing in all the was left of Fanelia. Even the sky was tainted, making the morning light more jaundiced than it should have been

After the debacle on board the Vionne and the destruction of the Asturian fort, Folken had followed Dornkirk's orders and readied himself to face the king of the great seaboard nation. There was really very little for him to worry about - these kings were all the same in the end. All they could see were their own best interests, which were prone to change, especially when Zaibach's force served to remind them of the precarious sword of Damacles that dangled inscrutably over their thrones. Folken was well aware that a careful combination of half-truths and outright threats would leave the pompous old man absolutely mortified of him, totally permitting his manipulation in these matters. Allen Schezar didn't stand a chance.

Riding through this infernal city reminded him why he wasn't totally unhappy with the life he had ultimately chosen. The cloying closeness, the incessant noise, the reek from the streets... Zaibach was far from paradise, but the cleanliness of the metal halls and its overwhelmingly vast silence suited him. Zaibach was his home now, as painful as it was to realize that. All he needed now was to bring in Van, to make him understand or at least accept Zaibach's aims. If anyone could cause him to, it would be Folken, but had he lost too much of his sibling's trust? He was not the misanthrope Delleva or Van now took him to be - instead he was the opposite. He knew he had brought his brother pain beyond bearing, but it wasn't as if he couldn't relate. He would take away that burden, if Van would let him, along with the pain of the rest of mankind. Dornkirk's aims were now where reality lay. Zaibach was the world now. Without it, there would be nothing left for him.

Most of the audience with the king of Asturia was so blandly uninteresting that Folken didn't even bother to remember what was said. All he knew was that it had gone well. The king had even less dignity than he'd expected, showing no stomach for confrontation of any kind. His youngest daughter, however, was another matter. He could feel her bristling at him from across the chamber until she finally left at last, having been summoned by a guard. There was something in the way she stared at him - as if she could see through the dark cloak he'd wrapped about himself - that made him even more bitter toward this place, anxious to return to the solitude of the Vionne.

Once the blonde knight had arrived, things became interesting again. Again Folken felt like the character out of a novel, only this time he was truly the villain, totally unable to pretend he could ever be any kind of hero. It wasn't as though he minded particularly. The world had plenty of heroes.

There was more than a small sense of accomplishment within him when he entered the carriage again. The deed was done and he could once again return to normalcy, though it certainly wasn't lost on him that referring to his current life as normal,' even in his mind, was nothing short of perverse. Just as they'd passed over a small wooden bridge and began to make for the outskirts of the city, he heard the cry.



Folken Fanel is dead. Folken replied calmly, not turning to look at Van. The time had come for honesty, and he wasn't going to insult Van's intelligence by offering him anything less. He died when his arm was taken. Are you prepared to come back with me? He knew the question had been incredibly abrupt, and judging from the expression on Van's face, it was the last one he'd expected at the moment.

But you should have expected it.' He thought, watching Van silently. This time I won't give up.' His stomach wrenched when he realized that as much as he longed to save Van, sooner or later he would have to admit the fact that Van might not be turned. And if that proved to be the case, he would have no choice but to kill him.

Join me, brother. He said at last, the plaintive tone coming against his ability to conceal it. We'll create a new world. It was then that the girl appeared once more, shoving Van to the wood of the bridge. At first Folken was confused, until he saw the metallic ribbon retracting back over the mountain, a silver bolt of doom.

He whispered under his breath. The carriage departed at once, against Folken's protest, but there was nothing to be done. Looking back into the younger boy's eyes, it donned on him. Van believed that he was responsible for this. Not only did he fail to protect his brother once again, but he was forced to admit that because of what had just taken place, Van would probably never believe another word he said.


All I wanted was to get Van back! Dilandau shouted after Folken's reprimand following his arrival in the Vionne once more. The silver-haired man's hand kept finding it's way to his scar.

You'll have your chance for revenge once he's in our custody. Folken kept himself calm through will power he didn't know he possessed.

Oh, so you're just going to give me your little brother? Don't you care about him anymore? Dilandau sneered at him, noticing the shock that Folken couldn't conceal quickly enough. The doors in this place aren't sound-proof, you know. You should really be more careful of what you say.

I'm a man who destroyed my country. He replied, not rising to the bait. So Dilandau knew, but least it wasn't Dornkirk who had told him. No matter. He would deal with him when the time came. After all, Van had easily contended with everything that had so far come his way, and he felt that with that odd girl's help, capturing him again would be surprisingly difficult, even for Dilandau. But you will bring him in ALIVE, Albatou. For once the captain didn't refute him, only watching him with his disturbing red eyes. The Emperor has matters to discuss with him and you will not act so rashly again. Sufficiently browbeaten, Dilandau slunk off irreverently, and Folken decided it would be best if Zongi kept a close watch on him from this point on.

Ollen70: So here we are. Feedback is always appreciated, and thanks again to my wonderful reviewers. =)