It Could Be Worse (3rd Season)

Episode 11: Hotshot    

By Sulia Serafine

[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.

Rating of this episode: Let's say… PG-13… MORE drama, MORE revelations, and Joren about to blow his top like a volcano. You know how he gets when he's angry.

~~

"I have breakfast in my conservatory. I don't normally dine there, but I thought you might appreciate the view." Enishi smiled graciously, and gestured toward the stairs behind him. "Please, join me. I would be honored by your presence."

Lady Haname, still bowing deeply, stifled a surprised gasp. "Your Majesty, it is we who should be honored."

"Oh, please don't say that piece of bull while I'm standing here. I'm going to puke," Joren snapped. He glared at the noblewoman. "Come on, Queenscove. Food awaits." With a sigh of resentful resignation, he started toward the stairs. Neal followed, unsure of what else to do, while Lady Haname was still standing in shock.

"I'm still very confused here, Stone."

Joren shrugged. "As you should be."

The two men were nearly at the bottom of the stairs. Enishi nodded. He lifted his hand toward Lady Haname. "Milady, if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather have a conversation alone with our foreign guests. If you go out to the garden again, you will find breakfast there among fellow courtiers."

The woman, still thoroughly stunned, numbly inclined her head toward him and slowly began to exit the ballroom. The two remaining men followed their host up the stairs. They were immediately directed to a large set of cherry wood doors to the left. Joren glanced over his shoulder briefly, just in time to see a door on the opposite side of the staircase slam shut. He smirked.

As they entered the conservatory, they beheld a wonderful sight. The room was filled with an assortment of instruments, each looking as new as if they had just come from the artisan's worktable. Large glass windows took up most of the wall space, allowing for a wide view of the plains. Neal could see numerous domesticated animals grazing in the emerald colored plains while farmers tilled their fenced lands. Winter seemed to have no effect there on the growing of crops. It was the idyllic countryside.

Joren frowned, ignoring the impressive surroundings. "Who was that boy? Your son?"

Enishi raised one eyebrow delicately. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"Can we please not answer questions with questions?"

"Did you notice that you were doing it, too?"

Neal, who was now seated at a small table on a large dais, groaned. "You're both doing it. Let's eat already! Maybe then we could have some explanations and the two of you could tell me what the hell is going on." He paused awkwardly, his nose scrunched up from confusion. "Your Majesty."

The two other men sat down at the table, which was made out of iron wrought into the design of intertwined grapevines. Neal lifted the golden bell shaped-coverings from the white porcelain plates in front of him and stifled a cry of delight when he saw the still-steaming food. He picked up his silver fork and attacked the fresh pastries and fruits in front of him with much gusto.

Enishi sipped strained orange juice from a crystal champagne glass. He gestured toward Neal. "Is he always like this?"

"I think in the absence of Kennan, he feels obligated to fill the role," Joren said disdainfully. He began eating as well, although he took his time and decided to talk frequently between bites. "So. The white hair runs in the family I suppose?"

"He's my nephew. You have nothing to envy. Yahiko will inherit my throne since his parents are dead, but until then, he will be rebellious and ill tempered." He chuckled. "Actually, the boy reminds me of you."

"Yes," Joren agreed sarcastically. "Because I have tantrums and love bleaching my hair white." He chewed and swallowed a piece of fluffy scrambled eggs. "Seriously. What the hell are you doing here? And what's with that Shinkokami girl and the existence of the City? Because if you tell me it's all magic, I'm going to hurt you."

The white-haired man shrugged. "You have no sense of fantasy and enchantment."

"I hate fairy tales."

"Such a shame, then. You're in one." Enishi put down his glass.

Neal put down his fork and dabbed at his mouth with a soft linen napkin. "What's this about Shinko?"

"Princess Shinkokami is a distant cousin. I leave her branch of the family in charge of the First District. She is… I guess you could say, one of my generals. But she spends her time as a scout on the outside, making sure idiots like you don't find Enishijirou."

"And you are…? I'm sorry, we never got around to formal introductions, Your Majesty," Neal said. The man beside him made goose bumps appear on Neal's flesh. His presence was utterly creeping him out.

Enishi nodded his head slightly. "I'm Enishi Yukishiro. I'm sure you've heard of me."

At that, Neal jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor behind him. He pointed at Enishi in disbelief. "You're him? You're that mafia don from Tusaine? How can you be King?" He held his hands out pleadingly to Joren. "And how can you just sit there beside him when you knew this whole time that he was the guy?!"

"Sit down and eat, Nealan," Joren ordered roughly. He glanced at Enishi skeptically. "You do have to explain yourself in that area, though. Why would King Enishi of the lost Eastern City decide to set up a crime syndicate across the sea?"

Their host leaned back in his chair. "I had a side agenda," he told them casually, as if he were recounting a Sunday picnic. "I was trying to make contact with a prodigal family member. The quickest way to gain power was through that city. I could have found out anything I wanted, done anything I wanted. And so I did." He paused. "I left the country frequently to return here. And I plan to stay here indefinitely now that my base in Tusaine is, for the most part, spoiled by recent events."

"The things you did weren't necessary. They were cruel," Joren remarked.

The king thought for a moment. "I guess you could say that it was also an exercise in power. Power is different here. It's never tested, just known and respected. I wanted to indulge myself for a few years in that kind of power… the one that has to be earned and deserved… before I settled into my old age here. I suppose I went a bit too far."

"You suppose?" Joren hissed. "You've got some nerve—"

"I was also testing my prodigal relative. You see, he was in the crossfire and he couldn't decide which spectrum of life he wanted to be on… good or evil. He chose, finally. And I'm glad I was the cause for it."

Both his guests seemed completely disgusted by the word coming out of his mouth. Joren looked down at his plate, stabbing his food over and over in tiny little thrusts. He shook his head. "If you ever return to Tusaine, I will kill you myself. That's a promise."

Neal edged toward his partner. "Shouldn't we arrest him?"

"And how do you suppose we do that? Hogtie him and drag him out? Roll him down a mountain like a log?" Joren bellowed. "We still need to find Conal and Inness, if you haven't forgotten." He leaned over and stood Neal's chair back up. His face communicated to Neal that Joren was restraining an incredible outburst of fury. Each word he next spoke was laced with an invisible toxin that lingered in the air. "Sit… down… and… eat."

Neal reluctantly sat down, taking up his fork again and picking at his food less eagerly than before. He glared at Enishi. "So. Have you seen half a dozen foreigners anywhere? We found their plane, but it's empty."

"What makes you think that they're here? They could be anywhere," Enishi reasoned, motioning to the windows overlooking the mountains past the Valley. "It's a large wilderness."

"Then… you know nothing?" Neal pouted.

Joren scoffed. "He knows something. He always considered himself a god. He has to be omniscient. Or was that just more of your fairy tale bull?"

Enishi shook his head ruefully. "Your belligerence will be the bane of your existence some day." He sighed. He turned toward the windows and began watching the horses running across the Valley. "I believe one of my patrols spotted a group of men being captured by the Black City. It happened perhaps… two weeks ago?"

"Black City?"

"Yes. They are beyond the Valley. Nearer to the coast of the eastern side of the continent."

Neal took a large gulp of orange juice. "Are they some sort of lost city, too?"

The King of Enishijirou shook his head slowly. His eyes remained fixed on his precious kingdom. "No. They are not as pleasant. You must understand… where there is a heaven, there is a hell."

After breakfast was completed, Enishi touched a crystal attached to the bottom of the table. Immediately, three servants entered to clear the table away. They were offered mints on a tiny silver tray by one of the servants. Neal took several and put them into his pocket. He planned to pop them into his mouth as a way of distracting himself from dubious revelations.

"Would you like to hear some music? Or perhaps you would like to see the Stargazer Dome? No, no, not yet. Perhaps tonight when the stars are actually out." The mysterious king led them out of the conservatory again and back to the staircase. "My library is also in this wing of the Palace. I understand that your companion, the old man, is to meet you there in the afternoon."

Neal swished the mint around his mouth nervously. "Aren't we staying with Lady Haname?"

"I would not wish to impose on her any more than necessary. Your things are being transported to the guest suites in the opposite wing." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Since your main goal is to find your friends, I will meet with my advisors and patrols to see what can be done. In the meantime, you are welcome to wander around this area. The servants are everywhere. They'll be glad to offer you any assistance."

Joren balled his hands into fists. "You still have a lot to answer for."

Enishi smiled. "I'm sure I do. But not today."

He nodded his head toward them and descended down the staircase. The two officers watched him until he had walked the length of the entire ballroom and exited out the front doors. Neal sighed and dug around his pocket. He held out his hand to his partner, shrugging.

"Want a mint?"

Joren rolled his eyes and turned away. He crossed to the other side of the staircase. The door, which had slammed shut earlier, was half the size of the large conservatory doors. He touched it. Just as all doors in the City, this one flared blue lights in lines swirling on the surface while the door opened by itself. Neal followed Joren inside, continuously rolling around the mints in his mouth to give him something else to think about.

They were now on a second floor balcony of an enormous library. The wide balcony ran in a large oval around the perimeter of the library. Below, numerous bookshelves stood in rows that imitated rays of the sun drawn on paper. The central area had a large round table in it as well as several red velvet chairs. Numerous contraptions also sat on the shelves, beside the books that described what they did. Neal snatched his hand back from a sharp metallic looking bird that repeatedly dipped its head.

"That seems familiar," he grumbled.

Joren didn't notice. The blond ran his hands along the bright brass railing as he walked toward the suspended spiral staircase. The narrow staircase seemed to be supported by thin pieces of metal. Joren wondered how it could be considered secure.

Neal followed far behind. His eyes roamed over the multitude of books and shelves. He glanced above him. "Hey, there's another level of books. Whoa. Look on the ceiling. That's gorgeous!"

Hearing his partner's exclamation, Joren looked up. On the ceiling was another fresco. This one depicted the entire valley. Joren looked to the left of him at the large curtained windows. The view from the second floor was the same exact one on the ceiling. In fact, it was almost a mirror image.

He went down the staircase, surprised at its sturdiness. As soon as he was on the first floor, he strode towards the bookshelves. He observed that on the side opposite of the windows, there were small doors. Perhaps the library was bigger than they thought it was. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Something doesn't feel right.

"Ow!" Joren hissed, touching his neck. A small projectile had struck him from behind. He looked at his fingers. A reddish paste covered his fingertips. He held it in front of his nose. "Berries?"

Another one whizzed past his face and struck the floor. Joren turned around instinctively and jumped, dragging his assailant down from the top of the heavy bookshelf. He held his attacker by the collar, shaking him vigorously. A slingshot clattered to the floor.

"What's going on?" Neal yelled from above. He ran down the spiral steps and skidded to a stop in the center of the room.

Joren glared at the person he held. The boy's feet dangled at least a foot and a half off the floor.

"Let me go! Let me go!" the boy struggled, trying to loosen Joren's iron grip from him. He growled threateningly and kicked his legs. Joren dodged the small attempts and set him on the floor. "Let me go!"

"No, not until you stop acting like a brat," the former operative warned. The boy seemed to think better of it and calmed down. He lowered his chin to his chest so that his captor only saw the soft locks of white hair. Joren released him. "You're Yahiko, aren't you? The prince?"

"Yeah," Yahiko replied quietly, toeing the floor with his shoe.

Neal heard their voices and ran towards them. "Hey! What's going on?"

"Nothing," Joren told him. "Just a kid with nothing to do."

Neal picked up the slingshot. "Hey, cool. I used to have one of these. Earned me many detentions."

Yahiko snatched it from him and stuffed it into his tunic. "I'm not supposed to have it. Are you going to tell on me?"

"No, of course not," Neal answered. He'd had extensive experience with kids while working in his father's clinic. While parents went in for appointments, Neal had to watch over the children and keep them entertained. He could easily relate to them. He ruffled the boy's hair. "Hey, maybe I could show you a thing or two with a few targets."

"Queenscove," Joren snarled.

"Or not," Neal amended, chuckling anxiously.

The blond officer pointed toward the kodachi that still hung at Yahiko's side. "Aren't you a little young to have weapons?"

Yahiko shrugged shyly. "It's a miniature bokken. I have several bigger ones. I'm still learning, so I can only have wooden practice swords." He timidly gestured to Joren's waist. "What's that?"

Joren touched his hip. He drew his gun from the sash that held it in place. "This is a gun—one of the Desert Eagle models, to be exact."

Neal snorted. "As if he knows what that is." He tapped his chin. "Hey, does your kingdom here have guns?"

The prince shook his head. "Not really." He hesitated. "Well, there are some. Uncle keeps them in the restricted part of the armory. He said that they're to be used as a last resort. He doesn't want them to corrupt our faith in crossbows or anything." The prince stuck out his lower lip in an adorable pout. "It's not like we've ever been attacked. The Black City isn't better off than we are. They have less weapons than we do."

"Is that so?" Joren murmured thoughtfully.

"Yeah!" Yahiko nodded, gaining confidence. "And besides, guns don't work in the Valley. Not unless they're tampered with by Uncle. Magical wards, or something."

Both men looked to each other with wide eyes. Joren looked down at the weapon in his hand. "So that's why she let me keep my gun. That bitch."

"He said witch," Neal quickly told Yahiko. "Unless, of course, there are actual witches here." He paused and forced himself to laugh. "And if that's the case, he said stitch. Okay?" He glared at Joren, silently mouthing toward his partner to not curse in front of the boy.

"Forget it." Joren tucked the gun back into his sash. "So if it doesn't work, let's see this armory. I'm not going to walk around this place without something to defend myself with."

Yahiko nodded. "Follow me."

They walked behind Yahiko as the boy led them out of the library and into another wing of the Palace. Neal turned to Joren. "I didn't know you could handle a sword."

"I can, if the circumstances call for it. But I'm not just getting a sword," he whispered, patting his side where his gun was.

"Oh," was all that Neal could say.

~~

Keladry squinted. She stood up immediately from the opening of her tent and began shouting, waving her arms to the troupe of hikers she saw in the distance. "Hey! Over here! Come over here!"

Cleon crawled out of his tent, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Stop shouting, Kel. You're going to bring down the mountains around us."

She ignored him and stumbled through the snow, picking up her feet high so she wouldn't get stuck. The people on the top of the ridge began to descend toward the camp. Keladry slowly advanced toward them as well, so that they met halfway. There were several men and women, carrying various bags and equipment. An older man, the leader, came up to Keladry and greeted her.

"Hello," Keladry replied, glad that they spoke the same language. "I'm looking for some friends of mine. Um, Joren Stone and Neal Queenscove?"

The man nodded. "Yes, they employed us to come with them into these mountains."

She gasped and looked from face to face. "They did? But, where are they? Why aren't they with you?"

"We located the missing plane, but it was empty. The two men and the head guide decided to continue, but they sent us back."

Cleon and Faleron, now properly dressed, joined them on the slope. Faleron rubbed his hands together for warmth. "So, you're telling me that they're out there, by themselves? They're still looking for the people who were in the plane?"

"Yes."

Keladry tried to think of why Joren would do such a thing. Her arms hung limply by her side, overcome by a strange despair. He wants to please you, she thought to herself. He knows how much your brothers mean to you, so he won't give up. Even when he knows it's hopeless.

Faleron shrugged slightly. "Do you… have a map that you can give us? Show us which direction that they went?"

One of the women came forward, rummaging through her pockets for a spare compass and a map. She unfolded the map and showed it to them, pointing at their current location, and a drawn line indicating where they had traveled. Faleron took it and thanked her.

"We must continue after them, then. We have to bring them back," Keladry said determinedly. She turned to her companions. "Let's pack up. We have to use as much daylight as we can."

"Miss, would you like any of us to accompany you?" the leader asked. His eyes were filled with concern.

She pressed her lips together in uncertainty. After a moment, she shook her head. "No, no. You've all been out here long enough. Go home. We'll go on by ourselves."

And so, they bid goodbye to the returning search party and continued on their own. Faleron had voiced his complaints quite freely in the beginning before he noticed what sort of effect they had on Keladry. She was growing more despondent with each day. Even Cleon was having a difficult time keeping all their spirits up.

After a few days, Keladry called for a rest. The three friends sat down on a part of the slope that leveled out due to some rocks. Faleron handed out bits of food and thermoses of heated water. They ate their lunch quietly, not really having anything in mind to talk about.

"Cheeseburger," Cleon said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Faleron creased his brow with a look of bewilderment. "What?"

"I was thinking. I'd really like a cheeseburger just now," the redhead spoke.

Narrowing his eyes in slight annoyance, Faleron gave his friend a slight shove in the shoulder. Unexpectedly, Cleon cried out, threw his hands up in the air, and fell backward. He started falling end over end down the slope, unable to stop. Keladry and Faleron both shrieked in surprise, abandoned their things, and scrambled down after him. They slid on their bottoms most of the way down before getting to their feet.

Cleon finally came to a stop, heels over his head as he lied upside down on the steeper slope. He groaned, spitting out some snow from his face. He swatted more snow off his clothes, but when trying to sit up, couldn't, and collapsed back down again.

"Faleron!" Keladry chided as they came closer.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Faleron yelled over her scolding. He reached Cleon first and shook his shoulder. "I am so sorry! I didn't think you were going to fall over like that… like…" he couldn't help but snort with laughter, "like Humpty Dumpty!" He began snickering uncontrollably.

Keladry couldn't help it. Seeing that the sharpshooter wasn't hurt, she, too, gave in to mirth.

Cleon's dizziness eventually drained from him. He sat up, slugging Faleron hard in the shoulder. He pouted, his cheeks red with embarrassment rather than cold. "Well, thanks a lot."

"Come on. Let's go back up," Keladry said. She stood up and held out her hand for him to take.

As Cleon struggled to get to his feet, Faleron noticed something where he had been lying. The former thief picked it up and held it a few inches from his eyes.

"I hate to disappoint you, but you broke your glasses." He read the brand name label. "Hmm. This is a brand that usually sells cheap. But it's good quality. What a bargain, Kennan. I'm impressed."

"Dude, I didn't bring any sunglasses," the redhead replied.

Keladry, who had been helping Cleon dust himself off, leaned over and took the broken sunglasses from Faleron. She inspected them, turning it over in her hands. She shuddered. "These… these are Joren's sunglasses."

"Are they?" Faleron stood up and peered at the object.

"Good quality at a cheap price? Sounds just like him," Keladry said, the corner of her mouth lifting into an ironic smile. "So what does it mean? Are we close?"

Faleron looked around. "They were days ahead of us. There are no tracks to follow. He could have dropped them or accidentally stepped on them."

"Or tumbled down the slope," Cleon added, shooting a glare at his best friend.

"I said sorry."

Before anyone could offer any more suggestions on the origin of the broken sunglasses, they heard a shout from nearby. The three companions looked up, half hoping that they had just heard Neal or Joren calling out to them. What they got, was a group of six men, dressed in skins and furs. They held spears and hempen nets in every hand.

"Um. Hello there!" Cleon called out experimentally.

The man in front pointed his spear and hollered, "Capture them!"

The three looked at each other in alarm. They simultaneously broke apart and began to run.

"Evasive maneuvers! Evasive maneuvers!" Keladry shouted. She didn't run in a straight path, but began running in curving lines. The nets that were thrown at her missed because of it.

"I'm a civilian, Kel! What the hell are evasive maneuvers?!" Faleron yelled back at the top of his lungs. He suddenly landed flat on his face. He glanced at his feet and discovered that a sling with lead weights had wrapped itself around his ankles, preventing him from running. He tried very quickly to untangle himself, but before he could, the men were upon him.

Keladry watched from a short distance as they began to tie him up. She was proud to see that he struggled as hard as he could. Finally, one of the men knocked him out with the butt end of his spear.

"No!" she screamed. She wished she had a weapon on her. Keladry dropped to her knees and felt around for rocks she could throw. Then, she remembered the one weapon she had brought with her on the trip.

She reached into her boot and felt for the thick metal stick that was her collapsible energy glaive. She fumbled with it. Her gloves were still on, inhibiting her fingers to push down on the very slim button as hard as she needed to. Keladry cursed as she threw her gloves off.

"Oh no you don't!" a man's gruff voice shouted. Keladry looked up just before her world went black.

As they began to tie her up as well, a shot was fired into the air. Cleon, the only one who had managed to run far enough, now had his nine-millimeter Glock out. He breathed heavily, pointing it at the closest man to him. He shot the spear out of the man's hands, eliciting numerous gasps among the group.

They all dropped their spears and their nets at once. They spoke in strange sounding tongues, a language that Cleon couldn't understand. They dropped their captives as well and seemed to be afraid of what he else he could do.

Cleon began to grin. "Finally. Something works out my way."

~~

Joren hefted the katana in his right hand, judging its balance and weight. He switched to his left hand carefully, and finally held it in both. He'd taken extracurricular classes in swordsmanship at the Academy for a short time. Now, he was most likely to be incredibly rusty. Especially with an Eastern sword.

"We have some Mithran styled swords here, if you would like," Yahiko proposed. "Straight edges. Bejeweled pommels. They are from Great, Great Grandfather's collection."

Neal whistled. He was walking back and forth from row to row. The armory was the size of a gymnasium, with every weapon imaginable from every country—in abundant quantities. He stopped in front of a row of throwing knives. On the very end, he saw small black bags of pouches. He picked one up and began untying the cords as he approached the prince.

"Hey, Your Highness, what are these?"

Yahiko turned to him and grinned. "Lead pellets. For slingshots."

Impressed, Neal pocketed one. "Ah. So I can go all David-and-Goliath on somebody's hinny, huh? Care to show me where the slingshots are?"

Joren sighed. "Would you mind being mature and picking out a real weapon?"

"Some of us were trained to use a standard issue gun, not Excalibur," Neal called out saucily. He began studying the number of slingshots Yahiko had laid out on the workman's table. "Besides. I thought you already snuck out some, uh, stuff for us."

"If 'stuff' is the code word for several handguns and a dozen magazines, then yes, I have stuff," Joren retorted. "Go pick out a short sword at least. A kodachi, like His Highness has."

"It's a practice sword," Yahiko protested, slightly blushing. He motioned for Neal to follow him. "But I will show you where the real ones are."

"Hey! Could I get a quarterstaff, too? I was good at those when I was at the Academy!"

"A slingshot and a stick. How wonderful," Joren muttered.

The prince was eager to help once he had gotten over his initial hostility to the two men. He admitted that he was bored most of the time in the Palace. He was forced by tradition to take numerous lessons in things he could never imagine using as an adult. Mostly everyone treated him as a person on a pedestal that they were not worthy to touch, so he could never gain any true friends.

The only thing that Yahiko did enjoy was his weapon training. He loved handling the weapons that had been in his family for generations. It gave him a sense of excitement. He often wished for an adventure to alleviate his banal life. It had been decades, he told them, since any foreigners were allowed into the City, let alone the Palace.

"Decades?" Joren echoed.

Yahiko shrugged. "Yeah. Thirty years ago. I remember, I was playing outside—" He stopped suddenly, dropped the kodachi scabbard he had been holding, and put both hands over his open mouth. "I mean…"

Neal picked up the scabbard and sheathed the small sword inside it. Joren crossed the number of rows it took to get to them and cornered the Crown Prince with a vicious glare.

"What do you mean… you remember?" Joren asked slowly. "You said it was thirty years ago. You're only thirteen."

"I didn't say anything," the boy protested. "Really I didn't!"

Neal shook his head. "No, I heard quite clearly, buddy. You said 'Thirty years ago.' You were playing outside."

The boy looked positively mortified at the words that had slipped out of his mouth. He shamefully sunk to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. He murmured sorrowfully, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

Neal crouched beside him and rested a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder. "Your Highness, please answer this one thing: are you thirteen, or fourteen—or whatever age it is that you look like?"

"No," the boy confessed. "I'm probably older than both of you combined."

Joren backed away. He wandered toward a lit crystal on the wall. He placed both hands on either side of it and stared down at his feet. "I knew it," he whispered. "I knew it. That bullet… When I shot that bastard and he just stood there bleeding like it hadn't happened…"

"What?" Neal looked up.

"Nothing." He moved away from the wall and stood beside the other two. "I'm not even going to ask any more about this biological impossibility. I'll just mind my own business and concentrate on rescuing Kel's brothers."

"Yahiko!" a familiar male voice shouted from a few rows over. "Were you in the restricted section? Your uncle told you that those guns were off-limits—" the speaker stopped at the beginning of their row, staring quietly at the three males in front of him.

Neal stood up and tapped Joren's shoulder.

"Okay. First the mafia don, then Kel's ex-boyfriend? I'm sorry, but I feel like I should expect Elvis any second now."

Liam Irons ignored Neal's rambling. Instead, he focused on the blond man that was also returning his attention. Without an inflection in voice to show any sort of emotion, he said, "Yahiko, go to your room."

The boy stood up, clenching his fists. "I don't have to listen to you! I'm the prince! And as far as you're concerned, you are not allowed to address me in such a familiar way! 'Your Majesty' or—"

"Yahiko!" Liam interrupted, bellowing as loudly as he could. He took a deep breath. "I have the complete confidence of your uncle. He entrusts me with many duties and responsibilities. If I tell you to go to your room, then go."

The prince bravely stood his ground, though he was trembling all over. "No!"

"Then just shut up and let me deal with this!"

Joren stepped in front of Yahiko. "Don't yell at him. Talk to me. I took the guns from the restricted section. I'm not all that familiar with a sword, as you already know."

Liam ground his teeth irritably. "I have come straight from a meeting with His Majesty and his advisors. I and several other seasoned warriors will take you and Mr. Queenscove to the Black City to rescue your friends."

"I want to go, too!" Yahiko exclaimed.

"You're the Heir, Yahiko. You can't go. And didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

The boy cowered behind Joren. Neal spoke up. "I'm sorry… So," he tried to make sense of the chaos around him. "You work for Enishi?"

"He's always worked for him," Joren corrected.

The older officer threw up his arms in the air as a sign of exasperation. "Why doesn't anyone tell me these things? I was there, people! I was there the whole entire time, helping to bring down the bad guys! I comforted Kel in her time of need, I put up with your stupid mood swings… I'm feeling very under-appreciated here."

"I appreciate you, Mr. Queenscove," Yahiko piped up, hoping to be of some help.

Neal sighed and patted Yahiko on the back. "At least someone does." He glanced back and forth between the two men that were still glaring daggers at each other. "Come on. Why don't we go outside and practice with these slingshots? We'll leave these two to talk."

He ushered Yahiko past Liam, who made no move to stop them. As soon as he and Joren were alone, he moved a few steps closer until they were arms' length away. The two men were silent for a long time, never having broken eye contact. Finally, Joren let his eyes stray to the light crystals overhead.

"It's her brothers that we're rescuing."

"I see."

"Feel motivated now?"

"Maybe."

There was another period of silence. Liam spoke.

"How is she?"

"Good, good. Better, at least."

Liam nodded. There was a pause of about two minutes this time.

"He still talks about you."

Joren raised an eyebrow. "Does he?"

"Always has, always will."

"Jealous?"

"What do you think?" he snapped. "They both like you better."

"Too bad we can't switch places then, hmm?"

"You're lucky that I don't let petty feelings get in the way of my duties."

"Yeah," Joren muttered scornfully. "I'm just so damn lucky."

~~

Author's note: No! Can it be? LIAM is back, too? Egads, maybe I will have Elvis make a cameo after all. Hmm. This one wasn't too long. I'm more concerned about getting episodes out while I still have the time, but don't worry! I will still strive for the best quality I can give!

Hope you enjoyed the confrontation between Liam and Joren. Those two are like brothers—fighting and arguing and glaring each other into the ground. Heheh.

Oh! And believe it or not, I used all those Japanese weapon terms from memory—when I still had the time, I was a huge anime buff. Especially the samurai ones, so I used to be quite well versed with the weapon terminology. It's not so confusing once you find a guide online and start looking it up. Takes just a few seconds, trust me.

Yes, Neal is quite good with a quarterstaff, if you remember from the Academy flashback in Season 2. It was A Letter To You Part II, I think. He even inspired Kel to take up a pole arm. Wow. Imagine that.

-Sulia Serafine

P.S. Isn't Yahiko just so adorable? Cool dude, I tell ya. And for those of you who aren't familiar with his original character: his hair is normally black. His eyes are dark brown. ENISHI, who hasn't appeared yet in English dubbed episodes released here in the U.S., is—as far as I know—only in the manga comic, in one of the *much* later arcs, or seasons. Someone asked about that in a review. Well, Enishi's real hair is white. His appearance is really the same way as I first described him. Feel free to type their names into search engines! You'll find a whole lot more than you think.