Darkness in the Twilight
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
Reichmann's Flame
There seemed to be an everlasting peace now upon the house, now that Celena was properly laid to rest in the place where she had been born, where she had spent happy days with her brother and her mother before evil befell her. Peace. It seemed like such a dream, something so far and untouchable with the war that still brewed in lands not far from Palas.
Only a few precious days were spent in completely happiness, laughter coming back to the Schezar manor, to Riden and Kio, and Pyle. Even Chris and Ethan managed to lighten the moods. What was more surprising, was that Hans sometimes joined in their merriment. There was one night where all of them had gathered in the courtyard for a meal under the stars, having set up candles on a table, and set up the lanterns there to eat bruchetta that the cook in Allen's home was kind enough to make.
After much vino, singing of songs, and bruchetta that night, things seemed lighter and smiles were found a little more often. Even though it would not last. Angelina hardly left anyone's side, needing someone to guide her places she did not know. It wasn't unusual to see her on her Uncle Gaddes' lap. But this time she was with Hans, accompanying him outside, down the road from their home as he was sent to gather wood in the forest.
Hans was still amazed at how much they had accepted him into their little group. How much they trusted him with the little girl near him. As always, he had his sword with him. Allen had shown him how to shave properly, had nudged him into the habit of drawing back his long hair to keep it neat and tidy and out of the way. He'd cleaned up pretty well, really. He was thinner than he had been before, leaner, some of the muscle mass had receded leaving him with a lighter build. Nigh as much strength as before, but he was fast nonetheless. Several times, he and Allen had taken on a bout of swordplay, much to everyone's delight.
Allen used flamboyant, quick strikes, while Hans used a larger, flatter blade, designed more for gashing and, really, taking off limbs. It was interesting to see the two of them go at it, the two completely different styles of fighting.
Slightly roughened hand was clasped around Angelina's as they walked and he listened to her talk, that faint smile on his lips. She really was a dear little thing... and he owed her so much.
"How far are we into the forest now, Hans?" chirped Angelina, hopping slightly beside him and feeling the ground go soft beneath each of her bounces. She was glad to be outside again, after last night's fun with singing and dancing and laughing. She sang one of the tunes now, actually, quietly under her breath - one that her own dear father had taken up with his beautiful voice.
"You get your voice from dein vater, Die Katzchen," he said softly, fondly. She was adorable. "Just a little ways in. None too far. We just got inside a few minutes ago."
The Basram smiled a bit, his hand still lightly holding hers.
Something perked in her ears, and made her stop singing, stop walking - she tugged at Hans' arm as she stopped and made him stop beside her. It was a sound, very faint, but she picked it up like a hawk could see miles below him. It was a very faint clicking sound, and a rustle of leaves not far from where they were.
And in the distance, a deep, resonating rumble began way up in the sky toward the north. "Do you hear that?" she asked quietly.
Hans tensed slightly, inclining his head a little. He was glad he'd had her with him. He wouldn't have been on the alert as much as he was now. But he was also not very happy she was there... she was in danger. "Ja... Katzchen, stay close," he said softly, his tone offering no room for any argument. A sword would do nothing against one of the guns... that much he knew. Maybe the soldier wouldn't have gotten the message that he was no longer part of the army. Maybe he would understand that he was Basram and leave them be.
Not likely... but he couldn't help but hope.
Not one, but five soldiers stepped out from behind the trees. All five of them were riflemen, now cocking their long barreled devices and aiming them at Hans. The one that seemed to be in charge, he stepped forward a little more than the others, aiming his rifle carefully as he took a step and approached. He also recognized their general's son.
"Reichmann." confirmed the soldier, lieutenant commander as it were, and spoke in their native tongue, "You will come with us."
Hans looked at the five of them. Two he recognized... if he didn't do as they said, they'd take out him... and likely Angelina as well. But if he went back to the camp... Angelina would be in more danger and someone else from the Schezar manor would likely come looking for them.
"Let the child go back," he said softly, shaking his head. "Then I will go. She's just a child, after all."
Angelina couldn't understand their language, that rough tongue that Hans spoke so rarely around her and her family. It wasn't hard to figure out that she was blind, and the soldiers began to enclose their escape. They had no sympathy for the girl, only caring about fulfilling their orders to the general in charge. Ironically, the father of the man they now held at gunpoint.
"I can't do that, Reichmann. You will come with us. This area is under siege. You and the girl are prisoners." said the lieutenant commander Fritz.
The young soldier pursed his lips slightly. He didn't have time to worry about the others. They were well-prepared, they were alright, they had to be. Allen was strong and he had the others beside him. He would simply do what he could to stay at Angelina's side.
With a soft sigh, the man nodded, relenting. "Ja, then. Very well." With his unoccupied hand--the other still holding the little girl's--he unhooked the blade that hung at his waist, tossing it to the ground before them. He wouldn't risk getting her into more trouble. As he had done with his little sister years ago, Hans crouched down, picking up the girl in his arms, speaking in Asturian so she could understand him. "Stay close to me and be good, Katzchen."
The new voices might have scared her, but with being held by Hans, so close and warm and now high above the ground, she could steel herself well enough against their unfriendly clipped tones. They were led through the forests, the soldiers flanking them and marching them quickly through the thick growth and trees. Finally, they'd reached a glen, now thoroughly destroyed as it was prepared for the landing of a large frigate.
The ship was massive and tall, and before it lay the smatterings of a camp that they had begun to erect. No insignia indicated the ship as it was, but it would not have been hard to identify for Hans. The ship was well known among his countrymen. Known as Reichmann's Flame.
Hans was silent as they walked, keeping the girl close to him. The sight of the ship startled him. It was massive... and his father was aboard there, he had to be. That made dread slither up his back. His father had always been imposing, had always been strong and stern, a harsh man.
And here he was, banished from the Basram lands, stated simply as dead to those he knew in his country. He'd been living with the Asturians, he was wary of harming one of the Asturian children... he had been accepted by them. His father wouldn't welcome him back, that much he knew. But past that...
Hans clasped the girl's head to his chest, covering her sensitive ears to keep the loud sound from frightening her.
The camp was just beginning to be put together, and a crude pen was already put up and enclosed many of the locals in the area. General Reichmann wanted no one to escape the siege. While the villagers were gathered in the makeshift pen, and soldiers began to set up tents, Lt. Commander Fritz continued to march Hans while the ex-soldier held Angelina. Rifle barrel firmly between the other's shoulder blades, and quick snaps of direction, he led them to the ship, through the hull, and inside a holding cell with in it.
Hans went silently, a faint frown on his lips. He chanced for a glance at the pen... but he didn't catch sight of anyone from the manor. When he felt the sharp nudge of the rifle barrel at his back, he moved forward again, sighing softly. He could only hope they weren't dead. He slipped inside the cell quietly, tossing his head a little to get a loose piece of blonde hair back out of his eyes. And dread settled upon him again.
~
The ships were spotted too late in the evening sky, and Basram, it seemed, was preparing a coup de main upon Asturia's capital. Luckily, there was no fire, only the sound of cannons and rifles in the distance. Screams rose up in the air from villages nearby, from manors near the Schezar estate, before several men marching could be heard approaching. These soldiers were in brilliant green and white uniforms, and they held their rifles proudly. Their numbers were great and fanned out before reaching the manor.
"Allen!" yelled Gaddes from the parlor, having been watching the ships fly over and feeling a growing anxiety, "We've got company coming!"
Allen was already rounding up Riden, Kio and Pyle, snatching his own blade in his hand with narrowed eyes. How dare they... how dare they march on Palas like that! "And like hell I'm going to give in easily," he murmured angrily, clenching the sword in hand. It would be no match for gunpowder, but he wouldn't go without taking at least one of them down with him.
Marching green and white stopped and formed a neat line before the manor, disciplined and taking their rifles from their shoulders, bayonets glistening in the dying sunlight. A quick snap of movement, and they took aim towards the front of the manor, a command being issued robustly by the commander behind the ranks.
"We have your home surrounded. Orders have been issued by General Reichmann to take this home for the use of the Basram army. Your loyalty and cooperation would be appreciated," recited the commander from a scroll he'd already memorized, "Surrender and we will not harm you."
"Bullshit," muttered Gaddes, moving away from the window to go to his captain's side. There was a deathly silence for a moment, and Gaddes took that time to take hold of Allen's tensed hand, roughly pulling him down to his seated level to look Allen straight in the eye, "No matter what happens, Allen, don't you worry about me, okay?"
"You do the same," he answered quietly, nodding to him. He glanced over at Riden and the others, standing, sword clasped in hand. "If you can get out... then do so."
With that, the blonde murmured a soft prayer, pushing open the door. Basram soldiers... in his Asturia. It was too wrong to behold. Too painful.
Riden and Kio looked at each other as they watched their commander, moving quickly along with Gaddes and grabbed some sort of extremity to pull him out of the line of fire. Somewhere there was a "Boss, no!" and then "What the hell are you doing?!", ending with a "Get down!".
Shots rang crisp and clear in the chilled evening air, battering into the plaster of the old Asturian manor. Riden just barely managed to grab Allen's arm and pull him down to the floor, with Gaddes swirling in front of him to push him, and at the same time, Kio managed to shut the heavy oak door. The loud din of the gunfire left their ears ringing in the sudden silence, barely detecting the heavy clicking of several rifles being reloaded.
The soldier's were left panting, looking down at their commander. "I'm not worrying about you. You're just crazy," concluded Gaddes, out of breath mostly from the adrenalin of being shot at and too shaken to notice that his left leg was bleeding heavily from his thigh.
Allen growled, frustrated. "Let me go, damn it! This is my country, I can't just let them take it over like this!" he had to do something. He was still a knight, he still had to defend these people, this place. He almost sobbed. He'd been so ready to die for his country, so ready to take on these soldiers, if even by himself. He struggled against the arms that held him, feeling but uncaring of the wound in his side that stained the once white cloth with a growing mess of crimson.
"You can't, boss! You can't die!" cried Riden as Kio brought their commander to a safer place behind the parlor wall, "Hans and Angelina were out there . . ." Gaddes looked at Riden, shocked to remember that he had sent them out to fetch fire wood, when the coup began so suddenly.
Riden's arm was still splinted and in a sling, but using his right hand, he tried as best he could to keep Allen prone. Kio gave some orders to Pyle to find an escape route with Chris and Ethan. Was the house completely surrounded? Maybe there was a chance to get out before . . .
Ethan started, looking at Allen and Gaddes. He and Chris had been called down as well. "Chris," he said softly, motioning to the two officers, "look..."
Allen's frantic struggling wasn't helping the wound in his side, but he had to get out there. He had to find his daughter, he had to defend the Queen. "It's my duty, damn it, let me go out there!"
"You two! Go with Pyle! Find a way out of here, now!" ordered Gaddes upon seeing the brothers come down the stairs. He wouldn't dare take his gaze from Allen's too long, trapped in his chair and helpless to watch Allen writhe in pain in anger. Both Kio and Riden were trying to steady their commander long enough for Kio to staunch the blood flow.
Gaddes had been running his hands over his legs and suddenly noticing his slickened his hand got with the movement. He looked down and groaned, more annoyed than in pain - he couldn't feel it anyway. He knew well enough that no matter if he could feel it or not, he would need to stop the blood before he died from blood loss.
"Fuck," he muttered, looking to Riden, "I need something to staunch this wound on my leg."
It took Kio actually grabbing Allen in his strong grip to steady him, wrenching the sword away from him and setting it aside with a soft apology. He felt his heart pull as frustrated tears slipped over the knight's cheeks, but he wouldn't let him go. They couldn't afford losing Allen, too. The big man held him close, stilling his movements for the most part as he put pressure against the wound, thankful that it was a clean shot. He wouldn't have to dig out any shards of the ammunition.
Ethan grabbed Chris' arm, biting down on his bottom lip nervously and turned toward Pyle, nodding to him to lead them on.
Gaddes didn't know how much time passed, or if Pyle and the others actually made it out - when he heard guttural orders shouted from outside, the front door kicked in. In a blue of green and white, at least twenty men filed inside, rifles drawn and aimed. They romped up the stairs to search for any others that might be in the house, and had no trouble finding the four of them where they huddled in a corner of the front parlor.
Riden yelped when one of the soldiers roughly took him by his uninjured arm, just as he was trying press a dish towel to Allen's wound. Kio was next to be taken and bound. Gaddes had been trying to put pressure on his own wound with his bare hands, and was helpless to do anything when the lieutenant, leading this troop most likely, came in and roughly pressed his boot upon Allen's heaving chest.
"You will be prisoners of Basram," said the soldier in a thick Basramese accent, "Consider yourselves privileged."
Allen looked up at the soldier, more than ready to resist. Had he been alone here, he would have... but he would not throw away the other's lives when they had just saved his. Gritting his teeth as he relented quietly. He hated admitting weakness, he hated surrendering. But it was for the better.
His side hurt, that much he was sure of, and his pride as well. A knight... surrendering? What foolishness.
~
Basram took Allen's crew back to the Reichmann's flame, noting his station and knighthood and having orders to capture the last remaining Caeli Knights. With little regard for their various injuries, Riden and Kio, along with Allen were shoved into a holding cell inside the massive Basram ship. Gaddes was more or less pushed inside, still desperately holding his hands over his leg wound, glad he couldn't feel it but suddenly scared that he might not be able to stop bleeding.
Angelina sniffed slightly, startled by the sounds of the iron barred door pulling back and shoving several men inside. But she'd caught that scent that was so very familiar to her, and though she was being cradled by Hans', she couldn't help but squirm in realization.
"Father!" she cried out.
Allen growled, kicking the cell door hard. "Marching over Palas... so easily! Child's play, all of it." It hurt to think of his lovely Palas in hands such as these here. Heeding Kio's urgings, Allen did sit down, though he still fumed, wincing slightly as Kio used Allen's shirt as a bandage, tearing strips off. when that was done, he used the remainder, pressing it against Gaddes' bleeding thigh.
"Be careful, Katzchen," Hans said softly, setting her on her feet.
Riden sat against the wall, nursing his splinted arm and for the most part, occupied with his own thoughts and sorrows. Gaddes worked with Allen, having helped briefly with Allen's wound before averting his attention to his own. He could already feel himself starting to become fatigued, that familiar ringing enclosing his hearing, swelling his head and telling him he was losing blood and fast.
Angelina was about to go to where she'd heard her father's voice, but their frantic tones suggested that it would not be a good idea to disturb them - it was too frightening for her. Now that she was on the ground, she had barely taken two steps towards them before hurrying back to Hans' and hugging his leg.
"Gah!" said Gaddes, annoyed and shaking his head to clear the fatigue, "Damn it, I'm getting tired."
"Don't you dare fall asleep," murmured Allen, pressing his hands against the wound, frowning. He hadn't noticed Hans and Angelina yet, his anger and frustration and upset far too occupying at the moment. And now, his worry. If they couldn't stop the bleeding...
"We need some way to stop it, letting it simply stop isn't doing a damn thing." The blonde sat back lightly, frowning still. Today... it was just going all wrong.
A smarmy humming came from the locked cell door, and Gaddes looked up to see Lt. Commander Fritz eyeing them maliciously from the other side of the bars. He was leaning against them with an evil grin upon his face, amused as they tried to staunch the blood flow from a wound the man could not feel. It made him chuckle, a low, deep rumble that seemed to make everyone's spine tickle and freeze.
"Amazing how quickly the blood flows through one's body, no?" said Fritz in a thick accent, making Angelina clutch Hans' leg even tighter. She definitely did not like the sound of this man, or the tapping of the metal from the gun he held in his hand.
"Fritz," Hans spoke up after a moment of watching the Asturian pair. He had served with this man before... they had a few drinks before, laughed and joked. And now this... everything had changed. "Fritz, help them. We have never been so cruel before, why now? Treat their injuries as we have before." The Basram soldier almost begged... but he still had some pride. He knew they would leave the Asturian soldiers to suffer what injuries they had... they were, after all, aboard his father's ship.
"Oh," Fritz pouted sarcastically, giving Hans a very deep and mocking look, "I was told I could have some fun with you. Especially them. I suppose the cripple can't feel anything on those legs of his." He spoke in their mother tongue, the Asturians within the cell looking at each other and wondering as to what he might have been saying to Hans. Fritz, meanwhile, gave Hans a very dark smirk, pointing his pistol in Gaddes' direction.
"I suppose he won't be able to feel this then?" And he shot the pistol, aiming it well enough at Gaddes' right leg, watching sadistically as the blood splattered from the man's thigh. Gaddes was too slow to react, never having dealt with such weapons at such close range and unprepared for the shot. He cried out, more from surprise than pain.
Hans tensed, lifting himself halfway from the floor where he'd been settled, a growl on his lips. His voice was low, shaking with his anger, the already guttural language made even more so by his tone. "Wenn ich aussteige, werde ich gründlich genießen schlachtend Sie wie das Tier, das Sie sind, nur für das."
Allen, who had jerked his head away at the spray of blood from Gaddes' second wound, stared at Hans and his anger. This boy... he had been so soft-spoken all the time he'd known him. So quiet and relenting. But that voice was not gentle. And while he did not know what was being said, he could tell it was not in Fritz's favor. The knight pushed those thoughts aside, cursing under his breath and pressing his hands to the new wound frantically.
Fritz only grinned a very crooked grin that held all the malice and contempt he had for the country they were now successfully overthrowing. He watched Hans with near crazed eyes, bringing up his second pistol haphazardly and pulling the trigger. The shot rang out loudly and echoed in the metallic walls of the ship's holding cell. The iron bullet embedded and exploded in Hans' left arm.
Hans had expected retribution for his snarled words. And no less at the weapons that he had once used. But he had never felt the pain of the hot bullet and they weren't as far away as he would have liked.
The pressure, the suddenness of the attack made him stumble back slightly, crying out and grasping his arm tightly, blood welling up around his pale fingers. He made a note to escape this cell, to kill that man, to make him pay. He narrowed his eyes against the tears of pain that rose lightly in them, curling his lips back in a snarl.
Allen flinched at the loud cry from Hans... and the stinging sound of the shot from the pistol. Well.. .at least they knew Hans really was on their side.
Fritz left them, having used his two shots from his pistols, letting a maniacal laughter tear from his throat as he walked away from their cell. Riden was helpless to do anything, having only one usable arm, but he urged Kio to help Hans. Gaddes was hardly paying attention, his upper body slowly falling forward as his head swelled into a darkness he was having trouble fighting back.
With a final groan, fatigue overtook the sergeant, his hands fumbling and numb. He fell against Allen, out of his chair and onto the floor. Riden panicked then, crawling awkwardly on one hand and his knees, frantically moving to where Gaddes had fallen unconscious and trying to help in any way he could to keep the man prone and steady.
All this was going on around Angelina, who now had no one beside her to comfort her and reassure her. No one to tell her what the frightening loud 'Bang' was that had echoed within the cell twice, and no one to tell her if her father was alive or dead. So many cries of pain, moaning and groaning from the agony that overwhelmed them - it left her in a heap upon the floor, huddled against the cold metal of the cell wall.
"Father!" she cried out again, sobbing uncontrollably and reaching out blindly with the sounds of all the activity going around her.
Hans pushed Kio away, refusing his assistance for now, taking Angelina up with one arm and pulling her close, urging her to draw near him. But he said nothing, focusing on trying to hold back the pain that gnawed at him, as well as quell the bitter anger that rose like bile in his throat.
Allen moved to catch Gaddes as he slipped forward, panicking. He, with Kio and Riden's help, managed to get him lying flat on his back. But from there... they couldn't do much more than try and stop the bleeding as they had been doing before. The smell of blood was thick, mingling with the scent of gunpowder. All the movement didn't help keeping Allen's wound from stopping its bleeding and as he shifted about, doing his best to push back the pain, the clots that had formed shattered and the cloth tied about his side to cover the wound was quickly stained with his blood.
They were all left to wait, left for their blood to dry alone and clot and stink up the cell with its immense copper wreak. Angelina had sniffled, and trembled furiously within Hans' grasp, worrying over him and so utterly confused. Everyone seemed to be in so much pain. Even her Hans was moaning occasionally, his muscles beneath her tiny arms tensing often.
Gaddes had not awakened, but the wounds on his legs eventually stopped. By the time the stillness of the night had settled upon them, various pools of their own blood had stained the cell floor and dried with its stench left to linger. Kio was shirtless, as was Allen, and now Hans - the fabric from their own clothes used as last minute tourniquets.
Angelina's head really began to hurt, as she'd been crying from the fright her little heart could barely withstand. "Hans, Hans," she cried softly, finally able to hear after so much noise, after the shouting the ringing of bullets shot from pistols, "Hans, what happened?"
Hans had said nothing besides the occasional pained groan or grunt, his head tipped back against the cool wall, cheek resting against the surface. He stared dully off, his jaw clenched so tightly that it would ache later. He didn't answer her, still with one arm loosely about her, the other stinging horribly, burning with pain.
Finally having gotten the bleeding to slow and stop, Allen sighed, sitting back, glancing over at his daughter. "Angelina... I'm here. Don't' worry, it'll be okay." He sounded and felt weary both, leaning against the wall. The cell reeked of blood and it stung his nose when he breathed.
She moved away from Hans' hold, sniffling and crying, her breaths coming infrequently and raspy - ragged. She was so terribly scared, so confused; the smell, the sounds of Hans moaning in pain. It was just too much for her to handle and she couldn't help but sob from the complete and utter frustration she felt in not knowing what was happening around her.
"Father, where are you?" She stumbled forward, her arms desperately searching around the air and aimlessly walking in the opposite direction of where Allen slumped against the wall.
Allen moved carefully over to her, biting back a groan at the sting of pain in his side. He brushed his fingers against her cheek, glancing over at Hans as he did so. "I'm right here, Princess."
The Basram soldier drew a leg to his chest, sighing softly, careful not to jar the wound in his arm. He'd found a place to set it where it didn't throb as much and he didn't have much want to move it.
The moment his fingers touched her skin, she turned and clung to him as if it would be the very last time she would ever get to do so. The bows in her hair became loose and drooped heavily on her ringlets, the silver curls having grown wild and disarrayed with so much movement and flurry about her. She cried, for there was very little else for her to do in such a situation.
Gaddes, meanwhile, was coming in and out of consciousness, barely managing a groan before he would slip into slumber again. The cell door unlocked finally, and two soldiers, ensigns, came stalking inside. Once again, the noise startled Angelina, and everyone else in the room for that matter. Not a word was said as the soldiers took both of Gaddes' arms and began to drag him out, leaving his wheelchair vacant within the cell.
Allen held her closely, rubbing her back with a gentle hand. He couldn't do much more than that, careful to keep her away from his injured side. "It'll be okay, Princess, it'll be okay."
The blonde started a bit, looking over. He struggled to stand, but Kio's heavy hand kept him in place, Riden's timid glance made him quiet himself. What could he do against these people anyhow? Without his sword, without his country's freedom...
Hans had glanced over, pondering the thought of arguing... but he didn't bother. He wasn't Basram anymore. For all they knew, he was simply a traitor.
More soldiers came inside then, after Gaddes was dragged behind the first two, and roughly the took Riden by his arms, setting him to his feet before he had a chance to protest and practically pulling him, ignoring his whimpers as his splinted arm was tugged and strained in their grasps. Other soldiers came in, taking Kio in the same manner, and practically tearing Angelina from Allen's hold.
Allen panicked when they took his daughter from him, but the steady glance from Hans made him stop. His heart fluttered in fear... what would they do to her? He almost said something to the younger blonde, but bit it back at how silently, suddenly morose he was. They had taken the girl from him... and she was, in essence, the only one that had actually accepted him. She cared more for him than his own family had...
In sequence, the remaining soldiers took Allen and Hans, one soldier grabbing Hans' injured arm and uncaring for the amounts of blood that seeped it. Another jarred Allen roughly up onto his feet and pushed him forward to follow after an ensign that carried Angelina, who was screaming and crying hysterically for her father and Hans. They were marched down metallic halls that were not unlike Zaibach's air hospitals. Countless jail cells resided in this level, and they were taken up a lift, eventually being shoved through a set of double doors.
The room was the bridge, the ceiling at least fifteen feet high, and the entire left side of the room was a window. Mechanical and electrical devices clicked and chirped and sprang to life while soldiers went about hitting buttons and pulling leavers.
General Reichmann stood calmly in the middle of it all, seated stoically at his command console.
Allen kept an eye on his daughter, calling out to her to calm down. All the while, though, he kept his eyes on the technology here, the foreign advances they'd made. It was... amazing, really. And frightening.
Hans didn't seem to fit in much here, with his drawn back hair, his clean-shaven appearance. He really was an attractive young man. But the bitter, lonely look in his eyes made him seem much older than he really was. Several times, the knight saw the other clench his jaw to keep from crying out, especially when he caught sight of his father. Allen narrowed his eyes slightly at the general, though he wisely said nothing. The wound at his side was troubling enough.
General Reichmann hardly moved, his expression like stone behind a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He wore a refined, crisp uniform of green and white, long coat and shining black boots. His frame was rigid as he stared out across the bridge of his ship and toward the forest and field landscape outside, demonstrating his discipline. Gloved hands, pristine and white, were clasped behind his back, his chin lifting slightly as the ensign announced the arrival of the prisoners, of the Knight Caeli, his soldiers, and the general's disowned son.
Riden was forced down on his knees, Kio next to him, pistols being pressed hard against the back of their heads. With his head bowed, Riden nursed his slinged arm with the other, holding back a pathetic whimper and trying to peak as he heard the clipped sounds of the General's boots approach them all. Kio was holding back a growl of frustration.
Meanwhile, Angelina had been desperately trying to relieve herself of the soldier that held her, clutched her like a rag doll and nearly choked her with his strength. They couldn't afford to have a hysterical little girl running around, and the ensign tried to impress upon her his dislike for her by showing his strength in his hold. She could barely breathe, and began to gasp and strain as she fruitlessly pushed against the ensigns chest.
Hans would have said something, but a cold shiver crawled through him. His father... he'd never been enough for him. He'd never been strong enough, fast enough... and now, he was nothing to him. Nothing but a failure. His words would do nothing here. He would be unable to get the soldier to leave the girl be, to loosen his hold on her. But, as he had been for awhile, he was silent, sorrowed. He hadn't wanted to return here after his father had forsaken him. Blood trailed down his pale arm, pain jolting through it at every movement, but he did not dare cry out.
Allen stared over at Angelina, a frown tugging on his lips. Gods... he made to call out to his daughter, but the soldier behind him jabbed the rifle barrel into his side, making the knight wince.
General Reichmann stood, tall and proud, lifting his chin with whiskers like straw and setting his hand on the hilt of his sword - purely a symbol of status and decorative. The stoicism did not leave his face as he scrutinized the prisoners that were held at gun point before him. With a meaningful look towards the ensign with Angelina, however, the girl was quickly released and set down upon the ground - though not without the ensign holding her firmly by her shoulders and making her squirm.
"Hans!" she called out frightfully, not even able to lift her hand to wipe away the rivers that streaked her reddened cheeks. "Hans, where are you?"
The General looked at the girl curiously at the mention of his son's name, almost having a mind to sneer in satisfaction. He looked to his son, noticed the heavy wound he'd sustained on his arm by one of their own weapons. He made no mention of it, and simply kept his gaze locked upon the resigned expression of Hans.
"The traitor. He becomes a prisoner again, only this time by the country that bore him." said the General coldly, "You are truly useless."
Hans bit back physical and emotional pain. His father would want to see it... he would want to see how deep those words cut him. He really was useless, wasn't he? Allen had trusted him to take care of Angelina, and he'd managed to get her grabbed. He'd been unable to protect any of them...
The youngest there, with the exception of Angelina, he noted silently. And already labeled outcast, already labeled a failure.
"How is Heidi," he dared to ask, lifting his gaze to the cold, hard one of his father.
"She is not of your concern." snapped the General, his hand twitching at his side with the temptation to backhand him for speaking. Finally, the stoicism fell away, to reveal a prominent sneer as he gave the prisoners a good hard look. "What a pathetic rabble of soldiers," he commented, his lip curling. He looked toward Allen, stepping to him and grabbing the knight's lapel.
"You're name, knight." he demanded quietly.
Hans clenched his jaw tightly... he could feel the others' eyes upon him, the sympathetic looks from the Asturians, the cold, but amused glanced from the Basram soldiers. He'd fully expected to get hit for speaking... rather surprised and, honestly, frightened when it didn't happen.
Allen, once more quickly reminding himself that he needed to do what he could to keep them all out of as much danger as they could, responded quietly, cerulean eyes on the general. He did not pull away, he did not whimper. His voice was calm, untrembling, though he felt fear for his daughter and the others there. "Allen Schezar."
Seemingly satisfied with the answer he received, he released Allen to crumple to the floor, keeping a smirk for himself as he turned away and muttered orders to a lieutenant under his command. The words were spoken in Basram, and were low and soft. After a moment, the lieutenant nodded firmly, handing the General his pistol before stalking over to the ensign that held Allen captive.
"You seem to have acquired an admirer, Hans," Reichmann said, fixing a glove and gazing at it absently before turning once more to face his son. He saw the lieutenant and ensign lift Allen up off the floor and start to take him away. With a curt nod, Riden and Kio were marched closely behind. "She will be - sad - I suppose . . . after you are executed. I see that she's blind. At least she will not have to see your corpse fall lifeless to the floor," he said, taking the pistol and calmly aiming it toward Hans, "You are dead to me anyway."
Hans lifted his head slightly to look at the man that had raised him. Never good enough... he'd never, ever been good enough for him. "Es tut mir leid, Katzchen," he said softly in apology. He couldn't carry out that silly little promise. But... it had meant a lot to him, really.
"He's your son!" cried Allen as he was pulled away, a growl on his lips. "How can you kill your son!?"
Hans ignored Allen, swallowing silently. He promised himself that he wouldn't cry, that he wouldn't call out in pain. Even if it was slow... he would do that much.
Something crossed over the General's stern features, even as he held the pistol solidly and aimed it to his own son's heart. The soft apology reached his ears, as did the Asturian knight's desperate outcry . . . and then he smiled. Reichmann's smiles were to be feared, and this was one of those times when it would twist the gut of a man with just a flash of his teeth. It was full of malice, and scorn.
"Quite right, Sir Schezar," mused the General evilly. "How can I kill . . . my own son . . .?" Body shifted, the trigger clicked and pulled, and the shot rang. The bullet missed its original target, and Hans' chest remained unscathed. But the ensign that held Angelina by her shoulders could only stare down in shock . . .
Angelina collapsed to the ground without even a cry of pain, deep burning crimson seeping into her dress.
Hans had expected a sharp pain. But when the crack of the gun sounded and he felt nothing, his heart fluttered. He wouldn't have missed, he knew that much. His father could aim like a god.
Allen's eyes widened considerably behind the clear glasses as he watched in silent shock as his daughter crumpled to the ground. She was so small... her dress hadn't been red before, had it? Blue... always a pretty blue...
"Oh... oh God," he sobbed, his voice a harsh whisper.
Hans slowly turned his head towards Angelina and froze. "Nein... ach... nein..." it was like seeing his sister fall. Like seeing her be shot... a distinct pain fluttered in his heart. He didn't notice grabbing the sword from the soldier who had held her until it was grasped firmly in his hand and he turned, narrowing his eyes, brandishing his blade at his father. "Ungeheuer..." he growled, anger surging within him. "draw your sword. I'll kill you now."
There was no way for the General to lose now, so he thought. They marched on Asturia's capital, captured the local people and rounded them up like cattle until they could successfully claim the land for Basram. King Lurman would be pleased with the General's coup and grant him royal favor for the rest of his life and his family. Now, an insubordinate son was hardly an obstacle, and with a motion of his hand, he stopped the soldiers that were ready to pull Hans' back from attacking the General.
Gladly, he drew his own sword - decorative but every bit as sharp as it should be. He delighted in watching the girl crumple to the ground - hearing the knight's pleas and discovering that she was most likely his daughter. But Reichmann delighted more in the expression he'd caused from his son. A pained look of utter grief and heart break before the fury set in.
"Come at me, then, traitor." seethed Reichmann quietly, holding up his blade rigidly with the same discipline as one of his riflemen would show.
Hans, who had not, as one might assume, been out of practice, wielded the blade as Allen had showed him before. Thankfully, the weapon was lighter than what he was used to, as he could only manage it one-handed. He didn't notice the knight crumpling to the ground in his grief, nor the horrified stares of Riden and Kio. They didn't matter. The soldiers at his back, enclosing them didn't matter.
He had to kill this man or die upon his blade defending the girl he'd cherished so closely. A growl on his lips, the normally gentle features narrowed in his anger, he lashed out in a sweeping arc, the strength of his fury behind it.
Hardly any effort went into his block, the General batting away the blow like water on rock. With his fist arrogantly on his hip, he watched, amused as Hans reeled from his evasion. "Truly pathetic," sneered the General, "Fritz! Make sure the troops are ready to move out. We take Palas when I'm finished here. Should not be much longer."
Fritz, who stood as second in command to Reichmann at the control console, shouted a quick acknowledgment, repeating the orders to the men of the bridge. Suddenly there was activity buzzing around them like a busy hive, every soldier running to stations, shouting orders, readying guns, pulling levers and pressing buttons. The sound droned and rang along the metallic walls, bells ringing - loud bells ringing all about the ship.
Soon.
Reichmann stood, his sword poised and watching his traitorous, weak son, watching as the knight behind him sobbed, as the soldiers joined their captain in their tears and grief. "Truly pathetic," he said again.
Attack after attack he sent, putting in his own fair share of parries and blocks whenever the general decided to attack back. He would not stop until he was dead... or better yet, until his father--nae, not his father anymore--until the general lay dead at his own feet. A few soldiers, when they were ready enough, watched the ordeal calmly. He had always been in their eyes as his father had described him. Useless.
But those that had served beside him--with the exception of Fritz and a few others--had known him for who he was. He might not have met his father's ever-rising standards, but he had his own strength.
Reichmann barely pushed his arrogance away long enough to note the finesse that Hans' had gained in his swordplay, sword moving easily through the air and one handed. Blood matted and riddled the boy's left arm and rendered is useless, but it seemed that he was able to ignore the pain well enough throughout his fury of blows toward the General.
The General batted away the blade each time, though with more rigid, solid strikes, straight and unattractive - but effective. At one point, he stopped long enough to gloat, seeing that Hans was growing weary after failing to scathe Reichmann at all. His cold gray eyes glared and narrowed, his blade moving and striking at Hans' side, nicking him - much in the same way he had done in his youth, punishment for not paying attention to your opponent.
"You'll have to try harder," snapped Reichmann, "But it does not matter, mm? You will always fail. And now you will die." With a near sigh of boredom, he lifted his sword, ready to land the killing blow upon his own son.
Hans crouched down low, brandishing the blade sharply, then lunging forward in a quick movement. Uniform crushed beneath the urgent press of the blade and the young man pressed his shoulder against the hilt for more pressure in a vicious strike. The hand that grasped the hilt curled, jerking, twisting the blade in his father's chest, noting with morbid satisfaction the surprised look on his father's face.
"You are the failure," he said softly, yanking the blade out of the broad chest he had, for many years, longed to be clasped to in a proud hug. Clothes lent to him by the Asturian soldiers that had housed him were stained in the general's blood. Hans swept the other man's feet out from under him as the general stumbled back. "I have found my purpose in this life... I don't have to look to you for acceptance anymore," he growled, his voice trembling in his anger.
Pale face smattered with crimson, he turned toward Fritz, taking calm steps towards him. "Come here. Accept your fate."
They shared drinks, a meal, and a few laughs. Now Fritz looked completely mortified in seeing his general fall, by the hands of his own son, drenched in blood and now brandishing a sword the demanded more bloodshed. The second in command fumbled for a pistol, realizing that he'd used his shots, then grasped the hilt of his sword. He shouted orders, at the last minute as he tried to wrench the blade free of the hilt - he'd been dependant upon their new weapons for too long.
He had no skill at the sword anymore than Allen or any other Asturians had skill at wielding a Basram rifle. His orders were for the troops to march, just as he unsheathed the blade and saw Hans was already upon him.
The blonde was quick on his feet, leaning close to the soldier, a small smile curling on his lips. "Without your pistols... you're nothing. Just his pawn." He slipped behind Fritz, his back to the wall in case anyone else drew nearer, and nudged Fritz forward. When he almost slipped in the blood on the floor, Hans couldn't help but begin to grin. He shoved the man to his knees, grabbing the pistol from the hands of a shocked, frightened soldier, cocking it carefully, the sword dropped at his side.
He was sure he would be fine. The sudden change in the normally calm, gentle man was frightening to those who were watching. The sight of him smeared in blood, an amused smile on his lips, executing the two highest ranking officers in the room shocked them to silence.
A shot rang out sharply in the air. Not a killing shot, no. But he was thrilled at the sound of the bullet ripping through the leather uniform, through the tender flesh of the man's thigh.
Allen, still with tears in his eyes, stared. Hans was doing this... for Angelina. Not for his own sake... not for Allen's or anyone else's, but for Angelina. That was his father...
Fritz felt the bullet worm into his thigh, burning and splattering his blood as he was helplessly upon the floor, writhing not far from the corpse of his late general. He wailed in agony, growled loudly. Pursing his lips and trying to gain his breath, he managed to motion to the prisoners and yell at the soldiers that held them captive.
"Take them away!" he screamed, his eyes wild and pained, "Take them away now!"
Hans dropped the pistol, snatching up the general's sword in his hand, handle clasped firmly and he walked calmly closer towards the soldier, that slow smile spreading on his full lips again.
The blade came down hard, the point of it piercing his gullet with ease, shattering as it crashed against the tile below it. He watched as the blood bubbled up from the wound, as Fritz fought for air that would not come, and Hans jerked the sword out with another spray of crimson.
Allen was... horrified. Utterly, completely horrified. The small casing that had held together Hans' sanity was Angelina's presence... and whether or not she was dead, the fragile hold the Basram had cracked.
Despite the Lt. Commander's final orders, the soldiers stood around, watching motionlessly.