The stars continue to burn as destiny is rewritten… See the first installment for all disclaimers/warnings.
~ * Ironhead Diplomacy * ~
"Ah, we're finally back!" Elliot sighed with relief as the five adventurers passed through the gates into Vinay de Zexay.
Standing behind the blond child, Aila forced a smile she didn't feel. The huntress would have much preferred spending more time traveling with the trio of young knights, both because it would mean not having to stay in the stuffy capital city and because she had come to enjoy their company. However, the sergeant had insisted they return: two of the children had parents that were surely missing them, and they still had a mission to complete before returning home.
She regarded her younger companions, surprised by the realization that she would miss the little ironheads. She was almost tempted to ask them to accompany the sergeant and herself to the council building, but decided against it. Who knew how the creep who guarded the doors would take the 'barbarians' walking up with a bunch of kids?
(They'd probably think we'd taken them hostage or something… Man! Why can't ironheads just stay small and nice like these guys?! That would make dealing with them so much easier…)
"I guess, we part ways here," she addressed Melville. When the leader of the trio didn't respond, Aila looked at him oddly and asked, "Something wrong, Melville?"
Instead of replying directly to her question, Melville fixed his too-serious tan eyes on the other female member of their group.
"So, Alanis, when do you and your father have to leave Vinay?" he asked calmly.
Aila bit back a startled hiss, and Alanis jumped, then looked at Melville guiltily. Jordi raised an eyebrow at the girls' reactions, but chose not to get involved in the discussion.
"…So, you knew?" Alanis asked finally.
"Well, we found out," Elliot replied. He turned to face her, olive eyes sad and questioning behind his glasses. "Why didn't you tell us you were going to be leaving soon, Alanis?"
"I just thought…" her ashamed hazel gaze lowered to study her shoes, "…that you wouldn't want to be friends anymore, if you found out I had to leave…"
"It's okay, Alanis. Really." Melville looked seriously at his sub-captain. "You're a member of the Saint Loa Knights, remember? It doesn't matter if you're here or not. We're friends to the end."
"Yeah, that's right!" Elliot nodded enthusiastically. "Just be sure to come visit us, okay? I promise I'll practice and become an even better knight so we'll be ready to go on adventures together as soon as you return!"
"Elliot… Melville…"
Alanis looked at her comrades-in-arms, then rubbed her half-formed tears away with the back of one hand. She smiled shakily, and the boys returned her smile, Elliot with a wide grin, Melville with a slighter one.
Watching the trio reconcile, Aila couldn't help but smile herself. It was nice to know that the younger girl wouldn't be punished for her mistake of not telling her fellows about her problem. The archer glanced over at the sergeant, and was surprised to see he wasn't watching the children at all. Instead, the mallard's back was turned on the three, and he appeared to be staring down at the docks at the bottom edge of the city. It was difficult to tell because his helmet was casting a shadow over the top half of his face.
"…Sergeant?"
"…We really should get going," Jordi informed her bluntly, turning around to face the rest of the group. "We should see if the Zexen Council's ready to receive our message yet."
"Huh? Oh, right," nodded Aila, a bit hesitantly. Turning to face the Saint Loa Knights, she said, "Sorry, but duty calls. It was nice meeting you all!"
"Of course. Thank you for your help, Duchess Aila of Karaya," replied Melville seriously.
"And you too, Mister Duck!" chimed Alanis.
Again the sergeant favored her exclamation with a sideways glance and arched eyebrow, while beside him Aila tittered into a hastily raised hand. Yes, she would definitely miss having these kids around. They finished their farewells with a backwards wave while walking toward the Council building.
"…Hopefully, they won't have sent for us while we were out of the city," Jordi commented, striding down the cobblestone path. "The Zexen Council doesn't like being kept waiting. Keeping others waiting is fine, but having to wait themselves…"
Aila followed the sergeant toward the Zexen meeting hall with no small amount of reluctance. So far, her most positive experience with the people of Vinay de Zexay was her adventure with the Saint Loa Knights. Somehow, she doubted that anything this pretentious Council might decide to do to their Grasslander guests would be able to top the unexpected bonding with the kids.
Her trepidation only increased when they got close enough to the gates to see the same guard standing in front of the double doors. At least, it looked like the same guard to Aila: all ironheads tended to look the same to her, particularly the soldiers. She hung back a bit while the sergeant approached the guard, not particularly eager to get into another argument with him.
"I've been informed that you are indeed expected here," the sentinel informed the sergeant.
(…Well, I wasn't expecting that…)
Shouldering her quiver, Aila jogged over to stand behind the mallard, trying not to let her surprise show in her expression.
"They await you within," the soldier continued bluntly. "You may enter."
He stepped aside, and the doors swung open to admit the messengers, who quickly walked into the massive chambers. The doors closed behind them, but Aila barely noticed, far too absorbed in looking around their opulent surroundings. It was even more lavishly decorated then the entry hall had been in the Lightfellow residence, though the design was largely the same, right down to the double curved staircases leading up to the floor above. Rich shades of gold, silver, yellow, orange and purple decorated everything save the sparkling chandeliers suspended high overhead. However, Aila didn't see the one thing she expected to be there.
"Where's the Council?" she asked, turning confused green eyes to her companion.
"I tried to warn you," Jordi shrugged. "Officials do a lot of things to make themselves seem more important. Quite annoying!"
"What, so now we have to wait inside?" blurted an incredulous Aila.
"It seems that way…"
The mallard took a half-step away from Aila when he saw the archer's face contort violently. She quite frankly looked ready to smash something. Jordi sincerely hoped that either the Council deigned to see them soon, or weren't too attached to some of the more breakable objects within the enraged girl's reach…
"So sorry to have kept you waiting."
Sergeant Jordi and Aila turned to see a rotund nobleman dressed in dark purple garments descending the stairs toward them. If he truly was sorry, it was difficult to tell – his half-lidded eyes expressed only boredom and his tone of voice was detached. Upon reaching the floor, he crossed the room toward the messengers.
"I represent the Zexen Council. I'll be responsible for delivering your message."
The two travelers exchanged a glance. Aila looked confused, so Jordi stepped forward to address the newcomer.
"Representative?" he questioned.
"Yes, a representative," nodded the man.
"But Chief Jimba told us to deliver this to the Council directly!" protested Aila.
"Perhaps it is difficult for you to appreciate the time constraints on the Council." The go-between spoke slowly and deliberately, in the same tone he might use to lecture an errant child. "We deal with many people from outside our vast realm. We have little patience for that which disrupts normalcy."
"How dare you show us such disrespect!" spat the sergeant. "It was Grassland's protection that allowed Zexen to peddle its goods as far away as Jowston!"
"Need I remind you that we shared our profits with Grassland?" the official replied in the same maddening tone. "Perhaps you desired more."
"What does all that have to do with anything?!" Aila exploded. Rounding on the fat man, she shouted, "And how DARE you call the sergeant greedy, you purple pig?! He's not the one lounging around this city all day stuffing his face and gloating over piles of potch while ignoring everything else!"
The official's fleshy face flooded with color, nearly matching the rich purple shade of his ornate attire. Amused as he was by this, Jordi decided to step between the two before the archer's rage compelled her to move beyond verbal assault.
"…Now then, if you will please give me the message," the noble finally requested, clearly struggling to get past his indignation.
Sergeant Jordi reached into his jacket, pulled out the sealed tube containing the message, and handed it over to the official. It wasn't the first method he would have chosen had any other option presented itself, but there didn't seem to be any alternative. Besides, he'd had just about enough of this pompous windbag and the capital city in general.
"Consider the message received. I cannot spare further time, and bid you farewell," the noble said stiffly.
It took a considerable amount of willpower on Aila's part to not plant an arrowhead in the know-it-all's flabby fanny as he turned around and marched back upstairs. Instead, the archer settled for sticking out her tongue at his back. Childish a gesture as it was, it seemed fitting considering the manner in which he'd treated them.
The pair exited the lavish manor, both pleased and disappointed with how their mission had ended. The latter emotion stemmed from the nasty treatment they'd received; the former from the fact that now, at least, they could head homeward.
"Can we go now?" asked Aila.
"We should rest here before heading back," the sergeant responded. When the huntress shot him a harsh look, Jordi just shook his head and justified, "If we set out now, it'd be nightfall before we got halfway to Brass Castle. Besides, we've got an extra day booked at the inn. Might as well use it…"
"I guess so…" Aila reluctantly agreed.
The Grasslanders headed back toward the inn, ignorant of the glare the guard leveled at their departing backs as he returned to his post. Or perhaps they ignored it, used to the disdain most ironheads had toward them. At any rate, neither gave it a second thought, their minds already filled with thoughts of home…
~ * ~
A short time later, Sergeant Jordi reclined at the small table in their rented room, absently studying his sepia-toned reflection in the ale remaining in his half-drained mug. His halberd was balanced against the edge of the table just within reach of the mallard. Aila sat on the bed closest to the window, busily polishing her bow until the curved mahogany gleamed.
"I just can't believe how those creeps blew us off!" she exclaimed crossly. "I mean, if they were going to have one of their lackeys deliver the message to them, why keep us waiting?"
"Who know how ironheads think?" shrugged Jordi.
(Not that it isn't a very good question,) he added silently to himself, returning his attention to his drink.
He didn't want to let Aila know that he was more than a little concerned about the way the Zexens received their message. It wasn't just that there was the possibility they wouldn't look at it at all, though that weighed heavily on his conscience as well. More, it was the fact that the Council had forced them to wait a couple days before even taking the missive off their hands. If they'd taken it immediately, he and Aila could have been well on their way home by this point. Jordi doubted they wanted any 'savages' to stay in their beloved capital for any longer than necessary, so why…
His head snapped up when he caught the sound of something clanking outside. It was clear from the startled expression on Aila's face that she heard it as well. Pushing back from the table, Sergeant Jordi quickly and quietly moved to peer out the window.
The mallard's beak hardened into a thin line when he spotted several heavily armored ironheads lined up close to the inn. Two of the guards present were not clad in the standard-issue armor of Zexen soldiers; instead, their suits seemed custom-made, and both lacked the heavy headwear from which the Zexen infantry got their nickname.
"What's going on?" Aila whispered at the sergeant's ear, peeking over his shoulder at the knights, green eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.
"It seems we've worn out our welcome." Jordi returned to the table and picked up both his weapon and mug, draining his drink with a quick toss.
~ * ~
The innkeeper was busy pushing chairs back into place when the door banged open on its hinges. He straightened immediately, eyes widening as he recognized the massive, muscular figure that strode inside.
"Sir Leo!" he stammered, breaking into a cold sweat. "What can I do for you?"
"We received word that a couple of Grasslanders are staying here tonight," the heavy axeman replied in his deep, booming voice.
"Oh, are they criminals? It's so hard to know who to rent to these days…"
"Calm down, sir," soothed a smooth-voiced man with dark, spiked hair, stepping up behind the larger knight. "We simply need to speak to these visitors. Could you direct us to their chambers?"
"Of course, Sir Percival!"
The innkeeper quickly retreated behind his desk and retrieved his master keyring. Slipping off the correct key, he handed it over to the slender knight, stating, "It's the second room to the left when you first walk upstairs. Do be careful…"
"Naturally," Percival smiled while accepting the key. Glancing over his shoulder at the soldiers waiting outside the abode, he added, "Why don't you surround the premises, just in case, hmm?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" the soldiers saluted and dispersed.
The two members of the Mighty Knights of Zexen headed upstairs. Percival unlocked the door, then flattened himself against the wall when Leo pushed past into the room. The younger knight favored his bulkier companion with a droll look and entered calmly behind him.
"You needn't rush so, Leo," he chided. "The Zexen Council sent us here to detain a duck and a girl, not a horde of fierce warriors."
"There's nobody in here!" roared Leo, spinning around and glaring at his partner. "How can you act so nonchalant?!"
"You needn't get so upset, Leo. They can't have gotten far," Percival leaned against the doorframe and shook his head.
Leo glowered at the younger knight. He was over a decade older than this farmboy, yet the kid had the gall to act like he was the more experienced, level-headed knight! Pointedly ignoring Percival, he turned and surveyed the room for any sign of the savages. The only sign that anyone had been in the room recently was an empty mug lying on the tabletop, and a slight disturbance in the otherwise neatly tucked sheets of the bed closest to the window.
The window… was wide open. The curtains billowed in the night breeze, pale sheets against a black backdrop. Hurrying to the window, Leo stuck his head out and looked around furiously – just barely catching sight of a pair of figures, one squat and one slender, jogging through the open-air marketplace.
"Stop! Savages!"
Leo yanked his head back through the window, promptly banging it on the top of the sill in the process. Barking a nasty curse, he turned and thundered out the door and back downstairs, intent on tearing out of the inn and tracking down the fugitives as soon as possible.
"You don't have to be so nasty about it…" sighed Percival, before pushing away from the door and calmly following his partner.
~ * ~
Aila hastened to string an arrow into her bow while running beside Sergeant Jordi. The many curls that made up her ponytail flounced about as she cast a quick look over her shoulder. She glimpsed one of the helmet-less ironheads stick his head out the window, shout something at them, then bang against the top of the window when withdrawing back into the room.
"Wonder… what they want with us?" she panted, turning back to face the duck clan soldier beside her.
"I don't know… but I doubt ironheads in full battle gear are here to offer us an apology," Jordi responded.
Reaching the corner where Aila had listened to the minstrels play before, the duo skidded to a halt and took shelter behind one of the stalls, just long enough for a pair of soldiers to miss them completely and take off down the path to the north. Jordi waited until they had vanished into the night, then signaled for Aila to follow him down the other path.
Ironically enough, the only open route crossed right in front of the Zexen Council hall. There was no sign of the guard that had given them so much trouble when they jogged past, though neither was exactly inclined to look. Unfortunately, a group of guards spotted them as they passed the business district, and charged ahead, blocking the road.
"Halt!" one of the armored men shouted. "The Zexen Council demands it!"
"I've had enough with your stupid Council!" Aila snapped, training her sights on the apparent commander.
"My sentiments exactly, Aila," Jordi seconded. Holding his halberd out, he offered, "We were just on our way out of the city, anyway, so why don't you let us through and save everyone a lot of grief, alright?"
"Shut up, barbarian!" another soldier bellowed, charging forward with his sword drawn.
The sergeant parried his first strike, then slammed the shaft of his weapon against his opponent's helmet. The soldier staggered backward, and Jordi immediately knocked his legs out from underneath him, then slammed the hilt into his head again, rendering the grunt unconscious.
"Figures they wouldn't choose the easy way," he sighed.
Aila, meanwhile, fired continuously, peppering the other two guards with arrows as quickly as she could re-arm herself. The sergeant slipped up behind each man and knocked them out as well. He almost wished he could just kill them and be done with it, cruel as that sounded: it would be easier than trying to incapacitate each man without fatally wounded them.
Still, they couldn't afford this mess getting any worse. Right now, the Council didn't have any right he could think of to try and seize them; that would change if they murdered these guards, regardless of the circumstances.
After the three soldiers were unconscious, Sergeant Jordi quickly chanted. The rune in his right wing glowed blue, and both Grasslanders were briefly bathed with clear cerulean water. The mystical liquid washed away most signs of their struggle as it dripped down their bodies, pooling into a swiftly fading puddle at their feet.
As the familiar sensation of rapidly healing wounds rippled through his body, Sergeant Jordi hid a frown. Both he and Aila hadn't fully rested from the day's events, so they weren't at full potential to face this threat. He could sense he'd only be able to cast his healing spell once more without resting – and doubted the ironheads would give them time to rest.
(I almost wish I'd trained in Wind magic now… That sleep spell would come in very handy dealing with any more pesky guards…)
Still, there was no use lamenting the past. Gripping his halberd tightly, Sergeant Jordi nodded toward Aila, then took point, tearing down the streets just ahead of the archer.
They passed the Lightfellow residence without incident and started up the sharp incline leading toward the gates. Then Jordi skidded to a halt, biting back a vicious curse when he spotted a pair of ironheads running toward them.
"Sergeant!" Aila cried out behind him.
Casting a glance back at the Karayan maiden, Jordi felt his heart sink a little when he realized she wasn't merely reacting to the threat before them. A second pair of guards was rounding the corner and charging up the hill behind them, cutting off that possible escape route.
Standing back to back, the Grasslanders braced against their enemies' charge. Aila loosed an arrow at the nearest guard's head while Jordi swiped at the two approaching their front.
While the sergeant had the advantage of a weapon with a fair amount of range that also functioned well during close-combat, Aila did not. Instead, the archer had to dodge her enemy's lunges, dancing around as best she could while trying to guard Jordi's back and counterattack. She managed to knock one of her opponents down for the count before the other got lucky. The ironhead's blade grazed her leg, and Aila cried out and stumbled, her bow clattering against the cobblestones.
Hearing her shout, Sergeant Jordi hastily swept his halberd around and knocked both his adversaries on their backs, then turned to see the problem. Immediately he began to chant again, the Water rune shining underneath white feathers. Again the healing waters blanketed the pair, and Aila rolled clear of the soldier's charge. Unable to stop in time, her opponent crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground, out cold.
Aila, smirking at the stupid ironhead, turned to thank her companion. However, the words froze on her lips as her eyes widened with horror.
In his haste to assist the archer, Jordi had failed to ensure both of his opponents were incapacitated. One of them had risen to his feet and swung his sword viciously, burying it deep into the sergeant's flank. The mallard winced, but didn't cry out as the blade dug into his side.
It was Aila who let out a wordless screech of rage. Scrabbling to her feet, she charged the ironhead, unsheathing the knife she used only for hunting as she fell upon him. The soldier yanked his sword free from the sergeant's side, allowing his victim to slump to the ground, but wasn't able to bring it up in time to parry Aila's furious strike.
Her dagger slammed into the man's throat. Crimson froth bubbled in his gaping mouth, accompanied by a strangled gargle. His helmet slid back, but Aila didn't look at the face of the soldier she had just killed. Her attention was focused on the crumpled figure just beyond.
"Sergeant!" she cried, yanking her blade from its fleshy sheath and rushing to Jordi's side.
"I'm… fine, Aila," he responded, grinding his beak tightly.
The Duck Clan warrior clamped one wing over his wounded side and stumbled to his feet, balancing against the halberd he now gripped in his other hand. Aila hastily retrieved her bow and slung it back over her shoulder, then let the mallard lean against her for further support.
Peering around the corner, Aila swallowed hard. The two Zexen knights that were sans helmets were standing before the gates. The larger of the pair was leaning against the hilt of his axe, while the other balanced his sword on his shoulder. Fortunately, they were looking the other direction, and didn't see the Karayan girl quickly yank her head back out of sight.
"Now what, Sergeant?" she whispered, almost speaking to herself. "We can't face them like this…"
"Aila… you might… be able to… slip past…"
"What?!" Aila shot the sergeant a shocked look, one that swiftly faded into outrage as she hissed, "Oh, no you don't! Don't think for a second I'm going to leave here without you! We just have to think of something…"
"…Can't… stay here…" wheezed Jordi.
"I know, I know," Aila lamented, struggling to keep her balance. "Come on, I think I know where we can go…"
~ * ~
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The attic echoed with the force of the fierce pounding coming from outside. Melville groaned and rolled over, blinking rapidly as dreams of himself and his friends as finely armored knights fled from the racket. Sitting up, the boy yawned, running a hand through his tousled brown hair while lurching to his feet and stumbling over to the window.
"This had better be good, Elliot…" he muttered under his breath. A little louder, he called out, "What's the password?"
"What?!" cried an incredulous female voice from outside. "Oh… 'The Three Knights of Zexen', okay! Now hurry and open up!"
Melville blinked repeatedly. That didn't sound like Elliot at all. It didn't sound like Alanis, either. Come to think of it, it almost sounded like…
"Hurry UP!" the voice was both upset and frantic.
Spurred to action, the leader of the Saint Loa Knights hastily unlatched the window and let it swing open, then jumped back and goggled when Aila shoved Sergeant Jordi in front of her into the attic. The Karayan maiden then pulled herself through and shut the window/door behind her, fumbling with the latch.
"Uh, whuh?" the boy stammered, taken aback.
Then he saw the crimson fluid oozing through the sergeant's white-feathered fingers, and the way the mallard was hunched over, his face contorted with pain. Aila finally got the latch to click shut and turned to face Melville, leaf green eyes filled with panic, pleading.
"Help…" she whispered.