The stars continue to burn as destiny is rewritten… See the first installment for all disclaimers/warnings.
~ * The Honor of a Saint Loa Knight * ~
Melville looked back and forth between his two unexpected guests, unsure whether he should wait for an explanation or ask for one. It was only fair he be let in on the situation, seeing as how they'd interrupted his sleep by banging on the window and demanding entrance to the secret base.
Of course, it was clear something major had happened outside, forcing them to seek sanctuary in the first place. And in the condition they were in, Melville couldn't exactly deny them entrance. It simply went against the code of a noble knight.
He looked over at Sergeant Jordi in concern. Currently, the mallard lay heavily back against the wall, halberd resting in his lap, feathered fingers curled round its hilt. The deep gash in the soldier's side had been bandaged up, but unfortunately, Melville hadn't been able to offer much more help other than a few vials of D-type medicine. The weak healing droughts would at least ensure that the wound would heal, but the pain had only been dulled a bit.
The soft rasps of the sergeant's breathing were, for a time, the only sound in the attic chamber. Melville waited. Finally, Aila shifted her weight, folding her legs up in front of her and looping her arms loosely over her knees.
"I… guess we should explain what we're doing here, huh?" she commented awkwardly, looking over at the young Zexen.
Melville nodded, deep tan eyes filled with questions he didn't ask aloud. The Karayan archer sighed, grass green gaze returning to the dark mahogany floorboards in front of her feet.
"Well, we found out why the Zexen Council kept refusing to see us," she said in a bitter, biting tone. "They just wanted to make sure they had enough soldiers to try and overpower us."
"You mean you were attacked? By Zexen knights?" Melville stared in disbelief at the archer.
"What do you think caused that?" Aila gestured at the wound in her companion's side.
"B… But why?"
"That's a very good question," replied Sergeant Jordi. He shook his head while adding, "But I doubt the armed guards running around Vinay right now are hardly interested in explaining their reasoning to us."
"This has to be some sort of mistake!" Melville looked back and forth between the pair. "You two are good people, I know! This must be a misunderstanding…"
"What's to misunderstand? They came clanking up to the inn in full armor, then started chasing us all over town! They were the ones who pulled swords on us and said we were under arrest without even a word of explanation!"
Aila's hands clenched into fists, and the archer squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for self-control. The still-fresh image of steel sinking into the sergeant's side flashed through her thoughts, and she grimaced. If only she'd been faster to react, he might not have been injured at all…
"It isn't your fault, Aila," Jordi said, sensing the reason behind her grim silence. The huntress quickly looked over at him, and the mallard shook his head again. "I should have been able to see this coming, but…"
"How could you have known they'd pull such a dirty trick?" Aila spat bitterly.
Melville stared at the floor, shaking his head slowly. This all seemed so… unreal. While he knew he was getting only half of the story – who knew what explanation the Council might offer for this – it seemed incredible that the same two Grasslanders that had helped prove his father's word would turn out to be wanted criminals.
(This has to be some huge misunderstanding. What could they have done to provoke the Council, anyway?)
Even as the boy racked his mind for possibilities, however, a small, smarmy voice piped up in the back of his thoughts: (They're Grasslanders. That's reason enough in itself.)
Melville crushed that niggling voice viciously, absolutely disgusted by the notion. Aila and the Sergeant had proven already that they were noble, upstanding fellows, completely undeserving of such dismissal. He found the entire concept disgraceful, not even worth considering.
(Without their help, I might never have been able to see my father's ship with my own eyes. …For all I know, that could have been the last mission of the Saint Loa Knights…)
Melville closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head again to dismiss that line of thinking. He stood abruptly, startling Aila. The Karayan watched as the boy crossed the room, back turned to his guests.
"Melville?"
"Duchess Aila of Karaya. Sergeant Jordi of the Duck Clan."
Aila blinked, still unused to hearing such a title in front of her name. Jordi looked up, and Melville turned to face them. The serious expression he wore looked both out of place on the face of a twelve-year-old boy and, somehow, suitable for him.
"I, Melville, Swordsman of Rage and Captain of the Saint Loa Knights, offer my service to you. Allow me to assist you in leaving our fair city safely."
Aila gaped at him, green eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. There was quite simply no way she could have possibly heard him correctly, right…?
But the answer was as clear as the conviction shining in his brown eyes. Melville was dead serious. This wasn't an offer he had given lightly.
"No way!" she protested, springing to her feet. "Look, I just came here so we could hide out 'till there were less guards, not to drag you or the others into this!"
"Duchess Aila, you saved my life before," responded Melville calmly. He didn't drop his ready stance, nor avert his gaze from hers. "You have to let me repay my debt. I'm going to help you."
"But Melville…"
"Don't worry, I don't think we'll have to get Alanis or Elliot involved," he forged forward relentlessly. "Trust me, if we wait, it'll only get worse. I don't know what the Council wants with you, but I'm pretty sure they won't stop searching till they've caught you or have proof you're out of the city. You've got to let me help!"
"He's… right, Aila," huffed Jordi, and both turned to see the sergeant lurch clumsily to his feet.
"Sergeant, don't…" Aila started to protest, stepping forward.
But Sergeant Jordi waved the archer off. He pulled his halberd up beside him and leaned heavily against it, silently willing strength into his aching legs, ignoring the dull throbbing of his wounded flank.
"The Council is not going… to let this go," he informed his companions bluntly. "I doubt they're going to abandon whatever plot that made them delay taking our message and send guards after us. The longer we stay in the city, the harder it'll be to sneak out. We have to leave as soon as possible."
"But Sergeant…"
Ignoring Aila's weak protest, the mallard fixed his attention on the Zexen child. Melville returned the soldier's steady gaze, his posture stiffening.
"Melville. You must understand how dangerous this is. Citizen of this city or not, if the guards see you helping us, there's a very good chance they'll attack."
"I know." Melville nodded, stating confidently, "But after all you and Duchess Aila did to help find my father's ship, I can't just let you be treated so unfairly… even if it is the Zexen Council's fault."
"…All right," Sergeant Jordi closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "If you're really willing to go through with this…"
"Yeah, I am."
"Melville, you…!"
"Duchess Aila," Melville turned back to the Karayan.
Her hands briefly clenched then fell limp at her sides as the archer bowed her head, realizing she couldn't win. The leader of the Saint Loa Knights was not about to be denied his chance to assist his comrades. After a moment, she looked back over at the boy and forced a half-smile.
"Fine then. But… could you not call me Duchess anymore? Please?" she requested.
"…All right… Aila…"
"You'd better leave a note here in case Alanis or Elliot comes to check on you while you're out," Jordi instructed him. "This may take a while…"
"Okay."
Melville nodded again. As the young Swordsman of Rage hurried to gather his things and write a message for the rest of his knights, Sergeant Jordi leaned back up against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. Aila glanced over at her companion, concerned.
"…It's risky, but we have no real choice," he muttered, staring down at the floor through nearly closed violet eyes. "We can't afford to tarry here any more than the Zexen Council forced us to…"
The fingers of his right hand tightened around the hilt of his halberd, and his gaze shifted to the back of his wing. With all of his healing reserves exhausted, the duck clan warrior had few options left. Any assistance, even that from a child – albeit a child who had already proved he was a decent swordsman – could mean the difference between escape or capture, or worse…
He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to hide a grimace. That certainly didn't mean he had to like the situation…
~ * ~
Melville quickly gathered his supplies and, after disturbing a few spare vials of D-type medicine to his companions, the three slipped out of the secret base and into the darkened streets of Vinay de Zexay. Though Aila and the sergeant had already knocked out a few of the troops making rounds through the city, there were still several patrols they had to avoid. Fortunately, Melville used his knowledge of the alleys and narrow passages between the tightly packed houses to lead his Grasslander friends closer to the exit without any nasty incidents.
It was only when they neared the gates that the tricky part began.
The helmet-less ironheads still stood before the mysteriously open gateway. Obviously they felt their presence would be safeguard enough, and the open doors were meant to entice the foolish barbarians to press their luck.
Melville stared at the pair, then turned shocked tan eyes on his companions.
"Those are Zexen Knights!" he hiss-whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to alert anyone to their presence behind the bushes.
"Yeah, we know," Aila commented. "Just like the rest of them were…"
"No, no, no. Don't you know who they are?"
The blank look the archer gave him clearly indicated a negative response. The sergeant was watching the pair intently and showed no signs of answering the boy's question.
"Those are two members of the Six Mighty Knights of Zexen!" Melville informed them. Pointing to the trimmer man on the left, he hissed, "That's Sir Percival Fraulein, the Swordsman of Gale, and that…" his finger tracked over to the behemoth grinding the hilt of his axe into the ground "…is Sir Leo Gallen, the Heavy Axeman!"
"Okay…" Aila blinked at him. "Is that bad?"
Melville gaped at her, his mouth worked silently for a couple seconds before he shut it. The hand he'd been gesturing with went to rub his forehead.
"Only for anyone they've been sent after," he replied shortly.
"Ah…"
Aila chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully as she considered this new information. Her fingers itched to string an arrow up immediately and peg one of the men in his vulnerable head, but she restrained herself, fully aware that doing so would only give away their position.
"Melville. If you want to leave, now's the best time," Sergeant Jordi told the lad, looking over his shoulder at him. "We may be able to sneak out from here…"
"And what'll happen if they spot you?" retorted Melville defiantly.
"If they do…" Jordi's right hand squeezed his halberd's shaft a bit tighter.
"No. You can't fight. In your condition, there's no way you'd be able to stand up against even one of them."
Melville couldn't keep a prideful undercurrent from entering his tone even as he regarded his friends. To be perfectly honest, he didn't figure they'd stand a chance even if both Grasslanders were in peak condition. But he wasn't about to admit that now. They were in too bad a situation already without having him insult their abilities – feeble as they were in the face of two of the great Zexen Knights.
"So what are we supposed to do, then? Turn ourselves in?" scoffed Aila. "Like there's any chance of that…"
"No," Melville shook his head and moved to stand. While crouching, he looked over at the others. "I'll distract them for you, okay? You should be able to slip through then. Don't worry, they're not looking for me, remember?" he reminded Aila when she looked fit to protest. "I'll be careful."
"Melville…"
The boy smiled, then ducked around the edge of the bush and dashed to the other side of the street. Stopping there, he cast one last glance over at where the Grasslanders were hiding, then took a deep breath and walked into the main plaza.
(Okay, Melville, act natural, natural… Don't look over at them anymore, just act like you're out for a walk… a completely normal, relaxed walk. Sure, lots of Zexens take walks when it's a nice night out like this, right, right! Not too fast, not too slow…)
Feigning nonchalance – and resisting the urge to whistle knowing that would only look suspicious – Melville meandered along, soon crossing into the view of the knights.
Leo immediately sprang to attention, grabbing his axe up in both hands and hoisting the blade in the direction of the intruder.
"Halt!" he bellowed.
Melville jumped, genuinely startled by the vehemence of the command.
(That's okay, that's okay! Anyone'd be surprised to hear somebody shout to them like that!) he hastily assured his thumping heart. (Especially if it was one of the Six Mighty Knights. Especially if he wasn't doing anything wrong.)
"Ah, Sir?" he responded, in a voice that was maybe a little too squeaky and frightened for his tastes. Fighting for control over his own voice, Melville turned to face the pair of guards and strode over, asking, "Is something wrong, s-sir? Sirs? Sir… Leo? And Sir Percival?"
He was careful to put real surprise into his tone as he recognized the knights for the 'first time'. At least he didn't need to fake his anxiety and enthusiasm at running into two men he thought of very highly…
"Yes, that's right," Percival replied, turning to face the lad. The younger knight smiled charmingly, sensing that this kid was an admirer of the Mighty Zexen Knights. Even so, he inquired, "May I ask why a young boy such as yourself is out wandering the streets on such a night?"
"Well, S-Sir Percival," Melville prayed the Swordsman of Gale would take his slight stutter as mere nervousness at meeting him, "I just thought it was a nice night for a stroll." Gesturing towards the sky, he forged on, "After all, the sky is clear, the moon is out with the stars…"
"Ah, yes, it's a beautiful night indeed," Percival tilted his head back and smiled. With a sly sideways glance toward the boy he sighed, "The perfect night to take that lovely young lady you fancy out for an evening constitutional…"
"Huh? W, what?" Melville didn't need to fake the confused blush that spread swiftly over his nose and cheeks at that statement. Shaking his head quickly, "I, I don't have…"
"I suppose you wouldn't," lamented Percival, lightly shaking his head in mock dismay. "Well, you're a bit too young to be thinking about such things anyway. You'll understand better once you're a bit older…"
Melville looked down at his shifting feet uncomfortably. He deliberately ignored the impulse to glance toward Aila and Sergeant Jordi when they crossed into his line of vision. The huntress was again supporting the sergeant as best she could, the two keeping to the shadows as much as possible as they crept toward the gates.
"Percival…" a low, menacing growl came from Leo's direction.
Ignoring the axeman's warning grumbles, the Swordsman of Gale again made an exaggerated sigh. He patted the top of Melville's head, ruffling the already tousled brown locks teasingly.
"Alas, even I cannot take advantage of such a fine opportunity tonight, for duty calls." Aiming a smirk at his fuming partner, he added, "And duty will not be denied its due…"
"Duty?" echoed Melville. "Why, what's going on?"
"Nothing to be concerned about. The Council merely wants us to detain a couple of visiting Grasslanders for a while…"
Melville nodded; trying not to look toward the gates or at the same fugitives Sir Percival was talking about sneaking to the exit. Just a little more and they'd be out, and he'd be able to excuse himself from the conversation and…
"Enough, Percival!" Leo stormed over to stand between the chatting Swordsman of Gale and his startled young audience. Facing his fellow knight, he growled, "We have no time for this! We should be looking for those outlaws, not standing around blabbing our mission to some street rat!"
"Leo, you're being rude, you know," huffed Percival, though his good-natured smile remained. "I was only trying to put this young man's mind at ease…"
"Take something serious for once, why don't you! If the duck and the bitch escape, the Council will blame us for letting them slip through our fingers!"
"Just because you're annoyed at a girl you haven't even met doesn't give you the right to insult her." Percival looked genuinely peeved at the axeman's outburst. "For all we know, she could be a very nice young woman…"
"Feh. A barbarian bitch, and a sneaky one at that."
Melville risked a quick glance at the gates. Aila and the sergeant were standing in the gates, but the archer had frozen at the insult. Melville didn't have to see her face to know she hadn't taken it well. Frantic to see his friends escape, he quickly tried drawing attention back to himself.
"Um, Sir Leo…" he hurriedly stepped up and tugged on one of the larger man's gauntlets.
"I've had enough of you--!"
Roaring, Leo spun around and struck Melville across the side of his face with the back of his other hand. Though the axeman hadn't put his full strength behind the clout, the force of the blow was more than enough to knock the boy flat on his backside. The metal gauntlet raked against the sensitive skin of his cheek, and Melville cried out more from shock than pain, though that was definitely a factor.
"Hey, now, Leo--!" Percival protested.
However, the younger knight's upset exclamation paled in comparison to the enraged screech that came from behind them.
"Damned knights! You'd even strike a child from your own city if it suited you?! I can't believe you!"
Leo and Percival spun around to behold an absolutely furious Karayan huntress standing in the middle of the open gateway glaring daggers at them even while supporting a clearly injured Duck Clan soldier against her side.
"Savages!" Leo barked, shooting a glare in his partner's direction. "They must have paid that brat to distract us! Damn you, Percival!"
The axeman hefted his weapon in both hands even while reprimanding the other knight. Belatedly Aila realized that insulting the powerful warriors she and the sergeant were trying to avoid fighting was probably not the smartest move she could have made. The archer fumbled for her bow, a difficult task considering how she was supporting her injured companion.
Apparently sensing her problem, the sergeant pushed away from her, planting the tip of his weapon into the ground for a brace. Jordi bowed his head, watching the knights from underneath the cover of his slanted helmet, breathing hard, sliding his right hand up higher on his halberd's shaft.
Melville pushed up off the hard cobblestones of the plaza, watching in horror as his plan to protect his friends rapidly disintegrated into nothing. There was no way Aila'd be able to hold off against Sir Leo's charge alone…!
"No!" he screamed.
Lunging forward, he drew his sword from its sheath and swiped at the axeman's legs in a desperate attempt to throw him off. There was no way even his father's old sword would be able to make more than maybe a slight dent in the Zexen Knight's armor, but all Melville could think of was trying to delay Leo's assault in any way possible.
Percival caught a glimpse of Melville's thrust out of the corner of his eye and slowed his own rush toward the pair, surprised. Obviously there was far more to this situation than Leo's assumption: no child would attack somebody -- especially a fully armed knight they clearly admired -- to protect mere strangers who'd paid them to act as a distraction.
There wasn't any time to ruminate on the puzzle at present, however. Leo didn't even seem to register the fact that the urchin had attacked him and was bearing down upon the Grasslanders.
Aila managed to notch an arrow and immediately aimed for the charging axeman's head. Her hands were shaking so badly that she was having trouble keeping it trained in the right direction, however. Her widened green eyes dilated as he closed the gap between them, and she loosed the arrow…
…Only to watch it sail past his head, nearly clipping his left ear.
She didn't have any time to curse the mistake, as the warrior lifted his axe high overhead and let out a challenging bellow. Aila reflexively raised one arm in front of her face in a futile attempt to ward off the coming blow, a scream stuck in her throat.
A sudden flash of blue light and the equally sudden rush of chill air sweeping toward her was all the warning Aila got before row upon row of frozen spikes erupted from the ground before her. Leo screamed when the icy stakes impaled his armor, knocking him backward, away from his would-be victim.
Aila gasped, whirling to see Sergeant Jordi slump to his knees. The mallard's breathing rasped worse than before, and his raised wing lowered to fold over his aching side. Squinting through the pain, he looked back at the archer and the gates.
"Run!" he snapped.
That snapped Aila out of her surprise. The huntress immediately rushed to his side, forcing him to wrap one wing around her waist before sprinting off as fast as she could with him leaning against her.
Back near the gates, Melville hesitated only a moment before dashing forward. He darted nimbly past Percival and Leo, both knights too startled by the magical counterattack to grab the boy. Once he cleared them, he bowed his head and concentrated solely on running, nothing else. Thinking could come after he was out of immediate danger.
Leo regained his balance, only to discover it was a little late to do anything. The axeman immediately threw down his weapon, threw his head back, and vented his feelings to the world at large:
"DAMN--IT--!!!"
"Temper, temper, Leo," chided Percival, massaging his forehead with the tips of two gauntlet-clad fingers. (This is going to be a bear to explain to the Council, isn't it?)
~ * ~
The fugitives didn't slow down until they passed into the boundaries of the Zexen Forest, the cultivated fields outside Vinay de Zexay giving way to taller grass and dense rows of trees and shrubbery. Aila ground to a halt then, allowing the sergeant and herself time to breathe. Jordi immediately released her waist in favor of gripping his halberd with both hands, his rough respiration gradually becoming more even as he recovered.
"We… should be… okay for now," he panted momentarily. "But we should… get back to Karaya Village as… soon as possible…"
"Yeah…"
Shaking her head, Aila then straightened and turned around, leaf green eyes filling with frustration.
"Why'd you have to go and follow us?!" she berated, stomping one foot down for extra emphasis.
"Well, I couldn't exactly head back to the base," responded Melville bluntly, "Not when I know you guys are still in trouble. I promised I'd help, remember?"
"Yeah, you helped us get out of Vinay," Aila spat. "That was supposed to be all…"
"No way," Melville shook his head. "The Sergeant's still hurt, and I know it's still a long way to the Grasslands."
"We can handle ourselves--!"
"Let him be, Aila," interrupted Sergeant Jordi. "What's done is done. We can't send him back to Vinay now, not while that Sir Leo's likely out for blood over our escape. Besides," he pushed upright and turned his solemn stare into the depths of the forest, "I'm worried about Karaya more than anything else right now."
"What do you mean, Sergeant?" Aila asked.
"It's clear now the Zexen Council was trying to delay our return by any means necessary." Jordi looked over his shoulder at the archer. "I doubt that bodes well for the upcoming treaty negotiations. The sooner we can get back and warn Chief Jimba about how we were treated, the better."
Color flooded from Aila's face as the sergeant's words slammed into her. Melville shot the huntress a concerned look; he didn't understand fully what was going on, but had seen and heard more than enough to know things weren't looking too great right now. Aila quickly shook off her shock and shot the duck clan soldier a serious stare.
"Let's hurry," she said.
"Agreed."
The trio set off into the forest, weapons at the ready. Aila took point, racing forward as fast as she could without leaving the injured sergeant and young ironhead lad behind. Her churning emotions focused on the driving thought of her homeland in danger, of the traitorous Council setting their soldiers upon her people.
(The village… Mother… Father… Chief… We're coming as fast as we can…! Please, spirits, see to their safety until then…!)