A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) / Chapter originally written on 06.05.2004. Re-polished on 01.12.2006 for the arowrites dot net archives.
Review-replies can be found now on arowrites dot net.
Formatting repaired on 04.13.2010 -- thanks, ffnet, for eating all my scene-dividers sometime in the last four years!
05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. Please just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.
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Requiem for the Dream
( entry 04: the escape of a pawn )
"Lord Ramirez," he bowed low when the door to the rather desolate, sterile quarters was opened by the silver-haired man in question. The courier saluted the Admiral of the old order accordingly with his right fist to his left shoulder, before straightening and holding out an envelope.
Ramirez accepted it with a silent nod, and once the courier had turned to leave he shut the door firmly. These would be his instructions, in more... specific detail than Lord Galcian had seen fit to speak aloud where he could be potentially overheard. No one was to know the details of his mission save himself and his Lord... not even the other officers and Admirals.
The Silvite split the seal carefully and removed the parchment that was nearly covered in Lord Galcian's angular, strong handwriting. He read it carefully, several times over, before igniting it with a whispered spell and letting it drop to the marble floor to curl in upon itself and become ash.
He had preparations of his own to complete, for this visit to Esperanza would be no easy task.
"What--" James' voice was clipped, as cold as the grave, "is wrong with these people!"
His accusing stare seared into all onlookers in his sight over Ben's shoulder, but they didn't look very concerned. Most had already gone back to concentrating on their water and conversations, although there was a tension now, as though they thought he was about to grab more furniture and start hurling it at them.
/ And not a bad idea, that! / the furious young man thought, the hand not holding his handkerchief to his nose clenching into a pale-knuckled fist.
"Now James--"
"He was going to... to... -rape- me." he continued, voice forcibly calmer, turning his attention to the younger factory worker for the moment, "And not a single one of those... bastards... was going to stop him."
"I know, I know. Come on, we should leave--" but Ben's words were wasted, for James had already shoved past him--knocking several stools over in the process--and was heading for the door. The younger man immediately moved to catch up, and only just managed to reach the feminine-looking bounty hunter as he shoved open the plank door.
Not to say that James had ran, no. He was currently employing a ground-eating kind of a walk, which was fast enough that Ben had to jog every few steps to keep up as they moved down the darkening street.
"Hey James--slow down there, man, this is really awkward." the pace was right between jogging and walking, and the brown-haired worker kept having to alternate between the two, not having the long legs his coworker did. James said nothing in return, but did--grudgingly--slow down to a normal paced walk.
"Thanks. Listen--about back in the bar--"
"Worthless, disgusting, waste of air--the lot of them."
"Hey, it's not their fault--" but apparently that was the wrong stance to take on the recent events, for James suddenly whirled on one foot and grabbed Ben's factory-issued jumpsuit, shoving him into the near building's wall with a shocking amount of strength. Ben choked... but later he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone whether the tight sensation in his throat was from the callused hand latched there now--
--Or from the -look- of pure, smoldering hatred burning in his companion's expression not a foot from his face.
"It -is- their fault, you fool! What excuse could they possibly have for just... sitting there... as though nothing in the world was going on? They didn't even look surprised!"
"They weren't surprised." Ben managed to croak out, and he was relieved when James released him and stepped back, bloodstained wad of handkerchief lying forgotten on the ground between them--dried blood caked on his nose and upper lip under those piercing eyes.
"Listen," he continued bravely, pushing slightly away from the wall to stand normally, "let's talk about this at my place--alright? This is no place to discuss these things, and besides... you look like shit." a pause, nervous tension, before Ben broke out into a grin.
James blinked.
"There, see? You're calming down a little--that's a good thing." his grin turned a little less tense, before he stooped to retrieve the wad of cloth on the ground and held it out to the black-haired man who was--apparently--in a little shock.
"Come on then, I don't live far from here."
"I--" James flexed his hands at his side, curling and uncurling them in the pause, "...fine."
"Lord Ramirez!" he jumped slightly, surprised by the sudden pounding at his door and urgency in the voice. The silver-haired man set down the ink pot he had just opened and turned back to the door, pushing it open again with one hand. The other flitted to rest on the pommel of his sword, ever the cautious one. "Sir, the prisoner from earlier--she's gone!"
"Inform Lord Galcian at once." he ordered calmly, stepping through the door and past the guard who had reported, quickly heading for the nearest Gigas-named hall to the old tower.
Ramirez could set a quick walk when he needed to, getting from point A to point B quickly without seeming rushed. So it wasn't long at all before he'd stepped into the old tower and onto a downward-linked teleport pad. If the prisoner was indeed already gone, then there was no need to run.
Ben was, as he told James on the way to his apartment, not a 'native' to Esperanza.
"--so I drifted over after the big change," he explained as they began climbing the somewhat rusted metal staircase, "with my older brother, Wren."
This stairway was only one of many zig-zagging up the side of the government-assigned housing building complex. It was a huge construction, housing more than half the citizens of the town that had tripled in size--and it made one think more of rats packed tightly into a box than any sort of real 'housing'.
It was something Lower Valua might have had, in the old days, were it not that it would have taken organization to accomplish. Organization that, James felt as his hand gripped the rust-flaked railing... the previous government would have never thought to use in the lower city.
"We, ah, came over in the hope of finding 'decent work'. Or rather, that's why he came--I just tagged along." Ben paused, glancing back as though to make sure James was still with him. Apparently an answer was in order.
"Ah." surprisingly, that seemed to work well enough, because Ben grinned and then continued climbing.
"Speaking of reasons, there's quite a bit of debate about you in the plant, you know." the cheerful voice drifted back, clearly fishing for information. The man in question frowned slightly, not appreciating the digging into his reasoning, especially while he still felt like going back to the bar and casting Pyri on some of that nice dry wooden furniture.
...Preferably with all the exits firmly blocked off.
"We're here to talk about the bar." James replied after another glance from Ben, as they continued to climb. The younger man apparently lived pretty far up the complex...
"Er, yeah, I suppose you..." Another glance, James' frown deepened.
"If you are not going to explain why you... think... those--" a pause, he chose a word, "-things- had reason, then I will leave now."
"No, no, I'll explain--just a minute." they had apparently made it to Ben's assigned living area, because he pushed the door open and walked in, gesturing for James to follow, "I just don't like talking about the people here when I'm sure to be overheard." the younger man explained after he'd shut the door behind James, who took a moment to look around.
It didn't quite take a moment. Ben's living area was just like James', except that James was in a much smaller complex built nearer to the factory. A single room with a partition curtain cutting off the far end of the rather narrow area. The hidden area would be the restroom. There was a narrow bedroll jammed against the wall to the side, and a small military-issued lamp sitting next to it.
Two chairs sat nearer the door, with the one thing between them that was not from the military.
A chess board and pieces, built into a small table. White was losing terribly in this game--down to only a knight, a bishop, and a pawn besides the king... and the pawn was currently "tied" with an opposing one. rendered null for the time being. Black meanwhile had two bishops, a knight, a rook, and two pawns... only one null and the other only a few spaces from becoming a queen.
"You're new around here, so you haven't changed yet." Ben said, pulling one of the chairs out to sit in, the one on the black side. James remained standing, however, and silent for the time being.
"In fact, if I didn't know it was impossible, I'd say you haven't even been living around other people since the change." a shrug, "but that's beside the point. The fact is, James, people just can't afford to care anymore."
"..." the dark-haired man pulled the other chair away from the board and sat down, grudgingly, before he silently gestured for him to continue.
"The energy that caring takes has been thoroughly, methodically wrung out of people. Before the change... you would have had at least half the bar--or at the very least the owner--there to knock a chair over his head instead." Ben shrugged, "Now they're all convinced that people like Todd are just a normal part of life, and so long as his kind doesn't mess with -them-... well, what's a newcomer worth to them anyway?"
He ran his tattooed hand through his hair, clearly at least slightly nervous under James' silent stare.
"And at any rate, Todd has friends in the military, and no one here wants the military breathing down their necks. We've all seen that before, I'm sure you will soon as well--though I hope to hells it isn't you they come after. No, maybe we'll be lucky and that sorry bastard will have been too drunk to remember you specifically."
"So what you're saying is, they've all become... jaded." James finally offered, calming down further yet through strict use of willpower alone.
"Exactly. The change changed more than the laws and work; it changed the people over the last few years too. Todd himself was one of the most upstanding, law-abiding citizens of Sailor's Isle before things happened... he was a baker--you know--the sort you could leave your kids with for an hour or two while you rented a fishing boat and caught some extra food." Ben shrugged, "He used to have them help sweep his place out, and in return he loaded them up with more pastries then they could quite handle themselves."
"And now he's..."
"Yep, a swaggering bastard who leans heavily on his loqua and military buddies for backup. They're all changing like that... slowly going from outrage to indifference, and from indifference to... something else. It's kind of funny, too, in an ironic way--those military buddies of his are who supply him with his loqua... it's almost like they prefer him stomping around drunk, causing problems for them to jump into."
James was silent for a long, thoughtful moment, folding his hands carefully on the chessboard tabletop between them. He was careful not to disturb the pieces, however, and eyed them critically a while.
"Whose turn is it?" the darker-haired man finally asked, after the silence had stretched until the tension radiating from Ben was nearly solid. He had finally calmed back down legitimately, indeed... his mind had shifted modes with the new information. It would digest things, without him necessarily prodding it along consciously... and meanwhile, he'd just let it do so.
"Um, white's actually--" Ben's startled reply was cut off by James removing his hands from the board and lifting one white piece, moving it only three squares with the air of someone who had long since planned his move.
And so the game began, or perhaps--considering the state of the board--it simply continued with a change of cast.
He'd known from the start that the "Lena" girl would be trouble.
"This is the cell she was in?" Ramirez asked coldly, gesturing to the still-locked door of the small room. There were no holes, no signs of tampering, and no signs of unlocking, either. Through the small slit of a window one could see that the room was empty... with no place to hide... but that was all.
"Yes, s-sir." the guard gulped, for it would take a blind, deaf, and stupid man to not know that he was potentially in Very Deep Shit...
But he simply gestured to be allowed into the cell, and the guard hurried to comply.
"Lock the door behind me, and do not unlock it until I specifically tell you to." Ramirez said, frowning in thought, "There is something wrong with this cell, if she escaped without tampering with the door."
And so the Silvite spent the next several hours, patiently moving from one end of the cell to the other--going over every possibility in his head until he finally had to give up. He had no idea how the escape was managed, the only two holes in the entire narrow room was the door and the air vent above... but even had she managed to--somehow--reach the air vent and pry it open...
It went straight up for five feet and then ended entirely, the actual air was pushed into the 'air vent' itself through countless finger-sized pipes in the side of the vent's chamber. Any of these pipes could be redirected to pump anything else into the room, though, from sedating gases to several less pleasant things. Often, executions were done in these cells... for Lord Galcian had no use for the public executions of old Valua.
...There was absolutely no sign that this cell had even been -used- recently, Ramirez--frustrated--decided that he simply couldn't concentrate because he had other things to be doing at the moment. The mission was, after all, far more important than one rebel (somehow) prolonging the inevitable.
"Keep this cell locked and under guard." he ordered on his way out.
"Check-mate." the array of pieces to either side of the board had changed drastically over the course of the game. James had freed his pawn and made it a queen, having successfully killed Ben's pawns off and guarded his own singular one at the same time. Ben gaped.
"How did you--"
"You're too easily distracted," James said, sitting back in his chair with his hands once again folded- the fingers laced on the edge of the table again. "When I began showing all my interest in the pawns, you did too--and virtually forgot about the King. Meanwhile, I used him to help box you in... the King moves slow, but he is still quite useful tactically."
Ben looked dumbfounded a moment, then exploded into a long and genuine laugh. The newcomer had certainly taught him a thing or two! James, in turn, couldn't help but at least smile. A smile, though, such a rare occurrence with the young man that it startled him, for he couldn't remember the last time he'd...
"...I should go." he said abruptly, suddenly back to business in manner and tone--standing from his chair and stiffly easing it back under the desk out of the way.
"Are you sure? It's not late yet, is it?" the younger man looked a little wounded as he too stood, and pushed his chair in.
"We played for over an hour."
"I--"
James raised one inky-black eyebrow--his cold expression making Ben snap his mouth shut on whatever he had originally thought to say.
"Well alright then... see you at the factory tomorrow, ok?"
"I'm certain." and with that, James left, nearly slamming the door behind him. His jaw was firmly clenched shut as he began the trek down the sets of rusted stairways; his sword-callused hand catching slightly on the rail's peeling surface.
He had... a lot to think over.
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Skies of Arcadia Legends belongs to someone else.
All here that is not found in the canon... is mine.
Never steal if you value your spleen.