Note: going to say that everyone in the series who is 15 is 18 because….I want to and I can. And it works out much better for timeline stuff.
a boy brushed red with colour
chapter one:something about you
Lydia, with your vague gaze
Why do you wander with an ocean of heartbreak
You've been hurt; even your smile paces about
Gypsy girl, who do you sing for?
You will see fog, see rain, see the sun
The cracked earth yields heartache again
He left, but can't take away your heaven
After the wind dries, tears of rainbow light will fall
He left, so you can leave your dreams behind
There must be a place to wait for love to take flight
Lydia, happiness isn't far away
Open your windows, and make a wish
You will feel love, feel hate, feel forgiveness
Life will not always be filled with heartache
A girl glares at her father.
"Don't want to go."
Her father is proud and fiercely meticulous and organized. It came with thirty years of military service, ten as the General of the Red Copper Army. His desk is neat and almost bare; clearly this is a man who gets things done, and quickly. At present, he is sitting straight in his chair, hands peaked near his nose, regarding his daughter with all authority he could muster – quite a bit of authority, considering his job description. His daughter glares back with equal force.
"You will go."
"Why the hell do I have to? You're just shipping me off so I won't be an embarrassment to you, aren't you? You know, if you wanted me to be normal, you wouldn't have volunteered me for that retarded experiment thirteen years ago, you old far-"
She falls to the floor with a resounding smack. The first faint traces of a bruise appear underneath her pale skin.
"You will not talk to your father that way, Lucienne. I see your unconventional schooling has also taught you insolence. Under Emperor Dornkirk's orders, you shall be traveling with the Vione until further notice. Go and pack your belongings. That will be all."
aaaaaaa
The soldiers of the Vione lined up in perfectly straight rows of polished armor and erect, alert postures. A faint breeze rippled in through the open hangar, and the upturned eye of the Zaibachian banner fluttered in the wind. The soldiers created a wide path within their ranks, a path flanked on both sides with the crown jewel of the Vione, the elite Dragonslayer unit. Eighteen young men clad in leather and blue armor stood proudly, but nervously, awaiting an arrival.
A small craft of metal and levistones landed, sending a flurry of air that mussed Dalet's hair and catapulted the Dragonslayer into a dilemma. He was sure that moving to comb his hair with his fingers would be a breach of soldierly conduct, yet he could hardly stand attention to such an important guest with head like a bird's nest. Desperate for an indication of what to do, he shot furtive glances at Gatti and Chesta, who stood on either side of him, but both of them were staring at the ship.
The pilot stepped out from the front and opened the main hatch. A tall, thin, elderly man emerged primly, and pulled out a slip of parchment. He spoke in a dry, reedy voice.
"I present to you the Lady Lucienne Adair Alexandra Jibrille Adelphos, Countess of Aritza, Duchess of Tintagel, Lady of the Lesser Isles, and Hon-"
"Shut up, Ronald," muttered a girl emerging from the hatch. She pushed past the old man and slouched through the soldiers' path, giving barely a glance to the attention and pomp afforded to her arrival. On any other person, her long dark hair, wrinkled shirt, and bare feet would seem disheveled and sloppy, but on her, it gave the aura of one too important to care about such trivial things. She walked, past Guimel, Migel, Gatti, Dalet. The lady stopped at turn back, calling out in a tired voice.
"Folken, where's my room?"
"Surely, you'd want to stay for the feast, Lucienne? It's been prepared especially for you," the Chief of Staff replied calmly.
"I want to get some sleep, that's what I want. Sleep, and a good bottle of vino for when I wake up. You can have my portion of dinner, or give it to that albino kid standing next to you, he's stick-like enough to need it," she said. Dilandau looked livid, but a quick glare from Folken prevented him from doing anything drastic. Still, the fierce aura of hatred he was emitting was enough that the girl noticed.
"Oh, don't be angry, sweetheart, you're quite a doll. But really, Folken. Room?" The Strategos sighed and waved his hand.
"Dragonslayer Dalet. Show the lady to her quarters." Dalet bowed nervously and lost his balance, crashing to the ground, armor clanging on the hard ground. He looked up and saw Migel and Gatti trying to suppress violent laughter. Chesta had a goofy grin on his face, and even shy Guimel was smiling. Cursing under his breath and blushing furiously, Dalet clambered up to his feet, gingerly handling his leg. He probably had a gigantic bruise.
"This way, lady," he muttered, and began to limp towards the exit.
aaaaaa
"Hoho, Dalet, a little too eager to serve the lady, aren't we, the way you fell at her feet just like that!" Mercutio teased mercilessly in the barracks that night, as the rest of the Dragonslayers roared with laughter and Dalet's face increasingly resembled a beet.
"Mercutio, you're such a jerk, just because Lord Folken didn't pick you-" he replied hotly.
"Oh sweetheart, would you like to come into my room?" Mercutio continued in a ridiculous falsetto, swaying his hips as he walked and batting his eyelashes. The boy was one of the oldest of the Dragonslayers, yet at times he was as mature as a toddler. It was hilarious to put him next to Chesta: Mercutio was tall and lanky and handsome and serious, with chestnut hair that fell into his peridot eyes, but it was often baby-faced and mushroomed Chesta who would reprimand him for being stupid.
"I don't approve of girls like that," said Chesta with a frown. "Girls shouldn't be so sloppy and forward, it's kind of rude. Especially since she's noble and all, I'd think she'd be more polite. And she shouldn't wear trousers. Nor should she talk to Lord Dilandau like that. He got mad and punched me later."
"Well, Chesta, it's not like Adelphos family is really a noble," said Gatti behind his book (Lost Paradise by Milton John). "They're just rich and happen to be very good at war; their first aristocratic title was given to them only 25 years ago."
"Do I sense bitterness, Gatti?" Miguel flipped over on his top bunk and peered down at the ash-haired soldier. "Mr. My-family-goes-back-further-than-thou? Even though we wasted all our wealth and now all we have is a name and a fancy family crest?"
"Hey, shut up, serving boy!"
The other slayers rolled their eyes, remembering a time three years ago when this exact exchange of words provoked a fist-fight which spread out into the hall and involved Dilandau, who was evidently not very pleased. Fortunately for the floating fortress and its staff, Miguel and Gatti had miraculously bonded over the month of latrine sanitation duty that Dilandau had inflicted as their punishment. This, of course, proved that even the crazy red-eyed kid could do good.
"Woah woah woah," said Mercutio, still grinning. "You guys are going way off topic. We are making fun of Dalet right now. So, my dear Peacock, my darling long-haired one-"
"-thinks it's time for you to go to bed because it's lights out, Mercutio!" Dalet yelled. With that, he picked up a square pillow and violently whacked the slayer in the back.
"Well, Peacock, I admit that she's rather cute-" Mercutio said.
"-even if she's not very proper," added Chesta.
"-or of the old blood," sniffed Gatti.
"I think all of you need to get laid," Miguel said sleepily. "'Night, all."
aaaaaa
"Dilandau."
"What, Strategos?"
"You should be nice and not glare at people, especially not your direct commander's daughter."
"She called me a stick. And a doll. I think I will burn her until she turns to ash. And then I'll stamp the ashes into the dirt. And then I'll burn the dirt-"
"You should be nice to her."
"Like hell I will!"
"Well, then, you should know that since she's here, she's in charge of your job evaluation to General Adelphos."
"WHAT?"
/chapter one
Author's Note: Please review, it will make me very happy, I'm sorry if it's not very good.