Written by Mikaa
Chapter 3 - Oops
Author's Note - Geez, the hell I'm going to get when I start to revert back to my older update schedule of (bi)weekly... Ew. Anyway, nice feedback last chapter, though I was suprised that were OK with the Felix/Mia paring (given that I came so bloody close to the Ivan/Mia rarity, it's kinda a good thing, no?). But then, couldn't have Felix/Sheba, given that she's involved in the underground movement against the Tolbibi (yes, it IS TolbiBI, not Tolbi) Empire. And no, Ky, this is not an AU; if it was, believe me, I would lable it on the summary line.
Also, I've been getting some nice feedback on the Igori character, though why one of you (you know who you are...) wants him to die at the hands of Sheba is beyond me. Then again, you have only seen two chapters, and not all the plot yet.
Speaking of which! You are probably wondering what could make me use such a vague title for the chapter as this one's. Well, to be blunt, I had other, better choices, which I might reveal (or use) later. Suffice it to say that I found this one to be just a wee bit more humerous, and wanted to make people interested in finding out.
And while I am getting guesses already as to who the General is, I will not comment, and will only reveal via the texts. And having said that, I must now get to the story before I hike up the word count through the roof. Sheez, they really should have a seperate counter for words in the story and keep the Author Notes seperate. And they should be more careful with, er, lemme go to the story before I get in doo doo... (Smacks self for almost writing Bantha Poo-Doo, then bashes head throuh door for even thinking of THAT...)
Entering his private suite's central hall, the General groaned, pain surging through his back. Not from combat or his personal activities. No, the pain had no real source. The only real source that came to mind was when he set out to bring in those four "heroes" into town. Was it a psychological problem? Was he worried about seeing her again, with her husband?
Not that it really mattered, and not that he would worry too much about it. To dwell on this issue was moot: there was only one Master qualified to check his condition, and damned if he would let the all-powerful General's mental state become the common topic in the barracks.
He removed his dark blue cloak, and contemplated discarding his armor. Though it looked sturdy enough, by itself it could only withstand the full force of a toothpick. The secret of the armor was that it amplified and enhanced any psynergy channeled into it, making it nigh impossible to break when he focused enough. Truth be told, he rarely needed the armor itself, but after the damned resistance slipped a mole through as a whore and tried to kill him, he was not taking chances (even if it made him seem paranoid).
Entering his bed chambers, he immediately grabbed his sword: arrayed on the bed were the garments of a palace worker, the colors matching one of a cook. Oddly enough, there was a small patch on the collar, one that symbollized military service. Apparently, one of two things were happening: either the army was trying to appease his anger over the Tolbi Lighthouse problems with one of their officers, or the resistance was dumb enough to try to send him another prisoner wrapped in his towels.
Either way, it would make for an entertaining evening. And that did not include physical pleasures.
Slowly entering the room, he reveled in the prospect of potentially capturing another resistance member. Typically, moles and plants either knew nothing of the organization of the underground, or would scramble their brains rather than reveal key information. Alex had to groan at that thought: the resistance were made up of varying peoples that had eluded the Empire's reorganization of cities and citizens, and though most were not Adepts, an unfortunate number were.
And unless someone was dumb enough to give away the psynergy shielding ring to this person (who the General could hear in the bath room), the unknown person was an Adept.
He neared the door, taking in a slow, silent breath at the thought of encountering an Adept warrior this late at night, in his own quarters. While he knew he could easily handle anything, should the person be hostile it would mean severe punishments to the security forces, most of which the General himself had trained and favored.
The sound of wet feet on smooth marble caused the General to freeze where he stood, wondering if the person would simply walk past and make this too easy. But then, if it was an Adept, it might be a Jupitarian, and he would have a few complications there.
The person walked right past, as he predicted, and the General immediately sized up his foe: a young woman, probably in her twenties, somewhat long violet hair, purple eyes, and a sizable bust, if the way his towel was staying on her without help was any indication. Not unatractive at all, but there was no way he could let his guard down: the ring, the purple hair, and the fact that she walked with her posture just a little stiff.
She was a Jupitarian. And she had to know he was here.
And she had to have known that he knew that. Which would explain why she turned, feigning shock as she "saw him," about as believable as a sack of gummy bears being real bears. True, a bad analogy, he mused, but one that he made intentionally.
And it paid off; the girl flushed, though did not act as a mere cook or civilian would. Which meant that, either from the army or resistance, the General was facing a warrior. She looked him square in the eye, she stood at a loose attention, and her eyes.
Her eyes... Something about them...
He quickly dismissed the notion, instead paying more attention to her other "attributes," hoping (yet not expecting) that she would drop her guard. He gestured to the bed, not suprised when she sat down still at an informal attention.
Their silent staring match continued for another two minutes or so, all the while the General tried to force her hand or to reveal something, failing at every turn. A pro, then. Maybe she was from his troops. One way to find out.
"Name, rank, code-phrase."
The woman spoke, and again, something there... "Zial, Master Lieutenant, Bytescho."
In a blurr of motion, the General smacked the woman across the face, sending her sprawling onto her back. "Nice try. Next time your spy network might choose someone who is not on assignment, eh?" He saw her try to carry on the charade, but another slap was more than enough to end that attempt. "Now then, would you mind telling me just who you are?"
"Yes, m'lord," he was unmoved by her attempt at pleading, "I am but a simple villager. I was told by Master General Androclix to present myself such, with the same name. He said you would understand."
Ooh, she was good. Never mind the innocent victim gimmick, he knew a real act when he saw it, and though not a true production, she obviously had some prior event when she was one. But to blame Androclix, one of the Masters that the General had trained himself and appointed to head of security, that was a cute trick. What made his task of catching her without a comeback harder was that Androclix had tried this trick before with actual cooks and servants. Hmm, what to try to test her with? He briefy considered seeing how far she would go in her role, then dismissed THAT thought; against a pro wind mage, there was no way he was going to give her any openings.
He stared at her, wondering if he should let security just worry about it. Not that it would make him feel better to have to wait longer, but it would allow him some much needed rest, especially since Sheba had dissapeared off the map, and could str...
He stared at "Zial," a slow smile streaching across his face. And the slow look of dread passing over hers. And this was not an act; he could see the faint glow of her mind trying to see what he was thinking.
Not that it would do her any good.
"Give it up, Sheba, you have run out of tricks."
Dread on her face made way for sheer terror and panic. Immediately she moved an arm to help hold the towel up, her other hand glowing with the faint hint of psynergy. He faked a step towards her, and out lashed a volley of lightning, powerful enough to set clothes ablaze and melt glass.
Except that she was not counting on him funneling all of her attack into his hands, funneling the unmade lightning into his armor to produce a barrier. In minutes, the barrier would be strong enough to deflect her bolts back at her, and she had to know there was no way out; once his shield was up, a few more minutes would have security busting in to investigate the use of psynergy in the palace under orders from the Emperor himself. And purple hair or not, Sheba would be promptly interrogated and executed.
And there was no way she did not know this. "Give it up, Sheba, and I might consider letting you live." Did he say that? Why would he let her live? Was she trying to get in his mind? Or... No, that was not her, his mental barriers would be alerting him to THAT kind of an attack; all of her focus was on trying to power her attack to try to break his hold. But a thought occured, one that would serve his purposes and the Empire's, and best of all, she would be alive and useful.
Her attack lessened as she obviously picked at his thoughts, slowly stopping when she (apparently) sensed the approaching security. Terror in her eyes, she looked at him, almost pleading for whatever he had in mind. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her onto the bed, rolling her onto her back as he climbed onto the bed. Despite her shock, she did not resist as he forced a kiss, and none too soon, as the sound of the door being slammed open forced a yelp from her.
The look on the guard's faces, once he looked to face them, was priceless. "Is...is...is...?" The lieutenant, obviously recently promoted (where was the chief? Probably not on duty thanks to Sheba here...), and nervous as hell about the possible rage he might endure for busting in on the General's "private affairs."
"Lieutenant, may one ask what...no, don't answer that." The General did not need to fake too much. "I apoligize to you, Lieutenant."
"Sir?" The guard was caught off guard by the apology, the slightest hint of color returning to his face.
"Normally," the General spoke, telling the truth matter of factly, "I would notify your department when I would have a bit of... fun with my guests. I am sorry, and would ask that you accept leave for the next week."
Whatever confusion the guard had vanished in a flash, along with his subordinates. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!"
They practically tore out of the room, never giving him time to dismiss them per protocal. Still, the Lieutenant had promise; not often enough were there enough troops that did their job these days.
"Would you mind?"
Oh yeah, HER. Turning, he watched as she tried to squirm away, but he held her sholders in place. "You have no real room here, Sheba. Either you surrender and serve as a private servant, or you get sent to those chaps, with their superior there. And don't think I don't know what you did to the roster." He knew she arranged the personel there, but how he really didn't; it was just a gamble.
"You think I would whore myself out just to keep my life when-"
"Oh please, you were ready to when you tried to seduce me." He shook his head, "What you do as my servent depends on wether or not you follow my rules: you will read minds and report information to me, when you are out of my sight you will wear a Supression Band (this prevents the use of psynergy) and answer only to me, and if you follow these rules, maybe, MAYBE, I might not have you fulfilling your mission to its full extent." He had to smile as she blushed; apparently, she had thought it all out EXCEPT that part. "One other condition; you have to appear as my consort, and must keep your current look. I have no idea what you did to fake the hair so well, but you better find a way to keep it; if you meet that condition, I will not halt you from brief communications with rebel spies."
Her eyes lit up at that, and he had to smile. He could almost hear her wondering what he was expecting out of a consort role to allow her to do THAT, something that might be considered treasonous.
"Why would you let me do that?"
"I could to let you flush out spies for me, but no, that would not help. I could have you send false information, but you would be able to figure that out, even with a Supression Band. And no, not so we can track your movements. Your role as my consort would appear to your little rebellion as you still carrying out your mission, and they will have to act without direct leadership with you. I would say that is balance enough, no?"
Her anger was quite obvious. "You son of a bitch."
He released her, throwing her clothes at her. "I'll take that as a 'deal.' Now get dressed, and be glad that I don't ask for my towel back right now." He turned to head to the common room, almost laughing at the hilarious look of embarrasment on her face.
End Chapter 3 - Oops
Wow. I think I might want to consider upping the ratings already. No, other than some innuendo (and text that allows the reader to draw their own conclusions), this is still safe under the PG-13/T rating. And now, to brace myself for the inevitable flames (or the shock of almost none, whichever comes first).
Anywho, let me know what you think in the review, as I would love to hear feedback on this piece of wording.
Mikaa, Lord of the Flypaper
Oops. Almost forgot: MIKAA DOES NOT OWN NINTENDO, DOES NOT OWN CAMELOT, AND DOES NOT OWN GOLDEN SUN. FOR IF HE DID, A RETRANSLATED GS CART WOULD BE RELEASED ON THE DS WITH SOME NICE ANIME CLIPS AND BETTER MUSIC. BUT THAT IS A PIPE-DREAM...