Disclaimer: (weep) I don't have to say it, do I?

Yami Tawnykit: (looks on in disgust) Fine, you dolt, I'll do it. (clears throat) My foolish omote does not own Yu Gi Oh!, any of it's related products, or anything else you mortals would find of value. She will someday, though. Once I take over the world, I will have no use for such idiotic dribble, and will give it to her. In the mean time, the only thing she owns are her stories, which are made for her and your enjoyment and put no money into her pocket. Use one of her characters, stories, story ideas, et cetera, without her permission, and I will gleefully steal you soul.

(No, I don't claim to thave the eighth Millennium Item, though if you know where I can find a Millennium Pencil I'll love you forever. Just a few voices in my head, is all...)

Sunlight awakened him, bright on his face, shining in his eyes. He sat up, wincing as the arrow wound in his side protested at the movement. He looked about him, confused at first. This wasn't his home. Where was he?

Memory came rushing back to him. Fire. Death. His family… all lost.

No… not all lost. He looked around him, panicking slightly. Where was his brother?

He relaxed when his eyes fell on the infant's sleeping form, lying at his side.

"He's safe…" he murmured in relief. He allowed himself to sink back down to the sleeping mat, sighing as he closed his eyes.

Something dug into his thigh, biting into his skin. Frowning, he sat back up, reaching down to see what had disturbed him.

It was the arrowhead that had embedded itself in his side the night before. He remembered now: the healer had removed it and offered it to him, why he wasn't sure.

He reached down, feeling the place where the sharp stone had cut him. The wound was small, barely enough to cause him to bleed, but bleed he did. His fingers came away stained red.

He looked at the crimson liquid, watching as a single drop fell from his hand. The injury was something he could handle. It wouldn't even slow him down.

The blood, however, reminded him of something else he had to do. A final farewell needed to be said, and an oath needed to be made. Revenge needed to be sworn. Climbing to his feet, he stumbled over to the tent flap, looking out. The camp was barely stirring in the early morning light. He had enough time.

He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. Should he take him with him? It was both of their lives that had been destroyed, after all. But he looked so peaceful, sleeping there; he was loathe to wake him. And something told him that this was something he had to do on his own.

He gazed down at the arrowhead once more. It was stained the rusty color of dried blood from when it had pierced his skin the night before, its tip shiny with the crimson color of the fresh blood that had been added this morning. His fingers closed around it determinedly as he set off in the direction of the charred remains of what had once been his home.

Lady Elaine Kaiba smiled as she entered her tent, expecting to be met by the peaceful sight of her two new charges calmly slumbering on the sleeping mats. She had gone out to get some breakfast, and she had brought food back for the boys, though to be honest, she was unsure of what to feed the younger of the two. She had never taken care of an infant before, and she didn't know what kind of foods he could eat.

She looked over at the sleeping mat where the older boy – Seto – had fallen asleep last night. She gave a little gasp, her eyes widening. He was gone. She hurried over to the blanket that she had covered him with the night before, now shoved carelessly to the side. Placing the tray of food down, she picked the blanket up, as if he might be hiding underneath it.

He wasn't. Frantically, she looked around the tent. She was immensely relieved to see Mokuba, still serenely sleeping where she had left him the night before. The fact that the child was still there meant that Seto hadn't run away. From what she had seen last night, he wouldn't have left his brother behind if he hadn't been planning on returning.

She stood, careful not to step on the tray of food beside her, and hurried to the tent flap. She was half out before she stopped, wondering if she should take Mokuba with her. She decided that it would be for the best. She didn't want to leave him alone. What if he woke and started crying when there was no one to see to him?

She swept over to him, gently taking him into her arms. He whimpered, stirring as he began to wake. She made soothing sounds, quieting him. When he had fallen into a deeper sleep, she left the tent.

Elaine searched the camp, nearing panic as time went on and she didn't find him. Hoping that he might have only left to relieve himself and that he had now returned to the tent, she hurried back there, her hopes crashing when she saw that he was still gone. She could think of nowhere else he could be.

She dropped to her knees, tears welling up at the thought that she had failed in her self-appointed mother-role before it had even fully begun. She cradled the infant, determined not to fail him, as well.

"Milady?"

She gasped, startled, and turned to face the man who stood behind her. It was one of the soldiers, dressed in a leather jerkin and trousers instead of armor. The insignia over his heart marked him as a member of the sixteenth cavalry division.

"Milady, is somethin' wrong?" he asked. "Is there somethin' I can 'elp ya with?"

She rose, conscious of the fact that she was kneeling in the mud, sobbing over an infant, in front of a common soldier. Perhaps he could help her, though.

"It's one of the boys that I took in last night. He's disappeared."

The soldier frowned. "How long has 'e been missin'?"

She looked at the sun, gauging the time of day from its position in the sky. It was still early morning, but she had been looking for over an hour, and there was no telling how long he had been gone before that.

"Over an hour," she told him. "I left to go get breakfast, and when I came back he was gone."

The guard was silent, thinking. Finally, he spoke. "Milady, I… might know where 'e's gone."

"Really?" she asked, hope rising inside of her.

"Do ya know anythin' of 'is family, Milady?" the soldier asked.

She blinked. How was that a relevant question?

"Milady?"

Frowning, she replied, "I… know his father was a warrior, but–"

"I thought so," he interrupted. Then his eyes widened as he realized that he had cut the noble off. "Forgive me for interruptin', Milady, but I've a pretty good idea where 'e might have gone. 'E'll have been raised in the traditional ways of the son of a warrior, ya see. 'E probably…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Come with me, Milady, I'll show ya."

"…Thank you, soldier."

The man nodded, giving her a bit of a smile. "Of course, Milady."

"And, soldier?"

"Yes, Milady?"

"Do you have a name, soldier?"

"…It's Duncan, Milady."

Seto gritted his teeth, straining against his heavy burden. Almost… there… he reassured himself. Just a little… further... Got it!

He stepped back to admire his handiwork, sinking to his knees in exhaustion. He had been working at it for what seemed to him to be ages, and he was relieved that he was finally complete, though the fact brought him no joy.

It was a burial pyre. He had come back to the remains of his village to give his family a proper resting place, allowing their spirits to pass on in peace. With great effort, the small boy had managed to slowly drag their mutilated bodies into the remnants of the hut, aligning them so that they lay next to each other on the floor in the center. He had covered them with a cloth, hiding the wounds that had ended their lives.

He had then set about taking the burned out pieces of the cabin and attempted to arrange them in a traditional pyre fit for the burial of a warrior and his wife. The end result was makeshift at best, but it was all he could do. He hoped their spirits would accept it. Something told him that they would.

With a tired sigh, he clambered back to his feet and reached into his pocket. Earlier in the day, he had found a steel dagger; remembering what his father had taught him about starting fires, he had tucked it away to be used later. Now, he pulled out both the dagger and the arrowhead that had been taken out of his side the night before. He held them out in front of him now, his tired brain reciting the words that had been drilled into his head over and over, should he ever be lost in the woods and have need for a fire. Flint and steel… Hit flint against steel… He struck the steel dagger against the flint arrowhead, and watched sparks leap towards the floor from the strike. He blinked when the didn't catch in the wood, and tried again. Then he scowled; he had forgotten timber. He replaced the dagger and arrowhead in his pocket and staggered outside.

"There 'e is, Milady."

Elaine looked where Duncan was pointing. There he was, all right. She took a step forward, intending to go down and retrieve the wayward boy, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked at Duncan, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

"Don't interrupt 'im, Milady."

"Why not? Interrupt him from doing what?"

"…Ye'll see, Milady."

She frowned, but returned her gaze to the six-year-old in the ruins below her. He didn't appear to have noticed them; he had not yet looked in their direction, and he was moving about what was left of the village square determinedly, obviously looking for something. "What's he doing?" she murmured, but she received no answer.

Elaine thought that he hadn't become aware of their presence watching him from the hill that overlooked the village, but she was mistaken. Exhausted he may be, child he may be, but he had been trained since the time he could walk to observe his surroundings. He didn't particularly care if the woman who had saved his life watched what he was doing, so long as she didn't interfere, and he presumed that the man with her was also a friend, seeing as she seemed to trust him. He also noticed that she held his baby brother with her, as well, and he was glad for that.

He continued his search for kindling, a none too easy task after the fires of last night. Finally, he had acquired a handful of easy-to-light twigs, and he returned to the home that had become a tomb.

"'E's movin', Milady," Duncan pointed out unnecessarily. "We can move closer now."

The two adults crept down to the place where the child had disappeared among the ruins. They could see him ahead of them now, a lone figure weaving among the burned out remains of the village.

Elaine noticed curiously that he would stop occasionally, bending down to something on the ground and reaching out, his every manner that of intense sorrow. It wasn't until they had come a little ways into the village that she realized what he was doing.

She stopped, feeling sickened as she looked down at the mutilated corpse at her feet. It was – had been – a woman. Her face was etched in a permanent look of terror. Blood spattered her clothing and her skin, which was burned and blackened from the fires the previous night. A long gash ran from her neck, between her breasts and down to her lower abdomen. She hadn't been lying in the sun long enough for her body to begin to decompose, but it was a stomach-turning sight nonetheless.

Elaine swayed slightly, feeling nauseous. She jumped when she felt a steadying hand on her arm, pulling her away from the corpse.

"Steady now, Milady, easy does it." There was sympathy in the soldier's voice, sympathy and sadness. Sympathy for the woman who had never seen tides of war before, and sadness for the woman whose life had been ended by it. "Ya all right, now, Milady?"

"Y-yes." She looked up to where Seto was once more bending down, clearly next to another body. "W-what's he doing?"

Duncan let go of her arm, satisfied that she wasn't going to collapse now. "Well… 'E's… sayin' goodbye."

Elaine watched the boy reach down and touch the forehead of the corpse, bowing his head in obvious farewell. The body was small; it had been merely a child when its life had been ended so. Perhaps it had even been a friend and playmate to the boy that was now standing and limping on.

Elaine swallowed, forcing herself to follow.

Seto lurched back to the hut, grief draining him of the last of his energy. He was upset that he had to leave the remains of the rest of his people here without proper burial, where the crows and other scavengers could pick at their bones and defile their once-proud bodies, but there was nothing he could do. It had taken everything he had to drag his parents here and set up the pyre, and he was running out of time.

He raised his head, forcing his arms to place the kindling at the foot of the pyre and to once more strike flint against steel. This time, the sparks caught against the timber, rising up to light the rest of the pyre as well.

He stood watching the flames, then tossed the dagger aside in disgust. It had been one of the invader's, dropped during the skirmish, and he wanted nothing more to do with it. He looked down at the arrowhead. It had been an invader's, too, but it had become so much more to him. Twice it had pierced his skin, and his blood stained its once black surface. It was a symbol now, and he ran his small fingers up and down its side.

He looked back at the flames, then down once again at the arrowhead. There was one more thing he needed to do, and then he could rest.

Bracing himself, he held out his right hand, grasping the arrowhead in his left. He placed its edge against his skin, took a deep breath, and drove it into his flesh, making a cut along his palm. Pain blinded him for a minute and his stomach rolled, but he tried to ignore it. When his vision cleared, he watched the blood well up in the wound, then held his arm above the nearest tongue of fire. Deep crimson liquid fell from his hand into the flames, hissing as it struck the intense heat.

Seto bowed his head. "Father… Mama…" he whispered. "I… I swear it, you're lives will be revenged. I'll get your sword back from that monster, Father. I'll make him pay for what he and his men did to you both. I give you my word."

Shaking, he rose to his feet, pressing his bleeding hand against his chest, and replaced the arrowhead in his pocket. Turning around, he walkedto where Elaine stood with the man and Mokuba. He could see horror on her face and grim sympathy on the man's. They had watched him make his oath.

He stumbled to Elaine's feet, steadying himself against her legs with his uninjured hand. He looked up at her as she spoke, worry in her tone. He couldn't understand her language, but her question was clear enough.

"I'm okay…" he mumbled, and stood up straight. He held his hands up to her – he wanted Mokuba.

She hesitated, and he frowned. Who was she to withhold his brother from him?

Then the man – Seto had discerned by now that he was a soldier, and he was unsure how he felt about that fact – said something to her, and she slowly bent over so that he could take the infant from her arms. He looked up at the soldier and saw something unexpected in his eyes: understanding.

He turned his attention to Mokuba. Blue eyes met gray he as saw that the infant was awake, calmly watching him. Blood from his injured hand was seeping into the boy's wrappings, staining them, but Seto didn't care. It wouldn't hurt him, after all. Turning, he carried his brother back to the pyre.

He heard Elaine and the soldier follow him, but he made no move to stop them. He stood, holding Mokuba and watching the flames until they died down to ashes, leaving nothing of his parents or the only home that he had known for all of his life.

He collapsed to his knees in exhaustion and anguish, finally allowing the tears that he had been holding back to come. He curled around Mokuba, his tears falling onto the child's forehead.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he lacked the energy to sit back up. Someone helped him, gently taking Mokuba from his arms and supporting him. He looked up to see his brother being held by the soldier, and found himself sitting in Elaine's lap. He sagged against her, sobbing into her shoulder.

After that he knew no more.

He awoke with a start to the unsteady feeling of the earth moving beneath him. He tensed, looking around him. His eyes widened when he saw where he was.

He sat on the back of an enormous horse, much bigger than the nags that the villagers used as pack animals. Hundreds of other horses and riders were stretched out in a line in front of and behind him. There were wagons and carts as well, the end result being a massive caravan that was moving along a dusty road, the forest that he had known all his life left far behind them.

"So ya're awake," said a voice above him. He jerked his head up in surprise. It was the soldier who had been with Elaine earlier, riding behind him.

Seto opened his mouth to say something, but his voice croaked when he tried to speak. The soldier pulled a canteen from his belt and offered it to him. He took it and drank greedily – he had neither eaten nor drank anything since dinner the night before. When he was finished, he handed the canteen back to the soldier, who took it and replaced it at his belt.

"Better?" he asked.

Seto nodded. "You can speak…?"

"Hikarian, yes.

Seto frowned. He remembered his father telling him that their people were called Hikarians, and that it was a name he should bare with pride. He didn't know how this stranger knew the language, though. "How?" he asked.

"I know a thing or two about yer people," he replied. "Includin' the language. How's yer hand?"

Seto looked down at his hand. Someone – probably the healer from the night before – had cleaned and bandaged it. He flexed it experimentally. It hurt, but it was bearable. "What happened?"

"Ya fainted. Blood loss, probably, and exhaustion." He smiled apologetically, and added, "That was quite an impressive feat, ya know. Someone as small as you doin' whatya did." He didn't mention the pyre by name, but Seto knew what he meant.

"Where's my brother?" he asked.

The soldier gestured to his left and a bit in front of him. Seto could see Elaine riding a chestnut mare sidesaddle, dwarfed by the many warhorses around her. He could just see Mokuba sleeping in a sling across her chest.

Satisfied, he looked back up at the soldier. "Who are you?"

"Name's Duncan, sir."

"Why are you 'sir'ing me?"

Duncan shrugged. "Milady Elaine's adopted ya. That makes ya a noble, just like she is."

"She's a noble?"

"Yes sir."

Seto was silent, absorbing that. He couldn't fathom why a foreign noble would want to take in an orphaned boy and his infant brother.

"'Ere, sir," Duncan said. "I've got somethin' for ya. Two somethin's, actually." The soldier reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew something. He handed it to Seto, who took it. It was a pastry, filled with some kind of meat.

"Ya must be hungry," Duncan added as he sniffed at it, his mouth watering. "Go on; it's not poisoned or anythin'."

Seto took a bite, chewing appreciatively. It was good; he hadn't had anything like it before.

"There's this, too, sir," Duncan added. Seto looked up to see him holding the arrowhead.

His eyes widened. The arrowhead had become immensely important to him. It was now a reminder of everything that had happened, of the oath that he had sworn. So long as he had it, he knew that he could never forget. He reached out his hand for it, and was relieved when Duncan gave it to him.

"Managed to save it for ya, sir. The healer wanted to take it; thought ya might 'urt yerself again."

Seto rolled his eyes, tucked the arrowhead into his pocket, and returned to his meal with a mumbled thanks.

When he had finished the pastry, he shifted in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. He had never ridden a horse before, and he found that he liked it, though his legs were too short to even come close to reaching the stirrups that held Duncan's feet. His small hands clutched at the mane for support as he leaned forward eagerly, feeling much revived after his late breakfast. He looked down at the ground, not afraid of the height as he studied the way the horse walked, picking up one foot at a time. Right front, left back, left front, right back, right front, left back…

He sat up, beginning to get dizzy. He twisted around in the saddle, trying to peer around Duncan and look behind them. He saw that they were riding near the front of the line, which stretched as far as he could see behind them. In the far distance, he could just see the forest that had been his home, getting smaller as they left it behind.

He froze, his eagerness fading away, and slowly faced forward again. He looked down at his hands, fighting back tears. No… he thought. I can't cry. I did that once already, I can't cry anymore. I have to be strong so I can keep my promise. I have to be strong for Moki. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he tried to quell the burning in his eyes. A single tear dropped down to splash on his hand, and then he had himself under control.

"Why did you attack us?" he whispered.

Duncan was silent for a moment, trying to think of how to best put what he had to say. Finally, he spoke. "A lot of folks nowadays… don't like yer people very much."

"Why?"

"Why does the sun rise in the east, sir?"

"What?"

Duncan sighed. His answer, when it came, was filled with bitterness. "It's human nature t' hate what they can't understand. Yer different, sir, yer culture is strange to a lot of folks. There's other reasons, too. Yer people were here fer centuries before we started movin' in. Call it greed, call it selfishness, call it stupidity, but apparently there's no room t' share."

Seto was silent as he absorbed this information. His hands clenched the horse's mane. He knew he should be angry, but for some reason all he could feel was a quiet numbness. He had never been exposed to the world of selfishness and hatred, and he didn't understand it now that it was rearing its ugly head.

He needed to understand it, if he was going to be living in it from now on. He needed someone who understood it to teach it to him.

"…Can you teach me?"

"Teach ya what, sir?"

"Everything I need to know to survive in your world."

"…Yes, sir."

"And your language?"

"That too, sir. I'll do it."

"…Thank you."

Seto turned away from the soldier then, facing forward, towards the future and whatever fortune awaited him there.

A/N: I wanted this to be longer, but… Ahem. Very long already. I had also intended for it to be the last of the background information chapters, but I'll have to make at least one more.

Hikarian: "Hikari" means "light" in Japanese. I chose this name for Seto's people because his childhood will have been "light" whereas now he is decending into darkness. And I suppose because the raiders set his village on fire. Fire is light. (nod)

Oh, I keep forgetting. I have an announcement to make.A simple matter of shameless advertising: If you have a LiveJournal, you may be interested in checking out The Locket Keepers, an incest-free community I recently created dedicated to Seto and Mokuba. There's a link from my profile page if you're interested. Hope to see you there!