VANISHING POINT

A Star Ocean 3 Fanfic by Ender

Chapter Four: Care (Part 2 of 2)

They filed in slowly, furtively, as if the shadows which hid them also hid other, less reasonable creatures. Most came with one or two loyal, and heavily armed, retainers – the most that could be brought while maintaining secrecy – and yet they obviously felt remarkably exposed: These were men who were used to be surrounded by veritable armies of sycophants, huddled behind walls of stone and the best runology money could buy. It did not help at all that they were engaged in something that was probably more dangerous than anything else they had ever attempted in their lives… In this, the masks each of them wore served a dual purpose: concealing both their identities, and the fear and trepidation each of them so obviously felt.

Before the week was over, Nel was going to make sure that each and every one of their fears would be realized.

It had taken quite a bit of digging to unearth even the barest details of what the merchants of Peterny were hatching, but what little she'd found had not pleased the Crimson Blade at all. Heads of consortiums which previously had little but animosity for each other were seen meeting under the cover of darkness, and suddenly building 'wine cellars' – some that tunneled more than a mile beneath the earth – were becoming all the rage. Such details, and various rumors that were circulating amongst the underworld of Peterny spoke of a city girding for war – but in a time of 'peace' between nations, that could only mean one thing, and Nel did not like it one bit.

Still, there were holes in the big picture. As far as the Crimson Blade could ascertain, there had been little to no increase of arms being manufactured in the town, or being sold on its black market. Whatever the merchants were planning, violence seemed to be a given, or at least the potential for such, it would not make sense for men who made their livelihoods from cunning and prudence would not seek to cover that possibility. Nel needed more information before she'd be able to recommend a course of action to the Queen – luckily Tynave and Farleen had done most of the leg work before they reported to her, and thus it had only taken her a few hours to find someone who knew about the secret meeting of the conspirators, and even less time for her to sneak in and find herself a suitable – if uncomfortable – vantage point near the structural supports of the warehouses' leaky roof. From there she had a clear view of the large, circular table placed in the center of the floor, around which the masked men had taken their seats, their attendants standing stoically behind them.

While numbering only a handful at first, as the night slowly gave way to early morning, more and more of the conspirators began to trickle in, and their number was beginning to alarm Nel. While certainly not yet constituting a majority of Peterny's merchants, there was still a sizeable number of them present, and if the redhead guessed correctly as to the identities of a few – those who had distinctive builds or aides – then the traitors numbered amongst them some of the more influential traders of the city were indeed a part of this plot.

But the worst was yet to come.

Finally, after more than five hours of watching the nervous merchants practically drill holes in the oaken table with the constant drumming of their fingers, a subtly concealed trapdoor opened, around two meters from the head of the table, and a well-dressed man stepped into the dim light. His clothing was flamboyant, and his head was bare of mask or hair as he smiled a greeting at the assembled, his evident good cheer contrasting sharply with Nel's sudden rush of cold fury.

Foreigh Lamarasad.

She'd recognize that scoundrel anywhere. He had been one of the high-rolling leaders of a smuggling syndicate that had plagued Aquaria in the not-too-distant past. In fact, it was Nel who had been assigned the task of capturing him – and she would have to, if she had not been diverted to the more pressing issue of Airglyph's aggressive troop movements along the border. When war finally broke out, Foreigh took advantage of the situation to win himself a royal pardon in exchange for generous monetary contributions "to the cause of freedom". Still, his presence that evening wasn't all bad… Nel felt her anger fading slowly as she realized that, in a sense, this was a blessing in disguise. The criminal had been pardoned for his past offenses - but if he was as deeply mired in this conspiracy as he appeared to be… a small smile appeared on the red-head's face.

The other would-be traitors did not seem to share Nel's amusement however. "It's about time you got here!" one of them shouted.

"We've been waiting here for hours!"

"Patience is a virtue we'd all do well to learn my lords," Foreigh replied, in his smarmiest voice. "It is perhaps the only virtue your esteemed excellencies are lacking in."

"We didn't come here for your flattery smuggler," a tall man snapped, "You've been leading us on with snippets of your grand plan, and bits of your strategy, since day one –you promised us some answers tonight."

"And for your sake, you'd better have them," a fat merchant added, "Or else…"

"Threats milords?" Foreigh protested mildly, "That's hardly the proper way for future leaders of the great City-State of Peterny to behave now is it?"

City-State? So that's their game…the red-head thought to herself. It was a secession, as she had feared. Part of her wished that she had brought out the Blades in full-force, so that they could end this little rebellion right now, before it even got off the ground… but the rational part of her knew that it would have been impossible to mobilize so large a number of agents without alarming the merchants. The conspirators without a doubt had information networks of their own, and if Nel had simply marched into the city with an army, they would have merely lain low, and she would have lost her best, perhaps only, chance to discover the true depth of their plotting. It wasn't enough that the secession was prevented – she meant to make certain that each and every one of those involved was exposed, and subjected to the full fury of justice. If that meant that she had to be a little more patient, then so be it.

Apparently however, Foreigh was right in saying that patience was a trait his 'partners' lacked.

"Is this all we came here for?" one of the merchants shouted, banging his fist on the table before standing up. "All you do is talk Foreigh! Talk, and promise, while the Queen is closing in on us! Where is the army you promised us? Do you know who showed up in town today? Nel Zeplher!"

There was a muttering amongst many of the merchants, although a few merely nodded their heads knowingly. Nel cursed silently – sometimes she forgot that Fayt wasn't the only celebrity… She had gotten to used to life as a shadow agent that she could never quite factor in her own increasing fame across most of Aquaria. She should have been more careful.

Foreigh however, seemed unimpressed. "Ah yes, of course, the beautiful Miss Zelpher. I was well aware of presence in the city – worry not, everything is going according to plan."

"You knew?" the angry merchant was almost sputtering with rage. "You knew she was here and you still allowed the meeting to proceed? Without informing us? That is the final straw!" Turning on his heel, the merchant began to walk towards the doorway, flanked by his two bodyguards. "I've had enough of this farce! You've shown us little of your plans, none of your soldiers, and all of your arrogance… Count me out of this nonsense!"

"So…" the smuggler asked, with an easy smile, "Are you planning on leaving us then?"

"You heard me Foreigh! And if the rest of them have any intelligence, they'll leave with me, before we're faced with the hangman's noose!"

"Ah well," Foreigh said, "It's always a shame to have a dissatisfied customer. But in this special case – we can't afford that, now can we… partner?"

Had Nel been anyone else she might have missed it. Almost before Foreigh had even finished his sentence, the trapdoor through which Foreigh had made his entrance swung outwards, and a blur of motion flew towards the merchant who was leaving the warehouse. The merchant's guards were well trained, and moved to shield their employer with their bodies – but they were slow. Much too slow. Both were slumping to the ground, daggers thrust deep into their necks, before the merchant even had time to cry out – and by then, he himself had a blade at his throat.

"No... I'm afraid that we have a strict no refund policy Foreigh," said a soft, female voice as Foreigh's 'partner' finally ceased her lightning-fast movement long enough to come into view. It was a woman, green hair pulled back in a severe looking hairstyle that seemed to match the woman's harsh features. A pair of vivid scars ran from just beneath the warrior's left ear to the tip of her jaw, and they seemed to come to horrid life as she smiled, squirming their way across her cheeks. The woman herself was slight of build, her physique almost dwarfed by the fat merchant she held helpless in her arms – but Nel knew that even if the merchant struggled, there was no way he would be bale to escape her grasp.

Nel should know – she had taught the woman that hold.

"Oh Salene…" Nel breathed in despair, her heart heavy in her chest. "What have you done…"

As the entire gathering stood transfixed by the spectacle, more soldiers began to pour out of the trapdoor – many of them seemed to have been infantry troops from Aquaria's garrison in Arias, but there were not a few members of the Crimson Blade themselves amongst their number, obviously in positions of high command, along with some who were wearing the garb of Runologists. The newcomers quietly and efficiently took positions around the room, placing themselves in such a way that they would be ready and able to intercept any moves from the other merchant guards. Foreigh merely stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a smirk on his face.

"Having second thoughts I presume, friend Alistair?" the smuggler said, naming the fat merchant who had mere seconds ago seemed so defiant, as Salene pushed the now-blubbering conspirator onto the floor. Foreigh gestured expansively at the green-haired woman. "Your excellencies… I believe you wished to see our army? May I have the unparalleled honor of presenting to you Miss Salene Tranashi, of the renowned Crimson Blade?"

Salene scowled at him. "Formerly, of the Crimson Blade." She said sharply, and the contempt in her voice caused Nel to grind her teeth. The woman kicked the merchant once for good measure, then, convinced he was cowed, stepped forward and addressed the remaining assembled.

"Before we go any further, let me disabuse you of any illusions you may yet have about our little uprising: if you thought that this was something safe, if you thought you would only risk your property and not your lives – then you are fools." Her hawk-like gaze swept the conspirators, causing more than a few of them to back away. "We are about to start a war, and I don't think it's been too long for you to remember what that is like." She paused then, before continuing, contempt dripping from her every word. "Or maybe not. Maybe you were so secure here, in your safe little city, so far from the frontlines – from where we were being killed, maimed and murdered in order to safeguard your worthless hides – that you have no idea what war is like."

The former Blade strode to one of the murdered guards and pulled his corpse up by the hair. With a swift motion, she sliced through his neck with her sword, and tossed the severed head into the lap of a nearby merchant, who screamed and scuttled away.

"Just for your information – that is the face of warfare."

"So you see my friends," Foreigh interjected smoothly, as he came forward to stand side by side with Salene, "I think that you will find that we are well prepared for any attempt at violence… well prepared indeed.

"Still," the smuggler continued, as he began to pace slowly about the room, "As I have said, I have the highest confidence that we will be safe from any martial retaliation. As I have repeatedly told you gentlemen and ladies – the forces of both Aquaria and Airyglyph have been decimated by the recent altercations, both their senseless war and the arrival of the Celestial Ships and the 'Time of Fallen Angels' as scholars are now referring to our recent difficulties with those unearthly monstrosities. The armies of Aquaria are at the lowest ebb they have been in years, and we believe that we've been able to gather enough of those, shall we say, discontented with the ways of the Queen that even allied with Airyglyph, Aquaria will realize that it simply cannot afford the war that she would need to wage in order to bring us back into her suffocating embrace."

He shook his head. "No – they will swallow their pride, chain their anger and grant us the independence we so desire… and in so doing they will allow us to transform Peterny into the jewel of civilization, an indispensable crossroads for trade between Samnite, Aquaria and Airyglyph, answerable to none while taxing all to our hearts content. Despite what my dangerous companion says, there is not as much risk as you may believe – and the rewards, my friends, will be astronomical."

The merchants began to mutter energetically amongst themselves, and Nel could see that their earlier fear was already being swept away by their insatiable lust for money. It was clear to her now why they had agreed to such an audacious move – Peterny was indeed strategically placed between the three major nations, and while this already made the town rich, the Queen kept a tight reign on the taxes imposed in the city, ensuring that most of the sizeable proceeds went to the coffers in the capital city. If Peterny were independent, they would be able to raise taxes as high as they pleased – and would be able to tax Aquaria in addition to Airyglyph and the Republic – and all the revenue would go into their pockets. For men of such greed, such temptation would be near impossible to resist – even if it risked the lives of innocents.

Suddenly a voice could be heard over and above the din of voices. "That's all well and good," a tall, bony woman said, "But what if Aquaria does decide to invade?" The masked woman turned towards Salene. "I had thought that Foreigh's 'army' would consist of foreign mercenaries – what guarantee do we have that you and yours will be willing to fight and kill people who used to be your comrades?"

The warehouse fell silent a Salene sauntered over to the female merchant, the former Blade idly twirling a dagger in her hand. "You've got guts, I'll give you that, questioning my abilities after seeing what I could do…"

The masked woman stood her ground however. "Save your bravado. Not all of us who make our living with books and ledgers are cowards. I've seen men cut into pieces with those weapons of yours – I have no wish to suffer the same fate."

Salene stared at the woman for a long moment, then cut loose with a deep throated laugh. "You've got more balls than most of the men in this room milady, and that is the truth."

"Spare me the compliments," the merchant woman said, "You haven't answered my question. I'm a businesswoman – I live in a world where no one does anything for free. It's crystal clear why most of us merchants are here… But what do you people get out of this? Nel Zelpher may not be the most likeable of women, but she does have a talent for inspiring inspiration in her-"

The solid sound of a knife embedding itself in the table cut off the merchant woman abruptly. "Nel Zelpher is it?" Salene said, in a low, dangerous whisper, "Let me tell you a little something about Nel Zelpher… that paragon of virtue, that ideal to which every agent of Aquaria is measured…"

The former Blade removed her knife from the table. "The moment you join the Blades, you know that no matter your accomplishments, your grades, your achievements, the only standard that will ever matter is how well you compare to the Zelphers. And you know what? Even while we were training with her, we never held that against her. Because you know what lady? You're right… there was always something about Nel. Something special. We would have died for her you know… And bloodying our swords against those Airyglyph bastards – many of us did.

"And then… You know how she repays us? How she avenges us?" Salene screamed as she rammed her dagger back into its sheath. "She helps broker a truce with Airyglyph! She rides their blasted air dragons! She consorts with Albel Nox – Albel the Wicked! Did she care about how many of us fell to his blade? Did she care about how many of us lived but for the chance to even the score?" The green haired woman took a deep breath, but it did little to calm her.

"Peace she tells us… It is our job to safeguard the 'peace'," the former Blade spat contemptuously, "What peace can be made with those who murdered our brothers, our fathers, our… our lovers? What peace? The peace of the grave is all I offer them!"

Salene's eyes narrowed as she whirled around and faced the tall masked woman once more. "You ask me what we will get out of this… I tell you that sooner or later there will be a war. And when that happens, I will gladly take the opportunity to take my vengeance on those who defiled us in war… And those, like Zelpher, who betrayed us with peace."

Nel reeled. She was very much afraid that she was about to topple over, so hard had Salene's words pierced her heart. Her hand clutched at the wooden supports beneath her in a death grip, so hard that splinters bit through the fabric of her glove, but such pain was trivial to that which assailed her from within. She wanted nothing more than to leap down and pound some sense into Salene, to shout, to scream at her that she was wrong, that Nel did understand, that Nel…

With a Herculean effort the Crimson Blade pushed herself further back into the darkness, her curdling emotions bound in iron chains of duty. She had a mission to accomplish, and she was not going to abandon it for the sake of defending herself.

Imagine her surprise when someone decided to do it for her.

"If you believe that" a voice called out suddenly from below, "Then you're even more blind than the rest of these poor fools you've been leading on."

Nel's eyes widened. She knew that voice. But he couldn't possibly…

No… By Apris, no…

Fayt had not known what he had been getting into when he had decided to follow the offensive little merchant, a scant few hours ago. He had only intended to discover the identity of the merchant in order to report the man's inexcusable behavior to Nel upon her return, but he had been ambushed almost as soon after he began tailing the man, by armed men who apparently had not appreciated the fact that Fayt seemed to be stalking their 'prey'. Weak as he was, Fayt had still been able to dispose of the would-be-brigands – though not without a struggle. When he had recovered, the boy was dismayed to discover that the merchant was nowhere to be seen, and Fayt had almost been ready to return to the inn when he spotted his quarry ducking into a nearby alleyway. Apparently the merchant was a paranoid sort, and had been zigzagging across the city by doubling back along already covered territory in order to lose imagined (or in this case, not so imagined) pursuit. Deciding that his injuries would sting less if they were received in the process of successfully completing his task, Fayt decided to follow the merchant as the latter ducked into what had initially appeared to be an old abandoned warehouse. It was there, hidden behind discarded bales of trade goods, that Fayt became privy to the meeting between the masked merchants and their mysterious ring leader. Knowing instantly that his life was forfeit if he was discovered, and suspecting he had inadvertently discovered the very plot that Nel had come to the city seeking, the Earthling had remained silent… That was, until the former Crimson Blade known as Salene had began ranting about her 'betrayal' at Nel's hands.

Before he knew it Fayt was on his feet, his body trembling with rage, his eyes blazing with fury. It was a foolhardy action, and Fayt knew it – but quite frankly at that point, he didn't care. Even when the warehouse echoed with the sounds of over three dozen blades being unsheathed.

"And who the hell are you?" Salene hissed, twin daggers in her hands.

Fayt didn't bother answering, even though he knew the hood of his cloak obscured his featured. "Someone who obviously knows Nel better than you do."

The green haired woman's eyes narrowed. "You're no Crimson Blade."

"Neither are you," Fayt replied. "Quite the opposite in fact."

Salene's eyes flickered with irritation, but she soon seemed to recover her composure as she became aware of her surroundings. "Keep your identity then, Friend-of-Zelpher – I hardly need to make the acquaintance of a dead man. You do realize of course, that you will be a corpse before the dawn breaks?"

"Not before I'm able to speak the truth Salene, and show you just how wrong you are."

"Arrogant pup," the woman hissed, "You think I'll let you live long enough to spread your lies? I can cut you down where you stand!"

Unheeding of her threat, Fayt took a step forward. "Why? If you're right, I'm dead anyway aren't I? What are you afraid of? That I'll strip away your justification for your crimes? That I'll make you understand Nel?"

"There is nothing to understand!" Salene shouted, "She betrayed us, and all that we stood for!"

"And what exactly was it you thought you stood for?" Fayt shouted back. "Revenge? Murder? Treason?" He shook his head slightly, his eyes not leaving Salene's. They were wild now, with rage, and perhaps, a bit of confusion. It was obvious the woman was not used to being challenged. "You were meant to protect, not destroy."

"Just kill him already Salene," Foreigh snapped, but the woman wasn't listening. It seemed Fayt had hit a nerve.

"How dare you… How dare you!" Salene screamed at Fayt, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Protect? Who do you think you are? Who was protecting my husband when he fell beneath Albel's blade? Where was your precious Nel then? Licking the boots of the Airyglyph King in the name of her damned peace!"

Fayt could hardly believe his ears. Was this… was this the existence they had risked so much to save? Fayt had been with Nel when she had first come into the presence of Airyglyph's King, he had seen her reaction when it had been decided that Albel was to join them… He had been at her side every time she had been faced with a choice between her own pain, her own desires, and the good of her country, and he had watched her choose her country's welfare, each and every time. And this was her reward?

Fayt spoke more softly now, almost to himself. "When Nel first spoke to the King, her right hand was splinted and bandaged. Do you know why? She spent the entire evening before they arrived at Airyglyph beating her bare fist against a boulder, and she didn't stop until both the rock and hand were broken," he said, relating the story that Cliff had told him. His voice rose then, in volume and intensity. "Why do you think she won that 'damned peace' for you poor fool? So that none of you would have to go through the pain of losing a loved one to war, ever again." He took a deep breath. "But in the end, I guess it is impossible for you to understand what Nel had gone through – people like you always need to have someone else to blame. Nel on the other hand, never blames anyone but herself… but in the end, it's she who does what has to be done."

With an inarticulate roar of fury, Salene threw her paired daggers towards Fayt, their razor sharp edges whistling in the air as they sped towards the boy's jugular. For an instant, Fayt froze, so caught up had he been in their exchange of words that he had forgotten his own peril, but an instant later he was sent crashing to the floor, the deadly missiles flying harmlessly above his head, as someone smashed into him from above.

"Stay behind me," Nel said curtly, as she helped him to his feet, a dagger held before her as she used her free hand to help him up.

"Nel…?" he said, in surprise, but she cut him off.

"Pull yourself together," she said, as her gaze swept the astonished conspirators, "We're not out of this yet."

The arrival of the Crimson Blade snapped those assembled form the stupor that seemed to have set in from the moment Fayt had made his appearance, and the merchants were in a panic, some ordering their men to attack Nel, others ordering them to attack Salene's troops, still others running for the doorway for all they were worth. The redhead effortlessly dodged several hastily fired crossbow bolts, and with a gesture and a surge of Runological power, sent a dagger of ice that froze solid the two egress points of the warehouse, leaving Fayt and herself trapped with almost forty armed men.

Or, rather, leaving those forty men trapped with her.

"You are surrounded," Nel said, in a voice that brooked no argument, "Lay down your weapons and we will be lenient. Resist, and you don't leave this place alive."

While some, even those who had been of the Crimson Blade, heeded her command, cowed by Nel's very presence, Salene merely drew another pair of daggers.

"You dare show yourself here Zelpher?"

From where Fayt was standing, the look that the redhead sent towards the former Blade was one of both anger and pity, but her tone was neutral. "Stand down Salene. I will deal with you later."

"No!" The green-haired woman screamed, "You have denied me of my vengeance for the last time! I will have your head!"

Nel didn't bother answering, but her blade met Salene's with a ear-shattering clang, once, twice, then three times as the green-haired woman struck with blows that only Nel herself could see.

"You'll need to try something a bit more fancy than a Vanquish Slice if you want me dead Salene," the redhead said, in a calm voice.

Salene growled, did a backflip, then pushed off from the floor in a spinning move that sent her spiraling forward, blades twisting like a drill. The Crimson Blade however, merely ducked under the flashing steel, planted a hand on the floor, then kicked upwards and diagonally, catching Salene just as her midsection passed above the red-head.

"Black Twister, ground launch," Nel said clinically, once again naming the move her opponent had used. "You pushed off a bit late, and your speed was about half that of the optimum."

"Curse you Zelpher," Salene spat, "You aren't my teacher anymore!"

"As long as you have something left to learn, I will always be your teacher Salene," Nel answered her, before curling her fingers towards herself. "And you've got a lot left to learn. Now… Why don't you try again?"

The former Blade screamed invectives at Nel, then redoubled her efforts, her arms and legs a blur of deadly motion. But no matter how fast Salene moved, Nel was always two steps ahead, naming every one of the green-haired woman's moves, Nel's daggers moving in quick, efficient sweeps that treated every attack as merely another step in a choreographed, if deadly, dance. And the Crimson Blade was not merely defending – she was attacking, exploiting every weakness, every defect in her opponent's form with rapid-fire attacks that did little damage but were very effective in demonstrating just how different the skill level of the combatants was. Infuriated and increasingly frustrated Salene's attacks grew more and more reckless, more and more desperate, until finally, Nel blocked a clumsy overhand strike with her right hand, paralyzed a nerve cluster with a quick chop of her left, then floored the former Blade with a vicious roundhouse kick. Before Salene could even spit out her broken teeth, Nel's foot was planted firmly at the base of her skull, pressing the green-haired woman's face to the floor.

"It's over," Nel said simply, as Fayt walked forward to stand by her side.

"I beg to differ," Foreigh sneered, and at the snap of his fingers, a dozen crossbows were leveled at the two friends. "This discovery was inopportune, to say the least, but all it means is that our timetable will be moved up a bit. Your disposal of Salene, while impressive, is hardly more than a minor inconvenience."

Nel seemed unperturbed. "When I say it's over Foreigh, I mean it's over."

"Surely you don't believe even you could triumph over these odds," Foreigh scoffed.

"I wasn't talking about myself," the woman answered, before pulling down the hood of Fayt's cloak. Even with a face drawn with fatigue and under-nutrition, the azure eyes and hair of the "Savior of Aquaria" had been immortalized in enough songs that he was almost instantly recognizable. But just in case there was any doubt…

"Your excellencies, may I present Sir Fayt Leingod?"

The sound of weapons hitting the ground was deafening.

A scant half an hour later, the conspirators were being herded into prison wagons, manned by detachments of the local garrison which Nel's agents had ascertained to be loyal to the cause. A crack battalion of troops was on its way from the capital, readied by Tynave and Farleen and dispatched upon smoke signals from Peterny. The would-be coup instigators had been cowed sufficiently by Fayt's presence that Nel had been able to leave them entirely in his care as she made arrangements for their incarceration. When she had returned, Nel remained stoic throughout the entire process, neither seeking out nor avoiding the gazes of those who had served under her wing. The only disturbance had occurred when Salene was being hauled away.

"Why?" the green-haired woman had asked, in a broken voice. "Why Nel? You told us… told us to die before we surrendered our honor…"

"Yes," Nel had replied, "But I also told you that it was better to surrender than to endanger an innocent life. How many do you think would have died for your vengeance Salene? If not now, then a year, ten years from now?"

The former Blade had not answered at first, merely turning away from Nel. "They killed Blaine… What else mattered?" The hard eyed woman choked back a sob. "Oh Baine…"

Fayt clasped a hand to Nel's shoulder in sympathy, and was surprised when the red-head shrugged it off. What was even more surprising however, was the fact that underneath his hand, Nel had been… trembling. Violently.

"Nel? Are you alright?"

The Crimson Blade took a deep breath. "Come with me," she instructed him, not answering his question. Without checking to see if he indeed had followed, she led the way to a secluded portion of the warehouse.

"Are you injured in any significant way? A broken bone? Concussion?" she asked him curtly.

"No… I did get into a bit of a brawl before ducking in here, but nothing more than a few bruises I think…"

Nel was silent a moment. "I see. That's good."

Then she punched him.

It was a solid blow, and crashed hard into Fayt's solar plexus. The boy's knees buckled and he fell to the ground, gasping for air as Nel – Nel – began screaming at him in a voice filled with anger.

"You imbecile! What in the name of Apris were you thinking?" Nel ranted, "No – wait. You couldn't have been thinking – not and pull that stunt. Do you realize how close you came to dying back there? What if they'd decided to shoot you first, before they tried to justify their actions?"

Fayt lay on the floor, still gasping for breath. "Couldn't… Couldn't help myself," he managed to say. "She… Salene… she… didn't understand…"

"Whether she understood or not was irrelevant!" Nel interrupted him, "Have you been listening to what I am saying? You almost got yourself killed – and for what? My honor?"

Fayt's eyes narrowed, and he could feel his own ire rising. "I did what I felt I had to do – just like I always have. Just like you always have… You're in no position to tell me that I'm pushing myself to hard Nel Zelpher."

The red-head brushed his arguments away with an angry wave of her hand. "That's another matter entirely, and you know it. By Apris Fayt… You're too important to risk!"

"And you're important to me!" Fayt shouted, his voice thundering across the warehouse like a sonic boom. Soldiers and prisoners alike who had been trying to ignore the increasingly clamorous exchange halted in their tracks to gaze openly at the two friends.

Nel blinked at Fayt's words, seemingly taken aback. Her mouth opened, then closed a few times, but no sound emerged aside from a strangled noise of utter and complete frustration. With great effort, the Crimson Blade took a deep breath, fists clenched at her side, then slowly exhaled, her face slightly flushed.

"This isn't working…" she said, in a low, subdued voice, all traces of anger gone, and replaced by… something else.

Fayt sighed. "I agree… Look Nel, I'm sorry. Let's just head back home and…"

But again Nel cut him off. "No I meant this… arrangement, isn't working," she repeated. "I – I will arrange for you to stay at the Palace Guest Room after we leave Peterny. Don't bother returning to the estate – I'll send you anything you may have left behind."

This time, it was the boy's turn to be taken aback. "What… what are you talking about Nel?"

The red-head shook her head. "I just… I can't work with you Fayt alright? I just can't." With that, the Crimson Blade turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving behind a tired, bruised, and very confused Fayt Leingod in her wake.

Author's Notes:

Sorry this update took so long – school has been very difficult for the past month. Luckily its Christmas break now – hooray! – so I can get some writing done.

As usual, some comments on comments:

Jonathan Priest: Well… I'll be damned. If it isn't Oggy You'll remember me as Pao from the Endless World. Drop me a line man! It's great to see you're still writing – and that you still like my stuff :P

Polyx Terijima: Thanks for the offer! Feel free to give me any tips you find my writing may warrant.

Sining: Yes the Power of Destruction will have some role to play… I'm not saying if it will actually be used, but it will indeed play a role.

Squally: Thanks for pointing out the mis-spelling. Changed it for this chapter

Z.A.G: Yeah that ending was an inspiration for me :P Expect a lot of similar moments, like the one I placed in Chapter 3, involving the dynamic duo of looove :P

Pipp: As far as I can tell, the story will stay PG. I may change my mind later on though…

Obsidian Ideals: And of course, to my most helpful and in-depth reviewer: My answers to your concerns

Minor Mistakes: I try But I tend to upload stories as soon as Im done :( If I catch too many typos upon reread though I replace the chapter text. I know I'm sacrificing a little polish for a little speed here – just tell me if you guys prefer it the other way around.

Ellipses: Ah, this is a familiar critique. Again, I tend to write the way I speak or hear words spoken, and trailing off is something most of the people I know do a lot in their conversations, so I tend to incorporate it a lot into my writing.

Parenthesis: I know it was odd, but it seemd to fit for some reason, and I decided to try it out. Sort of like a thought from Nel's POV expressed in third person to fit the rest of the prose. Might avoid this in the future.

As to Sparks flying… Well I think you have the answer now don't you? Sparks flew on several levels.

And there you go! Expect the next chapter to deal with the fallout from this one, as both Nel and Fayt gain some unasked for help in dealing with their problems - with varying degrees of success. I'll try to get anothe chapter out before year end, but in the meantime: Merry Christmas!