CHAPTER EIGHT | Love and hate
"How do you know that you are ever heard, Miranda?"
"What do you mean, my lady?"
"Your prayers. Why do you even pray when you can't really tell what will happen? Just like when you pray for rain, sometimes it happens, sometimes it does not. But sometimes you don't pray for it and it rains anyway. Just like when you pray for something to stop, sometimes it doesn't, sometimes it does. But sometimes a person never really asked for it yet her suffering stops. Can you even tell you are being heard?"
"…My lady, you raise such fine points. But I think you are prejudiced. Everyone in Bern is in knowledge that you and His Highness have never cared much for faith, or the Church. You have no belief in the gods?"
"…I believe in them. I've seen too much to not believe. I've seen inhuman powers, I've seen mythological beings, I've seen too much in the continent, beautiful, inconceivable things—how can I not believe? But I think that to them we are small beings and are hardly to be bothered with. I can't pray to someone who I know doesn't care."
"…And how can my lady say that… they don't care?"
"Because I've been through much hardship in my life, and there were so many times I begged and pleaded with them for things to change, but they didn't. They never did. And in the end I still fall into the place I never wanted to be in."
I didn't want to be a noble. I didn't want him to be my father. I didn't want to be born at someone else's expense. I didn't want to live in a noble's world where girls were just objects. I didn't want to be queen. I didn't want to be here yet be so powerless. I didn't want a husband who starts war.
"And so… you have no belief at all? You are… angry at the gods?"
"Oh, I have belief. That is the stupid part—I still believe. And yet… I feel mad at them at the same time. And yet I… Have you ever felt that way, Miranda? Believing in something—someone—so much, and at the same time, being absolutely angry at him?"
"You mean love and hate, milady? Something tells me you are no longer talking about gods."
"Yes… I have dreams of him all the time, good and bad. Half the time they are good dreams where he tells me everything is going to be alright and everything is going to stop soon… I just have to wait for it. He tells me, 'Kumiko, please wait, everything is going to be alright'. But the other half of the time I am dreaming nightmares about him, nightmares where he's forcing me to do something I do not want, making me cry… and even once I dreamt that I was so angry at him I couldn't stop slapping him and choking him and kicking him—I practically beat him to the ground, impossible as that may sound—it is a dream, after all."
"You must have been so angry at him!"
"Yes, I was so, so angry. …But I don't know what to do anymore, what to choose. Half the time I admire him and want to believe in him. Half the time I loathe him and blame him for all my pain. How can you so strongly want to trust someone but so strongly despise him at the same time?"
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BERN CAPITAL | The Tactician Guild
I have known her for fifteen years and stayed mostly alone with her for fifteen years and yet I have never seen this happening. I told myself I wouldn't let this happen. Not that I knew it could ever—I knew Anko never saw me in this way. This is probably an accident.
An accident that I let happen.
Anko stirred and woke up, still tasting last night's wine in her mouth and feeling its hangover in her head. God, I don't think I drank this much ever since father died. She moved lethargically in bed and had just realized after that that she was stark naked underneath the covers.
Oh, yeah. That happened. Last night.
Damn I have a lot of explaining to do.
"Good morning," a voice interrupted, a greeting from the bedside. She turned towards it and found—who else?—Heath, sitting by the bedside, already dressed for the day. His voice gave nothing away—it was neither gay nor sad—he had only stated a plain greeting, nothing else. She had planned to wake up before Heath and leave before he noticed, but there was no waking up before Heath, who in decades had woken up before the sun was high due to the strict discipline Bern had for its soldiers.
What are you thinking, Heath? "Good morning," Much to Heath's surprise, Anko sounded unusually natural, as if nothing had just happened the evening before. "Oh, gods. What hour is it, Heath?"
"Almost noon," Heath said, with a small, almost pained smile. He didn't know what to feel. Why is she being unusually natural? Does this mean good for me or ill? What are we now, after all that has happened last night? "His Highness knows you've ended up drunk last night, so he will let you off this day, I think."
Anko rolled on the bed and lay on her back, looking up to the ceiling, thoughts blank.
"...I got you your clothes and brought you some food," Heath offered, almost hesitant, as if he were scared. Anko turned to look and found that, true enough, on the endtable was a bowl of food and a plate of fruits, and her clothes, folded neatly.
Of course Heath will do this. It's in his nature. He's an honorable gentleman, and there's nothing I can say about that. He'll probably assume responsibility for last night even if it wasn't his fault and I was the one who started it. Or does he actually think this makes us lovers now? Whatever the case… he's going to make me talk about it.
True enough to her thoughts, Heath spoke and said, "Listen, Anko, about last night..."
"I know you didn't want it to happen," Anko snapped before he could finish, tone cold and logical. "It's not like I did, either. It was an accident. Let's just forget it ever happened."
For a second, Heath look surprised—and disappointed, even—at her words. Accident? He turned and looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Anko?"
She had seen all the expressions that crossed his face and tone, but she continued to talk, tone dismissive and cold. "I was drunk. You were, too. We were alone. The bed was there. The inevitable happened. Let's just forget it happened. We can't change it now."
She caught him slightly shaking his head to himself, as if trying to deny that she was saying those words. And then he said, looking down on the floor, as if embarrassed, "I'm sorry about it, I didn't mean to disrespect or take advantage of you in any way at all..."
Oh, Heath. You've done nothing wrong. You don't need to take responsibility for anything. You are so damn honorable. Can't you see I'm the one to blame? "Goodness, Heath," she said, not bothering to get up from her lazy position in bed to even face him decently. "Enough of the self-blame and trying to sound like a gentleman. Just forget about it! We were drunk! It was inevitable. End of story."
There was a silence, and Anko suddenly felt exhausted, having to argue and persuade a man into thinking what she wanted him to, first thing in the morning. It was what she wanted him to do—to just forget about it. But she knew, she herself wouldn't forget it. I adore you, Heath. You are such a good man. I'm glad enough to have one night with you—I'm glad enough. But I'm no good for you. I just did something selfish and I hope you forgive me for it one day, but I'm not any good for you. It's best you think of me as nothing.
Heath then broke the silence. "You were drunk," he said, "but I wasn't."
Anko blinked and felt a small gasp escape from her lips, as she turned and looked at the knight, looking serious now. She understood what his statement implied. "I had the choice," he said. "I could have stopped. But I chose not to. Anko, I chose not to."
And for a second, Anko found that she suddenly wanted to cry, understanding what his implications could be. He wanted what happened. Maybe, just maybe—he wants me the same way I want him. Maybe he looks at me the same way I look at him. She remembered the feel of being in between his arms, the way he whispered to her, the way he kissed her—his strength and his restraint. How he held her in his arms tight and how he never let her go as she fell asleep in his arms. Even in bed, he was such a gentleman. He could have just did as he pleased with her, since she was sort of drunk after all and wouldn't care much if he just something short of ransacked her body—but he didn't. He bothered to care about her, about what she could be feeling, her emotions, her body.
Damn it. Why do you have to be so kind? This can't go on! This is too much. I will be your curse, too. This is as far as we go. All I wanted was one night. I'm happy enough with that. I shouldn't have even done it—it was a selfish, selfish desire. This can't go on. For your sake.
"Anko, I—"
She spoke and cut in his words, before he could argue more, before he could hurt more. "Of course you didn't stop me," she said, still sounding so dismissive and arrogant, even. "You're a man. You struck your luck. Good for you. It's the natural choice. It's what any man would do. You don't have to explain."
He sighed, and he began to look frustrated. "...You know I'm not that kind of man..."
"Know? I don't know," she said. "I've known you for fifteen years Heath, but I couldn't care less about your personal life. I never asked. You could have been sleeping with all the barmaids in every tavern in Bern and I really couldn't care less."
And Heath suddenly began to look offended. "...Is that how you actually see me?"
No. You are such a gentleman. You are one of the few good men in this damn country. "Not exactly," she said, voice never betraying anything—every word still came out so fluidly, so naturally. "But as I was saying, I really don't know and I couldn't care less. It's your personal life."
She didn't—and couldn't—bother to look at him. She was fidgeting with the bedsheet and Heath was staring at her, studying her every move, trying to figure out if she were acting, if she were lying, or saying the truth. "Just so you know, I'm not like that," he told her.
Anko, I love you. Please don't push me away. "…And you weren't exactly that drunk, Anko," he finally said, playing his only card, his only defense. It made him feel horrible inside to have to do it, to have to make her remember it, that she was part-aware, if only because he knew it sounded like he was accusing her of seducing him. Which you did, technically, but that's not my point. You called my name. You knew it was me. You said you wanted me. "Anko, you even managed to call my name. You… You told me you wanted me. And I told you that I—"
She turned to him sharply, to look him straight in the eye and say, "And? Your point? I can't understand why we're even arguing about an accident, Heath. Something that never should have happened. Now, forgive me for saying this bluntly, but I have my own point and you're not getting it. I was drunk. You were there with me. I was feeling randy. There was a bed. It's not your fault. So don't go talking and trying to sound responsible and good. I had a need, you were there, I used you. So now, just forget it ever happened. It's not like I actually felt anything for you. So I recognized you and I called your name and you already think it's something else? How absurd."
-and I told you that I love you. Anko, don't you remember?
He froze, and just stared at her for what seemed like the longest time. Anko looked away, before she could see the pain in his eyes and before it could break her own heart. He was silent, but then he eventually said, "...Alright." He sounded tired and his voice was trembling. "Alright. I'll do as you say. I'll forget it ever happened. It was really, as you said, absurd of me to think that I was special."
And then he got up and left, without saying goodbye.
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ETRURIA | The Etrurian Palace
He could tell by the way she looked down at her lap with eyes that looked distant that her mind was not on the meeting at hand, and by the visible tension between her brows that she was, for one reason or another, annoyed.
"Cecilia," he quietly called on her attention, and she looked up slightly to him, seated beside her on the long meeting table. "Your eyes wander. Pay attention."
She looked up to him, and her lips opened as if to speak, but then it ended up as a sigh as she only shook her head slightly to him, a small defiance. As the Etrurian Council met and discussed their issues along with them, the Generals of Etruria, her mind was still thinking long and hard of a letter from Lycia. It was in Roy of Pherae's hand, she was sure, and it had Pherae's seal, requesting aid from Etruria in their desperate fight against Bern. She had once been Roy's teacher in battle tactics, only she had been called from his side when she was to be promoted as General.
And yet, this promotion, this position, means absolutely nothing now. We are pawns of the council, no greater than mercenaries working only for gold. Cecilia looked at each of the faces of Etrurian nobles that discussed, argued, and put up pretenses of caring from the country, when the truth was that they were maneuvering it for their own goods. The economy, the taxes, the military decisions—all controlled by men that treated everyone else as puppets for their own purposes. Even the king himself…
I loathe them! To keep us from coming to Lycia's aid—what foolishness! What ignorance! Is Etruria to remain silent while Bern ransacks our neighbors? If only I could stand up to this! If only His Majesty could see this, if only…
She looked up now to the men seated beside her, one Lord Douglas, a fearsome veteran General of Etruria, the other Lord Percival, blonde and fair, every bit looking like a noble of Etruria rather than one of its Generals. Both great men, and for her it was much honor to work with them, but she had been dismayed to find that they had blindly followed the orders of these men that felt that they were kings. If only they would help me—If only…
They had lost their shine. Lord Douglas, once a merrier man whose booming laughter echoed all throughout the halls of the Etrurian Palace had turned a notch less merry, now mostly quiet. Lord Percival, once more agreeable, had started to smile less and less and has chosen to harden his senses to see only his orders. What has become of them? Even the king himself. King Mordred, once a wise, benevolent ruler, has become blind and imprisoned in grief, ever since his only son and heir, Prince Mildain, had died…
And then the wolves and snakes came out, shedding their disguises as ministers, advisors and officials. Almost every man or woman of the Etrurian Palace could see who were the kings now, who held power in the country. Courtiers now bowed to these men as they should for a king, while their own king hid and mourned for already over a year. Already past a year, and nothing has changed.
This makes me sick to my stomach.
She rose from her seat, and all the men at the table turned to her, the only woman, and stared at her. Already she could feel their judgment for her action, their prejudiced stares for her gender or something else entirely. "Pardon me," she said. "I will take my leave. I'm not feeling well, I feel rather faint." And she gave a small bow, and left before anyone could stop her.
There was a little silence after Cecilia took her leave, and then the table was awash with remarks about her, the woman who did not know her place, whyever did she become a General of Etruria? Only Douglas and Percival were silent, and then they gave each other a small glance. And a silent message was conveyed, and soon after, Percival took his leave, too.
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He found her on the way to the King's Chambers, looking fretful and yet angry at the same time. Percival approached her and said, "You are not really sick, are you, Cecilia?"
"…General Percival," she turned to him, surprised, and then gave him a little nod. Truly, she was not feeling sick at all. Sick in my soul and conscience though—yes. "You have left the meeting? Why so?"
"And you are on your way to the king? Why so?" Percival retorted. "Do you think he can see the sense of helping Lycia as of this moment?"
No. He cannot see. A year ago, he has turned blind. "I want to try," Cecilia said. "And… he may not see the sense in helping, but I believe you and Lord Douglas do. And yet you do nothing! Why?"
"We have not received orders—"
"From the wolves who run Etruria now and quietly devour her? Lord Percival, you must not be so blind! …Or are you?"
He warily looked around for a moment, worried that someone had heard her statements, since those words clearly had a consequence to them should someone have heard them and reported them to the wrong men. "Be careful what you say, Cecilia—"
"I will say what I want to, Lord Percival," she said, calmly and yet with stubbornness and anger seething through her words. "If I would be hanged for my words then so be it. If I had to be demoted from my rank for these words then so be it. I would rather be a nobody than a puppet General."
"I know you are concerned for Roy of Pherae, but do not let this cloud your judgment—"
"Cloud my judgment? I am angry and saddened by the state we are in, but my judgment is intact. I see that our citizens loathe us, that we are pawns, that we would soon be a colony of Bern ourselves if we do nothing to Lycia's aid. The balance of powers would be shattered, it would be Bern against Etruria in the end, and with the way things are going, we have no upper hand. Bringing Lycia to our side would even our chances, and putting it under our protectorate would give us a reason to fight against Bern. I could list off more reasons why this is the wise course of action, aside from the most important one that it is the most moral thing to do. Surely you are aware of all this, Lord Percival!"
He blinked at her, at this stubborn, willful side that she was showing, and knew that she was right. "…Stubborn, aren't you, Cecilia?"
She took a breath to calm herself even more, and only told him, "Yes. When what I think I am about to do is quite positively right, yes. Yes indeed."
"…Then I guess you will have my support," he said, and it came as such as shock to the female General that she gasped in disbelief. "With two Generals of Etruria demanding for action, they cannot refuse."
Cecilia felt herself ease into a small, relieved smile. They cannot refuse indeed. She alone would be overlooked for being young, inexperienced, for being a woman. But with Percival? A man who had held his position for long and had quite a number of soldiers loyal to him? A man noble enough and with gold enough? With two of them together, they were unlikely to be unheard.
"Then we have to move, Lord Percival," she told him. "We have to move now, before everything is too late."
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BERN KEEP | The Queen's Audience Room
The afternoon was hot, and the Queen's ladies felt absolutely lethargic as they went about business in the Queen's Audience room, sewing or chatting or reading or writing or painting. The Queen, not much of a seamstress, was seated and discussing beside Nino, who was reading a book on Magic.
"That's a sane conclusion," said Nino, as she lifted her head from the book she was reading to look up at Kumiko for a moment. "I have always told you that. His Majesty is doing things we cannot understand for now—but though we surely can't understand what he plans to achieve, maybe we can understand why he is doing it."
"Is it that possible, Nino?" Kumiko asked. "Is it really that possible that Zephiel would act this way just because of grudge on a man long dead? He wasn't like this before. He was such a good little boy, don't you agree? When we have met him before?"
Nino smiled, almost bitterly, to herself. "Pain changes people, Kumiko. If you don't want anyone to change, you should try not to hurt them. Even if they survive the hardship, in the end they come out a different man."
Kumiko fell silent and pondered the thought for a while. How was she still able to doubt what pain could do to people? She changed, too. The environment forced on her by her parents made her who she is, gave her her fears and defenses that controlled him. What man or woman would chose to live in fear and trauma?
But I chose it, too. I was afraid, too. No—I am still afraid. How can I make Zephiel realize what he's doing when I can't even face my own fears?
Kumiko sighed, and looked up to Nino. And then a thought entered her mind and she decided to ask the sage, "What about… What about you, Nino? You've been through as much pain as we have been. How did you manage to smile? How did you manage to not turn out a mess?"
Nino looked surprised, and turned towards Kumiko again. It has been long past since she had recalled her childhood—growing up under a "mother" who was not far off—if not worse—than Zephiel's own father. Everyone back then, in their campaign fifteen years ago, thought Nino a strong girl for being able to still be a sunny, cheerful girl despite the horrible woman that was her mother. How was she able to keep a pure, kind heart, never to hold a grudge on anyone or label him an enemy? That beautiful purity in Nino's soul was what got Jaffar, once a cold, soulless assassin, to change.
"Kumiko," Nino said, sounding motherly now, "Sonia was a horrible woman, and she treated me bad even though all I wanted was to gain her affection. His Majesty was the same with his father. But the difference is… I got lucky. Sonia wasn't my real mother. I realized I have been trying to gain the affection of a woman who isn't who I thought she was, that she deserved none of it. I had the assurance that my real parents would have never been that horrible to me and had loved me so, so much. I had a way out. His Majesty doesn't."
Kumiko looked thoughtful, and then she nodded slowly. Though she still believed Nino's innate kindness had much to do with it, she was right—she had a way out. No matter how much Zephiel must have wanted to not care for his father, to forget him and disregard him, he could not.
Just how I can't forget my own father, either, no matter how hard I try.
"And do you…" Nino suddenly continued, "…do you think I'm left unscathed? …You know I'm happy, Kumi, I truly am! But when I settled with Jaffar and when we had the twins, all I was afraid of was that I would end up as horrible as Sonia. Though I knew that it wasn't possible—I would never hate my own children—the thought clawed on me sometimes. But I never knew how to be a mother. All I had was Sonia's example. And when Jaffar went missing, it almost drove me mad when I realize that I had chosen to look for him and left my boys alone—and thus, I ended up just like her. Choosing her devotion to Nergal rather than her daughter."
"Nino, that's an unfair comparison!" said Kumiko, immediately wrapping a comforting shoulder around the sage. "You know you and Sonia are absolutely different. You're so much different. And we'll try to find your boys. We've never stopped, haven't we? You're not like her, Nino. I know you love your boys too much."
"But I loved Jaffar more. I should have been fair. Ray and Lugh must hate me, too, now. I don't deserve to be—"
Nino never finished, already ending up in silent sobs. Kumiko, concerned, just embraced her and whispered reassurances to her.
"…Of course I know that," Nino said. "Of course I know I'm different. And I'm trying my best. But sometimes… you just can't help but think… and be afraid."
So this is what pain does to people. Once they've changed, once they've been hurt and afraid, they never turn back the same. The fear never leaves them.
The Queen's ladies stirred and murmured and giggled coyly when Jaffar entered, with Heath in tow. As is usual, the visit of an eligible and handsome bachelor made the attendants spring to life and get involved in animated chat and conversation. Kumiko laughed herself, noticing the change. Heath, however, as is usual too, barely noticed, and if he did—because it just happened so often that he must be blind to not notice—he must not care at all. In fact, he looked too tired, and worried even, to care.
He was dressed in black shirt and trousers, the usual clothing the wyvern riders had underneath their armor. Kumiko took note of this because usually, as it was in the past weeks, soldiers and knights were dressed in their armor almost every second of the hour, as if ready to strike and leave at any instance. That Heath was dressed down spelt many things. A silence in military activity. But why?
"I want to know that I am not going to be killed," the wyvern knight said, the clothes that were lent to him last night in his hands. Kumiko only looked at him, puzzled, and to explain, Heath pulled out the white tailored shirt that went underneath the king's suit, and held it up to her. Kumiko couldn't help but gasp as she saw that it was torn by the neckline.
So that explained why he looked grave. "What happened?" Kumiko asked, worried. Usually Heath was careful of his possessions, he took great care of what he had—more so if it was only lent to him. If this happened, mayhap he got into an accident of some sort.
"…I don't even understand what happened myself," said Heath, looking at the shirt. The truth was, in his and Anko's haste to get the article of clothing off him, it accidentally ripped, something that he and Anko had just laughed off the evening before. But clearly today there was no laughing. "…A cat clawed at me… or something," Heath suggested. "…Please tell me His Majesty would not have me killed for this."
Kumiko barely understood what the cat comment meant. She just shrugged and decided to laugh everything off. "Hardly, Heath. A shirt isn't worth the life of a good knight like you. Don't be so worried."
"I'm not a knight, my lady. I'm just a soldier."
Kumiko couldn't help but make a face—offended—at Heath's correction. "What's the difference? You know you are knighted just the same." Though he was the only knight with no land, no pension, no leadership role… no rank. Oh, he was officially a Wyvern Knight of Bern, but without the usual favors that came with it, everyone else regarded him as an ordinary soldier. It was, partly, Heath's fault himself. I'm just able to come back here because of you and Anko. Otherwise, I would still be a fugitive. If I'm knighted, thank you, but I don't need everything else that comes with it. I'm happy just to be able to fight again.
You lie, Heath. I know you dislike it, but you think of keeping appearances more. You're just another person that suffers—and could suffer more—because of me, Kumiko thought. If I weren't queen at all, you could have been General, Heath.
Heath noted Kumiko's offended tone and appearance, so he sighed and decided to get his thoughts straight. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I'm not supposed to complain about something I asked for in the first place, am I? Apologies. …I've had a bad day."
Kumiko looked genuinely concerned at Heath as she rose and took the garment off his hands and handed it to one of her attendants for sewing. "Why not sit down and talk with us?" Kumiko offered, gesturing to one of the couches in the room. Heath obliged and took a seat. "…Why is your day bad so far?"
Heath just laughed aloud, but there was a tinge of bitterness to it. "I don't think you'd understand, my lady. To put it simply… have you ever woken up thinking ahead of you was going to be the best day of your life but it ends up that it does not meet your expectation? And it ends up being the total opposite, the worst day of your life?"
Kumiko raised a puzzled brow, but then Nino, standing in a corner, listening in, spoke up. "Then that is good news. It means the best day of your life is yet to come since it has not come yet. The worst can no longer recur as it is already over and done with. So one day you would wake up and not expect anything but end up being delighted out of your wits of how the day turned out."
Heath laughed, heartily this time, and Kumiko smiled. "You are always one to sound positive, lady Nino," Heath said. "You never change, do you?"
It was Nino's turn to laugh, and Jaffar, standing beside his wife and lacing an arm around her waist said, "She never has changed, which I am eternally glad of."
Kumiko nodded. "If only everyone didn't have to change."
Heath, still laughing, spoke to correct that. "There are some people that never change that you just wish would change."
"It seems to me that this is one of those conversations wherein we are actually referring to someone but choose not to speak a name," Nino pointed out, looking intrigued. "I am dying to know who you are referring to, Sir Heath."
Heath laughed heartily—or was that nervously?—as he thought of how keen Nino had grown over the years. The court of Bern Keep has sharpened her in its own way, and Nino was as powerful as many a man in Bern Keep, trailed by many a man and woman in hopes that she will notice them and give them her favor and speak to the Queen for their behalf. But Nino, and her husband, has learned to see through the requests, the lies, and was a clever woman of the court in her own way.
Just as Heath was about to speak a response, a witty comeback to the sage, the doors of the Queen's Audience room opened, and someone had entered without so much an announcement or warning.
And there you have your answer, Nino. And there was, Heath thought, ironically, the wittiest answer to Nino's statements without a single word being spoken.
"I bid everyone good day, especially my lady Queen," Anko quickly greeted as she walked into the audience room, causing the ladies to gasp—as is usual—about her absolute lack of protocol. If there was a person who walked in on anyone without announcement, it could only be either Anko, or the king. Yet most of the time, it was the Master of Spies.
Heath visibly tensed, and Kumiko put on a slight frown. "Anko, you could at least be announced before you enter. …Good day to you, too. How is your hangover? His Majesty questioned your absence this morning."
The spy stopped a few feet from Kumiko's place and gave her the most hurried bow, and then the words spilled from her mouth. "There was no hangover, my lady, the wine was just right and spectacular. My absence was simply due to lack of sleep—I was too busy tossing and turning last night and I pray His Majesty forgive me of that sin this once, and I hope my lady will forgive me for being direct in stating the purpose of my visit—may I borrow sir-wyvern-knight-looking-distant-over-there? "
Almost everyone blinked at Anko, trying to make sense of the quick words that she had just uttered, save for Heath, who had caught on her words clear as day and as a result sat there looking shocked, mouth agape, expression clearly saying, "Me?"
"…S-Sure," was all that Kumiko could say, stunned, trying to make heads or tails of Anko's direct request. "I… I implore Sir Heath to assist you with whatever concern you may have."
"My sincerest thanks." Anko gave Kumiko a quick bow again, and then she turned to Heath, and made a quick gesture of throwing her head back, as if saying, I'll be waiting outside. And the Master of Spies turned around and left, as quickly as she came.
But Heath stayed in the room for a second more, sitting still, eyebrows knotted, expression between puzzled and frustrated. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Kumiko remarked.
The wyvern knight shook his head, as if to snap himself from his thoughts, and finally got up. I'm just trying to figure out if my day is going to get worse or finally take a turn for the better.
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"Looks like something happened when we were not looking," Nino remarked, with a little knowing smile.
Kumiko just looked over at her friend, and let out a little laugh. "I have been thinking of that for almost fifteen years now. Fifteen years, I have left the two of them mostly alone in the Guild. I've lost a few hours of sleep in my life thinking what in the world was going on with them."
"I now doubt Lady Anko's absence this morning was due to the hangover, after all," Nino said, putting aside her tomes to scoot over closer to Kumiko's side for a move private gossip. "It is, as she said, due to lack of sleep."
"Oh, no!" Kumiko gasped a little, for the first time understanding Nino's suggestions. "Are they romantically—physically—involved without our knowledge? Good heavens, no. If so, why didn't Heath just tell? Why did he look like the most troubled man alive when he walked in here? If you suggest that, Nino, both of them must be mad with joy, and Heath didn't miss the morning military assembly, did he?"
Jaffar, who could not believe that he was involving himself in this discussion—it was not Nino or Kumiko's fault that he had such trained ears that he could make out their whispers—said, "I believed he had missed it."
Nino gave Jaffar a little smile, knowing that one way or another there was no talk silent enough to be unheard by her husband. She then turned back to the queen, saying, "And there you have your answer, Kumi."
"…Very well, I'll consider it quite a possibility," Kumiko said, "but assumptions are that and will remain that way until they are proven correct. I'll ask Anko as soon as I can."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
ETRURIA | The Aquelian Capital
Patience was one thing mages had learned to develop over the years. It does not take overnight to learn a spell—unlike how you can pick up a sword or lance or axe for the first time and kill someone with it in an instant. But for practitioners of Magic, it takes hours of devotion and practice and communing with the spirits to even make sense of the chants in tomes, to be able to memorize them and clearly and quickly run them in the back of your head as an invitation to the forces of magic to aid you. Patience had become a lesson to every mage. However, the sage seated at the military mess hall of in the castle town of Aquelia found that he was running out of the very thing.
He flipped the pages of his spell book and tapped his feet on the floor, signs of impatience. The plate of food that was in front of his table has been completely untouched and ignored. It had been a while since he had returned to Aquelia, or to anywhere near the castle. Or to Etruria, for the matter. It seems Etrurians have had an alarming downfall in hospitality since he had last visited. He had been treated dreadfully since he had arrived. Despite his connections into the Etrurian nobility, his paths have been barred by the Etrurian Royal Guards, unallowed to finish the reason for his visit, to meet anyone worthy of meeting. His letter of claimance and introduction have been declared as fraud, and he had not been allowed a foot into the Etrurian Castle.
Times are horrible. Is it because of the war? All I've gathered are bits and pieces from gossip and secondhand news and I've no real insight on it. What is going on with Etruria? What is going on with the world?
He looked out the windows of the mess hall, the view outside of the military grounds of the castle town. Later he would consider it divine luck that he did so. The minute he looked out, the object of his visit came into view. Soldiers and Knights poured out from their barracks and lined up into their ranks, headed by their Generals. Paladins and cavaliers came in their blinding armors and dashing steeds, so did troubadours and valkyries at the ready with their staves and tomes. Their General, hair a bright sage green in the sunlight, was undoubtedly who he was looking for. He quickly got on his feet and made a dash outside, his purple robes whipping about him as he ran.
He ran, and slowed down to a more dignified walk as he drew closer to the soldiers, to the Generals shouting instructions to the troops. One of those Generals was the famed Lord Percival—handsome as well as skilled, the envy of many. The other was Lady Cecilia—green haired and womanly, but also a deadly mage. It was her that he sought. "Lady Cecilia."
Cecilia, in mid-sentence, was surprised at the mention of her name from a familiar voice. She was atop her steed, and she pulled on its reins so she might turn around and see who called her. For a moment, she almost failed to recognize the deep purple hair, long enough now that he kept it tied away from his face, and the robes of purple, gold and silver that he dressed himself in. The colors that their mentor, the lord of Reglay, dressed himself with as well. "Lord Erk!" she exclaimed. "What brings you here?"
He walked towards her, and in courtesy, Cecilia jumped off her horse, and Erk wrinkled his nose a bit once he had realized that the woman was—still—taller than him. Certainly, many years ago, he had stopped growing. "I come under Lord Pent's orders, as usual, Cecilia," he told her. "This sudden news of war breaks out and meetings of the landlords are called, in the middle of our research in the Nabata Desert. With Lord Pent too far away to represent, I came in his stead, but was refused to see anyone and was kept here."
Cecilia tried to make sense of Erk's retelling—why would anyone bar him from meeting with the other lords of Etruria? But then again, the Lord Pent of Reglay certainly had not been that popular with the other lords—an absolutely dashing and skilled man, absolutely dedicated in his research of the magics, he was. But he was ill-famed for being either absent on his territory or the Etrurian Palace for long periods of time, it was easy to think that he simply didn't exist or had died in some research. But when he was present, he swayed and charmed people to his side, his persuasive ways had always won over people. In fact, it was thanks to his persuasion that Cecilia, a woman, was even named General. Many people couldn't help but love him for his charisma and open-minded thinking. Many people, also, couldn't help but hate him thanks to the very same things people loved him for. The other lords of Etruria belonged in the latter category. Something that Lord Pent would say, even through his protégé Erk, would have to be heard by anyone, up to the king—and the puppeteer lords of Etruria would not want that now.
"Does Lord Pent deliver an urgent message?" Cecilia asked.
"Nothing as of now. He asks that I take a look into matters first. I've not been in Reglay, or Etruria, in a long while. News does not get quickly to Nabata, I'm afraid. We've not been informed, and once we heard of something, I had to quickly see the matter for myself. What is going on, Lady Cecilia?"
Cecilia looked down at Erk warily. She had wanted to vent out her frustrations out loud, tell of the accursed puppeteer lords of Etruria, and the puppet king that sat on the throne. But such words cannot be said out loud, not in front of the soldiers and every other ear that might be listening.
Percival, still on top of his steed, trotted towards the two mages. "Lord Erk, of Reglay, am I correct?" Percival said, some sort of greeting to Erk. Erk simply nodded. "We would love to hear what you have to say later, but for now we are on the way to give important reinforcement to Lycia."
Erk looked puzzled for a while, but quickly he understood the situation. "Then I would come with you," he said. "I have to see this war for myself. Let me come with you."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | Military Barracks
"Don't you feel sick to your stomach? Using Kumiko like this? …Using even me?"
"Goodness! Heath, are you angry about that? Why?"
"Because no one likes being treated like an item, Anko. No matter what pleasure it gives otherwise. In the end, you just feel stupid, and no one ever likes to feel that way. No matter what the bargain is. And you have always used me, Anko. Running me off to one or two or three or a dozen errands everyday. Asking me about the military and the movements and looking into military files that I would be hanged for should anyone know I touched them. Goodness, I have all the credentials of a spy already! But I didn't care. Do you understand why? Because what matters to me is what I feel about you and I love you—"
"Sshh! Don't say it! Gods' sake, don't say it. You do not love me, you never did. You don't know what you're saying."
"Why not? Because it will be dangerous? Because of your profession? I know all that, Anko, and yet I still—"
"Because you are nobody. Ever since the day I was born, I had ranked higher than you ever had, and that will never change."
Heath fumed, and he could feel all the muscles of his arms and body tense at the feeling, as he walked into one of the barracks in the military garrisons of Bern Keep, where certain Knights and soldiers of the Royal Guard rested and met. In his part of the garrison, Knights of high rank called to service in the war were abound, and in a room not too far, the Three Wyvern Generals of Bern had their meetings, within his reach.
And yet I am still nobody.
He found himself walking into the mess hall, and upon entering by the doorway, he found many Knights in service—Knights with noble blood that have been trained since birth, men and women with the wealth of not only money, but connections and opportunities. Even the Knights of common birth could have only gone this far had not a noble man seen him and have helped him rise, even they had wealth of connections through that.
And yet I am still nobody. I earn my gold, much more than many common soldiers of Bern, but to what use will I put it? I have no land of my own entitled to me that I can invest on or build a house on. A house is hardly even necessary, I have the Tactician Guild to take shelter in. I am unmarried, I don't have children, thus I don't need a house, I don't need a household with servants. I don't even really need the gold.
And perhaps that was why, for almost fifteen years, he had never been much bothered by the fact that he was Knight of Bern and yet he had no land or earned less than his Knight peers. He had never been much bothered by the fact that Kumiko and Anko's high ranks have deterred him from wanting promotion. He was doing what he loved, what he had aspired to do all his life, and he was proud of it. And yet now… now I…
He walked across the mess hall, feeling his feet drag him to the pottage, and he scooped some out for himself. Again, his feet then dragged him to a table, and he sat and ate and thought of his situation dimly.
Anko, you had always made me feel small. Without even shoving it in my face, you have always made me feel small. And now that you have, I feel smaller than a mouse, and it's like everything I was happy with and was content with now disturbs me.
"Sir Heath. May we sit with you?"
He looked up and saw two of his peers, Gale and Miledy, looking down at him with their own food in their hands. Heath gave them a small nod of approval, but not before feeling a tinge of envy upon seeing the two lovers, sticking by each other's side.
They sat before him and began to eat their meals, as Heath looked at each of them and found their auras dim, like his. They had good reason. Gale, whose long, dark hair had much reminded Heath of an old friend, Legault, had not too long ago been demoted from being one of the Three Wyvern Generals of Bern. Gale had accepted the demotion most gracefully, although the sight of General Narshen, who had pointed out to Gale's lack of Bernese blood just to overthrow him and replace him, turns Gale's mood dark. Narshen was a well-known lout, it is apparent to everyone that Gale is the better man, if not for his lack of actual Bernese citizenship. But Narshen was just as skilled as Gale in combat—appallingly so—that the position was eventually given to him.
Miledy, Gale's lover, and one of the few—if not the only—female Wyvern Knight, had much to feel down for as well. She was the leader of Princess Guinevere's royal defenders, and with the Princess' disappearance, she receives all the blame. Day in and day out, she was run ragged and pressured to find the Princess, or else risk her life at the King's displeasure at each failed search. As if the pressure of being a woman among the Knights of Bern was not enough.
For all their troubles and worries, she held a hand out over to Gale's hand over the dining table and held it, as if to say that things were going to get better.
Heath, much as he tried to stop it, couldn't help but feel bitter, looking at the two lovers who, despite their troubles, had everything going for them. Despite everything, Gale and Miledy were still high in favor with the king and with General Murdock. They must have been over a decade younger than him, and yet they ranked higher than he did, earned more than he did, was esteemed more than he was. They had each other to turn to should all else fail. Should all else fail, they were young and still had many years ahead to find a different route. Suddenly, Heath started to feel his age.
Heath gave a little groan. This isn't fair. I've not right to begrudge them for anything. They have always respected me and treated me well. Gale himself admitted that he looked up to Heath and had said that if anyone would have been fitting to be a Wyvern General, it was Heath. He had experience and skills that none of them had—far surpassing Narshen—that would serve them great as General. But Narshen, filthy lout, took down his worth by saying Heath did not deserve the position at all, his favor only comes with being friends with the Queen. Narshen manipulated information about Heath's past, exposing that he was a once a fugitive who had turned traitor to the country. All he ever earned was only due to friendship with the Queen. In the end, Heath refused to vie for the position.
I should have grabbed on to that. I AM a nobody. I absolutely lack ambition.
Ambition. Everything that Anko had. She was always looking at the bigger picture, thinking of what serves her and everyone best, always present when there was an opportunity to be manipulated or profited from. In a way, she was more of a monarch than Kumiko was—when Anko wanted something, she grabbed onto it, and everyone had to bend to her will or else risk their safety. No wonder I am nothing to her. I'm a pushover, something she can just pick up and throw away.
And then a small, risky thought formed in his head, and it poured out of his lips, and Gale and Miledy looked at him as if he was absurd for it. "I am going to resign," he said, all of a sudden. "I have nothing to gain by staying and nothing to lose by quitting. I'm going to leave."
I am going to leave, where no king or queen or rival can block my opportunities. I'll make my own gold and find my own path and carve my own ambition.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
LYCIA | Castle Ostia
After a long battle dealing with Bern soldiers and Ostian traitors, Roy of Pherae received confirmations that Castle Ostia was indeed already secured, the enemies killed or surrendered or fled. Roy felt himself give a sigh of relief, and yet his heart remained heavy at the thought that somehow, this wasn't over yet—only the beginning. It was odd enough that Bern has yet to get back at them for taking back Araphen, but Roy figured it was only a matter of time. The news of the recapture of Ostia would soon reach Bern and they would have to strike back. So this is war, Roy thought. It seems to go on without end. Somehow, I am glad my father is not fighting in this. I can only imagine how this would exhaust him.
Roy turned around and found Lilina, one other person that he would hate to see caught up in a war. He already felt horrible that she had been taken hostage in her own castle, but news of Lord Hector's death—and fighting—must take an unbelievably heavy toll on her, too. Lady Serra hovered around her and was quick to see to her needs as soon as she was able to, like a loyal attendant. So fated it was that Lilina, heiress to Ostia, was to be attended by the wife of her father's most loyal vassal. But that vassal is dead, and Lord Hector, too.
Roy took a heavy breath, and gathered himself and approached Lilina. Serra sensibly backed away and decided to turn to talk with one of the Ostian spies. "We've finally recaptured the castle, Lilina," Roy told her.
Lilina gave him a tired little smile. "Thank you, Roy," she said. And that she added, sounding relieved, "I'm glad that my father didn't have to go through the trouble."
Roy was suddenly so taken aback that he almost felt like he lost some footing on the even marble floors of Castle Ostia. I'm glad my father didn't have to go through the trouble. Did Lilina not know anything? Did Leygance and those betrayers not tell her anything? Was Lady Serra unable to put in a word yet? Or was that Lilina incompetently trying to shrug off her father's death and put up a strong face?
No. She won't make remarks like that if she knew Lord Hector was dead.
And true enough, Lilina soon asked, "Roy, is my father still in Araphen? I heard that it was a tough battle there, but does it look like it's going take much longer?"
"Lilina...haven't you heard anything?" Roy asked, though he already knew the answer. Lilina's innocence and lack of… grief, in this whole battle, spelt it out. She looked tired, but in a way a child looked tired after a small game—with the knowledge that it was just a game and right after, there was hope, her father would take her in his arms, and it would be over. She had been hopeful. After seeing her mother's death right in front of her, her father was the only hope she had clung onto.
"…What?" was the only word Lilina could say.
Finally, though the words felt hard to say, Roy managed to say it to her. She has to know the truth. "Lord Hector...has passed away."
She felt like the floor beneath her sank and shook, and Roy almost hurried to her to embrace her and steady her, but she caught herself and asked another, "…What?"
"I'm sorry..." Roy immediately found himself apologizing, feeling his own grief welling up inside him. "When we arrived at Castle Araphen it was already under Bern's control. Lord Hector was already severely wounded when we arrived. If only we had gotten there faster...maybe I could have helped him…"
Lilina closed her eyes and shook her head a little to herself, her last act of denial towards her father's death. And when she opened her eyes, Roy knew that she had made a decision. "No...it's okay. You don't have to apologize, Roy. I...was prepared for this... I'm a warrior's daughter. I've been taught not to panic in times like this." I've been taught to stay strong.
He only stared at her, and felt like he was on the brink of tears, willing to pour out the tears that she was unwilling to show. Of course Lilina would act strong. She was the daughter of Lord Hector of Ostia and Lady Lyndis of Caelin, two of the strongest warriors Lycia had seen. It was clear by her appearances—her long, silken hair reminded people of the Lady Lyndis, while its deep blue hue reminded people of Lord Hector. Strong warriors, both of them. Surely Lilina would try to emulate them. But taught to be strong? Maybe, Roy taught. Maybe Lady Lyndis and Lord Hector had taught her, but Roy had rarely seen it. She was strong in her own way, but with Lilina and her parents, Roy had only seen them showering her with love and protection, it was hard to imagine them teaching her to contain her grief and feel nothing.
"So everyone should have told me... They're too considerate... I'm strong too you know..."
Strong doesn't necessarily mean being able to hold back the tears. My father taught me that. "Lilina, you don't have to hold back in front of me."
Lilina looked up to him, her defenses failing, her eyes turning glossy with her tears. "Roy...I... I…" And then she took the final step that lead to Roy's chest, and into his arms. And the tears began to pour.
"It's okay..." Roy said. "I'll be with you. I'll be with you, Lilina."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | The Sages' Study
Bern Keep's Library had only seen an enormous make-over ever since King Zephiel's reign. He had, single-handedly, brought more books into the castle more than any other man or king in Bern. The Bernese had a reputation for being highly pragmatic and it showed in their library—theories, books, and literature were of little concern to the common Bernese, and their lack of books and had reflected that. Their previous kings' concerns were of warmaking, of how to wield their political power, of how to control their kingdom to best serve their purposes. But King Zephiel—with the influence of her Etrurian mother who loved good literature and poetry—was a different man. He brought in more books many a long-serving servant in the castle had ever seen—books on literature, tactics, culture, theology, history and science. There was a saying that no book was ever banned in Bern Keep in King Zephiel's reign, and he built libraries and gave access to them to all men and women of Bern. This was great news for the young scholars of Bern that now served the King loyally. They saw a king that was as great and brilliant and open-minded as them, no more of those kings that only grasped onto power. King Zephiel was something else, they had said. He is ushering a new age in Bern.
He is ushering us to our doom, Kumiko thought, bitterly, as she sat in one of the study rooms of Bern Keep's library, surrounded by volumes about Magic. War is death and chaos. Whatever the ideals, that never changes.
The study was a little private area in Bern Keep's Library, and Jaffar and Nino were there with Kumiko, her closest confidantes. Anko had been called for and invited, but the spy must have been busy—or no doubt just trying to avoid getting asked questions about a certain Wyvern Knight.
"I can barely get any information," Jaffar said, in whispered talk. The three of them were seated around a table, three voices in conspiratory murmurs, in the pretense of researching about Magic. "As is usual, the military men avoid the courtiers or any servants like the plague. I doubt even Anko knows enough information about this one. His Majesty had always been keen on keeping his spies out of his military affairs."
Nino, flipping through the pages of "Compositional Theory of Anima", said, "His Majesty knows of ways of how to control his men. They should be tight-lipped. Even Heath doesn't spill everything when we talk. But military activity has lessened, that much we know. I hope this is for good?"
Jaffar only shrugged, and Kumiko, sitting slumped on her chair over a book on strategy, looked none too hopeful herself. "We can't tell. It could be good, but it could be nothing more than a tactical retreat. I can't even grasp what is it that is in his head," Kumiko said. "Once, I remembered him telling about a war that would make sense if the ideals behind it are good, that in the end it wants to achieve good anyway. But if he thinks this is for the good, he should be announcing it in his speeches and his soldiers should be talking about it and drawing inspiration from it—but they do not. It's almost as if he's using fear to make them fight on."
"Fear and loyalty," Jaffar pointed out. "Your husband is a brilliant man. Many soldiers would still follow him to the grave, he almost doesn't have to use fear."
"Do you think it's still because of his pent up anger for his father?" Nino asked.
Kumiko shook her head. "If so, this would be taking it excessively too far. If he is living in the shadow of his father, he would try to, in his ways, never end up like him. It is common knowledge to the Bernese that King Desmond is plainly a man with no skill and just grips onto power. There is no righteous bone in his body. There were even rumors that he almost attacked Lycia in his reign for the mere cause of conquest. Zephiel would not try to appear like that. He would try to make his father look horrible and himself look righteous—if my understanding of his hatred for his father is accurate."
"Then what is his cause?" Nino asked.
Jaffar looked around the room filled with books and volumes, as if looking for clues there. "There lies our mystery. If His Majesty caught on an idea for this war, and had nursed his idea for a while, he would have left traces. He would have started acting oddly when he stumbled onto this idea. It would have alerted the people closest to him."
"The person closest to him, Jaffar, is gone," Kumiko pointed out. Before I even knew this war was happening, Guinevere was already gone, trying to stop it.
"Which leaves you, Kumiko," Jaffar replied. "He would have left… a trail. An unguarded moment wherein he says too much without realizing it. An exposure of weakness without knowing it. He stumbled onto the idea and nursed it and it must have left a trail."
Kumiko's lips twitched down at Jaffar's monotone voice and hard expression—she almost had the uneasy feeling that they were talking of an assassination, and not a mere trying-to-understand-him mission. But of course—Jaffar was an assassin. He must have known how to stalk his prey and how to patiently wait until it exposed a weakness. A trail leading to his death.
And suddenly, Nino lit up and shut her tome, snapping Jaffar and Kumiko to her attention. She smiled widely, and said, "Kumiko, Jaffar. He has stumbled on an idea and nursed it and made it into his goal for this war. Ideas come from the mind. And—And when the mind is overwhelmed with ideas, we express it in speech—or in writing."
Kumiko gasped, looking overwhelmed herself, knowing that Nino was onto something. "And we are in the Library! How timely!" Nino exclaimed, excited. "Every book, every theory, every letter written down stems from an idea. If His Majesty had an idea, it is either he ran into someone else's idea in a book or document and took it as his own. Or if he developed it on his own, he would have looked at references. I—I—Am I saying it well? Do you understand? I am overwhelmed by all this."
"So you suggest we see what His Majesty had been reading or writing or saying at every speech to figure his intentions?" Jaffar said, his tone never outgrowing his monotone, but he was looking impressed with his wife.
"Yes, we could do that," Kumiko nodded. "Zephiel keeps all his books in his own study, in his chambers. I could take a little look and see if a theme recurs. You know, now that all this has been pointed out, I remember that he was often up awake in his study late in the night while I slept. Maybe there is something there."
"But how? You have evicted yourself from the King's Chambers, Kumiko," Nino pointed out.
Kumiko just gave a little laugh. "I moved away of my own will. I trust I can move back of my own will as well."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | The King's Bedchambers
"And so you room with me again," Zephiel remarked, as he watched Kumiko enter his private bedchambers with her attendants and maidservants in tow, bringing along a few of her possessions and putting them to their usual places. "Can I ask what inspired this decision, my dear wife?"
"I just missed you, Your Highness," she replied dismissively, and by that he knew the move was not because of her missing him at all. So there is another motive in this. "And my personal chambers were too big for a single woman. You know my reasons. You cite them to me everyday in invitation that I return."
No, I don't, and I see you won't tell me your real reasons at all. "Yes, I know," he said, a lie. And then he helped with her belongings, directing the servants of where to put this and that. It was easy because her tables and shelves and wardrobe was untouched, as if he had been waiting for her to move back all along. "But you're welcome. I was tired of being alone in this big space, too." And then he added in an exaggerated mockery that almost only Kumiko could interpret as such, "And I missed you so, so much too. It's not the same without you, Kumiko."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | The Grand Ballroom
Surely the lapse in military activity meant something—since for the second time court once again gathered together and had dinner and entertainment, with the king and queen present. It seems the king finally had time to tend to his court's desires for merriment and intrigue, for attention. He conversed with his courtiers and nobles and knights and scholars, and was ordering for the music himself. His wife was, as is usual, constantly at his side, offering her flattery and witty conversation for the men and women alike. She argued in theology and strategy and politics and history and literature—a learned scholar in her own right. It was easy to forget that behind her beauty—truly, she looked inviting that evening in a light beige gown that fitted around her bodice so snugly it gave off the appearance of nudity—there was also a woman who was very, very intelligent, if a little naïve.
Everyone almost always seemed to forget she was an intelligent woman, once the only girl receiving education from Bern's famed Military Academy. Rather, as a woman, everyone only praised her beauty, her taste in clothes, her eyes, her hair, her laughter, the way she smiled—the things the eyes can see. Or maybe it was because she lacked the actual skills that were to be praised. She was not such a dancer enough, not a singer enough, not a musician enough, not a poet enough, not an artist enough, to receive such praises for those skills. Unlike Zephiel—twice, thrice a scholar than her, a pianist, poet, musician, painter, hunter, jouster, strategist, designer, writer, la la la la la—the song goes on and on. Compared to other women, to common women, Kumiko was a gem. Beside the man she has to appear next too almost every day, she was nobody. And forget about her upper hand in appearances, in beauty. Zephiel was handsome enough, but frankly, Kumiko thought, he could look like an ugly, misshapen thing and still it wouldn't matter to anyone as long as a royal crown sit on his head.
Zephiel, please tell me my worth. Please tell me that I am worth something. I could either hate or love you, Zephiel. And you're the only one who can help me choose between the two.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
It was not only Kumiko who was surprised when at dinner she again saw the wyvern knight Heath dressed for the occasion—it seemed every other courtier was surprised yet welcomed him just as well. He had put together his own outfit this time, a formal military suit that Kumiko didn't even know he owned. Even more surprising was his now neat-cut hair, short enough that the streaks of white that used to be in them were no longer noticeable, cropped gone. He seemed like a different man, mingling with others—men and women of higher birth and status that him—rather than shying away from them. Yet for all the niceness that he was showing he had the look of a look of a prideful, yet wounded lion in his eyes. The kind of beast that when hurt, starts to be more feral than it was, starts to feel more alive.
It seemed he was a different man, Kumiko thought, as Heath smiled at her from a distance and gave her a nod. It was the hair, Kumiko thought, or something in him has genuinely changed. She was even more surprised that he came towards her, towards her seat beside the king. From the corners of her eyes, Kumiko could see Zephiel eyeing Heath suspiciously.
Heath, however, looked as graceful as a house cat. He came before them and bowed. "Sir Heath," Zephiel greeted him. "You appear to have developed a liking to my court."
"Your Highness, you surround yourself with the best people in the continent." The most idiotic, the most greedy, the most narrow-minded people in the continent—puppets of a puppeteer king. The best minds, yes, they are here as well, but none of them have the guts to match their brains. They would not stupidly speak their minds for fear of their heads. "There is no reason for a man to dislike your court. Your Highness, I would be so privileged if you permitted me to a dance with the queen."
Kumiko, listening to Heath's speech with unmasked interest, almost leapt out of her seat. What does Heath want now? Is this actually him, or is this a different man? And what courage, there—to ask the king for her hand in dance. Zephiel was ill-noted for his suspecting eye for any man who seemed to have her trust. Truly, only Jaffar, who was already married, could be seen with Kumiko without the entire court filling in uproar with whispers of an affair and without the king seeming the slightest bit suspicious and jealous. But Kumiko had to figure out what is it Heath wanted. "Oh, please, let me, Your Majesty," she pleaded.
He never answered, all he gave was that shooing gesture he did with his hands that mostly either meant "get out of my sight" or "just go and do what you wish". She didn't know if he was asking Heath to leave or giving him permission. When she held onto his hand, he finally bothered to answer. "Go ahead and do what you want."
Heath gave his thanks, and Kumiko got up and took Heath's arm. "That is the scariest thing I have ever done in my life, I think," Heath whispered to her as soon as their backs were turned towards the king. "My knees are shaking. I half expected him to send me to the gallows."
"Oh, Heath. Zephiel is a just man," said Kumiko, but quickly after she said the words she realized the mistake. He was a just man. Or, he had always tried to be. A sudden flash of innocent lives dead in war came to Kumiko's mind, while beside him, Heath was thinking in the same school of thought, thinking of colleagues and soldiers and rebellious nobles executed before his eyes. Kings are all the same. You will never be able to say that one is truly just.
Heath led her to the center of the hall, so that they could take a place in the set of dancers. But I'm not here just to dance, Kumiko, Heath thought. I have to tell you everything I know. About this war. About the king's plans. About the dragons.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Heath led her for only one set of the dance, though while the music was playing, Heath was hearing something else in his head, an earlier conversation with Anko.
"Have you told Kumiko anything about the war yet? About Araphen? About anything you have ever seen?"
"No, no, not yet. In fact we may have been about to get to it until you suddenly walked in."
"Then thank the god of thieves, my timing was perfect. Don't tell her anything."
"And why not?"
"You know how Kumi is. She hears horrible news and she suddenly gets swayed by emotion and ends up in some atrocious rampage. We've had enough of that. Bern Keep has seen enough of their queen shouting around and demanding answers."
"And you are telling me to lie? To keep this from her? She has every right to know what happened in Lycia, what I saw. Do you have any idea how much Kumiko cares for Lycia and our friends there? I can't lie to her and tell her everything is okay when—"
"You don't have to lie."
"Then what do you expect me to do? Evade the questions? Tell nothing about the war, the old friends there that I saw, the dragons? Why?"
"If you would have seen the way she changed her manner towards His Majesty yesterday evening—you would understand. If you know her even up to half of how I know her—and the king, as well—you would understand. I have finally gotten her to a train of though where I had always wanted her to be in, and she cannot stray from it now. Not now, Heath."
"…No one ever understands what you are truly up to, Anko."
"…Usually, you do. So please do this for me, Heath. I know if you think long on it, you'll understand."
No, Anko, Heath thought. Enough of this. I love you so much that I'm starting to hate you; I feel that I have to betray you just so you will see me.
I betray you because I love you.
I know if you think long on it, you'll understand.
But then Heath was distracted from his thoughts when all of a sudden his eyes caught on a flash of red fabric, and instantly a scarlet red gown flashed back to his mind, held up by a crisscross of ribbons at the back, slitted at the sides to show strong, tanned legs whenever she swirled in her skirts. Anko. He turned around to see if she was there, but as quickly as that the woman in the red gown was gone, swallowed up in the crowd.
You told me you loved me. Why are you going to do this to me? He could almost hear her voice in his mind, sounding absolutely betrayed.
I love you and that's exactly why I am going to do this.
Don't you trust me? Why are you getting in my way? Why do you want to ruin everything for me?
I'm not ruining everything for you! You're ruining yourself and I'm trying to save you!
Save me? You're putting me in danger. If you tell Kumiko what you know, she would hate me for not telling her myself. If you tell Kumiko what you know, I get blamed by the king for how this information was leaked when strict orders have been given to everyone to never breathe a word of this to her. Why do you do this to me? When my head is on the chopping block because of treason you'll know the truth that it's you who betrayed me and put me there. You're going to kill me, Heath.
Heath groaned and put a hand to his head as if it suddenly hurt, stopping in the dance. How can I hear her voice in my head? But he knew how. I know her too much, I know what she'll say to me if she found out what I am about to do.
"Are you alright?" Kumiko was at his side, looking utterly concerned. "Heath, what's wrong?"
He shook his head a little, as if saying it was nothing important. "…Just a little headache." And then he looked down at Kumiko, into her sapphire eyes looking extremely concerned for his sake. I have to tell her everything. Everything I know. He could grab her and pull her into one of those curtained alcoves and tell her about everything he knew if he wished. Better yet, he already had a note with all the details written in it tucked in his coat—he could easily slip it into Kumiko's hands and then walk away.
If I die, it's your fault, Anko said. If this entire war is never stopped and if everything fails in the long run, it's your fault. Because you stopped me and betrayed me.
"I'm sorry," Heath said. "I'm sorry. I just need some air," he quickly told Kumiko, and then he walked out of the room.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Nino and Jaffar had stopped dancing and had walked over to Kumiko's side as soon as they saw Heath walk away. Kumiko had her brows furrowed and her lips pouted in an expression of extreme baffle. "I wonder what's wrong with him," Kumiko said.
"Must be dizzy from the dancing," Nino remarked.
"I doubt it," said Kumiko. "When he came here looking like that—that look in his eyes, that smile, that hair—I felt like I was looking at a different man. Something… changed. Something's wrong with Heath."
They all looked contemplative, staring at the direction where Heath walked off to.
"I'll go get him," said Jaffar. "I'll go find out what's wrong."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | The King's Bedchamber
Kumiko pleaded feeling ill a few hours after the dancing in the banquet, and asked her husband for leave to get some rest. Zephiel, suddenly puzzled and concerned for her physical state, opted to retire for the evening too and leave the court to dance and dine. They made the quiet walk back to their now-shared bedchambers, and if Kumiko was quiet, Zephiel knew that she was indeed feeling ill or something was indeed wrong. Usually she'd say a word or two. All the way to their rooms she was quiet, it even seemed like she was… scared of something. She heard something, Zephiel thought. Either she heard something or she truly is ill. But she was very well a few moments ago. She just heard something. Someone told her something.
…That wyvern knight. He told her something.
"I'll go and get changed, if you will excuse me," she said, as she stopped before the door to her wardrobe, a small room of her own filled with clothes for her to change in, in their bedroom. She sounded so weak when she said it, he began to retrace his thoughts and think that she was only really just feeling ill. Must be the wine. He gave his permission, and she disappeared into the dressing room.
She emerged out of her wardrobe in a rose pink nightdress, its fabric feeling as light as air over her body. As she walked into his—their—bedchambers, she caught him already in his sleeping robes, setting aside the fur-lined cape that he wore for the day. At evenings like this, Zephiel dressed himself, cared for himself, did everything on his own—it was almost as if the evenings were sacred and he wanted none of the servants following him and attending to him. And thus this king, this public figure, knew how to keep parts of his life hidden and private. As he moved around his—their chamber and checked on the windows and the balcony to see if they have been locked and shut well, Kumiko imagined that if he had been an ordinary man, a commoner of Bern without a single servant, Zephiel would be able to take it gracefully and survive.
That was a stupid thought. Zephiel would never be an ordinary man. If he had been an ordinary man he would learn to use his brilliance and skill to do better for himself and be rich and have servants of his own eventually.
"…How are you feeling?" he asked, as he had finished snapping shut the last window. She stirred from her thoughts and she looked at him and caught the quick head-to-foot gaze that he regarded her with. He turned back to his preoccupation with the window as quickly as he looked at her, but Kumiko already felt embarrassed, as if she had done something wrong. She crossed her arms to herself and shifted on her footing, looking down on the floor, familiar with the way he looks at her like that everytime she had just emerged out of a corner or had a change of clothing. He would sweep his eyes down over her form with such a puzzled expression, as if sizing up her beauty or worth, and then always as quickly look away, as if saying, not good enough.
There are many, many times, Zephiel, when you make me feel so small and worthless.
"It always puzzled me how long it takes for women to get dressed. Guinevere and mother used to take hours," he continued, as he looked out the windows, at the view beyond, and then wondered if he should shut the curtains close and turn on the lights or leave the curtains be to just let the moonlight enter. After a silence, a lack of response from Kumiko, he turned back to face her and asked, "Kumiko, are you alright? Are you that ill?"
She almost looked ethereal in the bluish moonlight. However, to her, he looked like a shadow, back turned against the light. He was bathed in darkness; she was embraced by the light. In the darkness he looked as sinister and evil as the man she had always feared he was or could be. Her head began to hurt as if she truly were ill, but in a second Kumiko collected herself and forced on a smile. "I'm alright, my lord …I think. And I just hope you don't hold it against me if I dressed too long for your tastes. Please don't be mad at me for trying to look beautiful in my sleep." After all, I'm only good for my looks, right, Zephiel?
She slowly sat on one of his velvet sofas—spacious, this one, unlike the seats and couches in her rooms; the king was a taller and bigger man than her and his furniture showed it. He looked at her from where he stood, and then slowly, he walked towards her and then seated himself beside her. She smiled at him nervously.
Something is wrong with you, he deduced. He put a hand to her forehead and neck to see if she were sick with fever, but it didn't seem to be the case. Then you aren't really that ill. But then again, he thought, something is always wrong with Kumiko these days. Ever since she found out about the war. He knew it was no longer a matter of physical sickness, her complaints, but rather she was only deeply, deeply troubled.
But trying to figure out what you want and what your worry is would only cause me headache, he thought. I figure most of the times it's better that I don't ask what's wrong with you and just deduce. But you're hiding something with that smile of yours that looks like its been plastered on your face to hide the pain. I know it's about the war. I just don't know why it bothers me that much.
And then he remembered why. I vowed that I would not hurt my own wife the way he did with mother. I have not cheated on her at all and have never done what he ever has and yet she's hurting just the same.
The way she smiles reminds me of mother, now. A woman betrayed. And I betrayed her.
"…Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked her, sounding genuinely concerned. "Some food or drink? Are you cold? We can have the fire stoked higher. If you truly feel that ill we could call a physician. Or would you like to sleep? You can go ahead."
Kumiko's smile began to appear more genuine as well. She had remembered the times she was ill with fever or nausea or with a little cold—Zephiel always tended to her in those cases, never afraid of being too near her and catching her illness. She put her hands onto his and smiled up at him. There are many, many times that you make me feel so small, Zephiel. But there are also many, many times you made me feel happy.
And he stared right at her face, astonished to find her smiling at him as if she were not about to cry, but because of joy—as if all trace of anger has been erased and all that was left was a very beautiful, very kind wife. He put a hand to her chin and lift her face towards her, to the light, as if he were trying to examine if what he were seeing was true. She gave a little laugh, and he smiled back at her for that. And then he leaned towards her and kissed her.
He meant it to end quickly, as all kisses with Kumiko do, but much to his surprise she parted her lips for him and kissed back—with whatever inexperience she had with kissing showing through, but that was forgivable. It even charmed him, the way she felt so vulnerable and uncertain and yet at the same time willing. Willing, because she had not breathed a word or done a single thing to stop him. And if she were not stopping him, he was not going to stop.
And so he kissed her deeper. He shifted in the couch to turn his body towards her and laced an arm around her waist to draw her closer. He put a hand up to the nape of her neck, ushering her to kiss him as intensely as he did her. She was hesitant, and he felt her shiver and tense up in fear or something of the sort, but she obliged him.
She didn't stop him. Even as he pressed her body down towards the couch, making her lie down on the velvet surface, and he was on his knees and elbows above her, never breaking the kiss. Zephiel's mind was flooded by the question why isn't she stopping me? And yet the same time he also felt exulted in his thought that, thank goodness she isn't stopping me, there must be something wrong with her—or there must be something right! He itched to touch her, to lower himself towards her until he could feel her body against his—that devil of a nightdress, of such light material, if I just grazed my skin against it, it almost feels as if I'm touching her naked.
But wherever his thoughts ran, he kept himself in check—for Kumiko's sake. If he had touched her then and there or grabbed her and threw her to his bed, what would she think? You know how it is with her—you never know when something you're doing might offend her.
But then again she's not stopping me. So I'm not stopping. If she wants me to stop she'll have to say so, and if she doesn't then I get what I want.
…But then again, this is Kumiko. If I did what I wanted whether she stopped me or not, a few days from now I am going to hear a tiring complaint about how I never bothered to think about what she felt and am just a typical perverted male noble. Please, no, I don't want that.
…But that nightdress. That damn nightdress. I just want to get it off her. I just want her to trust me and let me do what I want. I just want her to trust me and…
He mentally sighed and then broke away from the kiss, feeling himself breathless afterwards. He flicked his eyes open and then he looked down at her—she was breathless, too, her cheeks flushed, her eyes closed and her brows knotted as if she were thinking that she couldn't believe what was happening to her.
"Kumiko," he whispered.
She opened her eyes and he found them hazed over in that attractive way—and she looked at him as if she were looking at a dream. "Zephiel," she said.
He found himself silent, staring into her eyes, and he was sure if she could see him clearly she would find his eyes glazed over with lust; that if he pressed his body against hers and kissed her again that very moment she would know for sure what he wanted. But this is Kumiko. This is my wife. I vowed never to hurt my own wife and I have already hurt her in so many ways. Not with this one, though. I have to ask. He opened his mouth to ask, the words already at the tip of his tongue. I want to have you right now, Kumiko. I want you to come to bed with me. I desire you. I still desire you.
She beat him at speaking up, though. "Zephiel… can I ask you something?" Her voice was a confessional murmur.
"Anything," he quickly answered, unconsciously letting his guard down, though he was also puzzled at Kumiko's sudden desire for questions when there was only one desire in his mind.
"…Do you think I'm beautiful?"
He gave a little laugh as he shifted on his position—still on his knees and elbows over her—and said, "Of course. You are absolutely beautiful, my dear wife." Especially without clothes on.
"But my beauty isn't my only worth, is it?"
She almost sounded scared, like she was asking for reassurance and compliment—typical of a woman who was scared to give herself to man and has quite possibly never done it before yet—so he quickly decided to shower her with it. "Of course. You're as beautiful as a goddess, Kumiko—every man and woman in Bern says it—but it's not your only worth. I never married you because of your beauty alone."
"Of course," she quickly replied, tone suddenly cold, and by that he blinked at her as if he had snapped from a dream—a very good dream—and he had realized that he said something wrong. "I was a stumbling block in the way of your plans—that was why you married me. I never forget, Zephiel."
He groaned and pulled away from her and sat upright on his couch, his desire suddenly flushed out with anger. For a moment he felt frustrated, and not because he was so close to having her and now it seemed they were in the beginning of an argument again. He was frustrated because he had caught him off-guard with a kiss.
I never married you because of your beauty alone, he thought, the same thoughts that ran into his mind when she had just asked him the question. His unguarded thoughts. I married you because of your character. Because you amused me and made me laugh and gave me so much joy. It just so happened that you were quite possibly in the way of my plans, too. It just so happened. But if you weren't, I think I still would have married you.
She collected herself and sat upright, too, sitting beside him calmly, as if they weren't just one step away from bedding a few moments ago. "Is it true?" she asked, and if Zephiel looked he might have found her looking straight at him, eyes glossing over as if they were going to spill tears. "Zephiel, was that true? Am I truly just an object to you, like you said once? Am I?"
It just so happened, Kumiko. It just so happened. But then he turned to her and looked, and the logic that had been built in his mind by years and years of pain began to work again. You caught me off guard with a kiss, Kumiko. You made me feel vulnerable and therefore am now trying to get me to tell you something. Something I would never say. If I told you I loved you, you would forever use it as an excuse to control me. Like he did. "Kumiko, you know I won't stand for these mind games," he said, his voice suddenly cold, all the warmth in him suddenly lost. "What are you trying to make me say? Stop it." I should have grabbed you and threw you on my bed when I had the chance and never bothered to care about what you might feel.
"Zephiel," she clung onto his hand and shook it a little. She looked like she was going to erupt into crying any second. "I want to know the truth. Truly, am I nothing to you?"
"Kumiko," he said, "the truth is what we choose to believe. Whatever I say you will only believe what you want to believe. So let me do you a favor. Believe what you choose to. Just believe whatever will make things easier for you."
"No, I want the truth," she stubbornly insisted. "I don't want your 'go ahead and think what you want to'. I beg you, Zephiel. Tell me if I am nothing at all to you. Tell me what I am to you." Because I am tearing myself apart wondering how you can make me so happy yet give me so much pain.
But there is no truth, Kumiko, he thought. You are both everything and nothing to me.
He put a hand to her chin and directed her face so he could look into her blue eyes. "Kumiko, your worth is something you build for yourself. Not something you let another man judge. You work to keep yourself worthy, Kumiko. You work so you aren't nothing." And then he added, coolly, "I was just going to ask for permission to take your clothes off when you started with your pointless questioning. So can we forget we ever talked about this and resume to where we were a few moments ago?"
She bit her lip and her lips tugged down into a frown. "No."
He groaned—I knew it—and got up and said, "Then go ahead and get your sleep. You were claiming to feel ill, aye? Then go and sleep. Go and rest your pretty little head."
"Where are you going?" she asked when he drifted away and walked away, though she already knew the answer.
"To my study. I'm going to sit there and forget this evening ever occurred. If you need me, you know where to find me."
The room was only a few footsteps away, directly connected to their bedchambers. Kumiko lit up, and Zephiel watched curiously as she suddenly looked interested. Or it's my eyes and my still fogged-up mind thinking things. "I'll sit with you, then. I'll wait for you so we could sleep together."
"A tempting thought, Kumiko, us sleeping together—if you mean it in the context that I am thinking of—but you're as chaste as Saint Elimine herself," he sharply remarked, and he was sure he saw her flinch. "Our people think you're a barren woman or I'm an impotent man—but no person brings that upon himself or herself. If people find out that you're just a woman who deprives her husband—their king—of his privilege, they're going to hate you. I say nothing to save you from that. But one day, Kumiko, I swear I am going to get tired of arguing with you and trying to cater to your whims. Realize what I do for you before that day comes." I was stupid to think I wanted your trust, Kumiko. That all I ever wanted was your trust.
He turned around and left to the adjacent room, his study.
I realize everything you have done for me, Zephiel. I realize. That's why I'm trying to save you, even if I'm already tired. But my words and my actions are worth nothing if I myself am nothing to you at all.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
In his darkened bedchamber, Jaffar took off his coat and vest and then the tiny little note that was slipped in the pocket. Heath's note. The small thing with the wyvern knight's even smaller letters was a confession of everything he has ever seen and heard in the war, along with his goodbyes. He was going to disappear, Heath wrote. He was going to disappear and stop fighting in a war that he was sick of fighting in.
Wise action, Jaffar thought. He and Heath were familiar with the protocol of traitors—betray, and then run. Better yet, join the opposite side to be more protected. It was easy to imagine that after this, Heath would turn up in Lycia or Etruria. Absolutely easy to imagine.
Jaffar turned towards the fireplace, fire stoked a little too high—Nino always liked it when it was warm and hated the cold—and then he tossed the little note in the fire, and watched as it turned to ash. Kumiko was never going to read it.
"Oh, how was Heath, Jaffar?" Nino's head emerged from her dressing room, and Jaffar turned around to see her in her nightgown, holding a brush to her long green locks. "Ever found out if anything was wrong with him after all?"
She seemed to have seen nothing of his burning of Heath's note. "It was just a little headache," Jaffar told his wife, lying. "Seems the dancing made him dizzy after all."
End of Chapter.
A/N:Chapter 26x of the Journey is around 50% complete; will update soon.
