Capriones 8/13/2006
Disclaimer: We shall make use of several of the characters from The Slayers, none of whom belongs to us.
Chapter Twenty-Two -- Prince Christopher and Milgasia
Prince Christopher, had overheard Lina's passionate speech to his brother, and came forward now.
"How very well informed you are, Miss Inverse."
"Yeah, sure," she said eyes narrowing with distrust. "I don't think we've met."
"Mr. Gourry Gabriev, Miss Lina Inverse, I'd like to meet my brother, Prince Christopher," Prince Philionel introduced them all. "My brother is very knowledgeable about the outlying communities."
"Where I live most of the time," Christopher interjected. "I just came from a disturbing meeting with the cardinal of which you speak. I believe his intentions are self-serving and perhaps evil-intended."
"He seems all right to me," Phil asserted, although his heart wasn't in it.
"Perhaps if you visited some of the outer settlements," Christopher said, his voice raw with sadness.
"Or even took an honest look right in your own city," Lina cut in. "And see the Red Guard marching in the streets-"
"And see the people manning the barricades as suddenly hope flared that they might resist, and then afterwards see the dead, and the hope ended in despair, all the promises broken, the spark of magic gone!" Christopher said, warming to his speech.
His face suddenly alight with a passion he had kept tightly in control until now, giving him great character and a resemblance to his older brother.
"Then you would be prepared to fight to keep the small privileges the Capriones have. We must not let this continue. Magic must not be annihilated from Seyruun! It may be the last battalion of it as we speak!"
"One of the last," Lina said.
"Why did our father not take action before? Was he not informed of what was going on?" Phil asked.
"Possibly," Christopher answered with enthusiasm. "Possibly," he repeated as part of a new thought. "Possibly the truth of such widespread genocide was too hard to conceive. Living here in Seyruun, where men have the freedom to read and write what they wish. Where they are free to assemble to discuss, even to criticize the laws we make without fear of reprisal. And where white magic is practiced with discretion, but with openness..."
"... and it becomes easy to ignore the rest of the world," Lina muttered under her breath.
"Yes!" Philionel chimed in, his eyes tearing. He disregarded Lina and joining his brother in praise of Seyruun, waxing poetic. "Where one might form a political party for any cause you like. Or worship any God in any manner chosen!"
"Er..." Lina cut in, "didn't you kick out the Capriones?"
But the princes were in a world of their own, where Lina and Gourry were their audience. Philionel continued without a break in rhythm.
"Where the army obeys the lawmakers, and not the lawmakers the army. Our king would never take orders from his generals."
"Indeed!" Christopher agreed. "They are there to protect us from invasion, to conquer weaker and less fortunate nations, but not to govern us and suppress the people should they threaten protest our laws or to assemble in numbers or practice magic of any type!"
"In the Kingdom of Seyruun, the JUST shall prevail!" they roared in unison.
A sudden vision of Xelloss, unbidden, assaulted her mind. His eyes were haunted in those last moments before she and Gourry rode off. All she wanted in that instant was to feel his warmth and hear his reassurance that all was well. Her hand automatically touched the spot on her chest where Xelloss' parting gift pressed close, the cherished lock of his hair. She must not fail him. She had to get back on track.
"Ah, right, so, um, if you want to keep it that way, we gotta put Rezo in his place," Lina interrupted again. "Hopefully six feet under the ground."
"Quite right," Christopher said with his voice still shaky with passion and dabbing at his eyes with a sleeve of white silk. "The king is mortally ill. I only now just came back from bedside visit with Rezo supervising. Even with the cardinal's reputed skills, there is no hope of improvement. He has only hours, a day at most."
"You don't think Rezo's actually somehow responsible?" Lina asked.
"For his illness? Not possible. No one has been with the king without one of his son's present, at anytime," Philionel assured her.
"Who's with him now?" Lina asked.
"Trusted advisors," Christopher said quickly. "I'll rejoin them shortly."
Christopher turned to Gourry, who had been standing quietly, listening with disinterest, and asked, "Lina is not a Caprione, but you are. What do you have to say, young man?"
When pressed, Gourry argued the case against Rezo's "Holy War" and its destruction, and his large handsome face filled with growing animation as he described the ruin created by troops of Red Guardsmen, the death, the waste of the land, the confusion and loss, the maimed and bereaved. There was something dignified in his simple clothes and lanky figure as he told of his people's lands and his love for the little villages they passed through, the fields, and the lanes.
"Mostly it's just folks born, making what they can of an honest life, carving out a bit of happiness for themselves and their families, and then dying, leaving room for the next. Nothing grand, but they're the ones that chop the trees to build these rooms, and grow the plants and raise some the animals for food and clothes. They might not bring their goods to market even, but without them, here is no market, no fuel, none of the basics the cities need. The shamans help them and they believe in them. The healers fix them and the other magic users make life simpler and a bit easier. But they're not gonna be able to do that, if we don't keep them safe. And... Isn't that what the King's supposed to do? Protect his people from the powerful and the cruel?"
Prince Philionel nodded in agreement. "What Cardinal Rezo is doing sounds unrighteous and must certainly be stopped. Christopher? What's distracting you?"
Christopher was entranced by the sword at Gourry's side, one that shouldn't be there at all. The hilt decorations had caught his attention, but the inscriptions, which he could barely make out, intrigued him most.
"I believe I can read the script. It says: 'Light, come forth!' Is that correct?"
"Um, yeah," Gourry answered uncertainly.
"If that is what I imagine it is, could you give us a demonstration, please? I haven't seen such a sword ever, but I have heard folk tales, stories that the elves made swords with blades of magic, which would only bend to the will of one master."
Gourry wouldn't budge.
"I see you don't trust us. Believe me; we are in far more danger than you. You have brought a weapon into the throne room, with which you could behead us both and seal the fate of our kingdom."
"What!" Philionel bellowed.
Lina, Gourry, and Christopher settled the man down, and Gourry agreed to show them his magical sword at last. He showed them how it worked and powered it up.
"It only works for me," Gourry said, not without a little pride. "And it was the Capriones that made this, and more like it, long time ago, not the elves."
While he put on a demonstration of his skill and the sword's unique beauty, the others watched and deliberated. Gourry provided the men the necessary time to think over the situation and assess was they wanted to do next.
"There is a function tonight," Philionel said at last. "Dignitaries, influential men of all types will be here. I wish to rally them to our new cause, and then we shall decide what course of action to take. Oh, and Rezo will not be present."
(O)
The beast men accompanied Filia and Valgaav to the edge of their territory, still effusive with gratitude toward the strangers for leading the attack on the Red Guard encampment just outside their village, and eager to show their thanks by ensuring their safety for the short journey.
"And if you convince those high and mighty men from the mountains to get their hands dirty fighting with the Capriones, then count us in too."
"Dilgear, I'll hold ya to that," Valgaav said, grinning.
"High and mighty..." Filia grumbled, but wisely only when they were long out of earshot. "I'd show him high and mighty!"
"Why are you yelling at me?" Valgaav shouted at her over his shoulder.
"I'm not, I'm yelling at me and you're just in the way."
Valgaav roared with laughter, nearly falling off his horse. Filia held back her own smile barely.
The pass from the foothill took them to the narrow path up into the Kathart mountains, where lived the Cepheid tribes led by Milgasia. It was a fine defensive position with a clear view of all the roads entering the settlements. There, the beast men and the odd couple parted ways with promises of continued friendship and future cooperation.
"How much longer till we get there?" Valgaav asked Filia, who was familiar with the mountain paths.
"Couple hours only. It isn't far, just difficult for the horses," Filia answered. "In fact, had we left your settlement before that idiotic wedding ritual, we would have been there already and have avoided all the unpleasantness."
"But the beast men might not have beat off the Red Guard had we not shown up and attacked first," Valgaav reminded her. He was in high spirits for the first time in many days. "Maybe things happen for a purpose."
"Of course they do! If you were taught under Cepheid you would know they are!" she snapped.
They said nothing else for the duration of the ride. The air was clear and crisp, dropping in temperature as their altitude rose, fragrant with pine needles until they rose above the tree line. Harsh granite cliffs jutted out at abrupt angles, the path wove and snaked around gigantic boulders, while peaks rose in towering spires overhead. If Valgaav had ever lived in such a place, he doubted it; nothing jostled his memories and he couldn't have forgotten such dramatic scenery. He was about to ask Filia why they hadn't encountered others on the route, considering how close to the tribe's retreat they must be, when the path turned and opened to a most extraordinary vista.
"Here's where many of our tribes live," Filia said.
A wide, green valley stretched in a bowl-like depression, surrounded by bare, snow-capped peaks on all sides. The wind blew sharply off the peaks, causing both travelers to wrap up in their cloaks. He could see several villages spotted at random along the edges of a glittering river feeding into a central lake so deep a blue it looked mirror-like to him. He dropped his facade of arrogance, stunned by the beauty and unexpectedness of the view, and so lost was he in admiration of his surroundings that Valgaav didn't notice the man approaching from the side until he was nearly upon them.
"Hello," the stranger said.
Valgaav jumped and spun to the side, his eyes narrowing and distrustful of the man's sudden appearance. He was as tall as Valgaav but heftier, with golden hair which felt in waves to his shoulders, and very handsome. There was no sword at his side or weapon of any kind in his hands.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Valgaav snapped, drawing his sword.
The man raised his thick, straw-colored eyebrows, looking more amused than annoyed, and showing no fear. "You've been watched since you left the pass in the company of three beast men. I arrived to greet you. Who have you brought me, Filia Ul Copt?"
As the older man turned to her, Filia bowed slightly and said, "Milgasia, sir, this is Valgaav from the Ancient tribe. Valgaav, may I introduce Milgasia, the elected leader of our collective tribes. Sir, we need to see you and talk. It is of the utmost importance and we can waste no time!"
"Valgaav of the Ancients? I'm surprised to meet a survivor of that unfortunate slaughter, and pleased. Yes, I can feel your sense of urgency, Miss Filia. Valgaav, please, fill me in on your story while we walk to my home. It's not far."
They followed his lead, Filia and Milgasia in front, Valgaav centered just behind them, the two horses trailing behind. It was Filia who spoke up, telling Val's story, from his rescue at the hands of destruction from her own people by Zelas, to his position in the Capriones, including their meeting, their leaving the Capriones settlement, and ending with a recapitulation of their fight against the Red Guard the day before. She told it without excess words or emotions. Milgasia stopped at a stone pathway leading up to a two-story building hewn from the same granite rock of the mountains.
"I appreciate your brevity, my dear," Milgasia said to her, raising one eyebrow in a look of mild reprobation. "Now, I'd like to hear what your young man has to say for himself."
"He's not my; that is, Valgaav is my friend. I'm concerned about him and helping the Capriones," Filia sputtered.
A youth dressed in pale blue tunic with gold trim similar to Milgasia's was standing alert to the newcomers by the polished, pine doors. He jumped to attention as Milgasia shouted to him, starting up the path.
"Yes, yes... Open up! We have guests, for the day and night, at least. Have the cook bring us refreshments and whip up some extra dinner, and remember to say 'please'." Milgasia used a fatherly tone, rather than as a master might address a servant. "Is your brother in the stable?"
"Yes, he is," the boy said with a carefree smile. "I'll take the horses to him first, okay?"
When the boy disappeared Milgasia said, "My nephew. I'll introduce you later."
Filia and Valgaav followed the man into a stone-floored entry where they hung their cloaks with a shiver in the chilly space and stowed their bags and weapons. Milgasia led them on into a high-ceilinged, broad-beamed room with thick rugs on the wood-plank floors and a blazing fire in the fireplace. He gestured to a pair of deep-cushioned chairs near the fireplace, moving another closer for himself.
"So, Valgaav, you were born into a noble family originally, from what Filia just told me. How old were you when Zelas took you in?"
Valgaav straightened his shoulders with pride. "I was the prince, yeah. I was first in line to rule whenever the time came that my father stepped aside, or died. I was with the Capriones over fifteen years thinking I was, well, it doesn't matter now what I thought of my past."
"No, it doesn't," Milgasia said, smiling. "So is this your urgent matter?"
Filia started to speak, but Valgaav stopped her with eye contact. "I'm here because I wanted to learn the truth about my family, first off."
Milgasia sat back, fingertips meeting in a triangle. "It's true. Cepheid tribes, not from these mountains, but others on the other side, the sea side, attacked, murdered, and razed the towns of your people, to the last man, save you, it seems. It was a time of great evil. All over, in fact, our nobility was executed for non-compliance with the anti-magic laws coming from Atlas City, or thereabouts. But still, the Ancients protected their own and refused to turn over their most powerful weapon. Killing them and using another tribe to do it, well, it sent a message to us all. Many tribes have gathered here on this mountain, for protection from further prosecution."
"That weapon," Valgaav said, his eyes sparkling, giving way how interested he was. "Do you know what it was?"
"I imagine it was you, and your family. Your father was a gifted holy magic user, capable of great acts, and even more was expected from you, when you grew up, although yours were a most peaceful people."
"Why didn't they fight off the attack? I don't get being so strong and not being able to defend yourself!" Valgaav growled, disappointed that there wasn't a magical weapon to search for and hurt by his own feelings of inadequacy.
"I imagine, since I was not there and there is no reliable record of the event to draw from, that is was totally unexpected, that the attackers came in the form of friends, used sleeping spells, possibly dark magic ones taught to them by the magicians of the Red Guard, and murdered them in their sleep. How Zelas of the Capriones learned of the attack and was able to take advantage of it... I can't say."
"She told me my birth father was a Caprione and her husband. He's no longer alive either."
Milgasia couldn't meet his eyes. "No, that wasn't so. Your father was of the Cepheid tribe, of that I am certain."
"This doesn't make sense. Why would she save me and no one else? How would Zelas even know about me?"
"Possibly, she had close contacts with you birth mother?" Filia suggested. "And somehow word reached her in time to rescue you. Maybe you were hidden secretly someplace."
"Remotely possible. Still, Zelas' timing to rescue me was remarkable, no, unbelievable, don't you think?" Valgaav asked. "Like it was planned."
"Zelas had nothing to do with that attack," Milgasia assured him. "I don't believe that she and Rezo would ever cooperate."
"They were and are mortal enemies," Valgaav growled.
"I believe you," Milgasia said, his eyes accessing him in an attempt to judge the young man's character. "You have traveled a hard road getting here. So, Valgaav, what does a young prince of the Ancient Cepheid tribe, raised by the Capriones, want from me?"
End Capriones, Chapter Twenty-Two.