Disclaimer: I do not own Berserk; this is only a fanfic.
Author Notes: Gomen nasai, everyone! This chapter is long overdue. With another full-length in the works, I haven't had much time to devote to this particular fic. However, as that story is coming to a close soon, expect timely updates.
A special thanks to everyone who read the previous chapter and to my reviewers: Swordman Beliefs and to Night – this chapter is mostly Griffith centered, but expect more on Guts, as he and Caska interact more in later chapters. BTW – based on the anime, I did not get the impression that Caska took an instant dislike to Guts. What I deduced was… the closer Griffith and Guts became, the more negative her feelings. It was sort of progressive. I hope this chapter gives a little insight.
Chapter 2: First Battle
"Griffith!"
My shout fell on deaf ears as the dark warrior and my commander, for the second time, engaged in combat. Both Griffith and this Guts person were stubborn and I could only stand by and watch their battle unfold.
Parrying a thrust from the large braodsword, Griffith then counterd with a riposte. He struck the first blow as his rapier lashed out with lightening speed and sliced into Guts forearm creating a fresh, new wound. In a lunged stance, our leader smirked at the surprise on the dark warrior's face.
Guts staggered back and fell on his rear. He had not recovered sufficiently from the last battle with Griffith, but he was the one foolish enough to issue this challenge. One must be one hundred percent when taking on the leader of the 'Band of the Hawk'.
"We can always suspend this duel until you have recovered completely." Griffith's voice broke through my thoughts as he stood over Guts. Deliberately riling his opponent, Griffith added, "If you would rather."
The taunt hit home and with a growl, Guts jumped to his feet. "Shut up!" he yelled, raised his sword and began swinging mindlessly.
What was with this guy? Did he enjoy punishment or was he some kind of masochist? He had fought recklessly with Bazuso and had taken on Corkus men single-handed. After my bout with him, Griffith had defeated the dark warrior and now he was back for more. Whether from tenacity or stupidity, the fool just kept coming.
Griffith dodged each blow effortlessly while Guts relied on his strength. His movements were erratic compared to our leaders smooth style and evasive maneuvers.
Hearing rapid footfalls from behind, I turned to see the entire camp running towards us. Turing my back on the two fighters, I stepped into the path of my comrades and spread my arms wide.
"Come on!" I heard Corkus shout to the others as he led the pack. "That brat is at it again! Kill him, Griffith!" he yelled.
Once again, the instigator could not act alone, but that was Corkus's trademark. It was a pity not many recognized it for what it was. I, however, saw right through him and often wondered why Griffith kept him around.
"Corkus… stay back!" I ordered.
"What?!" He gaped at me.
"Griffith said not to interfere."
"Don't be foolish," he snapped and approached with every intention of passing. "It's him or Griffith!"
He was just one step away when I swiftly withdrew my sword. His foot halted in midair as my blade pressed into the pulsing vein at his throat.
"When did you become the leader, Corkus?" I challenged, only to watch him twitch nervously. "Griffith's orders are absolute. So, settle down!" I commanded. My dark eyes glittered with resolve as I stared him down and applied more pressure to his beating pulse with my sword.
Sounds from the fight ensuing at the top of the hill, once again, drew my attention. Sheathing my sword, the members of the 'Hawk' and I turned to watch the outcome.
The dark warrior was faring no better than a moment ago. Griffith was slicing him to ribbons, but the fool would not give up. Several cuts were bleeding profusely and I did not understand how this Guts could stand, let alone continue to fight.
Griffith's attacks were brutal, but his angelic face was impassive. He showed no hesitation or mercy and his eyes were shards of blue ice. However, I would never stand in judgment of my commander and I would never, outwardly, question his methods.
From where we stood, I could see the blood gushing from Guts wounds. In a last attempt to halt Griffith's precise assault, the dark warrior plunged the tip of his sword into the ground. Pulling back on the hilt of the blade, he lifted the soft packed earth and tossed soil and grass into the face of his opponent.
Temporarily blinded, Griffith staggered back giving Guts an opening. Raising his sword high, the dark warrior brought it crashing down on our commander.
However, Griffith somehow managed to dodge the intended blow and was now balanced precariously on the blade of Guts broadsword imbedded in the ground.
We all gasped in awe at our commander's agility and his abilities never ceased to amaze us. No one could best the leader of the 'Hawks', I thought with pride… no one.
Standing on the monstrous sword with his full body weight holding it down, Griffith placed the tip of his rapier to Guts throat.
"Finally," I murmured with relief, "It's over!"
"I enjoy the way you fight, my friend!" Our commander addressed his opponent. "You would go to any lengths to defeat me. However, you cannot wield your sword unless I move." Griffith bore his weight down on Guts sword to prove his point. "I wouldn't mind if you'd rather postpone this for another time." He made the offer for the second time.
At first, Guts appeared dumbstruck by the strategy and then… I noticed that determined gleam had returned to his eyes.
"Hah! You talk too much!" The dark warrior smirked. "Let me tell you something…" he practically hissed before continuing, " In battle, there is only one way you should be using your mouth!"
If I had thought him mad before, I doubly thought so now. My eyes grew wide as this Guts opened his mouth and clamped down on the tip of Griffith's blade. Using jaw pressure, he pushed forward forcing our commander back and upsetting his balance.
We watched Griffith wobble in an attempt to maintain his footing on Guts sword. So focused on his task, he took no heed as Guts lifted the hilt of his sword and tossed him off. Guts, however, also stumbled forward and they both toppled over the side of the cliff.
"Griffith!" I screeched and took off at a run. What was our commander thinking by taunting this lunatic? Why did he want someone as reckless and foolhardy as this Guts to become a member of the 'Hawk'? This mad man cared for no one's life… not even his own.
Running to the spot where they fell, the Hawks and I reached the edge of the cliff and looked down to see the two had landed at the bottom unharmed. We arrived in time to see Guts deliver a sound blow to Griffith's jaw. To add insult to injury, the dark warrior followed through with a kick to the side of our commander's head, knocking him to the ground.
"I can… I can't believe this," I cried out in my mind. Corkus stood next to me, also in disbelief, and I heard him utter, "I've... I've never seen Griffith get knocked down before."
For once, I had to agree with my fool comrade. I had never seen Griffith beaten in such a way… actually, I had never seen him beaten at all. Even during a full-scale battle, I had never seen him disarmed. I had seen him cut through masses of the opposition on horseback and never lose his seat.
What the hell was going on? Who was this Guts and why was Griffith going to such lengths to have him join us?
"So… how do you like the taste of your own blood?"
Guts taunt invaded my thoughts and I returned my attentions to the two men below.
"You struck a sound blow." Griffith's response was muffled. Our commander rolled to his knees and wiped the blood from mouth before standing. With his back to his opponent, he stated ominously, "But… I'm afraid this has to end."
As intended, Griffith's impassive declaration only served to antagonize Guts. The dark warrior growled and lashed out at our leader. Drawing back his arm to throw a punch, he clearly intended to blindside Griffith.
Neatly sidestepping the attack, our commander caused the dark warrior to overextend and stumble forward. As Guts arm extended to break his fall, Griffith clamped down on his wrist with one hand, hooked the other under his armpit and slammed his assailant to the ground. Face down and with his arm pinned under Griffith's weight, Guts could not move.
The men behind me roared in celebration as we had seen this particular tactic before. It was what the men called a 'grappling hold' and we knew, at that point, the fight was definitely over.
"Now… my friend," Griffith stated, holding tight to his opponent. "Admit defeat or I shall be forced to dislocate your shoulder." As Guts began to squirm, trying to break free from the firm grip, or commander added on a sinister note. "It makes no difference to me." His tone was cordial, belying the intensity of the situation. "Now… choose."
My gaze moved from Griffith's stoic face to Guts' savage one and I knew then, without a doubt, how this would end. As sure as I thought it, I saw the smirk reappear on the dark warrior's face. The next word uttered, sealed his fate.
"Bastard!"
From the top of the rise, I heard the distinct popping sound of Griffith separating Guts' arm from his shoulder joint and the valley grew eerily quiet. The grunt of pain forced from the victim's throat, was a clear sign of surrender.
"Yeah!"
"Way to go!"
"That's our Griffith!" the men all chorused and raced down the incline. Laughing and cheering they all rushed to celebrate with their commander. I could not help but notice, that Corkus was at the front of the fray. He was the first to reach Griffith and offer his congratulations.
"Griffith!" He addressed his superior. "That was great!" Turning to look down on Guts struggling form on the ground, Corkus could not resist a jeer. "You won't be forgetting that anytime soon now, will you?" he spat.
"Hey, champ!" Corkusbent down to the injured man's level. "How does it feel to lose two in a row?" he mocked.
I stood alone and silent from the rise. From my position, I watched my comrades; my commander and our new recruit still attempting to stand. I saw Griffith come between Corkus and Guts, sweeping the rabble-rouser to the side. He approached the injured warrior and pulled his head up to meet his eyes.
"Now… you belong to me, Guts," Griffith declared imperiously.
My eyes stretched wide at his words. What could Griffith mean? What did he mean by 'belong'? Surely he did not plan to enslave this… this berserker of a man.
I dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Griffith abhorred that type of thing. After all, he had saved me from a similar fate. However, I could not help but wonder at his choice of words.
My brow furrowed as I saw Guts eyes also widen in response to our leader's claim. Brown orbs, rich as the darkest chocolate met and held blue orbs, clear as the morning sky. In that brief moment… in that second, there was a flicker of something reflected in the depths of those eyes and I turned away.
"Do you mean it?" On hearing Rickets exclamation, I reluctantly turned back.
Griffith stood and made it official. " From now on… Guts is a member of the 'Hawks'!" he announced.
From my position of the cliff, I could see the shocked faces of my comrades; however, the majority began to cheer. The news had clearly floored Corkus; he stood quite still, his eyes bulging in disbelief.
As I turned and walked away from the crowd, I thought it strange. Other than recruitment for the 'Band of the Hawk', Griffith had never taken a personal interest in any one person and individual compliments were nonexistence. Although he had saved my life… although he had left it to me to decide on joining the 'Band of the Hawk', Griffith had not offered the way he had Guts.
This only confirmed my intuition from earlier. Things were about to change, and not necessarily for the better.
xXxXx
"What am I now, his personal body guard?" I began heatedly. "I refuse… let someone else do it!" I turned my back on my commander. The two of us stood on the hillside overlooking the camp where we could talk in private.
"Now, Caska," Griffith appealed to me. "Guts is now our comrade. How can you refuse to look after one of our own?"
I rounded of him with my hands clenched to my sides. "I… have… looked after him quite sufficiently, thank… you," I emphasized with sarcasm. "Assign him to someone else," I reiterated.
"There is no one else that I would trust," Griffith said firmly. "A lot of the men do not agree with my decision to have Guts join us, although none will oppose me directly. I am only asking you to watch over him until he is healed. After that…" His blue eyes smiled and I avoided that angelic gaze. "… after that, he is on his own."
'A lot of the men', meant that Griffith knew about Corkus and his cohorts. I should have known that our leader would be aware of the mood of his subordinates.
Corkus was clearly not happy with the way things had turned out. With Guts laid up, the fool would not miss an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.
"This is the last time," I conceded and glanced at our leader from the corner of my eye. He wore a satisfied smile and I went on the defensive. "I mean it, Griffith… I will not do this again."
"Alright, alright," he laughed. "I promise… I won't ask again."
xXxXx
On night watch, I patrolled the area and made sure to stay close to Guts tent. I was about to step into the open when I heard voices from the other side.
"… besides that, didn't Griffith say…" I recognized Sam's voice.
"Don't worry." That was Corkus conspiring again. "The boy is asleep and alone; plus he's injured and can't possibly use his sword."
"We'll convince Griffith that the kid ran off or something," he continued and added on a sinister note, "After we dump his body in the woods."
The group stood and moved towards Guts tent. "Come on, Sam," Corkus urged his comrade, "… you go first."
"Why me?" Sam whispered frantically. "Corkus… you… never go first," he accused.
I smirked into the darkness. So… someone else was aware. Deciding to interfere before things got out of hand, I moved from behind the tent and out into the open.
"You'd better not do it." My voice carried to the group of schemers.
"Caska!"
"He is still beyond your skill level," I informed them, meaning Guts. "Even in his present condition," I added.
"I'll take my chances," Corkus spat.
Cutting my eyes in his direction, I wanted to remind him that it was Sam he had put on the forefront.
"Go back to your tent like a good boy, Corkus," I instructed him tiredly.
"Come on, Caska!" His eyes appealed to me. "Why do you want to save him?"
As I failed to respond to his query, Corkus eyes narrowed on me. "Oh... I see what's going on." He leaned forward and insinuated suggestively, "You lay down beside him for the past two nights; it's no wonder you have feelings for…"
My sword appeared suddenly in my hand. I was unaware that I had drawn it until the blade gleamed in the moonlight, the tip poised at Corkus' bobbing Adam's apple.
"If you say something like that ever again, I'll chop your head off." I hissed.
I didn't want to remember those nights I had lain with the stranger or the odd sensations that I had experienced. I only wanted to forget.
"Hey!" Beads of sweat formed on Corkus brow. "I was just kidding," he stammered. "Calm down."
My eyes never wavered from his and I held my ground. Seeing a chance to escape, the conspirator turned to his companions and began backing away. "Come… let's go," he grunted.
The cowards and their leader ran off. Sheathing my sword, I heard the flap on the tent open and I turned to Guts' hostile glare. Wordlessly, I stared back and then turned away to continue my rounds.
"Well… it looks like I owe you double now," Guts huffed ungraciously. Ignoring him, I continued walking. "I should at least thank you," he yelled after me.
The last thing I wanted or would ever want was this… this Neanderthals thanks. Besides that, I thought he was going to choke on his own half-assed and obvious insincere attempt at gratitude.
"I didn't do it for you, " I announced as I kept my back to him. How dare he even think such a thing. "I'm just following Griffiths orders." Finally, looking back at him, I decided to make my position clear.
"I don't give a damn about you," I stated emphatically. "I hope you drop dead in battle." Turning on my heel, I muttered loud enough for him to hear, "… and soon." Even to my own ears, that had sounded a bit childish; however, that was the way I felt.
Guts did not respond, but I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I walked away. Something inside me was unfurling, something dark and sinister. Once again I wondered, who was this Guts and why was he so special?
I sensed a connection between him and Griffith, one that I don't believe Guts was aware of himself. But… it was there and wondered what it could mean.
xXxXx
Guts made a miraculous and speedy recovery. In the days following, the 'Band of the Hawks' were issued new orders from the head of the Midland subsidiaries. We were chosen to lead the raid on an enemy encampment.
Dressed in full battle gear and in formation, the men and I sat astride our horses on the moat bridge. Griffith stood at the head and we listened as our commander revealed the stratagem.
"On the hill…" Griffith began and pointed to the lined tents on the hill near the outskirts of the castle, "… our opponents have their headquarters manned by approximately two thousand soldiers. Our mission is to burn their provisions and other supplies stored behind the hill," he continued. "Theoretically, the enemy will amass their troops to the front of the hill expecting a night attack."
"My strategy…" Griffith looked out amongst us. "We shall march through the river and attempt a surprise attack from the rear. Then… we will take the shortest route back and pass right through the midst of their forces in a single dash."
"Any reinforcements?" One of our soldiers asked.
"No," Griffith said simply. "Those who hired us cannot afford to lose anymore resources."
"Cause their all a bunch of cowards!" another soldier yelled.
Laughter erupted throughout the troops, as we all knew the blue bloods left the real fighting to us. The men were excited. They had been idle since the last battle and were revving to confront the enemy.
"Quiet!" Our leader commanded and all laughter ceased. Once he had our full attention, he continued. As we waited for Griffith to instruct us on our positioning, his next words shocked everyone.
"The rear guard for tonight… will be Guts," Griffith announced, turned to the dark warrior and then added, "If you accept?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. From my seat on my mount, I looked to Guts, who appeared as shocked as the rest of us.
"As the rear guard," Griffith addressed his choice, "You will have to help all your fellow soldiers escape… while containing hundreds of enemy cavalrymen… on a narrow path through the woods," he emphasized. "Can you mange it?"
"Is that an order?" Guts asked, seemingly unperturbed and knowing full well that is was.
"It is," Griffith responded.
The two men's eyes met and clashed. Once again, I noticed the challenge in Griffith's; it was as if he was baiting Guts and, somehow, I knew the dark warrior would rise to the occasion.
"Is Griffith testing him?"
"Poor guy; I doubt he'll make it."
"Maybe he'll see his chance to sneak off!"
These comments were inconspicuously muttered through the 'Hawks' with each member voicing their opinion and I had to disagree with my comrades.
Our commander's strategies were flawless. Griffith would never assign a task to someone unless he was absolutely sure of success; therefore, he must... he must truly believe Guts' capable of carrying out his orders.
Sitting a few feet behind him on my horse, I stared at the back of the dark warrior's head and experienced that same feeling from before… the one that left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The opening of the iron gates pulled me from my musings and I suppressed the gnawing sensation in my gut. Nudging my mount forward, we fell into formation, headed out of the castle and into the forest.
xXxXx
The raid went as planned. There were no mishaps, but then… failure was neither an option nor a consideration for the 'Band of the Hawk'.
Our forces moved upstream; in the middle of the river rather than alongside it. Judeau silently took out any guards we encountered along the way. His aim was accurate; his knives fatal.
As Griffith had predicted, the provision tents at the rear were barely manned. Our troops broke through without any trouble and the fires were set, depleting the enemy's rations and supplies. With our task complete, our squads turned and headed back to the castle.Griffith's group led, mine followed and Guts brought up the rear.
As intended, the first two groups arrived back at the castle without confrontation from enemy troops. Only Guts group would encounter them.
I watched Griffith dismount from his horse. The castle magistrate approached and began pre-congratulating him on our success. However, our leader was brusque as he informed them that the battle was not yet over. Without another word, he bowed courteously, excused himself and headed towards the main gate.
"Why… all of the nerve!" they sniffed huffily, obviously appalled that a mercenary would have the gall to cut them. "Such insolence!"
As I followed behind Griffith, I was sure he had overheard them. However, he ignored them and I did the same.
"What are our losses?" our leader inquired of Judeau, who had just arrived.
"Nothing serious," the knife wielder replied.
"Excellent!" remarked Griffith.
"It's all thanks to Guts," Judeau stated excitedly. "You should have seen him take on a group of cavalrymen single-handed. Boy… he's really something!"
Judeau's praise continued; I found myself becoming annoyed and the intensity of it surprised me. I was not above giving someone their due and was, usually, the first to express a job well done. However, with this Guts… I found I just could not be as accommodating.
Suddenly, we heard someone approaching and looked up to find young Ricket reining in his mount.
"Where is Guts?" Judeau asked.
"He sent me back without him," the boy cried.
"Oh no," Judeau sighed. "I hope he's still alive."
The four of us turned and peered down the dark road. It was likely we were all thinking the same thing. As I turned to Griffith, I saw the determined set of his jaw and resolve glittered in his eyes. I recognized that look; he was going after Guts, I was sure of it.
"Caska," Our leader turned to me. "Set up a barricade of canons aligning the front gate and have them ready to fire. We will return shortly."
"Wha… what are you planning?" I asked, but moved to do his bidding.
"What else?" He smiled as he mounted his horse. "I'm going to retrieve our comrade." With a salute, Griffith, Judeau and Pippin headed down the road and into the darkness.
Shouting orders, I surmised it was not our comrade Griffith was going to retrieve, but his prized possession… Guts.
xXxXx
Much later that night, I sat on the tower wall and looked down into the courtyard of the castle. The men were celebrating; there was food, drink, laughter and camaraderie, but I had decided to forgo the festivities.
Griffith and the others had returned and were successful in rescuing Guts. I recalled feeling relief at the sight of Griffith's white steed galloping towards us. The moment I noticed Guts sharing a saddle, the annoyance I had felt earlier returned in full force.
Thus… to the victor belongs the spoils. This celebration was in honor of the 'hero'. Although a bit battered, Guts had fulfilled his task without losing one man and yet… he did not join in on the celebration. Instead, 'our hero' sat alone at the opposite tower overlooking the valley.
I watched as Ricket, Judeau and Pippin took the stairs and approached Guts. Words were exchanged and then I saw Pippin's large, burly form grab Guts and toss him on his shoulders.
It was a struggle and the big guy took a blow to the nose for his efforts, but Pippin did not relinquish his hold. He escorted Guts into the midst of the celebration and, unceremoniously, dumped him in front of the fire.
As soon as Guts righted himself, he sat up and yelled, "Don't you ever…"
His words were cut off by a mug of ale pressed into his face, but I knew what he was going to say. After all, he had muttered it repeatedly on the nights I had lain with him. Whatever his reasons, Guts clearly did not liked to be touched.
Obviously, this Guts was a loner. He seemed unfamiliar with the men's camaraderie and looked somewhat uncomfortable amongst the lively atmosphere of the camp. It was not until Griffith lifted his mug in a toast, that the 'hero' appeared to relax.
I also noticed that Corkus was missing from the celebration. He was probably off sulking somewhere, but I had no right to chastise my comrade. After all, my annoyance… or so I liked to call it, with Guts was quickly turning into something darker.
As I looked down in the courtyard and down on Guts head, a part of me wondered if I should have accepted Corkus offer, but then… my loyalty to Griffith overruled that.
To be continued…