Disclaimer: I do not own 'Berserk'; this is only a fanfic.
Authors Notes: Hello everyone! It's been 5 years (Man, how time flies, whether you're having fun or not). As I'm just getting a feel for this story again, this chapter will be short. After such a long hiatus, what motivated me to write was the last 2 chapters of the manga. Not sure what Miura has in store for Casca's character, but it's been hard for me to relate to her in her current state.
As with the previous chapters, Casca's thought and feelings are my version of how she feels, so some scenes and/or dialogue may be altered.
Without further adieu, please read, enjoy and leave a review.
Chapter 6: Assassin
The day of the autumn hunt had finally arrived; it was an event that took place annually and held on Midland's Royal Chase. Although the affair provided food for the kingdom, to the aristocracy it was mere sport and an arena for interacting socially with their own kind.
The ordinarily peaceful castle grounds were abuzz with activity. The weather was perfect for the games; clear, blue skies; fresh, crisp morning air; the temperature neither too hot nor cold, as the Royals participating in the hunt gathered near the forest.
Stepping from the stables, I put a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. Blocking its glare, I looked across the grounds to watch the wake of the king's guards escorting his majesty to a designated spot to watch the games.
This day was significant for the 'Band of the Hawks.' Griffith's hard work had finally paid off; he was christened a knight by the king and awarded the title of Viscount. If that were not grand enough, the Hawks were appointed as honorary guards for today's hunting event which, for years, was an honor bestowed only to the prestigious 'White Dragon Knights' of Midland. Indeed, this day was momentous, as it represented our (Griffith and the 'Hawks) rise in rank and entry into aristocratic society.
Julius, the king's brother and leader of the 'White Dragon Knights,' openly resented the change, feeling a group of commoners had no right to hold such a position in place of nobles. However, Julius protests fell on deaf ears with the king and he was forced to curb his verbal opposition.
With a sigh, I grabbed the reins of a chestnut colt, left the stables and walked a short distance before mounting. I felt melancholy and held my horse in check, restricting the colt's stride to a steady gait that matched my mood. The horse was itching to gallop across the fields ahead but, I was in no rush to join the others.
Although proud of our accomplishments and promotions, I was somewhat pensive and a bit wary. It was unsettling watching Griffith and Princess Charlotte in the garden a few days ago. Was it Charlotte's awareness of Griffith I found unsettling or Griffith's interest in Charlotte.
Regardless of what I was feeling, Griffith's labors were finally bearing fruit. No one knew better than I, the sacrifices he had made to uphold his dream. There was one incident in particular, and I cringed at the memory before dismissing it from my mind, as I had done for years. However, it was a memory that made me realize how far Griffith would go to obtain his dream. Although I was truly happy for Griffith… for us; however, it seemed success was driving a wedge between the 'Band of the Hawks' and its leader.
Before Guts came, I was Griffith's second, and now… now, I'm no different than Judeau, Pippin or Ricket for that matter. To Griffith, I am just another soldier and now - there was Charlotte.
"About time you showed up, Casca!"
Judeau's voice startled me from my musings, and I turned in the saddle just as his mount sidled next to mine.
"Why are you dallying?" he asked, enthused. "This is our big day!"
"Hmm," I responded and forced a smile to my lips. "It's still early," I fabricated, as Ricket, Pippin, and Corkus joined us, their horses aligning with ours. "I'm probably not fully awake yet."
Everyone accepted my excuse, except Judeau. He knew my habits; unless ill or injured, I was one of the first to rise in the mornings. As we turned toward the hunting field, I could feel the piercing eyes of the expert knife wielder upon me, but I kept my face averted, avoiding his concerned gaze.
Approaching the field, we noticed Guts sitting astride his bay steed on the hillside. He was alone and looked angry; more so than usual and it showed on his face. Unlike the rest of the 'Hawks", he apparently wasn't happy with the role we were playing today.
"Gah!"
Once again, I was startled; my head whipped around and realized it was Guts venting his frustration.
A fox; a quarry of the hunt, had run onto our path. The poor animal pulled up short, hearing Guts' growl and encountering his scowl. The creature's ears flattened back against its skull, sensing danger, then swiftly turned and darted in the opposite direction, barely missing its pursuers.
"Good job, boy!" One of the hunter's shouted to Guts, as he turned his mount to follow the fox. Unfortunately, this made my comrade scowl even more and accompanied by a stream of muffled curses.
"What're you so mad about?' Judeau asked as he nudged his mount forward.
"I'm not," Guts muttered the blatant lie.
"It's written all over your face," Rickert piped in, as he joined them.
"Hmph!" Guts snorted with disdain, "This is dumb! Serving a bunch of nobles during playtime; it's pathetic."
"Don't have much choice," Judeau stated reasonably. "It's our job. Besides… it's better than going to war, right?" he turned in the saddle and included us all in the conversation. "And nobody gets killed."
"Yeah… well, I feel more comfortable swinging this thing," Guts mumbled, and I watched as he let go of the reigns to reach up and caress the hilt of that monstrous sword.
"That's all you ever think about!" Corkus spat.
"Don't start, Corkus," Ricket warned.
"Shut up!" he barked and then turned back to address Guts. "Look… until today, this important position belonged to the 'White Dragons'; Midland's best. We've fought for years to get where we are, and this job entrusted to us is a privilege," Corkus continued vehemently. "You dare call it pathetic?"
"That's enough, Corkus," Ricket, again, tried to intercede.
"Go ahead," Corkus sneered, as he turned his mount around. "You like swinging that sword so much? Just keep on then, but do it on your own! I'm not looking to die on the battlefield," he said before riding off.
I watched Corkus go, listening to his cursings and mutterings; however, for once I realized he was right. We, meaning the 'Hawks,' had been fighting for years; we had paid our dues and had finally reached the pinnacle. Now, we could relax a little, enjoy life and – find time for love. With that thought, my eyes unconsciously sought out Griffith.
Shifting in the saddle, I turned to the right and looked up the incline to an area with dense trees. I spotted Griffith seated astride his white steed on the hillside, but he was not alone. Princess Charlotte was with him, as the king had requested her presence and Griffith was assigned her privileged protector and escort.
A light breeze stirred through the valley, rustling the fallen leaves on the ground. The wind seemed to flow and circulate around the two, as Griffith and Princess Charlotte engaged in conversation. From where I sat, I could sense our leader's charm and imagine his gentle, persuasive tone as he addressed the princess.
Both Griffith and Princess Charlotte were beautiful, and I hated to admit, but together they made a striking couple. Even though born a commoner like us, Griffith possessed a natural air of nobility. He was able to mimic their articulate speech and executed their aristocratic mannerisms, better than most true nobleman of birth.
Women of gentry, such as Charlotte, were delicate creatures. Unlike me, they're refined and pampered. It only made sense that, someone with Griffith's high aspirations, would set his sights on a woman of a higher rank.
Charlotte reached up, and I watched her pluck a leaf from a tree branch hanging overhead. Her hands were, no doubt, soft – her skin smooth, whereas, mine were rough and callused. The princess placed the green stem across her lips, and I frowned in confusion. Griffith urged his mount closer to the princess, and I noticed him copying her action.
It was a game of some sort, I realized, as Charlotte's laughter floated to my ears. The sound only fostered my melancholy, and nearly overwhelmed me. Inwardly, I sighed, and without a word to my comrades, I gently turned my horse and headed back the way I had come.
Riding away from the festivities, I chided myself. When was I going to let go? What I felt for Griffith would never be reciprocated. His ultimate goals, hopes, and desires did not include me, at least not in the womanly capacity. He relied on my strength as a warrior and my leadership skills. However, with Guts in the picture, I was unsure if my presence was still relevant.
If I believed I had learned to control my feelings, I was mistaken. Intuitively, I had long accepted that the role the 'Hawks' and I played in Griffith's crusade was one of a beneficiary to his political machinations. And yet, emotively, I was chained by romantic delusions. Regardless of the reality of mind, in times of crises or if Griffith was in danger, those foolish emotions turned me into an obsessed, fanatical mother-hen; overprotective and overbearing.
A high pitched scream halted my progress and had me turning in the saddle. Another shriek and the sound of galloping horses, had me whipping my mount around and racing back to the open field.
On entering the clearing, I reined in my horse, and my eyes automatically turned to the incline where I had last seen Griffith and Charlotte, but they were no longer there. The 'Hawks,' I noticed, had formed one group, riding hard and heading in the direction of the stream. I nudged my horse into a full gallop and raced to join them.
From the rear, I flew past my comrades and positioned myself at the head of the group, directly behind Guts. As I moved to the side to overtake him, I saw Griffith, with Charlotte, in the stream up ahead. I watched, as he turned to mount his horse and then saw him stop, clutch at his chest and then topple back into the water.
"Griffith!" I shouted, quickly dismounting and rushing to his side.
"Griffith!" I knelt at his side in the shallow water and gasped at the arrow protruding from his chest. "Are you alright?" I asked stupidly, trying to decide whether to extract the arrow and decipher how severe the wound. Judea appeared on the opposite side and shared the same thought.
"Not good," Judea expressed concern. "The arrow might have pierced his heart."
On hearing this, the 'Hawks' surrounded Griffith, shielding him from another attack as their eyes peered into the dense foliage. In the background I heard Guts swearing and shouting at the princess, demanding to know what happened and from where the arrow had come. The wretched girl was crying, repeatedly whining she didn't know anything.
Griffith moved, attempting to sit up and I placed my arm around him to offer support. His hand slipped in the mud, and I caught him just before he fell over. "Griffith!" I gasped again; his name tumbled from my lips so many times I was beginning to sound like a parrot, even to my own ears.
"No need to panic," Griffith said in a soothing voice. He reached up and caressed my cheek to calm me. He finally looked up, his blue eyes meeting mine and smiled.
Everyone moved closer and watched in awe as Griffith reached up, extracted the arrow and examine the tip. Guts and Judeau also stepped forward to inspect the projectile weapon.
Judea's head snapped back, and his eyes grew wide. "That looks like..."
"Poison, for sure," Griffith finished for him, examining the arrow tip. "And a deadly one at that."
"Then why..." I whispered, staring at his breastplate and the small puncture from the arrow.
"This is why," Griffith said, removing the grotesque behelit he always wore from under his armor. "This served as my shield."
Although I always experienced an eeriness on seeing the oval-shaped amulet, it had indeed saved its owner's life this day.
"The necklace!"
"It's a good luck charm,"
"A talisman to ward off evil."
"Or it's the devil's luck!" The 'Hawks' chorused, astonished at what I could only describe as a miracle and a blessing.
Griffith stood, shook the excess water from his cape and moved toward the bank of the stream. In a panic, I quickly rose and followed, clutching his arm. "Wait! Remove your armor," I pleaded. "I just want to make sure you're not injured elsewhere."
"I'm fine, Casca," Griffith said softly. "Really."
"You're not!" I wailed hysterically. "Just a mere scratch and the worst could happen!"
Once again, I became that fanatic mother hen. Although I had just chided myself earlier, there wasn't a thing I could do to control it. I wasn't sure how the others judged my behavior, and at this moment, I didn't care. All that mattered was Griffith was unharmed.
Griffin smiled at me pitiably; the kind one would give to a misbehaved child and then heaved an exasperated sigh.
"Trust me, I'm fine," he said softly. "I survived without a scratch."
"But what if..." I began, but Princess Charlotte interrupted my tirade.
"Um... excuse me," she mumbled softly to Griffith, as she stood ankle deep in the stream. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's because I couldn't control my horse."
She looked small and fragile, her blue eyes full of tears and yet was still beautiful after her ordeal. Princess Charlotte exuded an air of helplessness that heightened the protective instincts of every male present, and Griffith was no exception.
He turned from me and moved to stand in front of the princess. "Don't concern yourself, my lady," Griffith soothed. "After all, it is our duty to protect you."
As I watched the exchanged, inwardly, my annoyance grew. Was the princess so self-centered or that dense to think that an arrow, laced with poison and aimed at our leader was the result of her inability to control a horse?
"Who would have the balls to try and kill Griffith?"
"Wait - maybe they were aiming for the princess!"
"Either way, we can't just let this go!" The 'Hawks' debated amongst themselves. "Let's find'em and kill'em," they shouted.
"My men and I will search the brush," Guts announced, joining the fray. "Let's go!" He shouted, and I watched his men scatter.
Griffith helped Charlotte back on her horse, and I noticed he still held the poisoned arrow in his hand. His head swiveled slowly in the direction of an open clearing about twenty yards away and his eyes locked onto something or someone.
"It's quite an expensive poison," I heard him say, just before gathering the reins of the princess's horse and walking off.
I stood dumbfounded. Now that the crisis was over and I was able to reason, the incident and its implications were finally sinking in. It was clear that many nobles shared Julius opinion, but would any be so bold as to attempt to kill Griffith - a favorite of the king and a christened knight?
With a sigh, I turned in a complete circle before locating my horse. Trudging over to the chestnut colt, I thought to find an opportunity to talk with Guts about increasing security around Griffith. That would surely, if nothing else, put my mind at ease.
To be continued…