Disclaimer: I do not own 'Berserk'; this is only a fanfic.
Author's Notes: Hello everyone! New chapter up and I am highly anticipating the next Berserk manga chapter release. Casca is back (the old Casca we know and love), but in what capacity?
I want to thank my single reviewer for my last update - Shisoukengo - as always its a pleasure and I know you look forward to Casca's revival just as much as I do. Thanks for the lovely welcome and I will continue my best efforts to this fanfic.
MidnightFalc0n1, MintKookie & keneki055 - thank for following.
Without further adieu, please read, enjoy and leave a review.
Chapter 7: Devoured Dreams
It was past town curfew, and yet Midland's town pub was crowded. Peasants, mercenaries, and tradesman occupied every stool, chair or bench in the busy tavern. Serving wenches wove through tables with ease carrying trays laden with thick stews, brown bread, and freshly brewed ale. The regiment soldiers, including 'the Hawks,' decided to hold their own form of merriment, since only the elite military were attending the ball taking place at the palace.
Corkus, Judeau, Pippin, young Rickert and I sat at the center of bawdy conversations, macho boasts, and audacious belch challenges. Long ago, I had become accustomed to the tomfoolery of my male comrades, just as they had become accustomed to my presence. The only female soldier of Midland's army received no special treatment socially. No one guarded their tongue while I was around, held out a chair for me to sit or offered to pay for my ale. I was just one of the guys, and I was okay with that. There was only one man I would want to view me as a woman, but alas... that would never happen.
"Heh... I bet Griffith's enjoyin' the banquet." Corkus, who was sitting across from me, said out-of-the-blue. The fanciful expression on his face was eery; one would think Corkus was the one being privileged. "A succulent meal, fine wine, and the beautiful Lady Charlotte as a partner - that's gotta be great," he sighed.
I reached for the mug of ale I'd been silently nursing since I arrived and took a swig. It was warm, and the taste of malt was more pronounced. I sat it back down on the wooden table, propped my chin in my hand and sighed. Leave it to Corkus to remind me of the two individuals I came here to try and forget.
"Neh - it's probably boring," stated Judeau and I heard Pippin grunt in agreement, while chomping on a leg of mutton.
Mentally, I expressed a 'thanks' to my comrades, yet continued to sulk inwardly. Unlike Corkus, Judeau was not oblivious to my feelings for Griffith. Although the knife expert had never said a word nor expressed an opinion, I somehow sensed his awareness. However, it was times like this that I appreciated his insight and support.
Corkus opened his mouth to form a retort, but whether accidental or intentional, he was cut off by the youngest member of our group.
"By the way... has anyone seen Guts" Rickert inquired; he straightened in his seat to look around the tavern. "Come to think of it; I haven't seen him all day."
"Tch... probably off alone somewhere trainin' with that sword," Corkus snorted.
"He's just slacking off!" I announced, finally joining in on the conversation. Now, this was something I could sink my teeth into; Guts was the perfect topic to keep my mind off Griffith, Charlotte, their interactions at the Autumn Hunt, as well as them together at the palace soiree tonight. "Our squads were supposed to have joint drills today, but he never showed up," I spat. "He never even bothered to tell me he wasn't going to be there."
"Hey, calm down," said Rickert. The boy was leaning back in his seat as if trying to escape the vehemence in my tone.
"Scary..." I heard Corkus mumble.
Just the mention of Guts and his irresponsibleness got me heated. Fortunately, my annoyance with him was overriding the melancholy from earlier, and I was starting to feel more like myself again.
The door to the tavern opened, the rusty hinges creaked loudly in the room, and we all looked up to find the object of our discourse standing in the entryway.
"Guts!"
I was on my feet in an instant; pushing back from the table, I moved around it and hurried over to the foot of the stairs. "Where the hell have you been all day? Making trouble, no doubt!" I hissed as I stomped up the steps to confront him.
"We're supposed to work together!" I snapped, oblivious to the stares from below. To the 'Hawks' this was an everyday occurrence; me reprimanding Guts for something or another. "And look at you... oh... that smell!" I blanched, stepping back from the stench seeping from his body. "Have you been in the sewer?"
Guts turned to me, his eyes dull and lifeless. They seemed to look through instead of at me, and that was the first indication that something wasn't right. The second was the open laceration on his left arm which appeared to be made by an arrow. Guts clothes were askew, and I could tell he had been in a skirmish of some sort.
"Where's Griffith?" Guts asked in a quiet voice.
"He's..." I paused, as the melancholy began to resurface. "... at a party for Princess Charlotte at Primrose Palace," I informed him.
Without a word, he turned and left the pub. "Hey!"I yelled at Guts broad back and followed him outside. "I'm not finished yet!" But he ignored me and kept moving.
"Is that an arrow wound?" Judeau suddenly appeared beside me and inquired.
"What's the matter with Guts?" asked Rickert, poking his head through the doorway.
I watched him go; those wide shoulders seemed to slump as if that monstrous sword had suddenly become too much of a burden. His movements were sluggish, and he stumbled across the cobblestones, moving listlessly into the night.
Something was wrong, I thought, and instinctively, I followed. Since knowing Guts, I have seen many expressions; anger, and rage, jovial and carefree, I have even seen sorrow, but - never devastation. That look of hopelessness was new, and it bothered me. I hated to admit it, but Guts was solid; the man never backed down, never feared - never wavered. As I fell into step behind him, I wondered what could have occurred to have caused his trepidation.
"Casca!"
I looked over my shoulder at Judeau and Rickert, still standing in the pub entrance and waved them away. "It's okay," I said with a reassuring smile. "I'll handle him."
Guts slowly made his way to the Primrose Palace, and I wondered at the urgency that he needed to speak with Griffith now. Could it not wait until morning? Obviously, Guts didn't think so and with his disheartened mood, just this once, I would not interfere. And so, it was curiosity that had me follow from a discreet distance; it wasn't that I was concerned or anything.
The path we took led from the cobblestone streets of the town to the outskirts and then on to the main road. Guts staggered on, occasionally stopping to massage the injured arm before moving onward. The tenacious fool took a shortcut through a thicket of self-sown trees, and yet I covertly followed. From the brush, we stepped into an open field, which brought us to a stone staircase leading to the palace.
Halfway up the stairway, I noticed Guts had stopped. My gaze shifted from the dark figure in front of me, and I looked up to see Griffith, in all his finery, standing at the top near the courtyard fountain. It pained me to see him this way because it was a blatant reminder of how far removed he was from me. With the sudden appearance of Princess Charlotte, the pain only intensified.
I felt rather than saw Guts move, as he had also noticed Griffith. His booted foot took a step to the next tier, just as Griffith removed his cloak and covered the edge of the fountain, allowing the princess to sit without dirtying her satin ballgown.
"Wait!" I whispered, and Guts turned slowly to look down at me. "Do you intend to see him dressed like that?" I asked. "Please don't embarrass Griffith that way."
Guts stared at me, looking confused. I moved up a few steps and had to suppress a smile. If the situation was different, I could take great pleasure and advantage of this rare display of obedience, but once again, I decided to give the guy a break.
"Wait until the princess leaves and he's alone if you 'must' speak with him," I said with less bite than usual. "Let me borrow this." I reached for and removed the knife from the scabbard at his waist, using it to cut a piece of cloth from the sleeve of my blouse. I took a sliver of the coarse fabric and used it to bandage his injured arm.
"Hey," he whispered, caught off guard. He wasn't the only one; I too was surprised at my action. I felt him watching me, but I continued my administrations and avoided his eyes.
"To tell the truth, I don't enjoy these festivities," we heard the princess confess; both Guts and I looked up to where Charlotte and Griffith were standing. Although we stood in the middle of the stairs, we were cloaked in darkness, openly observing the two occupants at the top. "I find them noisy and distracting," the princess went on to say.
"Still, I'm sure they must soothe the spirits of those who must fight on the battlefield and allow them one evening to forget the horrors of war. Even so, I know that the battle is never far from their minds, " Charlotte stated. "However, I feel it is the end of the war, not temporary distractions, that will save them."
"Why do the affairs of men lead to bloodshed?" Griffith looked down at the princess at his side. "I believe you asked that question of me during the hunt," he reminded her.
"Oh... yes," she recalled and turned to him expectantly.
"As you have observed for yourself, men are by nature, barbaric," Griffith responded. "It's similar to a double-edged sword; one side is a tool to obtain precious things and the other side to protect them."
"Precious things?" Charlotte questioned. "You mean like friendship and... and love?"
"Of course, for some men, these are the most precious," Griffith said as he looked up at the stars. "But - I believe..." he began, and Charlotte, Guts, and I all waited, with bated breath, to hear what was more important in his mind.
"I believe that beneath those things is something even more precious than that... one's dream," Griffith continued on a quixotic note. "It's something one is driven to pursue, solely for their own sake and no other."
"One man's dream can hold dominion over the entire world," stated Griffith, as if announcing his feelings to the world. "While many pursue their dreams in solitude, other dreams are like great storms blowing hundreds and thousands of dreams apart in their wake. Dreams breathe life into men yet can cage them in suffering. Men live and die by their dreams; even when abandoned, men's dreams still smolder deep in their hearts."
"Some see nothing more than life and death; they are dead, for they have no dream," Griffith stated impassively.
Guts gasped, and it broke through my revere; I jumped slightly, so caught up in Griffiths words and mood. I looked over at Guts to find him staring wide-eyed with something smoldering in their dark depths, which was a vast improvement from earlier. Griffith was once again speaking, and I turned back, as our leader ended his wistful monologue.
"I'm sorry," Griffith murmured, as he drifted back to this time and space and turned to Princess Charlotte. "It seems I got carried away. I hope I haven't bored you, my lady."
"N-no... not at all," Charlotte said breathlessly. "I - I have never spoken like this to anyone, least of all a gentleman. "
"The first time I saw you, I felt you were no different from the other aristocracy. But you are different. You are young, but you have seen so much in such a short lifetime," the princess said softly. "But when you taught me to play on a reed at the hunt, you seemed innocent - almost like a child," she continued. "And now - you seem a philosopher, sharing your thoughts with me." Turning to Griffith, Charlotte gazed into his eyes and whispered, "You are amazing."
I turned away, looking down at the stone stairs beneath my feet. The princess was right, and yet her familiarity with Griffith caused the melancholy that had dissipated earlier to resurface.
"But, I cannot be the only one who feels that way," Charlotte said shyly. "I'm sure your friends are equally fascinated, and that's what attracts them to you."
"They are my able soldiers, who serve me well," Griffith informed her. "They are dedicated comrades who sacrifice their lives so that my dreams will come true, but that does not make them friends."
"In my mind, a true friend never relies on another's dream. The man who would be my friend would have his own reason for living - beyond me. And he should put his heart and soul into protecting his dream," Griffith continued. "He should never hesitate to defend it, even against me. For me to call a man my friend, he must be equal to me in all respects."
A revealing statement that would have crushed many in 'the Hawk's' unit and I closed my eyes against the damage it would cause if heard. The men worshiped Griffith; many considered the band of the Hawks to be family. To hear from their leader's mouth that they were nothing but tools to his success would devastate them. And yet, I found that I was not as affected as one would think and I already knew the reason.
Although Griffith had brought us all together; even though he ate with us, slept near us, fought with us, he maintained an air of reserve with the men. The others may not have noticed, but I had felt it. Before Griffith became a knight, before Midland, even before Guts had blundered into our path, our leader had exuded a pseudo-fellowship.
I was in denial; I saw, but I did not want to believe and inwardly nurtured the false hopes of lingering bonds with our comrades. I even dared to hope for something more. However, with each battle, with every measure of success, Griffith drew further and further away. I had never voiced my concerns; why should I? Griffith had saved me; I owed him my gratitude, I offered my devotion, and those were reasons I stayed mum.
As I stood at the foot of Primrose Palace, slowly absorbing and accepting the truth, I remembered Guts presence and realized he had also overheard Griffith's ideals and I closed my eyes against what he must be feeling right now. It was a hard pill to swallow, knowing the person you gave allegiance to, the person you fought for, would have died for could not even call you friend. Tonight, Guts had already been dealt a blow and this - well, this went deeper than any arrow and caused a wound that may never heal.
Guts stood stiff, his body rigid and he could not take his eyes from the couple at the top of the stairs. I wanted to say something; as his comrade, I felt I must, but I could not find the words.
"You have such confidence," Charlotte gushed, looking up at Griffith adoringly from her seat at the fountain. Even though I had heard enough, I once again gave my full attention.
"My faith has given me everything I have," Griffith said, as he placed a foot on the edge near the princess and leaned forward to look deep into her large blue eyes. "And now, I have the honor of talking to you - the princess of a kingdom."
From where I stood, I could see the tell-tale blush that stained Charlotte's cheeks and heard her gasp at Griffith's boldness. "Will you... will you share your dream with me?" the princess asked of Griffith, and I was forced to turn away and began moving down the stairs.
The first stair - I did not want to hear Griffith's answer. The second stair - I had already heard enough. On the third stair - I remembered that I wasn't alone, and I paused.
"Princess... Princess! Something terrible has happened!"
Turning back on hearing Lady Charlotte summoned, I saw Griffith straighten away from the princess. He offered his hand and assisted her to her feet before moving in the direction of the voice. Although they were no longer in view, we were still able to hear the conversation.
"Whatever is the matter?" Charlotte asked, of the panicked messenger.
"Your uncle, Count Julius, has been killed!"
"What?" Charlotte gasped. "But, but how can that be?"
"A thief stole into his study and... and killed the young Lord Adonis, as well..."
Guts moved then; the stone statue finally came to life. He turned suddenly, his dark cape fluttering behind him like a dark beacon and descended the stairs at a faster pace than he had ascended.
I watched him for a moment before following at a slower pace. So much had happened in one night; the murder of a noble family and a child no less, Griffith's revelations and whatever had devastated Guts earlier.
By the time I reached the last set of stairs, Guts was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, I moved in the direction of the town to return to the pub where everyone was waiting. For now, I would say nothing to the others, but I realized there was much I needed to think through.
The town was in an uproar on my return; news of Count Julius death had traveled fast. The guards and sentry roamed the streets and ransacked homes in search of the culprit. Amongst the whispers, I learned that those who had encountered, engaged or had laid eyes on the murderer were all dead. There were no witnesses alive to give testimony.
"Hey! Casca!"
Looking up and then around, I spotted Judeau and Pippin hailing from the opposite side of the walkway. I waved and stood back, waiting for the night watchman to pass, replaying today's events in my head. 'Guts - wounded - sewer - murder.' The thought had me running shaky fingers through my short cropped hair, as a disturbing image began to form.
Til next chapter...