Hasty Demands

2. Uninvited Foreboding

Gwendal von Voltaire was rage. Pure, undiluted strength, only tempered by an equally strong will. Since he was young he saw the ups and downs of other lifestyles. He saw his own mother live according to her emotions, and how that had led her to make the most disastrous choices, he also saw how her power was virtually taken off her hands by her own brother, his uncle Stoffel von Spitzweg. Hard times and being the only permanent male figure to his younger brothers had molded Gwendal into a stoic being of strength, just like the element of Earth that he so perfectly wielded, he himself was an impenetrable wall.

He knew he was an anchor for many, a leader for most, he knew his analytical mind was just another weapon for his military spirit. Wars had hardened his already stolid heart, and that was why this time of peace felt so strange and alien. Why sometimes he still woke up with his heart racing at some unexpected noise outside his bedroom, with his sword in one hand and ready to invoke the earth around him… only to realize it was some guard fooling around with a maid at late hours on the corridors. It was all right, it was peaceful. And he hated it. What use had a soldier in a peaceful kingdom?

That morning Gwendal woke up early, and as usual took three to five minutes to finish his cold bath. No time for bubbles, scents or such follies. Clean, and the job is done.

He was just walking down the corridor, surrounded by the morning's soft, white, brightness that was coming through the windows, when he heard quick light footsteps hurrying behind him. The first smile of the day touched his lips, a subtle lift of the corner of his mouth.

"Uncle Gwendal!" called a sleepy voice.

The turned and almost without thought, kneeled down to put a hand on Greta's shoulder.

"Do not run in the corridors, a proper princess should act with dignity at all times" he said, not without love.

Greta took a moment to gain her balance under the guide of Gwendal's hand, and smiled softly, bringing a hand to rub her eyes. She was dressed for the day with a long purple dress that reached her ankles, but her hair was a royal mess… her brown curls falling to her cheeks and shoulders.

"Sorry uncle Gwendal… but I wanted to walk with you to breakfast"

Gwendal was not fooled.

"Walk we can, but the answer to your next request is still no".

"But…"

"As it was yesterday"

"Yes but if you would let me just…"

"And the day before"

Greta pouted, looking up at Gwendal with wide brown eyes.

"That stopped working when you turned nine" said Gwendal, trying not to smile. Deep down though, he suspected those big brown eyes would always hold certain sway in his decisions. It was strange, to love this little girl who had come into their lives in such a dramatic way, and yet had stayed and become an irreplaceable part of their family.

"But please, just please" they started walking, Gwendal with a patience air that no one but Greta could bring out. "Think on it…I am a princess right? It is only proper that I learn how to use the sword"

"You have a whole army sworn to protect your life and wellbeing , why do you think you would ever need to wield a sword is…"

"During the last war, even Lady Cecilie had to fight, and she was the Maou herself" answered Greta promptly, remembering the tales of "Golden Celi and her whip" that Anissina had told her. She knew better than to call Lady Cecile "grandma" too.

Gwendal lost footing for a second, but quickly recovered his pace. Clearing his throat, he fixed a nonexistent wrinkle on his green jacket. "Those were dark times Greta, and they're well behind us. Besides, His Majesty Yuuri would never allow for you to get in any kind of danger"

They were the first to arrive at the breakfast table. One of the servant girls smiled at them and brought juice for Greta and strong black coffee for Gwendal, while a light breakfast was being served. There was a long strained silence between them, only broken when Gwendal looked up and saw Greta's eyes locked on a window, her mind clearly out and far away. What surprised him was the look in those eyes, far more mature than was usual in her.

"Peace is not forever" said Greta, as if continuing their earlier conversation.

"No" responded Gwendal, putting down his cup and feeling… something in his gut, "It is not"

"Get up" said Wolfram in an acceptable imitation of his older brother Gwendal.

Roy staggered to his feet, clutching his right arm tightly and breathing heavily.

"What did you do wrong?" asked Wolfram, sheathing his wooden practice sword in a fluid movement.

"I should have covered my side better… I had my guard down sir"

"And now you're "dead". Everyone, take notice" Wolfram walked along the training circle, all his recruits in blue uniform listening intently. "We are soldiers, we are the sworn swords of the kingdom. Keeping ourselves alive and alert is our duty. The moment you signed in to be part of the army you gave all your strength, valor and ability to the service of the King. And when I choose you to be part of my regiment I openly signaled you as the best maryoku wielders, yet that is not nearly enough. All the power of a wielder is nothing when faced with esoteric stones, so I want you all to pick up your swords and practice that movement I just showed you"

Wolfram then looked at Roy and nodded, "You did fine, but I want you to keep practicing" he looked around. "I want you all to be the very best fighting force of Shin Makoku. Now soldiers, fight!"

A couple hours later, Wolfram looked up to the sun and felt the heat of the summer day wrap his body like a wet sheet. They had been practicing most of the day, and the pressing, hot air around them could make it a challenge to breathe. It was good, he needed the challenge.

After another two hours, and when one of his own men fell to his knees to vomit, Wolfram decided to call off the practice for the day, and sent them to rest and attend their schedules.

He could felt his shirt damp against his body, but refused to take off his blue jacket and give a bad example to his subordinates. Instead, and only after he suddenly felt somewhat dizzy himself, Wolfram went under the shade of a tree and sat down, his back to the log, and his eyes closed.

It was in that position, and after some minutes that he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. Only one person would take such liberties, and would hold his shoulder with that firmness and ease at the same time.

"What is it Weller?"

Conrad sat down next to Wolfram in silence. Wolfram tensed at the proximity and looked straight into his brother's brown eyes.

"I said, what is it Weller?"

Conrad stretched his legs, giving his younger brother a long evaluating look. Wolfram didn't flinch, he knew this game: Conrad was waiting for Wolfram to break, to open up and talk. That could have worked when Wolfram was fifty maybe, but he was older now and knew better, so instead closed his eyes again and tried to not think. He had been trying for days to stop his brain from thinking, from remembering the disastrous moment he had shared with Yuuri, that Event (in his brain it had a capital E) that had sent Yuuri literally running away and jumping in the first metaphorical glass of water to escape to Earth. So Wolfram took calming breaths, and concentrated on feeling instead. He felt his arms sore from the training, the tiredness of his body, the sweat that ran down his temples, the strong beating of his own heart, how dry his mouth was…

"Whatever happened between Yuuri and you is none of my business" started Conrad, in a calm voice.

"Well said, it's not" interrupted Wolfram, ridiculously proud for not talking first.

"But you are my brother Wolfram, and I have seen how in the past few days you have pushed yourself, and your men, in training. You have been doing nothing else, even Greta is worried…"

"If you're implying I neglect my daughter-!"

"I am saying you're neglecting yourself"

A short silence followed those words, a silence in which Wolfram could feel his blood boiling. It was all he could do to stop himself from setting fire to the tree under which they were. He could just about feel the intention of sparks under his skin. Instead, Wolfram got on his feet slowly.

"I am worried for you Wolfram, when was the last time you had a proper meal?"

"I thought mother was on a journey, but somehow I still hear her every time you open your mouth Weller"

With that Wolfram walked away, he knew his comment had been petty but didn't much care. Conrad knew nothing, and yet he had dared to come and pry on his personal life. It was enough to have the servants and guards in the castle making bets every night on his and Yuuri's relationship. All of this was downright humiliating.

Maybe he hadn't had breakfast, so what? He was not hungry. Nor was he hungry during lunch or dinner, ever since the Event. But that was no one's business anyway.

Wolfram didn't stop till he reached the castle, walked a few corridors and arrived at their bedroom. There, safe from prying eyes, he punched the wall furiously. Stupid Weller, making him think. Making him remember.

His mind was racing now, without the absolute focus and concentration that only fighting could bring, Wolfram could remember just too well what had happened the day Yuuri had left to Earth.

He sat on the side of the bed, looking at the big tall window that had a small balcony that looked at the royal gardens. The softest of the breezes was coming through the window, but it wasn't strong enough to even move the curtains. It was such a hot day.

Wolfram laid down on bed, closing his eyes. Yuuri's confused expression, followed by absolute horror, danced behind his eyelids. He could practically still feel Yuuri's hand shaking between his own hands, when he had placed that ring on his finger.

It had been a fiasco.

It had been a terrible mistake.

Wolfram covered his face with his own hands in desperation. What a stupid thing to do. He had decided to wait as long as was necessary for Yuuri to feel comfortable with their relationship, and things had been going so well, they had been spending so much time together. But after reading one of the books that Yuuri's mother had sent him, he had learned of the Earth way to propose, and had not wasted time to look for a proper ring for Yuuri. It had taken him months to find the proper ring, and it was thanks to his old friend Sven Volker that he could finally get it.

Wolfram had not planned to give the ring to Yuuri right away, not maybe in another year… but after seeing him flirting with that girl. Something had snapped inside him, and the next thing he knew, he was pouring his heart out, placing that damned ring on Yuuri's finger.

But the worst was his reaction, he had gone rigid, pale, and his face showed nothing but shocked revulsion. It was too much.

Wolfram was almost glad Yuuri had run off.

But now it was all a terrible mess, because if there was one thing Yuuri was good at in their relationship, it was at denial and procrastinating. Now Wolfram knew he had jumped those lines, in quite a spectacular way too. He had forced Yuuri to face the denial of their "forced" relationship and put on a deadline on his procrastination. Theirs was no doubt the longest engagement in living memory in the whole kingdom.

Breathing heavily Wolfram put his hands down… and decided now and then, that he would apologize, and take it all back. He was a soldier, he could do this. He could make up any excuse for his late actions, he would even take back that thrice damned ring. He would pretend he had not confessed his love in the most sincere, desperate possible way. He would do it, he would do anything, if that meant taking back those disastrous words.

Wolfram stayed in bed the rest of the day, and when night came, he fell asleep without hearing the maid at the door that had brought a tray with food.

Dreams came, and in them Wolfram was standing over a cliff, from where he could see all of Shin Makoku at his feet, the kingdom extending miles and miles as far as the eye could see. But there was something wrong, and it took Wolfram a minute to realize that it was completely empty. The ghost of a kingdom, dead and abandoned. Suddenly he felt a horrible pain in his chest, it was an agonizing emptiness that abruptly cut off the air from his lungs, like a clawed hand ripping his heart from inside. Wolfram screamed and felt to his knees, only then realizing he was naked.

"Wolfram" said a dear voice behind him.

Wolfram turned quickly to the voice, feeling hope, because that was Yuuri, and Yuuri could save him. He always did.

"How could you?" said Yuuri. And there was something very different about him, something that he couldn't quite point out. He was dressed all in black, his arms crossed and a look of complete disgust on his face. Wolfram looked in shock at that face and immediately knew what Yuuri wanted.

"Take it back… you make me sick" whispered that obscure image of Yuuri, repulsion on every gesture and movement of his body.

Wolfram looked down, feeling that clawed hand scratching bloody in his chest, where his heart was supposed to be… the pain was maddening, and suddenly he realized his face was wet with his own tears.

And then, far behind Yuuri stood another figure, someone he knew but couldn't name. And that scared him yet even more, not because he was in pain or naked, but because Yuuri didn't know that figure was there. He feared for Yuuri's safety, and that fear chocked the words that he was fighting to pronounce with his raw throat.

"I take it back"