**THANK YOU erveryone for your comments, I really appreciate it, and it keeps me going! :) special thanks to Aluc for being my beta (yet again!)**
5. Reaching
Greta stood straight, her little violet shoes firm on the ground. She had her head held high and her small hand clasped tightly on Conrad's. She closed her eyes for a second, when papa Wolfram leant to kiss her temple. He stood like that, his lips on her forehead long enough to whisper, only for her: "I will fix this".
She knew she should have said something, hugged him, promised to be a good girl, maybe even say "I know everything will be alright". But she couldn't, because if she opened her mouth all the sobs that had been building in her throat would escape, and she would cling to her papa and ask him to stay, or to let her go with him. So instead, she tightened her hold on Conrad's fingers, who didn't flinch or turned to look at her, because he understood.
So when papa Wolfram turned around and didn't look back, Greta tried not to feel betrayed for being left behind yet again. She had not cried when papa Wolfram explained what had happened with grandma Cherry, and she was not going to cry now.
Günter was leaving too, they would travel together half the way before dividing and taking different paths.
The sun was still lazy on the sky, it was so early some birds had yet to start singing. There was an insinuation of morning fog around the yards, where the soldiers waited in formation. The number of them was somewhat intimidating. Greta was used to watching soldiers train on the yards every day, but now it was obvious it was never the same soldiers, and that others were maybe on guard, or finishing other duties. Trying her best and remembering what Gwendal had taught her, she counted around eight regiments. Then breaking the cold morning silence, Wolfram's voice carried over their heads like wind over sand, giving a signal that Günter echoed, and suddenly they were moving, first the soldiers at the front and then slowly the rest, some of them on horses but most on feet.
Letting go of a half sob-half sigh, and feeling the cool air against her bare cheeks, Greta looked up at Conrad, and she knew for what she saw on his face, that she was not the only one left behind against her will.
.
The cool air of the morning had capriciously turned into the all enveloping heat of midday, portraying a characteristic autumn day in Shin Makoku.
Wolfram wiped off the sweat from his forehead with a brusque gesture. Squads of scouts have been sent ahead, and now that the only prospect was riding in line for the whole day, his mind began to wander… to Yuuri. It was disconcerting how somehow Yuuri always came into the equation, even though he was not even aware of what was happening. And Wolfram felt guilty and ashamed, because this was a rescue mission for his own mother, and yet there was another pressure in his heart that had Yuuri's name all over it.
Wolfram could feel the hot air and dust along the road rising at the sure footing of the horses around him, a mere yellowish whispering that marked their route. And he let himself close his eyes for just a moment, and the memory of Yuuri riding beside him was so fresh and so familiar to him, that it was almost too easy to conjure. He half sneered -he could just hear Yuuri complaining about the sun. That wimp.
Wolfram rubbed his sleeve again over his forehead and eyes, abashed at himself. His mother was his priority, had he no shame?
"Sunstroke?" asked Günter guiding his horse closer, looking sideways at him.
Wolfram stopped himself in the middle of growling as a response. Taking the old route with Günter did not feel natural anymore –and wasn't that interesting. Günter had not judged him when he saw him break down just a little (just enough), and he had also kept it from his brothers. That had… counted.
"I am alright" answered Wolfram instead, wondering where this new path would lead.
Günter nodded, apparently appeased, but he did not move back again. He kept riding by his side, and by his demeanor it was obvious to Wolfram that Günter was debating with himself about something.
"Say it, you can talk to me" he prompted, because this was not the time for secrets or half truths. From anyone.
Günter looked uncertain, but then gripped the reins of his mount tighter. Ostensibly coming to a decision, his voiced dropped grave and strange to him.
"His Majesty should be back tomorrow, or the next day at most. It's been five days since he left."
"I know" answered Wolfram, easily picturing the return of his fiancée. Traveling among words, using the element of water as instrument and vehicle, the man he knew oh-so well and yet not-well enough, would materialize himself in the fountain in Shinou's Temple, his clothing clinging to his body in a drenched disarray. And then… Then Conrad would take care of him.
Conrad. It had been a nasty business, among everything else. Conrad had demanded leave to join the search party, but Gwendal had stood tall, his back straight and his unyielding voice had carried out the simple yet final No. Wolfram had tried very hard not to let the bitterness clutch to his heart when the reasoning behind that simple word became clear to him: Conrad's first duty was to protect His Majesty. He was Yuuri's man, his shield and sword. And it was ridiculous but that hurt too.
Wolfram always thought that was meant to be his place.
"When His Majesty comes back, he will want to join the search for Lady Cecile" carried out Günter.
"But Conrad won't let him join in right away." answered Wolfram drily, "And Yuuri will listen to him, if not anyone else".
"Quite right" answered Günter in what Wolfram recognized as his teacher voice. "Yet eventually, he will join us. If we fail, he will most certainly succeed in finding Lady Cecile. King Yuuri would never stop looking".
"Neither would I" exclaimed Wolfram, suddenly resentful for whatever implication had been in that sentence.
"Never said you would" continued Günter in the same tone of voice. "Still, knowing His Majesty's honorable, righteous, benignant, knightly…
-Wolfram groaned-
"…chivalrous, ethical and virtuous nature, what shall we expect from his no doubt heroic would-be rescue?"
Expect?
"A trial" said Günter simply at Wolfram's confused silence.
And then Wolfram caught up and felt a fist trapped in his throat.
"Why are you saying this?" he asked, licking his dry lips and turning on the saddle to look straight at Günter.
Günter looked back, and there was something very dark, very mazoku in that look. Something that Günter never showed when Yuuri was around.
"We both know what King Yuuri means for the kingdom, what he has done for… all of us. He has brought peace. He has brought life".
"Never thought I would hear you complaining about peace and life"
Günter steered his horse closer enough to grasp Wolfram's arm tightly.
"King Yuuri would never condemn anyone to death Wolfram. Anyone"
Wolfram looked at Günter's hand till he let go, then looked up, rock serious.
"I love Lady Cecile, Wolfram" said Günter. "As much as anyone who saw her grow up and mature into the strong Queen she was; as much as anyone who can truly see her vulnerable, loving heart. She is the proof that innocence can survive a war"
Wolfram found it difficult to nod, his neck stiff, his throat dry. He would not cry, he was the soldier, not the son.
"Justice for your mother's kidnappers Wolfram" said Günter simply.
He may as well have said justice for your mother's murderers. Günter did not think this was a rescue mission, he thought they were chasing down Lady Cecile's killers.
Suddenly Wolfram found it hard to keep looking at him.
"I want my mother back Günter" said Wolfram plainly, pleased on how even his voice had sounded.
"And the culprits?" asked Günter.
Wolfram let himself think about that for the first time. About the after the rescue. And he realized he was glad Yuuri wasn't here. He was glad his fiancée was not here to stop his hand and demand a trial. There would be no trial, they were already guilty.
Wolfram looked up and realized Günter had been looking intently at him, reading his gesture and features. He closed his eyes, to momentarily avoid the strange scrutiny.
"Must you make me say it?" he whispered.
"How can I know you will do the right thing when the time comes, if you can't even say it now?"
"They are guilty" said Wolfram then, nodding "they are dead".
.
Murata reclined and closed his eyes, the soft murmur of the car's engine all around him. He could feel Yuuri beside him, hastily fumbling with the silver ring. Circle-circle-rub. Circle-circle-rub. Rub. Rub.
Wolfram.
He was not in the car, yet he was here. Always around Yuuri like a rope, tightening and pulling him down. Recognizing the stirring of some unnamed emotion within him, Murata reached out to place his cool hand over Yuuri's sweaty palms.
"Stop"
It was becoming a litany, a plea. And Murata was not sure it was only meant to be directed at the infuriating handling of the ring.
"Sorry" said Yuuri hoarsely, leaning back on the seat and running both his hands through his hair, desperation clear on every gesture.
"Try to rest, we will get to Bob's safe house soon enough"
"I just can't! I am sorry Murata but how can I 'try to rest' when whenever I close my eyes I see only-"
"I know what you saw, and repeating it won't make it any easier on you" interrupted Murata, who could feel Yuuri's fear like wavering electricity against his skin.
"How can you be so calm?" demanded Yuuri hotly, looking at him in disbelief.
Murata opened his eyes at last and turned towards Yuuri. The sun was on their back so the light came around Yuuri's messy black hair like a halo, so completely ridiculous and out of place, it almost made him laugh. His eyes though, those were no angel eyes. Those were two black bottomless pools of ignited power that made him catch his breath -deep down, there was the Maou looking at him, and Murata had to resist the urge to kneel or perish in the attempt to please him.
It took him a few seconds to realize Yuuri had asked him something, and then it took him yet more time to form a coherent answer.
"It is Shinou" he said at last. "We are connected" and it had sounded sour, but he didn't much care why.
"So?" prompted Yuuri.
Murata avoided his eyes this time, and answered in a monotone, the way a bored teacher would explain an insipid subject.
"He is a being, a force connected to Shin Makoku in more ways than we can hope to understand. Every rock, every river, every single tree is connected to him. The threads of the past draw the future in a way that only beings like Shinou could expect to decipher. And… I am connected to him too. My soul" and this time he touched his own chest, over his heart, "is part of Shin Makoku too. If there was any possibility of danger, if there was any shadow of a catastrophe looming close, he would tell me". Murata then locked eyes with a speechless Yuuri, "And I would tell you. Right away"
Yuuri nodded, stunned, then leaned back and brought his hands to his face, taking a deep long breath. He looked lethargic, boneless.
It was till Yuuri had moved his hands to his face that Murata realized he had been holding on to them this long. Feeling oddly self-conscious, he cleared his throat.
"Can… can you do that again?" asked Yuuri, his voice low and vacillating.
"Do what?" asked Murata, confused.
"What you did a few hours ago. Calm me down".
That was the oddest request Murata had heard from Yuuri yet.
"It was just maryoku" said Murata dumbfounded.
"But it isn't just that… not just healing, is it? And no one else can do it. Only you. Because-because you are my Sage, right?"
Yuuri sounded so lost then, and his face was still hidden away behind his hands. The ring on his finger caught a glimpse of sunlight that made it shine. Murata saw it, and in a dash reached out and put both his hands on Yuuri's shoulders, pulling him to sit straighter.
Yuuri breathed out in surprise, letting his hands fall on his lap, and finding himself face to face with Murata, closed his eyes.
Murata didn't close his eyes, he wanted to see. He wanted to feel… and so he let his maryoku flow. He wanted Yuuri to feel what he felt before. For some reason, he wanted to make Yuuri drunk on his magic. So he pushed. And there was a muffled whisper, a hushed murmur, and it was hard because this was not Shin Makoku, but he was strong enough, he could do this much. He pushed again and could almost see the crystal mist of his power dragging itself from his own veins over his arms, towards Yuuri's skin.
Yuuri's breathe fluttered. And Murata leaned closer, mesmerized, and pushed one last time a flow of anesthetizing energy into Yuuri's soul.
Murata held his breath, closed his eyes and leaned that last inch. Yuuri fell back languidly, breathing deeply, peaceably falling asleep due to the overdose of Murata's power.
Murata stood there, the ghost of Yuuri's lips on his, frozen in surprise and fear for his own actions.