Thanks to all who reviewed last chappie: Black Acid Dragon, Kal Ancalas, and Seraphim Starlight!
Summary: One estranged son of a Duke couldn't weasel out of his web either, no matter the amount of empty threats and wild antics."My name, Master, for the final time is--Asch!", and it was in his best interest he didn't know--just yet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of the Abyss, nor do I recieve any kind of profit from this piece's publication.
"He may be mad, but there's method in his madness. There nearly always is method in madness. It's what drives men mad, being methodical."
-G. K. Chesterton
Spider
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The plan had gone precisely how he had envisioned it, and he found that he could not be happier when examining the results before him. The boy had been coaxed into leaving the safety of the manor to go through with a promised meeting with his precious "Master" by the docks where he had been easily apprehended by loyal oracle knights directly under his command. Their backgrounds had been of noticeable Malkuthian descent so as to not arouse suspicion of his allegiances, and they had followed his explicit orders to the letter, exposing themselves in an earlier tussle while seemingly patrolling the area with no authorization.
It was easy, as he had heard the investigations committee discuss in their meeting chamber above the Baticul central plaza, to tag them as Malkuthian with their thickly foreign accents and unusual features. The normally even tempered Duke, perhaps because of his own private knowledge of what the Score contained, only stoked the tempers of the troops packed tight in the room with well thought-out words and ordered a full out sweep of the kingdom before confronting the King Peony of Malkuth with their concerns. The words of his unintended accomplice in this deed echoed faintly in his mind:
"It is not to us the duty of cursing or questioning our fate is given, but only the Score's duty to aid us in these times. We are it's humble followers and what has happened will no doubt lead our country to a greater prosperity, most likely with my son returned to us!"
A more foolish sentiment he had never heard in all his life. The tyrannical, controlling Score leading to greater prosperity? The prosperity that had yet to come— yet had killed thousands and destroyed so much? The prosperity that had destroyed Hod and any chance for the semblance of a joyful life with his sister at his side? A dangerously foolish sentiment, and one that this world would pay for with its very existence. The Score would cease to be, and it would be to him the glorious "duty" would be assigned.
"I've stood for long enough Master," the boy snarled edging closer into the room through the door he had opened, " if you aren't going to train me, may I at least see if any one else more focused on the present will spar?" It seemed he had hit a nerve by daydreaming in the presence of his student. Any motion that indicated or in anyway related to the past tended to spark his temper more often, now that the reality of his losses to his replica had sunken in and festered.
Van inwardly smirked and outwardly released a sigh. If this loathing for the past was a sign that the present state of existence was unwanted by his pupil, then convincing him to his side would go on unhindered by the boy's usually fickle and large ego.
"Well, Luke", he would bring the hate to a boil if only to help his plans, " only upon reflecting on the past can one learn from one's mistakes." The boy bristled at the extended barb and crossed the arms agitatedly as Van released a bright smile at his student's humbling.
It was times like these he loved his appointment to the rank of Commandant. No one could outright question his authority with such a large backing of military support and political weight, especially when his own great strength and skills were brought into the equation.
One estranged son of a Duke couldn't weasel out of his web either, no matter the amount of empty threats and wild antics. Luke needed him as much as Van needed him to further his plans; it was in his best interest the boy didn't know how indispensable he was—just yet.
"Asch…" the boy muttered quietly, trying to restrain himself from doing something that would give him reason to be punished. It was to no use as Van had already heard, though it wasn't something he was going let ruin his good mood. Rather, he'd use it to help his mood.
He swung around his desk, stopping only to pick up the sword he had propped up against it, and made his way across the room to his student who had been steadily turning a darker shade of red every second he had to wait. Sighting that, Van shortened his strides while seemingly buckling the scabbard that usually took all but a second to attach to his belt. Van so enjoyed using little actions to tug on a person's patience. Nearing the boy he quickly finished off his minute task and stopped a short distance before the boy.
"Luke", he taunted, preparing to jolt a sense of purpose into his pupil's malformed anger, "even your replica grasps the concept of patience and focus. Must the copy outperform it's original?" If possible, the boy grew a few inches taller and his face darkened with an almost indecipherable mass of emotions—a mass that Van relished to see hate mixed in with. However, his smile faded slightly as his charge fell too silent and he noticed faintly that the glare he had failed to notice earlier was partially directed at him. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far.
"My name, Master, for the final time is—Asch!" the boy shouted, "I am in no way possible inferior to that—" he paused, presumably thinking of a proper description to dub his mirror image, "—that DRECK you call my replica! I am not the boy who is the "Sacred Flame" of Kimlasca-Landvaldear!" Yes, he'd gone too far this time. He should have expected something like this to happen. "— I am not LUKE FON FABRE! I am what remains of him, and all that is are his ashes!" The boy stepped forward with every point he made until he had met the older man in the center of the room. He was in front of the Commandant and had to look up due to their large difference in height.
He would become a formidable opponent soon; Van thought absently, as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder and tried to emit a calming aura to defuse his volatile anger. If left unchecked, it would no doubt lead to something exploding with the fifth fonons he emitted subconsciously when angry. They had yet to go over controlling it in their lessons, though it seemed to be the fonon the boy was most compatible with while casting his fonic artes. Ironic that the one who donned the title of "ash" controlled the physical manifestation of his former title. "Sacred Flame" indeed.
"Of course you are Asch," he murmured consolingly, taking satisfaction as the boy was brought out of his haze and flinched as he realized what he had just done, "and any other man would be proud to have you as his pupil. I just ask that when you are feeling agitated; you do not take it out in such a juvenile manner. When you become a God-General it will be that much harder to keep your rank, control your subordinates, or even stay alive—" The boy allowed himself a sharp intake of breath as he realized the underlying threat involved, and shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, though the fiery glint in his eye was in no way dampened.
"I hope we have an understanding?" Van offered amusedly, watching his pupil nod jerkily, and take a few steps back as his surroundings dropped a few degrees in temperature.
Van often wondered if his fonic affinity was to that of Undine with its mastery of ice and water. It would have certainly brought a large amount of irony into the whole situation if that was the case.
Van walked past his student slowly, taking in the hesitant footsteps that followed with slight amusement, and turned the sharp corner into a circular chamber littered with the occasional weapon, book, or training dummy. He'd have to warn his subordinates against leaving their trinkets behind, and he knew the perfect way how.
"L—Asch! See that you knock back every book to the furthest wall." He ordered, indicating the wall facing them with a wave of his hand. "And try limiting your moves to fonic artes that are wind based ." The boy scowled at the order and the situation soon presented by it.
The third fonon had always been his worst. Unlike the fifth fonon, which easily responded to his emotions and thought pattern, it seemed that Sylph was determined to disobey any action he took and sabotage any attack he made.
Van watched as Asch struggled to maintain his focus and calm himself down so that he held a clear mind; the exact attitude one needed to have to successfully focus and channel the third fonon. He also watched as his student did not reach that state of mind, and forcefully start his incantation.
" Drifting winds of change and malice, strike down my foes, come forth, and encompass those who dare stand against my might—Winding Gale!"
When he had seen his pupil flinch the minute wind had gathered around his form, he really couldn't have expected anything different.
The tendrils of wind bound to Asch gathered and spun about him until it seemed he was in the center of a hurricane, equipped with the unsteadying force that so accompanied its presence. Asch stumbled backwards a few steps, trying to balance himself in the center of the eye that was all but calm, but when he tried to retry the incantation, he only got a mouthful of the mid-back lengthed hair he was so determined to keep despite the strict dress-code. Van had decided to humor the boy in an attempt to sway him to his favor, but seeing what was happening now definitely made up for the small sacrifice he'd made.
The boy danced around and tried to outrun the spire of wind, sending glares back at him when he could afford pause, and then returned to his losing attempt to outrun the creation of Sylph. It was truly funny; though the fit the boy would undoubtedly throw afterward would be a pain to deal with.
Luckily, he knew how to weave his way around the boy with his actions and slight nudges into certain directions. It was only Asch who didn't know of the game being played, and that made it all the sweeter.
A/N- I don't know why, but the fact that Van toyed with Luke, as I presume he toyed with Asch in his younger days, just rubs me the wrong way. I'm all for a game having an evil character that strings everyone in the game along, but the way it got really personal and so obvious later on when I'm yelling at ShutUp/Pre-Akzeriuth!Luke while progressing through the storyline made me want to kick his butt especially hard during the (what seems like) 3rd final battle.
I'm proud to say I made it my first time through without having to use up all my usual 16 life bottles!
This, I guess, was timed a few years after the kidnapping, but not so close to the beginning of the game to where Asch actually suspects treachery. It's more that he's eternally pissed off at his teacher for kidnapping him (or just knowing of the existence of his replica), but not knowing what part he's going to play in it.
The quote I found while searching for something pertaining to power, and I felt it fit Van a lot becuase he isn't the usual wack-job that is continuously cackling in evil laughter after coming up with a particularly ingenious plot. I hope he came out that way in this.
One more thing: What the is the room in Baticul where a meeting is being always held actually used for? The whole game it was filled with a bunch of guys who just told me to shut up. They didn't seem to further the plot at all unless I missed something big…though I definitely wouldn't put that past myself...