In addition to the fact that for some inexplicable reason I do not own Escaflowne, I have another disclaimer to make: this story will not, I repeat NOT, be yaoi. There is one scene in this chapter that, if you tend to like slash, could be read as such, but that's not my intent. If you want to see the two guys as possibly having a relationship, be my guest. I'm just not going to approach it from that angle in my mind.
Also, "White Nymph" fans will notice a discrepancy in a particular character's behavior in this story. Explanations to come. For now, put up with the poor girl, I beg you.
Advancement, Episode 4: Unexpected Meetings
The young woman came into the bar at sunset every evening and stayed until midnight, but she never ordered anything stronger than water. Once a group of mercenaries, made bold by the liquor quickly replacing blood in their veins, tried to purchase the "sweet thing at the end there" a red vino in hopes of maybe purchasing her later that night; she split two men's lips and cracked another one's shinbone when they tried to force-feed it to her. "Don't force anything of his on me," she'd growled, hand on her sword in a strangely military manner as the drunks wondered blearily where the carriage that hit them had gone. One of them, not taking his cue from his fellows' fates, went so far as to ask why she even bothered frequenting a bar in the first place; she shrugged and went back to her water, sipping contemplatively. "I'm waiting for news of someone," she replied vaguely, but would never expound.
Yet now apparently that news had come.
Shoulders stiff as she hunched on her barstool, the young woman kept her sharp blue eyes riveted on her water glass as the royal guards seated next to her conversed quietly about Palas's newly anticipated visitors. A new emperor, they said, sent to Zaibach from the Mystic Moon just like Dornkirk and that strange girl Schezar had taken a shine to. Mostly they just scoffed at the ridiculousness of the ascension system, but sprinkled like spice throughout their discussion was the mention of a red-clad army captain serving as the Mystic Moon boy's private guard. Missing for months, they said, and when he finally shows his weasly face what did the Empire do? Promote the bastard!
"Wish our system worked like that," laughed the guard closest to the woman; her hand jerked in a sudden spasm and sloshed water all over the bar. As they turned to look at her, noticing her presence for the first time, she pushed her stool away from the counter and stood, tossing a coin on the counter to the bartender as he hurried to clean up the mess. Then she walked rigidly out of the bar, pausing only to tell a man in the corner that the "deal for this week" was off and that he'd have to "do his own damn dirty work from now on; something more important's come up." The bartender watched his most faithful, if unprofitable, client stride out of his establishment with her head high, her blond ponytail snaking from side to side with each firm step. Shaking his own head, he dismissed her behavior as yet another crazy feminine trait.
"That's what happens if you let them play with swords," he suggested to his remaining clientele. "Something in those little heads just snap and they let their feelings rule their lives. What a pity." The men roared their consent and scorn for all those who let impulse dominate and returned eagerly, if ironically, to their alcohol. Still bewildered by the woman in spite of himself, the bartender resolved to ask her about her "new job" the next day.
But she never returned.
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The floating fortress was a bit on the small side for one of its kind, and Susumu was getting restless. He'd prowled one identical blue corridor after another in an attempt to divert his mind, but met with no success. Interaction with his companions had proved fruitless thus far. The boys under Dilandau's command weren't the talkative sort--he hadn't even been able to learn their names without asking each individually--and at any rate seemed to treat him with a sort of wary watchfulness he found unsettling. The engineers and pilots weren't much better; they tolerated his presence the way one might patronize a small child play-acting at being a king. As for Dilandau himself...
A clatter and thudding noise from the dojo signaled the young captain's latest activity. Hesitating in the doorway, Susumu watched in befuddled curiosity as the boy picked up his fallen sword, climbed a ladder he'd placed in the middle of the wooden training floor, and jumped down from it, slicing wildly at a stuffed dummy torso standing in front of the ladder. The tip of his blade scratched the fabric on the faded and torn dummy, but no stuffing burst out the way it protruded from other rips on the object.
Dilandau, growling, swore violently and kicked the dummy over, stabbing it repeatedly with his sword as he worked himself into a frustrated frenzy. "Damn you damn you damn you damn you damn you--" With each expletive the blade tore deeper and his thrusts increased in violence. Stuffing flew from the abused dummy, landing all across the room. Blinking, Susumu grew embarrassed but, rather than leaving, coughed to alert the irate captain of his presence.
He had to cough several more times before Dilandau finally noticed the sound. Twisting his head around, he grinned wide-eyed at his Emperor; then, as his pupils focused and he realized where he was and who was watching, he frowned. "Well?" he demanded, seemingly unaware of the fuzz stuck in his disheveled silver hair and the still-manic flush across his pale cheeks. Unlike everyone else on the fortress, he neglected to rise or bow.
Realizing he had to reply somehow, Susumu swallowed and managed a weak smile. "Preparing for battle?" he asked. "You don't think you're going to have to jump down and attack--"
"I don't have to," Dilandau drawled, setting his near-destroyed dummy upright again and repositioning it by the ladder. Climbing again, he paused on the middle rung and tilted his head reflectively. "I want to. I want to take him by surprise, before he can draw, and then once I have him helpless..." He snickered. "I've waited a loooong time for this." Finishing his ascent, he vaulted off the ladder and landed like a crimson angel of vengeance square on the dummy, ripping its back open and dragging it to the ground with him.
Laughing, he finished the demolition his tantrum had begun, muttering to himself frantically as he ripped at the fabric but savoring every word. "And he'll scream, but no one will hear him...then he'll finally plead mercy...but he deserves none...and in the end he'll see that and go quietly, but only after making plenty of noise...nothing will go wrong this time..." Now speaking only to himself, his eyes bleared with visions of a dream long planned.
Susumu felt cold sweat trickle down his temple and kiss his neck. "Who exactly are you planning to kill?" he asked nervously. His opinion of Dilandau fluctuated between gratefulness at the disrespect the younger boy showed him and nervousness at some of his stranger habits. This side of the captain...went beyond strange into the realms of "dangerous". He didn't know if he could afford to bring someone "dangerous" to an international summit.
Dilandau grew nostalgic, almost fond as he spoke the single word. "Van..."
o0o0o0o0o0o0
"King Van." The young king turned around to see General Adelphos awaiting his attention, Allen Schezar by his side. This was not good. When Van had checked on Allen early that morning, the knight had been adamant that there was nothing anyone could do to save Celena. Had he changed his mind and confided in Dilandau's commanding officer in a fit of trust...and insanity? Yet on the other hand...
He nodded. "General. Allen."
Allen, for once, disposed of formality before the rest of his comrades. "Van, the new emperor's coming," he reported in a tone of badly reigned-in impatience. He even looked like a horse chafing at a bit--jumpy, tense, perhaps a little wide-eyed. "Immediately."
So something had changed the boy's mind about ruling? First he took Celena, and now this. What kind of friends do you have on the Mystic Moon, Hitomi? Van thought desparingly. Surely you have better taste.
He turned to Adelphos. "General?"
The man nodded; he didn't look so good himself. "Schezar encountered me shortly after I'd received the news. I must say it's not what I'd expected of the boy."
"I wouldn't put it past the Sorcerors to change his mind," Allen replied darkly. "They love having someone weak around to manipulate."
This was Allen Schezar, the epitome of diplomatic knightliness? Van sighed heavily, seeing Adelphos turn to regard the tall young man in surprise.
"Schezar, on what grounds can you make such a..." His disarmed tone belied a man used to defending his country's actions, regardless of his personal feelings. Van had come to know the tone well from dealing with countless delegates from the empire, as well as from Basram. He locked eyes briefly with Allen. Nodding once, he watched as Allen's eyebrows quirked in surprise. "Him?" the knight mouthed, consternation plain in his blue eyes. Then, sighing a bit, he nodded as well.
"General Adelphos, Allen's right," Van began, anticipating headaches in his near future accompanied by their constant companion, regret. Nonetheless he persisted. "There's something you need to know about Dilandau."
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"Van?" Susumu echoed in dread. "Not...Van Fanel?" Dilandau grinned in reply, and the brown-haired young man groaned inwardly. "That's not a good idea, Dilandau. He's king of an entire country and--"
"Not much of a country," shrugged Dilandau. "Even less now that it's been leveled. Don't know why they even bother with rebuilding; it's not worth the supply money..." Idly he picked up stuffing from the ground and began to work it beneath his fingers, shredding it still more and letting the pieces drift back onto the hardwood floor, the only organic surface in the entire transport. "And he's not much of a king either."
Thinking back on what little interaction he'd had with the young man, Susumu was forced to at least tentatively concede the point. "That may be...but even so, you can't do something like that. I won't let you."
Dilandau looked up, appraised Susumu out of the corners of his wine-red eyes. "...Won't let me?" he asked slowly. "You aren't Emperor; you can't forbid me anything." He looked away, clearly considering the conversation over but unable to resist a parting shot. "I'm only here to make sure you get back to the Mystic Moon before you mess with everyone's lives the way that bitch did."
Susumu blinked twice--once in confusion, the second time in disbelieving anger. Another instant, and he stood not three feet from Dilandau, grabbing the captain by the shirt and pulling him towards his furious face. "You take that back," he ordered quietly. "Disparage me all you like. But I won't have you speaking ill of Kanzaki." Letting the boy go, he watched Dilandau's mood smoothly shift from startled to indignant to sullen, noticed the way one hand rubbed the sword hilt it rested upon, but did not back down. "And what did she do, anyway?"
Dilandau spat on the floor. "She kept getting in the way, ruining all Folken's plans--and all of mine, too." The antsy hand migrated from the sword's smooth pommel to the captain's scarred right cheek, tracing the line of the cut with unconscious yet deliberate fervor. "She's responsible...responsible for everything."
Susumu crossed his arms. "You knew Folken?" he asked, remembering the name from something the Sorcerors had told him. "The last Emperor's killer?"
Dilandau laughed--a flat-out, nearly disbelieving gasp. "So that's what happened? Whoever would have thought...Sly to the end, Folken. But where was your famous caution?" Still pulling on his cheek, the reds of his eyes showed; Susumu flinched, unnerved. "I suppose he's in some prison somewhere now. Brooding, no doubt. Ah, Folken...even you can fall..."
"He's dead," Susumu told the young man bluntly, not in a mood to sugar-coat anything. Cynically, he didn't expect his words to have much of an impact.
Yet Dilandau's already pales skin grew ashen; his eyes twitched. "Dead?" he replied uncomprehendingly. "Folken...is dead?"
"That's what I was told. I'm sorry, Dilan--"
The next thing he knew, the captain's limp body was pressed against him for support, the boy's knees having buckled beneath him. Dilandau balled his fists in Susumu's shirt, shaking slightly; his head rested on the other boy's chest, just below the pendant. "Folken..." he mumbled in disbelief. "Folken could live through anything...could do anything...just like my Dragonslayers...like..." Crumpling all the way to the ground, his head left a perspiration mark on Susumu's shirt.
Susumu automatically caught Dilandau before the captain's head hit the floor, cupping one arm around the boy's neck and wrapping the other around his torso for support. He tried to steady Dilandau onto his feet again; the other boy choked and clapped a hand to his mouth in sudden nausea, so Susumu gently lay him down on the ground. "Easy...easy..." he stammered, not certain what he was saying or even what was going on. "You've still got them, Dilandau. Your Dragonslayers are still here. Gatty, and Shesta, and Dallet...they introduced themselves to me just yesterday. And me," he tacked on in a sudden impulse. "I'm here for you."
"You're useless..." Dilandau muttered, slack-jawed. "Can't expect anything from..."
"I'm useless now," Susumu corrected gently, trying to encourage the devastated young man any way he could. "I think if you taught me I could learn a trick or two. Your Dragonslayers think you're such a marvelous teacher. Want to spar, Dilandau? Want to fight?"
A trace of the old sadistic smirk twisted onto the pale face. "You're that eager to look like a fool?" He snorted weakly. "That might be fun."
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When Zaibach's new emperor descended from his transport, he wore a military-issue sword buckled around his waist. The alien weight hitting his side added an awkward roll to his gait, but he held his head high. Two paces behind him marched a young man, now in the full bloom of health once more, red armor standing out brilliantly amongst the blue bodies flanking him. The small procession disembarked outside the city to spare Asturia the trouble of clearing a space and preparing an official welcoming party; nonetheless they were met by a contingent of Asturian palace guards, who escorted the five young men to the canals. There they boarded a skiff waiting for their arrival and rode towards the capital by means of the rivers, passing under bridges and along streets packed with sightseers eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious new delegates from the hated Zaibach Empire. No one had forgotten the district burned the previous year by an obviously demented rogue Zaibach pilot; the "red demon" was becoming a common scapegoat for inexplicable troubles.
No one noticed that one of the young women standing on a low bridge was armed until, sword already drawn, she'd sprung up and over the railing, plummeting down to the boat with frightening accuracy and landing heavily, rocking the transport and antagonizing every guard onboard in an instant.
"Hey you--" Ignoring their cries, she knocked every would-be defender out of the way with broad strokes, using the flat of her blade to knock the guards into the canal and simply kicking others out of her way--and out of the boat. For her part, she hardly seemed to notice the feather-hatted obstructions. Her sharp blue eyes perceived one man only.
Dilandau barely had time to draw his sword before she was upon him, parrying his attack with one hand while drawing a dagger from her belt with the other. Seeing the new weapon and judging her focus to be on it, he grinned and lunged, knocking the sword from her hand. She stumbled, not expecting resistance, and fell. The crowd gasped; the Emperor stared blankly at the naked sword in his own hand, wondering exactly now what he was supposed to do with it and marveling that yes, on this world people did indeed leap off of structures as a prelude to attacking. The girl tried to stand, but Dilandau kicked her back down. Instantly the blue-armored boys had her arms pinned to the deck of the boat while their Lord pointed his blade at her exposed, heaving neck.
"Stupid, girl..." he gloated. "Very stupid..." Then, staring at his assailant, he frowned in sudden recognition. "Rephina?"
Scowling at him from a tangle of honey-blond hair, the girl struggled against her captors, then looking them in the faces lay back heavily, every bit as surprised as the captain. "It can't be..." she breathed. "You're dead. You're all dead."
Susumu sheathed his sword and helped the Asturians, one by one, regain their posts on board the boat if not their dignity. As the men around him gained their footing (and control of the vessel) again, he tried his best to seem imperial. "Disarm her and let her go," he ordered the Dragonslayers. They hesitated. "Do it!"
Still they refused; the shortest, Shesta, gave his Lord a pleading look. Dilandau sighed. "Release her, boys. Your Majesty? You're a fool."
Susumu ignored the captain, helped the young woman stand. Though her clothing was distinctively Asturian--he'd noticed even from his brief trek down the canals that puffed sleeves and lace seemed to be vogue for these people--unlike most of the women, she wore black trousers stuffed into scuffed boots. Her pants looked familiar, in fact...almost the Zaibach military cut...
"Who are you?" he asked as a guard lashed her arms together behind her back; she offered no resistance, though whether from resignation or shock it was impossible to tell. She met his stare proudly, full lips set in a defiant scowl underneath a slightly pugged nose. Her face might have been pretty, Susumu reflected, had it not worn such a masculinely arrogant disdain. As it was, she was striking but by no measure beautiful.
"Rephina Jetura," she growled, flicking her eyes from him back to Dilandau. "Lieutenant of Zaibach. Or I was. Now you've got me back again. Good for you. What are you going to do about it, though? Kill me? Ha!" She tossed her head, flipping her ponytail off her shoulder and sending it swinging behind her head. "Or maybe you'll promote me. That seems to be imperial policy for incompetence these days. Don't you agree, my Lord?" The last phrase was flung at Dilandau with almost cheeky abandon.
Dilandau, for his part, was still trying to fit puzzle pieces together in his head. "Shouldn't you be on the Vione?" He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, trying to resist the urge to hit the girl. "What do you think you're doing?"
"The Vione is flying with the fishes now, Commander. It sank into the ocean, right over there." She jerked her head in the direction of the far-off beach. "So now you can perform miracles, eh? Now the marvelous Dilandau Albatou can raise the dead." She sneered at him. "Tell me this, then. Who's next? Guimel? Planning on pulling Lord Folken from your pocket for your next act?"
"Don't try my pa--"
"They're all dead!!" Rephina shrieked, jerking her head towards the three boys in blue. "You said it yourself--when you returned--and Gatty's comm was on--we could hear everything at the beginning, until it suddenly stopped transmitting--that's when we knew--and all these months I've thought--how many made it out? Tell me!"
"Just those three," Dilandau reported smoothly but hollowly; Susumu had the impression that the imperturbable smirk on the boy's face was nothing but a mask. "My most loyal soldiers."
The girl sagged noticeably at the first pronouncement but snapped back to life at the second, thick eyebrows jagging down like lightning over her electric-blue eyes. "Oh, I'll give you loyal--" she began; but apparently Dilandau tired of their banter, for he stepped forward and slapped her so violently that he knocked her, hands bound, to the floor. Dragging her up by her hair, he punched her face again, then let her drop to the deck unconscious. "Do whatever you want with her," he told the now highly uncomfortable guards dismissively, flexing the fingers in his right hand, his punching hand. "I'm done."
"You certainly are," Susumu mumbled wearily as the palace--finally--appeared before them. He could see a small congregation of richly-clad people waiting for him there, eager to get a look at this new upstart just like everyone else on Gaea. How unfortunate, then, that they had to feast their eyes not only upon a completely incompetent Mystic Moon boy but also an unconscious would-be vigilante, a possibly deranged imperial guard, and a contingent of soldiers apparently widely believed to be deceased. How does that one song go? he asked himself wryly as he caught Van Fanel's angry eye. "Send in the clowns"?
No, that's not quite right. Smiling and shaking his head, he looked at Dilandau, who also had spotted the young man and stared with unbridled hatred; then he shivered. In retrospect, the lyrics fit a bit too well for comfort."And where are the clowns? Quick, send in the clowns...
Don't bother, they're here."
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a/n: That song is from "A Little Night Music" by Stephen Sondheim (my hero! ahem); I think Amano is a show-tune kind of guy for some reason.
Next time on "Advancement": prisoner interrogations and Amano's first diplomatic meeting...which brings with it, ahem, other distractions. If I'm stellarly bored early this week, you may get to read it very soon. Otherwise...heh heh. NaNoWriMo's coming up, so I'm preparing to have my soul sucked.
Thank you all for reading!