Chaper 2: The Lion of Lutenberg

In the days that followed, Conrart had other visitors. His mother was strangely subdued, despite her obvious joy at his return; that alone told him how near he had come to not returning at all. Gwendal marched in, his ferocious frown easing only when he saw Conrart's improvement for himself. Even Wolfram came, though he made a point of saying that he'd merely wanted to acknowledge the hero of Lutenberg, not to visit some filthy human who was no brother of his, thankyouverymuch. The handful of blue flowers he left behind rather spoiled the effect of his rant, but Conrart would never embarrass his prickly younger brother by pointing that out. Besides, he was far too bemused by the notion that anyone would consider him a hero.

He was even more taken aback a few days later, when Yozak informed him, with barely suppressed glee, of the impromptu titles that had been bestowed on him by the troops and the common folk.

"They're calling me what?"

"Come on, Captain; I know you heard me. There's nothing wrong with your ears," Yozak replied.

"But it's ... it's absurd!"

Yozak tilted his chin toward the ceiling in a blatant mockery of deep thought. "What, you don't like either of them? Myself, I think 'the Lutenberg Patriot' has a pleasant ring, though 'the Lion of Lutenberg' has alliteration going for it."

"Yozak!"

"Give it up, Captain." Yozak leaned back, balancing his chair on its two rear legs. "You can't keep people from calling you a hero, so you might as well enjoy it." His smile bent slightly. "You have to admit, it's better than 'filthy traitor' or 'half-human scum.'"

The bitter undertone in his friend's voice kept Conrart from pursuing the subject. It wasn't like Yozak – at least, it wasn't like the Yozak he'd known before Lutenberg. Still, he wasn't completely sure the names weren't just another one of the redhead's jokes until Gwendal's second visit to the sickroom. Knowing that Gwendal's position as commander of the army must take precedence over his generally-well-hidden brotherly concern, Conrart had prepared himself for a reprimand. Instead, he found himself being commended.

"No one could have done better," Gwendal told him firmly when he objected. "The Battle of Lutenberg was devastating for both sides, and that is what finally convinced the humans to agree to a cease-fire." He hesitated, then added, "It was also enough to persuade the Ten Aristocrats to place some restraints on the Regent's actions."

Conrart nodded, unsmiling. He heard what his brother was not saying: that the cease-fire and any limits on Stoffel's power were unlikely to keep Shin Makoku from facing more such battles in the future. Delay was the best they could hope for – time to heal their wounds and prepare for the next war. And the next, and the next. After the destruction at Lutenberg, no peace could hope to last for long. Too many on both sides were eager for revenge. For the first time, he was almost glad that Julia had not lived to see this. She had believed completely in peace for both mazoku and humans; he could not have stood seeing that faith crushed by the cold reality they faced.

That night, he woke sweating from dreams of fire and blood and the deaths of all those he loved but could not protect. The dreams continued, all the long, slow days of his recovery, turning despair to a cold stone pressing constantly against his heart. The bitterness came after, when he had grown strong enough to resume his duties...and to hear the whispers that followed him wherever he went. Filthy human. Can't trust one of them. Worthless human scum, they'll turn on you in a minute. Halfbreed. To his face, he was the Lion of Lutenberg, hero of the war; behind his back, nothing had changed. He understood Yozak better now. All the sweat and pain they had been through, all those men who had gone to their deaths hoping to prove their loyalty at last to the country that neither wanted nor trusted them ... all wasted.

Even Gwendal thought nothing of referring to the "treacherous humans" in tones of hatred, as if no human anywhere could ever be trusted. Sometimes Conrart wondered how long it would be before Gwendal, like Wolfram and Stoffel, decided that Conrart's human blood outweighed everything else, even the bonds of family.

Death in battle seemed the only possible escape from the intolerable suspicion, and Conrart's one fear became the dread that he would not be trusted enough to fight in the next war. Why should anyone trust him, when so many days he did not trust himself? He hid his doubts and fears behind an expressionless mask, and forced himself to fulfill with meticulous care every duty asked of him, while each day the despair and bitterness grew and his heart died a little more.

And then came the summons from the Shinou Temple.

Next: Chapter 3 – Bottled Future