X (In Love and War: Chapter 6) X
Brief author's note (or, as brief as I can make it because I tend to ramble): Despite the promises on my recorded note – the link for which should still be on my profile – I have had a horrible, HORRIBLE time writing lately, and I'm sorry. But I'm overcoming my overwhelming hatred towards my own work and producing yet another chapter and, god willing, the rest of the story.
I will say this: there are only three chapters left (four, if I decide whether or not I want to do an epilogue), this being the first of those. I know I can do it! Don't give up on me! And now, without further ado, here's Chapter 6 of In Love and War!
X
He was out the door and running, almost screaming and crying in his terror and pain, down the street, before he was truly aware of it. In Fayt's right hand he held the note with the three chicken-scratch words on it; the other hand was balled into a fist, and pumped back and forth at his side as he barreled down the main street of Aquios toward the castle. His breathing was ragged and uneven, despite that he had much stamina and hardly had far to go before reaching his destination. Several times he stumbled on the cobbled pavement and fell – once skinning his knees and palms, another time busting his lip bloody on the ground. As if they hadn't happened, Fayt ignored the injuries, simply scrambling onto his feet and running again. Nothing was going to stop him. He was too frantic and desperate, his heart pounding so fiercely that he found it odd – or would have, were he paying any attention – that it didn't wake the townsfolk with its rapid, drum-like tone.
At length he reached the long, steep steps of Castle Aquaria and staggered his way up them, slipping clumsily all the way. Two sleepy men in armor stood outside the large wooden entry doors, resting on their pikes and dozing in place. The sound of Fayt's frantic approach caused them to stir, and grumpily they rubbed their eyes and scowled at the boy who had interrupted their on-the-job nap. "What're you doing poking around here at this hour of the night, kid?" snapped the one on the left; short, stocky, and balding with a long moustache. "The castle is closed, so just bugger off!"
Fayt ran into the guard on the right, who was, in contrast to his partner, tall and lanky with long hair and a clean-shaven face. It was almost enough to throw the skinny man off balance, had he not had his pike to lean the weight on and catch himself. He shoved the blue-haired boy away and growled. "What're you trying to pull, huh? The castle is closed! Go home!"
The youth began to claw at the lanky guard's armored arm, grasping it, tugging it, shaking it back and forth. He sobbed, whined, and shouted, all incoherently, which startled the two men quite a bit. "Please!" Fayt managed to say clearly, though the rest of his words were mangled and only "Fayt Leingod," "Nel Zelpher," and "Emergency!" were the two older men capable of picking up.
"An emergency?" questioned the shorter guard, "What emergency for Nel could a civilian possibly have?"
"It can wait until morning, can't it? Nel is in her quarters, resting from the battle the other day."
Slowly and noticeably, the fight began to drain out of the boy. He hung his head and gave one last feeble shake of the tall guard's arm, tears cascading down his face and trickling from the tip of his nose. "Please…" he whispered softly, shoulders shaking. "I-I really, really need to see Nel… right away… please…"
Both guards exchanged long, baffled looks. Normally this sort of thing would have gone ignored, and they would have forced a civilian to make it wait until the morning. But there were two reasons as to why they said, at length, "Alright, come this way." One was that they were tired, and therefore discombobulated from being jerked out of their slumber so suddenly; the other was that Fayt's behavior, as well as the word "emergency" stirred a certain fear in them. There had been a vicious war right outside Aquios' gates only days before. If another attack could be prevented – and what other thing would be considered an urgency but that? – then by all means, neither guard would dream of hindering the possibility. The shorter guard remained outside to keep watch, and the taller, motioning with a gloved hand for Fayt to follow, led him past the heavy wooden entrance doors and down a long, grand hallway. As it was, the journey was very short, but in that minute amount of time, Fayt had managed to become riled up again.
His fist tightened on the piece of rumpled paper in his hand, and the reminder of its existence made him nearly hysterical again. Tears flooded his eyes once more, and his thoughts raced, faster and faster and faster, so that by the time Nel had opened her bedroom door, sleepy and bewildered, the youth was sobbing and writhing in place. Grievous murmurs and regretful wails escaped his lips and were all but shouted in Nel's face. Her eyes grew large and a long time passed where she simply stood there and stared. Finally, when she caught a break in her friend's crying, she asked, "Fayt, what's happened? What's wrong?"
"He's gone!" Fayt answered immediately, trembling, knees very near buckling as if he had cried himself into exhaustion already. "He left and he's gone forever and I don't know where--!"
"Who? Who's gone? Fayt, calm down and tell me what happened." Despite how worked up she felt inside, Nel kept a calm tone and a calm expression. Two panicking people during a crisis were bound to solve nothing, and she knew this well from experience. When Fayt took to sobbing and spluttering again, she looked him over, wondering if maybe he had been attacked, or mugged. Her eyes followed the gash in his lip, the skinned knees, the marks on his elbows and arms from falling… and the note in his hand caught her attention. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to it.
The youth paused just long enough to follow the gesture and see what she was pointing at, hiccupping, before he let out another long, pained wail. "He's gone!" he repeated, only this time, he thrust his hand out and deposited the note in Nel's hand. After doing so, he turned away a little and buried his hands in his face, breathing hard, snuffling. Trying desperately to calm himself, though it seemed to be of little use.
Very much like Fayt had, shock gripped at Nel the first time she read the two simple words, and she found herself scanning them over and over again, wondering if perhaps she had simply seen wrong in her fatigue the times before. A minute or so of this went by before the runologist was able to accept that she had indeed read correctly. Turning to the lanky guard, who henceforth had been standing beside the door at attention and looking on in confusion, she dismissed him, and then touched Fayt's shoulder. "Come inside. Tell me what happened." By this point, the blue-haired boy had quieted down, his sobs reduced to soft whimpers and the occasional sniffle. He kept his face in his hands and gave no acknowledgement of Nel. "Fayt," she said again. "Come inside."
At length Fayt looked up. Past Nel, into her room, his green eyes wide and bloodshot, still rimmed with tears. He shook his head. "I… I don't want to go inside."
"Alright," Nel responded, taken aback, "Then just tell me here. What happened?"
"He's gone," said Fayt.
"I know that. But why? What happened between you two? And when did he leave? Fayt, I need to know these things!"
The youth was clearly becoming agitated again. "Why?! He's gone, Nel, you have to do something about it!"
"I know I have to do something about it! I need to know if there was malice between you two, and how long ago! It could be that he will attack, and soon, and that attack could be stopped if there is enough information ahead of time. So tell me, Fayt. Did you fight?"
Fayt had become very silent at the word 'attack.' Even his sniffles and whimpers had died away, only tears fell silently and ran down his cheeks. His mouth opened and closed several times before he said, "No."
"There was no disagreement between you two?" asked Nel, raising one eyebrow.
"No."
"When did he leave?"
"I don't know," Fayt confessed, frustrated with himself for having to give such an answer. "I woke up and… he was gone." The boy's whole frame trembled, and his composure threatened to collapse as he recounted what had happened. He managed to hold his own. "The note was on the table… that's it."
"When did you find it? The note, I mean."
The boy's mind was straining; when had he first woken up, cold and alone? How many hours had he laid there waiting for Albel to come back to bed? For how long, and not just in that night, had he been convincing himself that the Wicked Swordsman would never leave him? And how much time had elapsed since he had stood, chair toppling to the floor behind him, and ran from the house? "Maybe… an hour ago?"
"I see." The red-haired woman fell into a silent lapse of thought, closing her eyes and touching the back of her index finger to her lower lip. "If you hadn't fought, why would he leave so abruptly? Was he hinting at it beforehand? Or… Fayt, did you ever say he could leave?!"
These questions – though Fayt saw them more as accusations – got him to snap for a third time. He sobbed loudly into his hands, shoulders racking heavily with relentless vocations of his hatred toward himself for not being able to stop this from happening. He blamed himself, over and over, and after a time, Nel seemed to realize that she had unwittingly destroyed her chances of getting him to talk any more. "Fayt," she said just over the sounds of his groaning, "Go home, alright? Get as much sleep as you can. I'll come talk to you about this later." Fayt said nothing in response; he merely turned and walked away, crying to himself, hands fisted at his sides. That left Nel standing awkwardly in her doorway, staring down at the folded piece of paper in her hand. With a sigh, she shook her head, then moved back into the room and closed the door.
X
Nel did indeed come calling in search of more information, but her attempts after that first night were mostly, if not completely, fruitless. Fayt had lapsed into a state of depression from which no one could rouse him. Nothing anyone said seemed to be of much help; their attempt to assure him that Albel would be found and everything would be fine bounced right off him. The boy's only three friends in the world did their best to console him, but the matter only became more difficult and stressful for them. He slowly lost interest in food and sleep, and then in everything altogether; even presenting him with news about the search for Albel did little to pull him from the rut he had gotten into. At first, Nel had suggested that perhaps one of them stay over each night to watch out for him, but the task became so tedious that they soon stopped bothering. And, after a time, they quit trying to mend his heart altogether. After a month, even the search for the Wicked Swordsman had been given up. No one dared tell Fayt so, although the three friends suspected that he wouldn't respond to the news, anyway.
Everything in Fayt's life from that night onward became painful; he no longer slept because the absence of Albel's arms around him left him feeling hollow and vulnerable. Food had lost its taste, because it was Albel he had been trying to please when he had cooked for everyone. Even such small things as staring out the window when it rained and sitting in front of the fire brought him to hours-long bouts of crying. His home seemed to be filled with images of memories and specters of feeling – in every corner there was something to remind him of why the sun would never shine again.
But most of all, the youth's heart ached and yearned in a way he had never experienced before. The closest he could recall to feeling in such a way was when he had lost his family; for many nights he had huddled in a ball and sobbed, a wrenching, lonesome pang in his heart. This time around, it was so much stronger and painful. It didn't take an expert to know that it was heartbreak, and that it was the source of Fayt's suffering. Accompanying that was self-blame and indignation – how could Albel abandon him that way without a word! It wasn't fair! – and betrayal, even fear. So many things walled him in, so that to escape it he withdrew into himself and became lost, blank, and even mindless at times. His first few weeks after Albel had gone were spent doing nothing outside crying, really, but nearing the end of the month that had gone by, the boy had given up the ghost and merely sat in stony silence, incapable of squeezing any more tears from his jaded green eyes.
Although the youth's three friends had given up their endeavor to set things right in Fayt's world, Evia had never stopped coming to see him. Even after Nel and Dion had deemed it a waste of time because Fayt would never speak to them, still the dark-haired boy walked to his friend's house with a basket on his arm, always packed scantly with food he knew Fayt liked. It didn't faze him when the youth ignored him, refused the treats, and on the occasion walked away and shut himself up in his bedroom. They had been there for each other through the best and worst of times, and Evia was under no inclination to let that go simply because Fayt was hung up over his evil ex-boyfriend.
Each day, twice a day, Evia would make his usual grand entrance and slammed down his basket. He would spread out all the goodies he'd managed to harvest and would eat his share, yammering cheerfully away to Fayt. Sometimes Fayt would eat, and sometimes Fayt would seem to be paying some semblance of attention to what Evia was saying, which pleased the dark-haired boy very much. The visits were no different than they had always been – they lasted anywhere from thirty minutes to several hours, depending on what he had to talk about, and he would always return around the same times the day following.
Things may have continued to go on as routine like this: Evia coming in every morning and night to visit his practically comatose best friend; Fayt trapped in a prison that was his own heart, dead to the world and everything on it. The two may very well have been able to do the same thing endlessly until they grew old and died, had Evia not fortuitously done one thing he happened to do very often – he made a mistake.
As normal, Evia had come in with his basket of treats and sat right down at the table, where Fayt was currently half-dead, arms folded and his face buried in them. The older boy went right on eating and talking, all a-fluster with new news. "I met the guy who just moved in the other day… bumped into him last night on the street," Evia began, his tone suggestive. "I think he's a-ma-zing, but I'm not sure how keen he is on me. Oh well." The boy laughed and took a big bite out of the muffin he had in his hand; a piece of blueberry fell from the bread and landed on the table. Licking at his index finger, Evia quickly poked at all the crumbs he'd spilled and got them stuck to his finger, and then ate those, too. "I really wish you could meet him, Fayt," he went on afterwards, looking over at the blue-haired boy. He had not stirred in the slightest. "Really, I think I might just bring him over and introduce you! He's gorgeousss… a real hottie!"
After that exclamation, Fayt ceased to hear any more of the one-sided conversation. He opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the wooden tabletop beneath him. That word, 'hottie,' had awakened a dormant feeling within. Something deep inside him, beyond the eroded shores of his heart, deep down in the very murky depths, was stirring. At first he didn't recognize it; the burning, stinging rage and sadness had died long ago, but he soon began to sense its return, as strong as ever. Evia continued to babble on, about his new boy-toy, completely oblivious when a familiar racking jerk ran across Fayt's shoulders, then another, the second more violent than the first.
His first sobs in a month and a half were completely dry and silent; for a moment the youth thought maybe he just needed to sneeze. But, no, he could feel the twist, the agony, his facial featured contorted in a grimace of pain. A sound escaped his mouth as he sobbed again, then another, louder, more like a retch than a whimper. Tears sprang into his eyes – hot ones, salty, so much so that the boy thought he might go blind from their potency. Before long he was full-fledged bawling, and it didn't take long at all for Evia to take notice.
"Fayt?" he questioned gently, thin eyebrows arched, dark eyes wide. "Fayt, are you okay? Are you…" Evia was no stranger to the symptoms of 'a good cry,' and he recognized them right away in Fayt's behavior. Still, it was odd. The blue-haired youth had been so passive, so apathetic and without emotion, he had believed there was simply no cry left in him. "Was it something I said?"
Evia's words only got Fayt to cry harder, and he felt relieved for this, welcoming the heavy sobs and hiccups like they were old friends that had just come back from a long trip. Slowly, he sat up, his neck and shoulders sore from having been slumped in that position so long. His tear-teeming eyes met Evia's and they shared a long look, communicating silently, as only two as close as they could do. "I know you miss him," Evia said finally, smiling sadly. "I miss him too, you know. I miss his hot body. And I miss his charming way with words… remember, he used to call me 'Waste of Life'? Such a sweetie."
This spurred a laugh, mirthless though it was, from Fayt, and he sobbed harder, shaking his head. Something like a wince mingled with a smile appeared on his face. "H-He… always called me… a maggot…"
"That was his favorite word!" giggled Evia, now fully enthused since he had gotten a huge reaction from his friend. Well – huge compared to lately, anyway. "Maggot this, worm that…"
"Don't forget fool," Fayt added, sniffling noisily and wiping at his eyes. His heart hurt so bad it felt like it might burst.
The dark-haired boy giggled more and nodded, remembering all of Albel's favorite things to call people. "I never understood why he bothered with that – guess it was just another one of his sexy quirks." Evia winked, and then tapped his chin. "Or maybe he just really, really hated me."
"P-Probably," Fayt said, shrugging. Although his bawling had ceased, a steady stream of tears continued to cascade down his cheeks. "He did really hate you."
For a moment, Evia was silent, possibly even thinking. Then he turned fully toward his friend, looked him square in the eye, and said, "He didn't hate you, though. I can tell."
Fayt seemed stunned by the comment; even if he knew it was true. Of course it was; it was painfully obvious, as a matter of fact. Really, he had never allowed himself to acknowledge it. Albel's unexplained affection toward him he had always passed off as something he did to make up for the fact that he had to stay with him. But he knew that wasn't the case then, and he certainly knew it now. "He loved me."
"Did he? Aww, Fayt, that's so cyuuute!" Evia gushed, beaming and clapping his hands together. "I bet when he told you, it was sooo dramatic! And romantic, of course. Ohh, you're so lucky…"
Slowly, the blue-haired boy shook his head. Then he looked down, swallowing tightly to try and rid himself of the knot that was tying itself in his throat. "He never told me… He never said he loved me."
"… O-Oh." Evia blushed at his mistake, and then cleared his throat. "Then you just knew without words? That's cute too…"
Fayt shook his head again. "I guess… i-it… I… Evia, you said once that you didn't have to love someone to… touch them, right?"
The older boy seemed somewhat confused with the question, but laughed and blushed anyway. "Well, mostly. You obviously have to be attracted to them, anyway… I mean, who wants to make out with an ugly person? Eewww. But why do you ask?"
"Do you think… Alb…" Fayt hesitated, afraid to say the name, the forbidden name. Saying it would be like acknowledging his absence, and he would certainly break down all over again. "Do you think he is the type to… touch people for no real reason?"
Again, Evia surprised Fayt by giving the question some thought. He 'hmm'd for awhile, and then answered, "I don't think so. I doubt it. Betcha he doesn't waste his time with that kind of thing… sadly…"
The blue-haired youth felt his cheeks growing hot and he was embarrassed in spite of himself. "Then… he must have loved me."
"How can you tell? What're you getting at, Fayt?" Evia pressed, whining some. The whole runaround was beginning to make his head hurt. And he was eager to hear the juicy details – immersing himself in the facts of Fayt's love affair was one of his favorite hobbies.
For a long time, Fayt found himself unsure of how to answer. He was still crying, a little, his voice unsteady and strained – partly from the knot in his throat, and partly from disuse. "I-I'd think it would be painfully obvious what I'm getting at by now…" he murmured, managing to steal a brief glance at Evia in hopes that he would figure it out. No sign of understanding registered on the other boy's face, and Fayt sighed. Voice lowering to that just above a whisper, he started helplessly, "He… we… um… well…"
"Oh my god," Evia interrupted, bringing both hands up to cover his mouth. His face was almost as red Fayt's. "You guys had sex?!"
"You don't have to say it like that!" Fayt cried, hiding his face in his hands. Whether he would die from embarrassment or the ever-present ache in his chest, he could no longer tell. Or maybe his head would explode from all the blood rushing to it. "It's not like it's that big of a deal…"
"It's a huge deal!" Evia squealed. "Ohhhh my god! You had sex with the hottie! Oh, my god, Fayt!" For the longest time, the boy seemed only capable of saying 'oh, my god' over and over in various high-pitched tones, bouncing about in his chair.
The two of them lapsed into restless silence after this, during which time Fayt began to cry much harder again, pulling on his hair, frustrated. "Evia… it's not fair…" he whimpered through gritted teeth. "I miss him so much…"
Evia's smile faded at these words, and he moved to Fayt's side and touched his shoulder sympathetically. "I know you do."
"My heart hurts… I don't know what to do… It's not fair…" Fayt shook his head forcefully as if trying to rid himself of an intruding thought. "How could he just do this to me and not even care?! And why?! I don't understand it!"
"Tough love?" Evia offered, pouting his lips. For once, he couldn't think of a single bit of advice to give his friend concerning his relationship with Albel.
The blue-haired boy continued to shake his head. "That's not good enough! I want to know why he toyed with me like that! You know, he humored me the whole time? He knew where he was, even though I told him it was Kirlsa, and he knew I was lying to him… but he didn't do anything! Anything at all, Evia!" Fayt spat angrily, as if it had been a cruel thing Albel had done. "He could have killed me. And everyone. Anything could have happened… but he stayed and he was my… my friend."
"It's because you're such a good cook, and he was getting free food," Evia joked, but it went unappreciated. Fayt huffed, a vein pounding in his temple.
"And then he had to go and hold me every night! He held me… so close… and sometimes he would look at me and his eyes were almost soft… and that time at the hotel in Peterny…" Fayt trailed off, bringing that morning back up in his mind. It ripped him apart inside, and he cried all the more wretchedly for it, but it mattered little to him. He was too furious to pay his tears any heed. "He kissed me and he was so gentle… and when he was touching me… there was something different about it… Evia, I don't understand it! Why would he do that and then leave?!"
Evia could think of a few things right off the bat, but didn't have the heart to tell Fayt any of them. They would only break his heart and shatter his mind even more. That was the last thing he wanted. Instead, he murmured a soft, "I don't know," and ruffled Fayt's hair as comfortingly as he could.
"I want to know. I won't rest until I do." The boy rose from his chair abruptly, very nearly knocking it and Evia over in the process. "I'm going to find him and I'm going to make him tell me why he did it."
The change in his friend startled Evia, but it also pleased him. It was so nice to see energy in the boy's movements again, a fire in his eyes again. "How will you find him? I wanna come too!" he cried, standing up, and clapped his hands together. "Oh, I know! Fayt, let's go ask Dion and Nel!"
"Aren't they already trying to find him? They should have a lead by now…" mused Fayt aloud, staring elsewhere, then over at Evia. The look on the dark-haired boy's face worried him immediately. "… What?"
Poking the toe of his boot at the scuffed wood floor, Evia mumbled quietly, "Um, Fayt… they stopped searching a long time ago…" He looked up again in time to see those few faint sparkles of hope in Fayt's eyes die away. Panicking, he flailed his arms then latched onto Fayt and shook him. "Don't worry! We'll go ask them! It's okay!"
"… Yeah," Fayt responded half-heartedly. So this whole time, no one had been looking at all. There was always that distant wish that they might find him, and that everything would be okay again when they did. But they weren't looking, they hadn't found him, and now they would have to start over. In his mind, he prayed hard to Apris that it wouldn't be difficult. "Let's go ask them."
X
"I'm not so sure that finding Albel would be a good idea," was the first thing Dion said when Fayt and Evia came to him with their proposition. "At the very least, it would be opening a window to Aquios once again, and this time… he might not hesitate to attack."
There was that word again, 'attack.' Fayt's nerves jumped at the sound of it, but he pushed it away, fought it, and struggled to restrain the ache. "I don't care. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility for it…"
"That's very noble of you," Dion said, bobbing his head a little, "but if Aquaria is destroyed there really wouldn't be a point."
Evia, having wound himself around Dion's waist, now clung to him for dear life and purred in his ear, "Aw, but Di-Di, it's not like we said we wanted to bring him back here. Fayt just wants to ask him some personal questions."
"Personal questions?" asked Dion, squirming uncomfortably at how close Evia was to him. One would think he would be used to it, as the dark-haired youth loved to show his affection for the man as physically as possible, but he still didn't find it quite tolerable.
Fayt blushed a little and shot Evia a look at his tactlessness with words. "Yeah… personal. Which means I kind of can't tell you. -- But don't worry, it doesn't have anything to do with Aquaria or… or anything."
"You aren't planning on proposing to him or something, are you?" Evia joked. The question flustered both Fayt and Dion, the latter seeming more terrified by the idea than embarrassed.
"Of course not!" Fayt huffed.
"Then there you go, Di-Di. You can work something out for us, can't you?" asked the dark-haired youth, toying with a strand of Dion's hair between his fingers. He almost seemed to relish in how uncomfortable he was making the bespectacled man, giggling a little to himself and twirling the stray strand of black hair. "Pretty please?"
"Well…" Dion mused, sighing. All his instinct told him that this was a bad idea, and that nothing but bad things could possibly come from it. Mingling with Albel the Wicked? Utterly preposterous. But no matter how much he tried to find a way around it, he could not think of an excuse, and was cornered into agreeing. "Oh, alright. But you can't expect me to do it myself. We'll have to get Nel and her spies to search for Albel. It won't happen overnight, you understand."
Fayt nodded in understanding; he hadn't expected Dion – or anyone else for that matter – to work him a miracle. He had waited this long, and his patience was so utterly tranquilized that he figured a little longer wouldn't kill him. "Thank you, Dion…" he murmured, then stepped forward and embraced him.
The bespectacled man was happy to return the hug, more than relieved to see that there was life in his friend once again. Not to be left out, Evia leaped into the two of them and turned it into a group hug, laughing and cheering at their success in persuading Dion to help them. For once, no one minded the boy's antics; they even went so far as to appreciate it, and laughed altogether, like they had many months ago.
Afterward, the three went to see Nel, who they found walking around town rather aimlessly. It was an odd thing to see the runologist doing, but they didn't bother to question it, and instead began stating their case and begging her to assist them. Like Dion, the red-haired woman was skeptical and reluctant, but with all three of her friends barraging her with reasons as to why she needn't worry, there really was no way for her to refuse.
Nel's spies were employed all over the continent of Gaitt. At least two had gone to search in every city and every space between. This left the four friends to search Aquios and the surrounding area when they had nothing better to do. The prospect of Albel the Wicked lurking in the capital city right under their noses seemed very small, and it was no surprise when after a week of strip-searching, they had not managed to find him.
Another month passed with little news from the spies. Small snippets of things like, "I think I spotted him here, but I couldn't be sure" were the only things the four had to run on, and after a time, even those tiny glimmers of hope became scarce. It seemed to them that Albel had dropped off the face of the planet. Nel's finest of spies hadn't been able to locate him in an entire month and there was little else for them to do but sit and wait.
Fayt seemed to go positively mad during the weeks of the search. Evia still went to see him twice a day, ever the faithful best friend, and sometimes Dion or Nel would stop in as well to check on the youth. The blue-haired boy was livid half the time and miserable the other half. He seemed to bounce back and forth between being frustrated with the slow progression of the search and with the outrage he felt toward Albel for what he'd done, and being morose and pessimistic, convinced that they would never find him, and that Albel didn't care just how much he had hurt him, and would get away with it just like that.
Evia managed to keep his friend from snapping entirely by entertaining him with stories of the good old days; some of them before the 'Albel era,' and some of them about the Wicked Swordsman himself. They played games, they cooked dinner together, took walks, and even spent time in the graveyard in front of the Leingod and Esteed graves. Dion invited Fayt to help him with his research whenever he could, and Nel often asked Fayt to come with her on patrols and various minor expeditions.
Anything to keep the youth's mind off the torment of waiting for something to happen. Unlike when Albel had first disappeared, it wasn't too hard to keep Fayt occupied. At times the boy didn't even need it; he would have brief glimmers of optimism and would assure the others – though they didn't need it – that things would work out, "You'll see."
Sure enough, a month and a half after the spies had set out on their mission, two of them returned to Aquios on horseback. Fayt, Evia, Dion and Nel were all in Dion's office, playing a came of cards on the large examination table when the two women knocked and came inside. With a salute, one of them stated in a businesslike tone, "Lady Nel, we have located Albel the Wicked as you ordered."
"Good job, Eilene, Manara. Where is he?"
"Castle Airyglyph," answered Manara, also saluting. "He has not taken part in any battles of late and remains beside the king most of the time. Otherwise, he keeps to his own quarters."
Fayt and Evia exchanged excited glances, and then looked to Dion and Nel with large eyes, eager to see what would happen next. "Thank you. Dismissed," Nel said to Eilene and Manara, then waited until they had left the room, closing the door behind them, before she turned to the others. "Well, there you have it."
"What are we going to do now?" Evia asked, bouncing up and down on the heels of his boots. One arm was wrapped around Fayt's, the other around Dion's. "Can we go bag us a hottie now?"
Nel snorted, but nodded, smiling some at the childish excitement. "We'll take a caravan and depart at nightfall," she stated, casting a glance around at the three men. "I expect you will all be ready to leave."
"Why nightfall?" asked Fayt, tilting his head. His whole body was quivering, his emotions had blended into one big, bubbling confusion that threatened to burst out of him at any given moment. Waiting until nightfall seemed like a waste of an afternoon – why couldn't they leave immediately?
"It'll take us that long to get ready anyway," Dion answered for the red-haired woman, who had given Fayt a look suggesting that she didn't want to be bothered with answering the question. The bespectacled man's explanation seemed to suffice for Fayt (as well as Evia, who had been wondering the same thing), and they all nodded.
"See you tonight, then," Fayt said, giving a stiff wave of his hand before turning to leave. The four friends headed in separate directions to pack.