Chapter 2: General

A/N: More of this. Yay! Please oh please read and review. This is only the second fanfiction I've written so it would be fantastically amazing if you would review for me. Now: the story.

Dawn stepped from the transport ship onto the cold floor of the Vione, the sole of her boot echoing. She shivered; the air in here was even colder than it had been outside. The walls practically radiated male dominance and power, and secrets crowded the air with an insistence that she couldn't ignore. She looked warily around her, though what she was searching for she did not know. Something was wrong about this place, like there were people, or perhaps not people, that were not supposed to be there.

Dawn's fear left her as a boy about her age walked up to her with a warm smile and held out his hand. He was slightly taller than her, with a messy head of dirty blond hair and turquoise eyes as deep as the sea. All together he was quite good looking, and Dawn had to work to keep a blush from her cheeks.

"I'm Gatti, the second-in-command, and I will be showing you to your temporary quarters." She shook his hand, noting the calluses and warmth as it enveloped her own.

"Temporary?" Dawn said, raising an eyebrow in question.

"There are only fifteen of us even after several years." Gatti answered matter-of-factly. "It is a difficult life that not many lead. Of course, if you stay they will be your permanent quarters, but if not..." he trailed off. "But then again... you don't seem like the rest of them. You seem... different somehow." His eyes left her face to roam over her body and she wondered if he guessed, or knew. Admittedly her body was not the typical shape of a man, but she had thought that she had hid it rather well. And although her face looked very feminine, with a nose rather too pert to be masculine, and full lips too pink for a man, some men were quite girlish at seventeen.

"Different?" she asked innocently, managing to find her voice again.

"Much more determined, much more skilled, than others who have trained as one of us." His steady turquoise eyes held hers as he said this, and she tried to look more masculine without actually doing anything. "If you'll follow me, please. General Dilandau hates it when we're late."

Gatti was deep in thought as he led "Dominic" down the corridor to his rooms. There was something very odd about this young man, something that he was certain the General would see right through. The way his clothes fit, the soft pout of the lips, the way Gatti found himself attracted to him... He nearly laughed at himself at what he was suggesting. He couldn't be a she. There were birth records, records of his past, even a testament from his previous general to what an amazing soldier HE was. Admittedly, records could be falsified, and so could his birth, and the general could have been fooled as well, but it was too ridiculous. Gatti shook it firmly from his mind and continued to lead her down the long hallway.

Dawn nodded and followed him down a long passage lined with closed doors. Gatti opened one with a quick touch of his deft fingers to the keypad, and she stepped into the room ahead of him. It wasn't much, though it was more elegant than her last residence, but it was enough to live in. A privy stood with a screen in front of it at one corner of the room, and a desk against the opposite wall. Nestled up against the third wall was a bunk bed.

Dawn turned to Gatti and inquired as casually as possible, "Do you know who I'm bunking with?"

"Yes," he replied without emotion. "Me."

Dawn nearly choked on the air she was breathing and quickly turned back to the room, biting her lip as her cheeks turned red. She had thought this through, she wasn't an idiot, but she hadn't thought that the Dragonslayer she would be bunking with would be so damn intelligent.

"Where do we train?" she asked quickly, changing the subject as rapidly as she could to something she was familiar with.

"Actually our training with weaponry begins in three minutes. Dilandau is coming in for his inspection of the knew trainee, and as you are the new trainee, it would be prudent of you to be there."

Dawn nodded and tried to shake her uneasiness at the thought of being "looked over" by the most ruthless and bloodthirsty boy in history. She knew she was good, knew it like she knew her name, and when it came to ordinary people she had ultimate self confidence, but she wasn't sure that she was ready to face the reality of the decision that she had made.

Gatti guided her down the corridor to the training room, keeping his own thoughts on the subject to himself. If Dilandau didn't think that the trainees were fit to be Dragonslayers, even on first sight, he would send them back to whatever army they came from. And, though he knew nothing about this small-statured boy, he knew that he'd like to.

Dawn walked into the training room and let out an involuntary gasp. It was huge. The walls were padded from the floor to the ceiling, with windows to the world outside set high in the ceiling. Swords, axes, spears, staves, and knives of all shapes and sizes lined one wall, and against the other three there were weight lifting machines scattered around the borders.

Everything stopped as the new trainee entered the room, and every head turned in Dawn's direction. To all in the room, this trainee didn't look to be any better than the others that had been thrown out, but as they knew, looks could be deceiving. He was short for a man, with too slim a build to be of any use against a larger opponent. The only thing that Dilandau might notice to the boy's benefit was the set of his jaw, and the pain and determination in his eyes. That might give him a place here.

"Hello, everyone. This is Dominic of Asturia and he has come to train with us." Gatti spoke softly to the room, and his smooth voice carried to every corner. The other Dragonslayers were silent, sizing up the man without a sound.

The doors were flung open behind her, and she turned to face the man entering the room. Her first thought was that he was impossibly beautiful, in the way a panther is beautiful when it is ready to kill. His tousled platinum hair was a marvelous contrast for his crimson eyes. The torches in the brackets on the walls provided the illusion of flames dancing in his eyes and Dawn remembered that day. That horrible day.

It was too bad that such beauty would be destroyed.

"So this is the new trainee." Dilandau spoke quietly, but his voice could be heard in every corner of the room. His gaze traveled over the boy that stood before him with his usual cold amusement, until he caught the young man's eyes. Deep grey orbs stared back at him with such an anguish reflected in them that Dilandau was slightly taken aback. He noticed with satisfaction the blatant hatred in the trainee's eyes. That pleased Dilandau. This boy might have a chance after all.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked with authority. He knew the answer, but he wanted to see how he was answered.

"Dominic of Austuria, Sir." Dawn replied as naturally as possible. Though she had lived with this false identity for a long time now, she doubted that she would ever get used to it.

"You will address me as Lord Dilandau while you are here, nothing else. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lord Dilandau."

Dilandau walked around Dawn several times, surveying this seemingly worthy boy. The hatred was promising, but he didn't want to waste more months of training another worthless idiot simply because he had at first looked promising. A sadistic smirk tugged at his lips and an idea formed in his mind.

"Tell me, Dominic." Dilandau said quietly, grinning. "Do you spar well?"

Dawn wondered how to answer such an open challenge to her pride. She could say yes and be immediately labeled a showoff, or she could say no and be considered a weakling. The decisions in life.

"I have been told so, Sir." she answered finally. She did not like the smile that was spread across his face, nor the childish delight in his eyes when he looked at the weapons on the wall.

Dilandau stalked to the middle of the room, standing in the center of a large square mat. He turned around and smiled broadly at Dawn.

"Shall we test your skills, if you will?"

Dawn's mouth went dry when she realized what he was suggesting. A bout with the teenager who would be more than willing to cut her throat for a little fun. But it was a challenge that she rarely received. She had been easily bored by all the others in the army and had scarcely an opportunity to test her full abilities. What the hell?

"I accept your challenge." she said calmly, and the room went even quieter than before. Dawn could hear her heart pounding; her body tingled with adrenaline.

Dilandau slowly drew his sword from his scabbard, freeing it from its restraints. The hiss of steel brought the smile back to his lips. He hefted the broadsword easily in his hands, twirling it idly in one hand as he waited for Dominic to remove his own weapon from its sheath.

Dawn pulled out her sword, smiling a little as she did so. She knew what an impressive weapon she held in her hands, wielding its silver magnificence with confidence and pride. The hilt was studded with tiny jewels, flakes of gold and diamond, and engravings ran up its curved blade. She did not know what the words meant, but they spoke to her, had spoken to her since the day she had found it, three years ago.

She had been only fourteen then, a child with no worries about the rest of the world. And she had snuck into her sword master's armory. She had thought it would be fun, to look at the beautiful array of swords and axes that decorated the stone walls. She had walked silently through the room, careful not to make even a whisper of sound. And through the sounds of silence she had heard it, the singing of the sword. It was like a tiny, silver-voiced fairy, singing her ethereal tones from a darkened corner.

Dawn had stepped cautiously toward it, drawn by the haunting music emanating from the dark corner. She knew that she should go, that she had stayed for far too long in any case; the master might return soon. But she could not leave that music, or the sword that sang it. When she had finally grasped its hilt, it was like a power too great for her had invaded her body, trying to find a vessel for its strength. She had been chosen, she guessed, to carry this sword, and that was what she would do. Until she died or until it was taken from her.

And now that she though about it, that death could very well be right now. If Dilandau chose to, there was no reason why he couldn't slit her throat. There was no way that she would beat him in this fight; he knew that as well as she did. All she had to do was last long enough. And she could last for a long time.

"On guard," the General whispered, a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes that Dawn couldn't ignore. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, assuming the guard position, as ready as she would ever be.

They circled each other slowly, not taking their eyes off one another. Dawn avoided his eyes, knowing that the enemy could easily use them to throw her off guard. He was waiting for an attack, waiting for her to get impatient and attack first. He was counting on her impatience, and not without reason.

She rolled her eyes; she was getting very tired of waiting. She darted in for an attack, hoping that it

would throw him off guard, but her hopes were doused as he parried and struck just as quickly, if not faster. His agility was impressive, though he admittedly was not a big man, and his strength matched his speed in a deadly combination.

It was a dance of parries and attacks, of strikes and passes. They wove in and out in a tapestry of battle, never making a pattern to weave by, but creating a story nonetheless. The Dragonslayers watched with interest, silent and still spectators.

Dawn started to tire. She hadn't been in a fight like this for a while now, and fighting with a friend is much different than fighting for your life. She wanted desperately to end it now, to kill the General and fulfill her revenge, but she knew that now she did not have a chance. All she hoped was that he would hold off on killing her long enough to give her one.

Dilandau saw his opening in her moment of distraction. His sword slipped through her guard and her blade went flying across the room. Cursing herself for her stupidity she ducked to avoid the swinging blade. He was cornering her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Roughly, he pushed her against the wall and held the edge of his blade to her throat.

The Dragonslayers saw her expected defeat with a little bit of disappointment, but to Dawn it was a victory. She had lasted for over fifteen minutes with the fiercest General of all time.

Dilandau pressed his blade into her throat harder at the victorious look in her eyes. What was the damn boy looking so smug about? He had just won, not that he had expected any different outcome. Roughly he pushed away from her, turning and sheathing his sword.

"You'll do." Those were the only two words that came out of his mouth, but to Dawn, they were his death wish.

A/N: So... what do you think? Tell me, pretty please. :)