*sigh*…still procrastinating on that code geass fic.
Chapter 9
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
"Hey you."
Wolfram was aware of someone prodding him in the back. "Hey you! Wake up!" Wolfram grit his teeth angrily and sat up. Why couldn't they just let him sleep?
"You're not welcome in this part of the city. These respectable citizens wont be offering a cent to a tramp like you. Get lost before I run you through with my sword." Wolfram slowly got off the bench he had been sleeping on. He might have been offended if it hadn't been the third or fourth time he had been told something like this.
The city was cold to him. Both literally and figuratively. It was alarming how fast one could slip down the ladder of society. It was frightening how a person who'd been royalty for his whole life could be getting forced out of a "respectable" neighborhood because he couldn't afford to buy a room for the night.
Dawn was beginning to break. Thank Shinou, thought Wolfram. He longed for the sunlight to chase away the bitter fall air of the morning. As Wolfram walked, his hand strayed to his side, momentarily forgetting that he had no sword. He had nothing, actually. No money, No food, No weapon. Nothing but the clothes on his back and…extra baggage… that did nothing but sap his maryoku and his strength.
Wolfram ducked into and alley and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.
"Hey mister?" asked a kid's voice. Wolfram looked up to see a child sitting and playing with a stray cat. His clothes were filthy and he had no shoes. "What are you doing, mister?"
"Resting." Answered Wolfram, shortly.
"Those are some mighty fine clothes you got there, mister." The kid said. Wolfram looked down at the clothes exposed under the open coat and scoffed, mildly surprised that the kid was able to see past the wear and the stains. They had once been "fine." Now, after his stay in prison and his week of sleeping on the street, the fabric was torn and dirty, unrecognizable and hardly fit to be worn in a wedding.
Still, they might actually be worth something.
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
Wolfram looked at the small pile of coins in his hand. His mouth began to water when he thought of the food that he could buy with it, but he knew that there was something more important that he had to do first. The coins went into the pocket of his new shabby peasant clothing. Unlike the fitted jacket, his new clothing (stolen off of someone's line) was a few sizes too big, but did a better job obscuring the small swell of his midsection.
He came upon the shop he was looking for and let himself inside. The place was rank and messy. Wolfram had to keep himself from pinching his nose. Plants were hanging from the ceiling, ugly and overgrown. Jars and shelves full of strange artifacts covered the back wall. Medicines and other herbs in the process of being crushed and mixed sat disorganized on the small work table. An old human woman hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane.
"Oh ho. Another one, I see." She cackled. She noticed Wolfram's confused face. "I gets young Mazoku like you in here all the time. All gots the same problem. 'Cept the rich ones come because they don't want their parents to find out, and the poor ones come because they can't afford a Mazoku healer to do the job." She produced a small pouch from her pocket and handed it to Wolfram. "That's ok. These old human remedies are cheap and they work just as well." Wolfram could only stare at the strange old woman.
"You…" Wolfram hesitated, "You're sure that this will work?" He was glad he was saved the humiliation of explaining his predicament.
"Put this in your drink and you'll be free of your burden before the next sunrise." She was smiling, as if she hadn't just given Wolfram an instrument of murder. Then she seemed to remember something. "Does your husband or boyfriend know 'bout this?"
"He's a busy man." Wolfram answered.
"You best tell him, boy." The old woman warned. "Unless you want to create more trouble for yourself. Too many times I've been blamed for family squabbles."
"Thank you." Said Wolfram. He already had the money out. He wanted to pay and get out of here as soon as possible, because the more he dwelled on it, the more he was sure he would change his mind.
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
"Wadda ya have, kid?" The overly curvy and just-past-her-peek woman asked as she leaned on Wolfram's table with her breasts spilling out of her dress.
"Tea." That earned him an obnoxious laugh from his waitress.
"Tea?" she roared. "Well aren't you just one classy gentleman!" Her face became serious again. "This is a pub, kid. All we get is drunks and all we serve is ale."
"Fine. Bring me whatever." It really didn't matter anymore, now that Wolfram thought about it. A few minutes later, a mug was placed in front of Wolfram, its contents sloshing over the top and onto the table. A poor man's drink, Wolfram decided and suddenly had the urge to turn up his nose and demand something else. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the pouch, emptying it quickly into the disgusting liquid.
Now Wolfram sat there, staring at the concoction that would rid him of a major problem while trying to convince himself that it was for the best. Once he drank it he could not go back. He brought the tankard to his lips.
"Oh! Pardon me. I can be such a klutz sometimes."
Wolfram narrowed his eyes in anger. His drink had splashed all down his front, leaving him soaked and reeking of alcohol. He turned to see the imbecile who'd just wasted his only money. Wolfram's eyes widened.
"Is this seat taken? I'm sure we can sort this out." He was wearing that ridiculous turban and tinted glasses but Wolfram wasn't fooled.
"What are you doing here, sage?" Wolfram growled as Murata calmly sat down across from him.
"How cruel of you. I thought you'd be happy to see me." Murata said in a low voice. He glanced around to make sure that no one was listening. "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess, I see." Wolfram scowled.
"Is that what you're here to talk about? I'm guilty. I killed the bastard and if I could go back, I'd do it again."
"I know."
"Then what do you want? Are you here to kill me?" Wolfram asked with a bark of laughter. "If so then please do it now. There's really no need to say anything more."
"Oh spare me the self-pity!" the Great Sage snarled suddenly. "I happen to know the whole story, Wolfram, and I know you're not completely to blame for the murder." Wolfram went silent, hiding the surprise from his expression. Murata's eyes narrowed. "Don't you want revenge, Von Bielefield?"
"I…"
"You don't have to fault yourself for what's happened when there is a clear culprit." Wolfram's heart began to speed up after hearing the sage's words. Doubt, however, still clouded his mind.
"They are not something that can be defeated; they are a secret organization, completely underground." Wolfram countered, bitterly. Murata shifted his glasses and folded his hands neatly in front of him.
"Von Bielefield, I have long been investigating STOPPE. My work is top secret. Not even Gwendal is aware. However, these recent incidents with the White Crows have led me to believe that there may be some connection between the two." He rubbed chin, thoughtfully. "The White Crows are a much easier target. If we can track them down then there is a chance that we can learn some valuable information that can help us break up a long standing criminal organization." Wolfram stood up.
"And you want my help?" he guessed. The Great Sage studied him for a moment.
"Not now, of course. It's going to take time. Besides, you have your health to think about." Murata answered. Wolfram plopped ungracefully back into his chair.
"No I don't. The sooner I get rid of this…thing, the better. I don't have time to waste on child." Said Wolfram sourly. Murata picked up the empty mug, examining it carefully.
"I guess I should have expected something like this from a selfish brat like you." He chuckled darkly. Wolfram's face flushed angrily, but he couldn't deny it. Murata continued. "And I suppose lecturing you on the value of life would be a waste of time, so I will just tell you straight out. You WILL carry the child to full term."
"Hell no. Who do you think you are, sage? My body is none of your business." Wolfram crossed his arms.
"I disagree. What if I told you that Shinou is very interested in that child?"
"I'd say that was a load of horse shit."Scoffed Wolfram.
"Well, he's more than interested. Wolfram, you've been chosen."
"Chosen?" He arched a brow incredulously.
"Yes. That is Shinou's soul that you are carrying."
"I don't believe you." Wolfram decided. He stood up again. "Now, if you're not here to kill me or help me, I really don't see why I should continue talking to you."
"You can SIT down and SHUT up." Murata hissed in a deadly voice. It sent chills down Wolfram's spine. The Great Sage was angry with him. Wolfram sat back down. Murata continued in a low voice, "I'm not asking you to do this, Wolfram, I am telling you. I don't think you realize just how important this is. If I have to lock you up somewhere, then I will." Wolfram began to laugh in disbelief. Then he buried his face in his palms.
"I was thinking that I deserved all that has happened to me recently, but now I am not certain. Surely I am not so evil that my punishment must be such torture!" His face felt hot and his emotions were threatening to spill. "Why me?" he pleaded to Murata. "You said it. I'm a selfish and spoiled prince who's used to being handed whatever his capricious, shallow heart desires. I can think of no worse person for the job. I can't even care for myself on my own and I certainly don't know the first thing about…about...having a baby. I was a fool to have not gotten rid of it before everyone at the castle…before Yuuri… found out." Wolfram could have slapped himself after realizing that he was crying. He roughly scrubbed the tears from his eyes, hoping that Murata hadn't seen them. The Great Sage let out a sigh.
"You really do care for Shibuya, don't you? This is a great task that has been bestowed upon you, Von Bielefield, and I can't let you just brush it aside." He looked upon Wolfram with sincerity. "Do this for me. For the entire Mazoku race. In return, I promise to help you clear your name."
Wolfram let a brief flicker of hope invade his mind. It had been absent for so long that Wolfram almost didn't recognize the feeling. He stared at Murata's outstretched hand.
"Do we have a deal?" Wolfram cautiously placed his hand in Murata's.
"I suppose." He answered. The Great Sage stood but Wolfram grabbed his arm. "Wait." Wolfram said. Everything that had just happened was a lot to take in. He was suddenly feeling very lost. "Where are you going? Tell me what I should do now."
"Have you forgotten? We are waging a war. My duties as Shibuya's chief strategist require that I return to the castle." Murata said. Wolfram let his hand fall back to his side. "My advice to you, Von Bielefield, is to find someplace to settle in for the winter." Together, Murata and Wolfram walked out the door of the dirty tavern and into the cold wind.
"What if I can't do it?" Wolfram asked. Murata turned around, his face grave.
"I won't lie to you, Von Bielefield. These coming months are going to be hard, but there is no doubt in my mind that you will get through them." A coach had pulled up for the Great Sage. He already had a foot inside. Wolfram realized that he would be getting no further advice. Despite what the sage had said, Wolfram would be getting no map, no compass, no drawn out plan of where he was to go and what was going to happen. He lowered his eyes to stare at the ground.
"Watch over the wimp for me." Wolfram grumbled after a minute of silence. "Who knows what kind of trouble he'll be getting himself into without me around." Murata smiled.
"Goodbye Wolfram. I will see you again when spring comes." The door shut. Wolfram stared after the disappearing carriage with an increasing feeling of loneliness an increasing fear of what the future was to bring.
"Bye."
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
It was late afternoon and the sun had emerged fully from behind the dreary blanket of clouds and the temperature had risen enough for it to be quite nice. Wolfram found that it was much easier for him to enjoy the season of autumn when he wasn't constantly thinking about how cold he was.
He seemed to have stumbled upon a marketplace of sorts. It was bustling with farmers and vendors eager to sell off the last of their harvests and buyers looking to stock up for the winter. Wolfram had been to a market before, but only remembered seeing it through the carriage window in passing.
Besides the obvious function of a market, it also seemed to be a place of heavy gossip. News about the war was told from the mouths of travelers coming into town to the anxious wives awaiting the return of their husbands. Inflation, natural disasters, court scandals, were all being discussed around Wolfram. The place seemed to be the center of information exchange.
Suddenly, a loud booming voice was heard through the crowd.
"Make way for the king! Make way for his majesty the Maou!" The throng of people parted to the sides and began to wave and cheer enthusiastically. Wolfram made his way to the back of the crowd, pulling his hood around his golden hair. He did not wish to look upon the face of his love. He pretended to be inspecting the fish that were being sold at a nearby stall, even though there was no way he could afford to buy anything. He asked the peddler for the price anyway. The man didn't seem to hear. His eyes were fixed on the road behind Wolfram, where Yuuri was undoubtedly passing, riding majestically on his black horse.
Wolfram chalked his annoyance up to impatience. He asked again. The man opened his mouth, still not looking at Wolfram.
"I just can get over how beautiful he is…that Wolfram Von Bielefield."
"What?" muttered Wolfram, completely puzzled. He turned around, following the man's gaze. There was Yuuri, sitting atop Ao, looking as handsome as ever in his dark clothing. He greeted the crowd with a fake smile plastered on his face.
But riding next to him was what made Wolfram gasp. On a white mare sat an attractive man with fair skin and blonde hair. He raised a gloved hand as his horse walked, waving lightly to the standing admirers. He stared at Yuuri with a lovely grin showing his flawless teeth. His eyes were green and he wore the blue Von Bielefield uniform. He was everything the husband of a king should be. He was unmistakably Wolfram Von Bielefield.
.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.
Yay! Cliffhanger.
After reading this chapter over, I realized that things are getting a little biblical.
-And the angel Gabriel came to Wolfram and said "you will have the son of God"-
Damn it! This shit always happens to me. I think I'm being punished for my atheistism