A/N: This fic seems to be in OC land right now. My earlier promise regarding OCs still stands (for the most part). OCs will not (really) be paired up with main characters.

Chapter 11

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

The sun rose to a light flurry of snow falling softy from the grey sky. The wheels of a carriage creaked as they rolled over the hard, frozen ground that had been painted over with white frost sometime during the night before. Two uniformed men rode on either side of the carriage. Their breath was released as steamy puffs into the chilly air.

The man inside the carriage was a wealthy merchant. He had left the nearby town after some very lucrative business dealings and now a chest full of money sat on the seat beside him. It had been a good year and he loved the feeling of returning home a richer man.

He was thrown forward when the carriage came to an abrupt halt. He pushed open the door to yell at his driver.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded.

"Well, Sir, there seems to be someone blocking the road." The driver answered. The merchant stepped out of his carriage and saw a body lying in the middle of the dirt path. Normally, he would never feel inclined to help a lost traveler, but he could see that the person was on the verge of death and his conscience got the better of him.

He walked slowly over to the body. It was a beautiful young man with blonde hair. His clothing was too light for the season and the merchant could see that poor thing was at least six months pregnant. He sat up.

"Are you alright?" the merchant asked, kneeling beside him.

"How kind of you, good Sir, to stop for me." He said. He was shivering.

"What in the world are you doing out here all alone?"

"I'm afraid I have sprained my ankle and I can no longer walk. I was sure I was going to die out here." He let out a few sickly coughs. He grabbed hold of the merchant's arm. "Oh, you won't leave me to freeze, will you?" he asked desperately, his wide green eyes sparkling with tears. "Please…" he laid a hand on his stomach. "I don't want to put my child's life in jeopardy. I have nothing else to live for." The merchant felt immense pity for the boy.

"Oh you poor thing. I'll do all that I can for you." He answered. The blonde haired beauty smirked at these words.

"In that case…"

A ball of fire was suddenly in the boy's palm. "Hand over the key to that safe that's in the back…unless you'd rather I search your dead body." The merchant was completely shocked. He looked back and gasped when he saw that his guards were each lying in a pool of blood.

He had been tricked.

Slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old key. When he held it out, it was snatched from his hand by someone else.

"Was all that really necessary, Rookie?" said a new voice. "Don't you think you laid it on a little thick?"

"It worked, didn't it?" the blonde huffed indignantly, as he was helped to his feet. "I doubt you could have pulled it off."

Another man appeared, carrying the chest that he'd stolen from the carriage. The three of them turned their attention to the helpless merchant.

"You have my money, now… so please spare me!" he cried, frightened. The one with the sword laughed as they all mounted their horses.

"Don't worry, we won't kill you. That's our friend's job." He said. The three of them began to ride away. The beautiful blonde-haired bandit spared the merchant one last glance. He, at least, seemed to still have some conflicting feelings. After a moment he scowled, digging his heels into his mount roughly and taking off after his accomplices.

The merchant gulped and slowly turned around. A rather short man with bandages covering most of his head sat Indian-style on the ground, surrounded by a variety of sharp weapons all laid out in a neat circle. He looked upon the terrified merchant with two different colored eyes and a genuinely confused expression.

"Which one of these do you like best?"

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

None of them had names, Wolfram learned from the months he had spent with them. There was no trust in the group and Wolfram had pieced together that they all were criminals that had pretty big prices on their heads. The one with the sword, Wolfram discovered, was the most talkative. He seemed to have appointed himself the leader and had taken it upon himself to give everyone a nickname for convenience's sake.

"The one with the arrows? That's Shooter." he informed Wolfram one night. "He's a human. Ugh! Disgusting creatures if you ask me. He knows his houjutsu, though. I'd rather not get in a tangle with him."

"Skinner is the one with the bandages. Believe me, you don't want him to take them off. The guy's a monster. A freak of nature. It's a wonder that I haven't been murdered in my sleep…Don't tell him I said that ."

"As for me, you can call me Striker."

Wolfram wasn't asked to give his own name, nor did he tell it. Names weren't all that important to these people. Most of the time he was 'Rookie' or 'Blondie'. It served the purpose. It wasn't clear to Wolfram how exactly he managed to get absorbed into the group of misfits. He supposed it suited him, though. He was, after all, a criminal himself.

It was dark when they reached their camp. Wolfram sat down by fire and brought the dying embers back to life. He leaned against the tree and sighed. The busy day had left him quite drained. He found himself wondering how he had gotten so tired when he'd hardly done a thing. Only twice he had used his maryoku and it had been with much difficulty. Every day that passed it seemed that more of his ability was taken away. He despised the thought of being weak and he only wished he had a sword to compensate for his waning maryoku.

His fatigue didn't go unnoticed. Striker looked up from fiddling with the stolen chest and stared at Wolfram from across the fire.

"You don't look all that good. Maybe you should have listened when we warned you about riding a horse." he commented. Wolfram pretended not to hear him. He gazed blankly into the orange glowing light.

"I refuse to be the distraction on the next job." Wolfram said quietly. "Let me do something else this time."

"No. We don't need any more screw-ups." responded Striker. He shoved the key into the black chest and opened it to reveal a mound of golden coins. "Wahoo!"

"I didn't know wanting to save someone's life was a 'screw up'."

"Look at all this money!" Striker exclaimed, ignoring him.

"Please just let me prove myself. I know I can do something more useful."

"Can you believe that there are some people that are just born with this kind of money? Wish I was that lucky. If I was that rich I'd buy enough drink to last me a lifetime." He began to laugh, already caught up in his fantasy. Wolfram stood up and began to walk away from the other man. If he was only going to be ignored then he figured he might as well go off and sleep on his own. "Haha! Hey Rookie, what would you do if you were born rich as a prince?" He asked innocently. Wolfram clenched his fists.

"I'd marry a king…and live happily ever after." muttered Wolfram.

"God, is that what being pregnant does to you? I'm never trying it." He said to Wolfram's back. After a while he spoke up again, this time serious. "Come back over here. I've got a new idea on how we can make money, but I'm going to need help from all of you bastards."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yuuri looked up when Greta walked into his office. He tried to smile, but he must have looked less than happy because his daughter only sighed.

"Everyone is ready for you, father. It isn't wise to keep them waiting." she said. Yuuri stood up slowly from his chair.

"I want you to come with me today, Greta." Yuuri replied. He walked past her on the way out of his office and she began to follow him down the hall quietly. A few minutes later they reached the giant doors of the meeting room and were let in by the two soldiers standing guard outside the room.

Yuuri said no words of greeting as he took his seat at the far end of the table. Greta sat next to him. This caused the ten aristocrats to look puzzled.

"My husband is ill and will not be joining us today." Yuuri said, answering their questioning stares.

"Still?" asked Waltorana skeptically. "It must be serious if he has been ill for this long. Perhaps one of my healers could look at him, your majesty." he suggested.

"That is unnecessary. It is nothing life-threatening." Yuuri responded in a tired manner. He just wanted to get this meeting over with and not have to deal with Wolfram's uncle asking bothersome questions. It was bad enough that Gwendal and Conrad were no longer here to keep him from making any blunders. They had left a few weeks ago to command their armies overseas, leaving Yuuri and the castle in the care of Gunter while they were gone.

The meeting began as it always did, with discussion of the war. While the specific strategies and battle plans were clearly best left to the generals, Yuuri had learned that the nobles couldn't move on without putting in their two cents as well. As much as Yuuri hated sitting through the hours of heated debate, it was a small price to pay in order to keep them all happy. And as much as he hated to admit it, he did value their different opinions and ideas when it came to this subject.

"This war had already gone on much longer than anticipated. We came in thinking we would win this quickly but I don't see it happening." said Von Wincott.

"We can still win." argued Von Grantz. "So what if it's been a bit long? It changes nothing."

"Shin Makoku is losing ground. The humans are putting up a tougher fight than we expected. Perhaps we should pull out. We can't expect to best them on their frozen terrain."

"Are you insane?"

"Yes, are you telling us to surrender?"

"We may be able to find a way to appease them. What are their demands?"

Yuuri hadn't said a word, yet. He was looking at Greta while the aristocrats argued, gauging her reactions and wondering what she was thinking. She had never taken part in a discussion like this before.

"The demands of Big Shimaron and her allies are nothing short of the enslavement or extermination of the Mazoku race, I'm sure." Waltorana commented.

"I agree. There is no reasoning with these barbarians. We must continue to fight."

"But what of our troops? We've already exhausted so many of our forces. And the expenditure of this war may leave us groveling at the feet of other human countries when this is all over with."

"Gunter," said Yuuri, speaking for the first time. The others quieted down. "What do you think?" The man had been sitting quietly at the table with his fingers laced together and his brow furrowed. He looked at Yuuri.

"I think, your majesty, that we must make a decision. We could attempt to open peace talks with Big Shimaron…" There were angry protests from most of the gathered aristocrats. Yuuri held up a hand until they had all stopped talking. Gunter continued, "Or, we may be forced to enter a state of total war."

Yuuri sat back in his chair and indicated that he was still listening.

"Escalated fighting would mean that we would have to begin rationing the country's food, we would have to dramatically increase production of weapons and armor, and I would also propose that we begin drafting men into our army."

"A draft?" asked Greta suddenly. "You mean we would be forcing people to go fight?" she sounded completely disgusted with the idea.

"Precisely, Princess." answered Gunter. She glanced quickly at Yuuri but did not respond.

"This draft," said Yuuri after a moment. "make sure that it includes human and half human men. I don't want to discriminate."

"Yuuri-" began Greta. He turned to her.

"Big Shimaron can burn to the ground. We will make her kneel before our might."

Greta closed her mouth. She was silent for the rest of the meeting.

A few hours later, it was over. Yuuri followed his daughter as she walked swiftly down the hall. He followed her until they were standing outside in the courtyard. Yuuri felt the wind going right through his clothes and raising goose bumps on his skin. The stiff grass crunched under his shoes.

"Is Ralph really sick?"Greta asked without turning around.

"No. Waltorana would recognize him if he showed up today." Yuuri replied. Greta huffed and was silent for a moment.

"I heard that you've been trying to name me your heir." she said.

"You are my daughter." responded Yuuri. Even as he said it, he was aware of the reality crushing down upon him.

"Stop it, Yuuri." she said, turning to face him. "I may be your daughter, but I am a human. It is not the place of a human to become the ruler of a country of Mazoku. Besides, what is the point? In less than a decade I will be older than you anyway." When Yuuri did not answer, she crossed her arms and sighed.

"I'm going to leave for a while, Yuuri. I already have my things packed. I can't take this madness anymore."

"Madness?" asked Yuuri.

"Yes. This war, these lies, politics…Ralph." she spat with distaste. "Doesn't anyone realize what's happening? How can life just keep going on like nothing's wrong? What about Wolfr-"

"Don't say that name." growled Yuuri. Greta stomped a foot angrily.

"WOLFRAM!WOLFRAM!WOLFRAM!" she shouted. "You can't ask me to forget about my father! I don't know who you are anymore Yuuri! Didn't you love him at all?" The accusation caught Yuuri off-guard. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again.

"Where will you go?" He asked, if only to change the subject.

"You don't need to know. When you are back to your old self again, I will return to the castle."

"What if you get lost?" said Yuuri.

"You should be more worried about yourself, father. You are more lost than I could ever be."

She left Yuuri standing in the freezing courtyard.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Many miles away in a remote village, two people walked into a small inn. They looked as if they were husband and wife. The man was quite short. Two mismatched eyes were visible through his heavily bandaged face. His shirt, although presentable enough, was splattered with strange red stains on one of his sleeves. The woman was beautiful. With sleek blonde hair and soft green eyes, she looked like she came from a wealthy family, even in the plain clothes that she wore. She held her pregnant belly and smiled disarmingly at the man behind the desk.

"A room for tonight, please." the husband grunted.

"Actually we were thinking of staying for more than one night." the wife said sweetly. She batted her eyelashes at the man. "What kind of fun things does this quaint little town have to offer?" she asked.

The man scratched his beard. He wasn't at all in the mood for this. It was late and he just wanted to get to bed already. He thought about what could possibly be 'fun' about this place.

"Well there's going to be an execution tomorrow. Everyone's going to go see that." he tore one of the wanted posters off of the board behind him. "See this guy here? He's finally been caught. He was worth a hellofva lot of money too. The damn human who caught him is one lucky sonofabitch. Tomorrow this guy's gonna get his at the guillotine." He brought his hand across his throat as if he were slitting his neck. He began to laugh. "Should make for some good entertainment. You should stop by."

The husband looked bored, but the wife was staring at the picture on the wanted poster of the criminal with the short blue hair.

"It sounds quite lovely. We'll definitely be there." she said as she flashed him another peculiar smile.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Ok, I want to know how many of you I fooled with the beginning of this chapter. Come on, admit it.

Please review.