Thanks to those of you who have expressed interest in this fic. And thanks to those of you who have reviewed. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

This chapter has a lot of focus on the new characters, but I promise you'll see a lot more of the original cast as things progress.

Please continue to R& R!

Thanks,

-sor

Chapter 4

The collapse of the knight had been unfortunate, but it would have been unwise to allow such a matter to postpone discussions. After taking a moment to confirm that the boy would be properly cared for, Dryden ushered the young Duke inside, directing the boy to his chair. The door was then closed, blocking off the proceedings from the rest of the palace with the one exception of a pair of knights standing just inside the door. Dryden was no fan of the Knights of Caeli, but perhaps that was due to a certain prejudice on his part. A prejudice, he reminded himself, which was completely unjustified. Just because one knight lacked character, he could not hold it against the rest. The two men at the door, most especially.

They were two of the oldest of the order, men far past their fighting prime, who had been in service to the Asturian throne for going on forty years. They were good men, the patriarchs of a pair of influential noble houses and to deny them their ceremonial positions inside the conference room would have been near political suicide. Sometimes it irked Dryden that politics came so often before logic in Asturia and it was something he hoped to change. Certainly the two old men were loyal servants of the throne, but they hadn't seen battle in decades. Yet here they were, protecting the dignitaries from harm.

If Zaibach had come intending harm, these two old men would not deter them. Hell, it would probably encourage any attempts. Dryden held no illusions about his own prowess with a sword. It was non-existent. In fact, the only one in the room who could rival that Zaibach military escort was Van Fanel, who sadly looked ready for a nap.

"Don't worry, friends, I'm sure the lad will be right as rain." Dryden stepped around the table towards the rather massive chair that stood at the head. It might have been gaudy enough to be called a throne had Dryden not seen the real throne of Asturia. Though it was hardly his style, it still had a purpose and so he'd ignored his initial impulse to have the thing removed. It was a sign of power and while he detested such, Dryden also recognized the necessity. It was a subtle (perhaps not so subtle) reminder of who was in charge of these discussions.

The acting king took his seat first, another one of those necessary displays of power. In addition to being far too ornate, the damn chair was terribly comfortable. Now that was something that would have to be dealt with post haste. Comfort was a dangerous thing when conducting business. If a man allowed his body too much comfort, his mind would not be quite so sharp as it was on other occasions. Of course, the other extreme was just as true. A certain level of discomfort could also have adverse effects on a man's mind. It was the challenge, then, to find the proper balance that would place one's mind in its most focused state.

Around the table followed the scraping of chairs as the rest of the delegates took their seats. At his right hand, Van Fanel covered yet another yawn, which was rewarded by a sharp kick from Dryden. He ignored the dirty look given him by the youth and instead turned his attention to the business at hand.

When the others seemed settled and attentive, they were met with the firm, no-nonsense face that Dryden only put on for business. There were no formalities laid out. Such frivolous things had been taken care of at the banquet the previous evening. "Gentleman of Zaibach. Your proposal?"

xxxx

The stench was the only thing that registered clearly in his mind. He was choking on it, a stench so heavy it was almost tangible. All around him was darkness. A severe pain in his leg. An overwhelming sense of anxiety and fear. A keen sense of failure. Humiliation. But more keen than the rest, a deep sorrow. He'd let someone down. A face floated just past the edges of vision. He knew he would recognize it if only he could see it. If he could just reach out and touch it…

"Don't fail me. Do you understand? Do you hear me,…"

"Baedan? Do you hear me, Baedan?"

His first attempt at a response came out as an unintelligible garble of noises. His mouth was dry. However, the second attempt was much more productive. "Who's there? Where am I?" Hadn't he been standing guard at…

"Shit!" The young knight sat bolt upright, nearly sending the slender form that sat perched on his bedside toppling to the floor. To her credit, Celena Schezar managed to keep her seat with uncanny balance, only reacting to the sudden movement with an amused smile.

The girl placed both hands against his shoulders, pushing him down against the pillows again. "Another knight took your post, Baedan. The doctor said there's nothing wrong with you, but that you should rest for a while just in case. So I'm here to make sure you do just as you're told. No argument." There was something strange in her voice, a slight hint of commanding tone that left Baedan uncharacteristically docile.

Once he had settled back again, the knight couldn't help but feel sick. He'd fainted in front of everyone. In front of the Duke of Freid! In front of… "Wait, what are you doing here? Were you there when I…?" Oh, God. He'd fainted in front of Celena Schezar!

She only seemed amused by his distress, though, giggling softly at the rising color in his cheeks. "No, but I heard it from one of the servants. Everyone was talking about the knight that fainted in front of the entire diplomatic conference. When I found out it was you, I thought I'd come sit with you. You needed someone here when you woke up to tell you the entire palace is laughing at you. I'd hate for you to go out with no warning."

He wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. Obviously, she was making fun of him, but he couldn't bring himself to be insulted. How could he be? She had come to sit with him, after all. "Did they all really see it? I thought they'd gone inside by then…"

"Well, from what I heard, you made a pretty loud thud when you hit the floor." Celena's smile was contagious and soon, despite his humiliation, Baedan was smiling as well.

However, smiles were not enough to completely eliminate the awkward air that hung heavily around them. Baedan couldn't manage to look at her for more than a few seconds without ducking his head or averting his eyes. Some instinct told him that staring too long might cause an unfavorable reaction. So when he finally voiced a timid question, his eyes were locked on his hands where they sat clasping the bedsheets. "Lady Schezar… Why are you here? Really?"

Celena's face grew more serious, her blue eyes focused on the window, or something else beyond it in the gardens. She did not answer right away, leaving the pair to sit in a quickly lengthening silence. Finally, her voice, more timid than he had ever heard, spoke in a near whisper. "I was worried about you. It's not like you to just collapse. You're usually so strong and it would kill you to have other people think of you as weak. I knew you'd feel awful so I just… I wanted to be here."

The mattress shifted as Baedan sat up again. He'd decided he didn't need to lay down to rest and wasn't about to let Celena tell him otherwise. Besides, she seemed to be a little less commanding at the moment. "You wanted to be here? Why? I thought your brother didn't like it when you talked to me."

"Do you think I care what he likes? If he's allowed to have an affair with the Princess then I should be allowed to speak to a man." She turned away from the window and finding Baedan sitting up again, planted her palms firmly on his shoulders again, pushing him against the pillow. "I said you need to rest. Now stop acting so tough."

This time, however, Baedan wasn't going to let her get away with the shoving. When her hands touched his shoulders, he did lie back, but at the same time his own hands closed around her shoulders, pulling Celena down with him. Immediately, though, he realized the error of his decision. This wasn't one of the guys he was dealing with! This was a woman. Celena Schezar, the younger sister of one of the most powerful men in Asturia. And he'd just pulled her into bed with him!

Baedan's hands jerked away from her shoulders as if they were on fire and he made some vain attempt at sinking down into the bed. "Lady Schezar, I..! Well, what I mean is… I didn't mean to I just…"

The knight's panicked words were silenced by a rather sly grin that should have seemed totally foreign to Celena's face, yet seemed strangely familiar. Taking advantage of his silence, Celena, one of the most well-bred ladies in Asturia, closed the distance between them and pressed a forceful kiss to Baedan's lips.

Baedan found himself shocked and immobile and at the complete mercy of Celena. She seemed to enjoy the state she had put him in, nipping teasingly at his lips until he finally began to respond. Just as he finally began to feel comfortable with the girl's forcefulness, she drew back, rising from the bed as she went.

"If I hear word of you out and about before the doctor gives his permission, I'll see to it that you regret it, Baedan Trevelian." The door closed behind her with a deafening thud leaving Baedan staring after her, struggling somehow to breath.

xxxx

Very few of the chief Madoushi had survived both the Fate War and the following civil war. The Militarists had been in possession of quite a few talented snipers and more than one Madoushi leader fell to a well placed projectile. Yet Aldon had survived. He liked to think it was due to his outstanding intelligence, but his younger comrades would have argued just as quickly for pure dumb luck.

Whatever the reason, Aldon had survived and with the exception of one other man, he was the last remaining Madoushi to have served directly under Dornkirk. He had been instrumental to the success of the Fate Alteration Engine (though success was a relative term) and had been the head of many, more secretive projects. He had a hand in developing the technology that made it possible to reconstruct Folken Fanel's arm. He had called himself Dilandau Albatou's father. He was the only one left among the Madoushi who had any right to head the order.

After that morning's rather pointless discussion on peace treaties, Aldon found himself more than happy to break from the talks and return to his room where he might find some peace and quiet. The two younger Madoushi he had brought with him talked endlessly, fussing and fretting over insignificant things. If they were to become leaders, they would have to learn to prioritize.

He pushed the door open to his temporary rooms, throwing the heavy cloak from his shoulders as he went. "Daien, make yourself useful and fetch me some tea."

Daien came scampering rather quickly from the adjoining bedroom, half bowing to his employer on his way to the small kitchen. The man was nearly twenty-five, but still looked very much like a boy as far as Aldon was concerned. He was thin, almost scrawny one could say, with a face that could have belonged to a girl. His pale flesh and fair hair made him look fragile, though Aldon knew he could hold his own should he be pushed far enough. Daien had been in his service for the past two years, taken in after his service to Dornkirk had ended with the old fool's death. Aldon liked to think he'd made life much easier for his charge. Anything would have been easier than seeing to Dornkirk's bodily needs.

The best thing about Daien, though, was that the boy was mute. He was perfectly, blessedly silent. A wonderful quality to have in a servant.

He was also quick. By the time Aldon had settled into his armchair, Daien was presenting him with a fresh cup of steaming tea, and then backing away just as quickly to take care of the discarded cloak beside the door.

"Well, Aldon? Did things go well this morning?"

Even if orders had been to leave his communication screen active at all times, Aldon was very tempted at the moment to shut the damn thing off and never touch it again. Still, could he really afford to make enemies at such a fragile time? Especially enemies that could be as dangerous and powerful as Cerin.

He stood with the grace of a large snake and turned to face the fuzzy image on the screen. The smile on his face was practically poisonous, though he knew very well the expression could hardly carry to the other man through the static. "Cerin. I'm so pleased you called. I was beginning to enjoy being alone for the first time in three days."

If the Madoushi's sarcasm was noted, Cerin gave no indication. "Does Asturia welcome our proposals? Are they inclined to provide us with assistance?"

"The merchant seems quite interested in discussing trade and funding." Aldon was talented at dealing with rulers, but this Dryden was unlike any other king he had dealt with. The man still thought like a merchant in terms of goods and profit. It would be an advantage. "He has made many suggestions to stimulate our economy and while I am quite reluctant to admit it, there are those that hold water. However, he wishes further private discussion with his allies before coming to a decision on terms of trade. We will meet again this evening."

"Satisfactory. I will contact you again in the evening." Without so much as a farewell, the screen fell silent, leaving the room a bit dimmer, but blessedly more silent.

Aldon eased back into his chair, taking a slow sip from his tea. After a measured sigh of contentment, he called over his shoulder to Daien, who had just come from his usual duty of hanging and brushing his cloak, "Prepare a bath, would you? As warm as you can manage. I have a feeling I'll be needing the relaxation while I can get it."