It's been a very long time since I've updated this fic due to work and other distractions, not to mention other fics. It's pretty sad, too, since this chapter has been ready to be posted for at least a few months. So I apologize for the long wait for an update. To make up for it, I give you one of my favorite chapters.

Enjoy! And as always, please read and review. I love hearing from everyone!

Thanks,

Sora

Chapter 10

"Quiet, Gaddes! I can't hear them if you're over there breathing so loud!"

Gaddes glanced skeptically at the young lady who stood, ear pressed to the closed double doors that led to Dryden Fassa's private study. Celena had been trying in vain for some time to pick up on the conversation within. Allen had disappeared behind those doors at least half an hour prior and she had spent much of that time fretting over just why her brother would intrude upon Dryden as he worked and more importantly, why he would drag her along for such a meeting if only to make her wait outside.

The soldier leaned back in his chair, eyes turned to the ceiling as the girl continued her attempts at catching what she could of the conversation. Gaddes knew why they were here, but he wasn't sure how to tell Celena. When she learned Allen wanted a transfer to the borders, it was sure to upset her, but Allen had demanded his silence, not trusting completely in Dryden to grant this favor. There was no need to upset Celena unnecessarily, he had reasoned.

Of course, Gaddes could see the wisdom in that, but if the girl did not still herself soon, he would be driven mad and tell her out of a simple desire to see her away from that door.

"They're talking about me!" The girl's tone was suddenly outraged as she turned away from the door, leveling Gaddes with an almost furious expression. It made the soldier wilt and attempt again to vanish within the velvet cushions of his chair. He knew very well she didn't like other people planning her life and with no one else present, he was about to be the unhappy recipient of her anger.

Thankfully, though, she was content for the moment to press her ear back to the door, straining to hear through the cracks, but failing.

Eventually, after the passing of at least another quarter of an hour, during which Gaddes had sunk lower and lower in his chair, he saw Celena stir from her post by the door. Gaddes straightened, watching her with a dark brow arched as she scampered away from her incriminating position and onto the sofa across from Gaddes, where she sat, hands planted delicately in her lap. The perfect lady.

When the doors opened, she glanced up as if she'd been doing nothing more than sitting patiently the entire time. What was worse, Allen seemed to fall for the act completely, taken in by her wide eyes and questioning expression. "Onii-sama? What's going on?"

Allen completely missed when Gaddes rolled his eyes.

Instead, the knight approached his sister, taking her hand and guiding her to her feet in one smooth, fluid motion. "Dryden and I have been discussing matters and he has graciously agreed to grant my request for a transfer out of Palas."

"Transfer out of Palas?" Celena repeated the words, her fair brows furrowed slightly. Already the wheels were turning in the girl's head, but she waited. "What does that mean, Onii-sama?"

"It means," Allen hesitated, glancing for a moment at his trusted friend, causing Gaddes to glance away and pretend he'd been looking elsewhere the entire time. He'd agreed to wait with Celena, but had never said a word about helping Allen break the news. That was all in his hands. Gaddes didn't want to encounter Celena's wrath any more than her brother did.

"Well, what it means is that we'll be leaving within the week. I'll be overseeing the garrison at Zandira, on the Basram border. It's a large town, a trade center. It's not Palas, but it's not one of the rural forts, either. In fact, from what I've heard it's a favored weekend spot for nobility from Asturia and Basram alike." Allen was doing everything he could to make the place sound pleasant, but it was obvious from his tone that he didn't much like the idea of overseeing a bunch of lazy guardsmen at a trade hub that specialized in metals, ores, and weaponry. Basram wasn't known for exporting much else. Nothing that a lady would find interesting….

As expected, Celena did not react well to the news. "You requested a transfer and you didn't even ask me first?" That well-behaved young lady vanished in an instant as one hand was planted firmly on her hip. "What if I don't want to leave Palas? What if I like it here?"

The sudden change in demeanor gave Allen pause and the knight regarded his sister with momentary surprise. However, his resolve strengthened anew and he seemed ready to put his foot down. Gaddes had seen him like this before on the rare occasions he was pushed far enough and he knew things were on the verge of becoming very messy. Of course, he could attempt to defuse the situation. Or he could sit back and maintain his current state of health.

"Now, Celena, don't be unreasonable. I can't very well leave you here by yourself." Allen had bitten back his irritation for now and was doing his very best to speak in a measured, caring tone, but Celena would have none of it. She knew him well enough to tell when he was putting on airs.

"By myself? Onii-sama, I'm not a child! I can very well take care of myself. Besides," The girl's demeanor shifted yet again, hostility fading in favor of a bright smile. She wasted no time, darting past Allen to where Dryden had been waiting, only paying half a mind to the conversation. Of course, all that changed when Celena latched herself firmly onto the merchant's arm. "Dryden will be here to take care of me, won't you Dryden?"

Dryden hadn't the faintest idea of what she meant, but he smiled nonetheless and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Of course I will." It was obvious to all of them that Dryden knew nothing of what he'd agreed to, but it was the foothold Celena had needed. How could Allen refuse her now that she had the acting king of Asturia on her side? Plus, the girl had put on her most innocent face, the face she wore when attempting to weasel something out of Allen. The face that, more often than not, worked like a charm.

Allen knew that face well, but he was hardly immune. The worst part was, he knew damn well she was manipulating him and later he would no doubt spend at least an hour furious at himself for giving in yet again. Gaddes made plans to be elsewhere for the rest of the evening.

"Celena…" It had already begun. Allen was hesitating now, losing his strong conviction. It was only a matter of time before he gave in. And like the little predator she was, Celena took full advantage.

"I'll be able to stay here in the palace where nothing bad can happen and I'll be able to make sure things at the house are taken care of, too. And I'll write you every week. If anything at all happens, you'll know." She detached herself from Dryden's arm, noting that he was unlikely to speak up in her defense, mostly due to the far off look that had returned to his eyes. Besides, it was better to try and soothe Allen's anger just a bit if she were to be assured of getting her way and latching on to his rival was hardly the way to do so.

Allen spared one last, almost pleading glance in Gaddes' direction, but when it was skillfully avoided, he was left with only himself to rely on. The knight's fists clenched for a moment before shoulders grew slack and he released a defeated sigh. "As you wish, Celena. You can stay under the condition that you remain in the palace. Don't go wandering off to the house by yourself. It's a long way." He hesitated for another moment, sparing a brief glance for the still distracted Dryden. "He'll let me know if you break the rules. He owes me that much, at least."

This caught Dryden's attention, though it prompted only a sharp, cheerful laugh. "Certainly, Allen. Though I never considered our debts such an important matter. After all, you were the one who always got the better deal."

Still attempting to shrink into the couch, Gaddes pressed his palm firmly against his forehead. All this innuendo was giving him a splitting headache.

Allen merely glared for the uncomfortable span of a few seconds before turning to the door, signaling that Gaddes should follow along. "I'll see to the particulars of sending her belongings to the palace. Good day, Dryden."

"Good day, indeed!" The merchant seemed more cheerful than he had in quite some time. "Don't you worry your head about anything. I know how to take care of women."

For an instant it seemed as if Allen were prepared to turn and deal the man a blow and Gaddes, who had begun to follow the knight into the hallway, braced himself to potentially act as a buffer between the two. Two grown men hurling masked insults at one another when they knew damn well everyone in the room knew what they were talking about. As far as Gaddes was concerned, this transfer could not come at a better time, with the entire palace on the verge of explosion. It was best to get Allen away where he could have some time to think things through and hopefully come to terms with the circumstances of a second failed love affair. "Oi, boss. We should go tell the guys before we get to all that packing. They'll be glad to get out of here."

Talk of the men softened Allen's anger enough to allow Gaddes to give him a gentle push into the hallway and pull the door shut behind them. "Come on, Boss. Let's go get a drink."

xxxx

Zandira was a bustling port city, resting on the Enil Delta where the river poured into the central Gaean Sea. The city had been a trade center for many generations, as it not only brought ships to port, but was also a staging post to send further trading ships down the river into the Basram interior. The river was the life of Basram trade. It was a difficult matter to send caravans on foot over the deserts into Egzardia and in recent years, trade with Freid had been sternly regulated through Asturia.

Certainly there were other rivers and other ports in Basram, but location made Zandira the choice of nearly all of the merchant fleets. It was the last stop for merchant ships heading into Godashim in Freid and the first stop coming out, leaving many Freidan goods to fall directly into the hands of Asturia.

Generations ago, Zandira had been taken by force in the great expansion of Asturian influence. Once the country had cemented itself firmly on both coasts in the central span of the sea, they began to expand both north and south, taking port city after port city and establishing the strongest trade relations known to Gaea. Of all the southern nations, only Freid retained its own coastline, thanks in great part to its proximity to the capital, Godashim.

Asturia had maintained control of the coast, building fortified cities around the major coastal areas. Small fishing villages and towns were left to their own devices, their citizens Basrami in all but name. If the coastline was too rocky for ships to dock, Asturia left it to the jurisdiction of the former country, but officially claimed the land to prevent others from protesting their presence in the ports. After all, Asturia had every right to be on Asturian soil.

Like any trade center, the presence of the Fassa family was a given. In recent years, the family had begun to branch out, setting up not only their central office in Palas, but also a number of remote offices up and down the central sea, including posts in Freid. Decades ago when Meidan Fassa fell into favor with the Astons, these trade centers were given official royal power over trade and became not only offices, but warehouses and regulators.

Zandira was unofficially lorded over by Artem Fassa, a Freidan cousin of the Asturian heir, Dryden, who maintained an iron grip on his control. He regulated trade, deciding which goods went into the interior and which went back to the capital. Rumors were whispered that he had deals under the table with half a dozen Basram nobles and was doing unofficial business without regard to the treaties between nations, dealing in a variety of forbidden goods from weaponry to rare herbs.

Some called it money grubbing, but others saw it in a more positive light. It was no ill thing for the Fassas to wish to maintain friendly relations with an increasingly unpleasant Basram. Plus, it kept the noble families from rebelling against Asturian coastal rule and attempting to take the ports back. Still, relations between countries were awkward at best and Zandira was seething with ill will. Basrami and Asturian refused to speak, even in passing in the streets. Brawls were commonplace among the Asturian sailors and the Basrami boatman and the transfer of goods from seafaring ship to river vessel had to be lorded over by an Asturian military presence.

This was the city to which Allen Schezar had been assigned. The former magistrates had done little, if anything to ease the tensions and reports from the merchants' league flooded in daily demanding something be done. Or at least, that was how Dryden had explained things when he'd met with the knight to give orders.

"Don't stick your nose in too quickly, Allen. Artem won't take kindly to you being there, despite my assurances. He likes to think himself powerful. Take your time and observe and send me word once you get a decent feel for the conflicts. And… keep an eye on my cousin. He's even more underhanded than the old man, I hate to say."

So Allen had waited. Three months he'd waited, moderately policing the streets, breaking up brawls where he could, but keeping himself and his men firmly out of Artem Fassa's way.

His men, at least, seemed to feel more comfortable here, even with the open conflict in the streets. Much of the Asturian compliment in Zandira was composed of mercenaries, men much like his crew. They weren't career soldiers and they were, sufficed to say, a bit more crude than the usual Palas units. Not that Allen thought ill of his men, but he did realize they felt more at home among men of their own standing. Career soldiers tended to look down their noses at mercenaries who were only employed for months at a time, able to come and go as they pleased. The soldiers claimed their less official counterparts had no loyalty, that they were simply greedy and traitorous, willing to turn on a dime for better pay, and maybe it was true for some, but not for Allen Schezar's men.

Most had been unable to join the Asturian army due to one thing or another, much of which had been completely out of their control. Teo had migrated west out of the Egzardian deserts and was still officially a foreigner and unable to serve. He'd had plans to wait out the five years it would take to earn his Asturian citizenship, but that had been years ago when he'd first come into Allen's service. As far as he knew now, Teo intended to continue under Allen's command indefinitely, suffering the meager wages in order to avoid a less pleasant posting with the Asturian garrisons. Pyle and Katz as well awaited their citizenship, both having traveled south from Chezario and Daedalus respectively.

Reeden, on the other hand, had never had plans to join the Asturian military. He'd often told the others that he simply couldn't stand the strict guidelines followed by the official army, the curfews and dress code, and to a larger degree, the regulations against loose relationships with women. Not that Reeden was dishonorable when it came to his relations with women, but he did enjoy the occasional romp between the sheets, as he liked to put it.

Gaddes, unlike the rest, had actually had formal military training. He'd spent nearly six months at a training facility outside of Palas until he was summarily dismissed three weeks before earning his commission. As it turned out, he'd applied under false pretenses, claiming a family name that was not his own, not only lying in his records, but maintaining a lie that would have prevented his entry into the military to begin with. Gaddes had no father and given Asturia's dedication to the family line, no man without proof of Asturian paternity could serve the royal family in an official capacity. Allen had never learned the details of the matter, but from what he understood, a rival student brought the information to light and so Gaddes was politely, but firmly asked to turn in his sword.

Despite all, Allen's scruffy little band had stuck with him even when the terms of their employment had expired. They had reenlisted time after time on the condition that they remain under his command and as far as Allen was concerned there were no men more deserving of being called soldiers of Asturia. None more loyal. None more trustworthy. Perhaps crude and unorthodox at times, but still the bravest men he had ever had the privilege to serve with. Even if Reeden, currently on his afternoon patrol, was making a nuisance of himself to the young lady who ran a textiles stall just beneath Allen's balcony.

He had been on the verge of speaking up in the poor girl's defense when he was quite literally beaten to the punch. Quite unexpectedly, Gaddes emerged from the lower levels of the base and without a word of warning, had given Reeden a firm smack to the back of his head. It was answered by a bit of a sheepish grin as Reeden lifted a hand to rub at the lump forming where the friendly blow had landed.

"Sorry, Sarge, I'll just get going then." With a touch of nervous laughter, Reeden bid the object of his attentions a quick farewell before taking off at an accelerated walk into the markets. No doubt he had another girl a few blocks down waiting for his daily visit, as well.

Meanwhile, Gaddes had leaned causally against the girl's stall where he proceeded to apologize for Reeden's obvious infatuation while attempting to hide his own obvious attention to the girl's cleavage. Perhaps Allen should have stopped him from committing the same obvious transgressions he'd just smacked Reeden for, but he refrained. After all, Reeden was known to have taken out half the girls in the city for drinks and supper but in the three plus years Allen had known him, he'd never seen Gaddes even ask a girl out. Of course, the Sergeant claimed to have seen his fair share of action with the opposite sex, but if he had, he'd kept it very well hidden from Allen and from the rest of the men, for that matter.

The knight finally left Gaddes to his flirting below and retreated from the balcony into his rooms, the only place in Zandira that afforded him even a hint of privacy. The rooms were spacious for a soldier's quarters, though smaller than what he'd gotten used to at his home in Palas. Still, there was room enough for a bed and a simple desk crafted in a rather expensive dark wood imported out of the forests of Fanelia. Papers lay strewn across it in quasi organized stacks, though Allen knew well enough he'd been getting lazy. A month ago the desk would have been in perfect order. He couldn't rightly explain why he'd let himself go in the past month, though he was sure it had something to do with his post. He felt oddly more content here. Perhaps it was that he felt useful again, like he had years ago in Castelo.

Or perhaps it was the distance from her that took some of the weight from his shoulders. He was causing her no trouble here.

Blue eyes flitted to the correspondence that lay open on the desk. It had come in that morning addressed to Allen Schezar rather than simply the commander of the Zandira garrison and marked with the royal seal. It was an odd thing to receive documents with the Aston family seal and know they came from Dryden. He had always used the Fassa seal before, but when King Aston had finally passed away little more than a month ago, he had begun to reserve his family seal for business matters only. He was king now, after all, in name as well as duty.

Strange indeed.

Unlike most of Dryden's letters, this one had been of a very personal nature and had arrived on the most recent Fassa merchant ship rather than with the official Asturian messengers. Once more, for what seemed like the thousandth time, Allen scooped the letter from his desk and read.

Allen,

I know I am long overdue in giving you any word but, as I'm sure you're aware, things have been unusually hectic. They're making me dress up like a buffoon for the sake of a coronation, which I absolutely loathe. As always, no offense to the Asturian style of dress and ceremony, but I have a million better things to do than be fitted for royal robes and other such nonsense. Count yourself lucky to be far away, Knight of Heaven.

Ah, but I'm going on about myself again. I suppose I'm falling victim to the latest Asturian fashion of talking of nothing but Dryden Fassa. Well, they want me to be more Asturian!

I'm sure you're hungry for a bit of news from home, but there is little to say. Celena is well, as always, though there are those who would worry me to death over her frequent visits with that Trevelian boy. But don't you worry about a thing, Allen. Millerna assures me the boy is an admirable knight from a noble line and she has voiced her approval.

On a more official front, my father's merchants are still up in arms regarding our agreements with Zaibach and are demanding additional funds to make the trip into their trade hubs. Whatever the fools say, I am quite satisfied with our agreement with Zaibach and even more satisfied that I've been able to pass nearly two months without having to sit across a table from that Aldon. I've never met a more unpleasant fellow in all my days.

I've received word from my last trade vessel that you've kept things well in hand and you have my deepest thanks. Still, my men noticed a good deal of tension in the harbor and market. Artem refuses to send records, claiming business is booming and he needs more scribes. See to it that he sends a report in his next correspondence even if you have to send Gaddes by with a few hundred soldiers. You stay away from him, though. He's afraid of your mercenaries but he seems to have no issue with snubbing the royal power I've placed on you. Look after yourself above all. If I loose money, well, it's only money.

Millerna sends her best wishes and she prays for your safety, as do I. She wishes to inform you that all is well with her health and it is very probable no one suspects. We both wish you continued health and I cannot thank you enough for taking such a precarious post. Be wary, Allen Schezar, Knight of Heaven, for men will quarrel over money as quickly as over women and just as fiercely.

Regards,

Dryden Fassa, King of Asturia

He let the letter fall again to the table, shaking his head faintly at the merchant's words. So much for his hopes that Dryden would learn to act like a king before he became one. The man was still a damned celebrity.

Really though, despite Dryden's obsession with himself, the letter was kept close, if only for the few lines that spoke of her. Three months of separation had done its intended duty to dull the ache in his heart. He missed her, of course, but he didn't feel the need to be there always to care for her. And besides all that, he'd saved her the grief of having the child called the bastard offspring of a less than virtuous Knight of Heaven.

Allen had come to the slow conclusion after months of steady work and purpose, that he'd only been infatuated, just as she had, though his infatuation was inspired by her uncanny resemblance to Marlene in both appearance and nature. Truly, there had been times when he held Millerna that he allowed himself to be brought back years ago when he'd first taken Marlene in his arms and proclaimed his love with all the passion of youth.

He'd been so passionate then. What had happened to him? When had he lost that? Perhaps his passion had been what he really hoped to regain through his relationship with Millerna, that lost part of himself that had vanished when Marlene was sent to Freid. When she fell in love with her husband and forgot all about her knight.

What made things worse was that now that he was potentially ready to let go of Marlene, he'd found himself forever bound to the Aston line yet again. Another child fathered by him by another Asturian princess. This one, though, would not be away in distant Freid, but there under his nose, playing in the halls of the palace. He would see this child regularly and were it a son, it would eventually inherit the throne. All the while thinking Dryden was his father. All the while looking at Allen as nothing but a knight.

With an unhappy sigh, the knight stepped back out onto the balcony, distracting himself by returning to his observations of the market below, more specifically, of Gaddes' failed attempts at flirting. The Sergeant was fast earning himself a bit of good natured teasing for when he returned in the evening.

Gaddes' flirting was cut short though at the sound of shouting coming from the direction of the harbor. A moment later a thick cloud of black smoke rose from behind the many colored awnings that designated the market district. Then to the west, another column, then another to the east. In a matter of seconds, the entire harbor and market district had gone up in smoke.

Cries had gone up almost immediately from the population. Shouts of 'riot!' In an instant, people began to flee in all directions, others rushing towards the smoke clouds to join in the obvious brawl. It was chaos, pure and simple, and Allen was hard pressed to even discern what had gone on let alone find a solution that would stop the riot in its tracks. The fires were already spreading like mad into the residential district, marking the path of the mob towards the Fassa estates.

However, another tendril of men were forcing their way in from the harbors towards the Asturian military center, swords drawn to slay any who attempted to block their path. Below the balcony, Gaddes had ushered the girl quickly away, ordering her to flee to safety before he drew his sword, standing off against the oncoming mob, placing himself before the small side doors.

"Gaddes, fall back!" The mercenary below looked a bit surprised to hear orders from literally above, but he responded instantly, ducking inside the door. The sound of the wood firmly shutting was followed by the sound of the heavy steel bar falling across the door to seal it away from the crowds outside.

Allen had also retreated inside, darting to his desk to take up certain papers which were stuffed haphazardly into pockets. Already things looked bleak and he'd not even begun to organize a solution. He couldn't help but think in an instant of overwhelmed tension that Dryden had misplaced his trust.

Upon reaching the lower level, he found his men already at work barricading the doors and arming themselves at the windows with bows, though they chose their shots wisely, aiming to wound rather than to kill. Still, the mob seemed to multiply by the second, surging against the doors like an angry sea.

Allen had just taken up his sword when he found Gaddes at his side, panting a little from forcing the side door shut and holding it against the mob until it could be properly blockaded. "They're pushing in from all directions. I've sent men to the upper floors to keep them from climbing through the balcony windows, but we've been cut off from the barracks. The soldiers there are also sealed off from what I heard from the man that made it in. Patrols are still out and unaccounted for." There was more than a hint of worry in the man's voice as he had obviously thought the same thing as Allen. Reeden and Kio had been on patrol.

"What about the melef storehouse?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked. He couldn't very well turn Scherazade against the people. They had nothing but swords and fists. Still, the Crusade was also stored with the melefs and that was a somewhat better option.

"Still sealed off. A man just came through the underground tunnels to report that he'd sealed the doors against the rioters. Thankfully before they could get their hands on any melefs."

Their conversation was interrupted by a dull boom against the main doors and a shout from a soldier at the window. "Sir, they're using the posts from the market tents to attempt to break down the doors!"

"Damn." Allen snarled, shaking his head. Things were fast becoming out of hand! "Gaddes, prep the Crusade. We'll go out and try to make sense out of this mess."

Gaddes snapped off a sharp attention before turning on his heel to sprint into the underground tunnels, footsteps echoing behind. He had only just vanished when the thud against the door grew louder, producing a crack down the center of the wood. Allen stood a bit straighter, drawing his sword. "Form columns and attempt to hold them off. We have the advantage." The door opened into a narrow entryway where half a dozen men could hold off an army if they had to.

They may yet have to.

Minutes passed like hours and the men grew nervous waiting for the deafening crack that would surely come when the door fell. When it occurred, it was as if thunder had struck the fortress, letting loose a storm of bodies into their midst, pouring through the shattered door in endless waves of metal and blood.