Finally another update! Things have been busy as usual and I appologize for always taking so long.
Things are finally beginning to get a bit more exciting, though I'm afraid this chapter might be a little slow for some tastes. But I promise the next one will have more excitement along with the return of characters that have not appeared for some time (if at all). Plus there will be yet another new character to meet. So I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and returns again when I'm able to update next.
Please, please, please review. I love to hear from you all, especially if there is any way I can improve my writing.
And on a side note, at the moment there are no plans for Hitomi to return to Gaea. That's not to say she won't appear at all in the fic, but I have no plans to make her a part of this story or reunite her with Van. My apologies to the VanHitomi fans (which I, myself am, as well) but there was really no way to bring Hitomi back that wouldn't interfere with the story too drastically. But there are always flashbacks! If Folken can make his way into the story, Hitomi can as well.
Everyone read and enjoy! Thanks.
-sor
There was already a welcome party assembled by the time the Crusade limped its way over the horizon. The ship was intact, but barely able to maintain its course. One sail sported a series of negligible rips and tears and the opposite propeller seemed only to turn sporadically every few seconds or so. It was a wonder the ship had made its way to Palas at all without ending its rocky trip somewhere in the middle of the sea.
Space had been promptly cleared on the nearest landing pad, allowing the crippled ship a quick and steady berth. The shouts of men accompanied the landing as workers hurried to bring the ship down, not trusting the Crusade to make the landing on her own. It was fortunate that they had been there, for the ship seemed to totter more than once before finding its balance and finally coming to rest.
From where he stood, a safe distance from the commotion, Dryden could only frown at the condition of the airship. That crew was probably the most talented he'd ever had the privilege to meet, so for them to return home so badly damaged, the situation in Zandira must have been much worse than he had initially anticipated.
The small airship stood silently for what seemed like a series of short eternities, but finally a flicker of motion indicated the preparations for the crew's disembarkment. At his side, he caught the soft whisper from Millerna, who thought the word had gone unheard. Or perhaps she had simply forgotten he was there.
"Allen."
Allen, Allen, Allen. The king scowled for a moment before schooling his face into a more neutral expression. When the man came off of that ship, he would hardly give him time for a reunion with Millerna. There were more serious matters to discuss and they would conveniently prevent the usually social pleasantries. Millerna could hardly find fault in him for that.
However, be it curse or blessing, it was not Allen Schezar who stepped out of the Crusade, but a ragtag gathering of the ship's usual crew plus half a dozen Zandiran mercenaries. At the head of the group came Gaddes, attempting to organize the men into some bastardization of a military formation, but after a few noble attempts, he gave up on the fools and approached Dryden and his party. He attempted a sloppy salute; sloppy only because the man looked exceedingly weary and wore a makeshift bandage over his forehead, stained with dried blood.
He stood for a moment, eyes somewhat unfocused, before his legs gave out and left him sprawled on the stone, fresh blood beginning to seep into the already filthy bandage.
xxxxx
"The Sarge held 'em off at the door while we prepped. They came pouring down from the front doors like a damn swarm of rats." Teo leaned back against the wall just beside the main doors to the medical ward, which had become suddenly crowded with the remnants of the Zandira garrison and the crew of the Crusade. The dark man looked increasingly unhappy as the moments ticked by, refusing to have his minor wounds treated until the others were seen to. "He took that nasty blow trying to close the doors on 'em."
There were very few who had reached the safety of the Crusade that came through unscathed. A good many were superficial injuries, but they had dragged a few of the more critically injured men out of the hallways while they'd had the time, bringing them back to Palas to be treated and saving them from certain death at the hands of the mob. Dryden looked over the scene with a dark frown. Was this really all that was left of the garrison? He had dared entertain the hope that Allen and the men had held out and driven the riots back, but even in his worst expectations, he hadn't imagined such total destruction. Perhaps he'd been foolish to have Allen hold back for so long. He'd left the men ill prepared and now how many were dead based on his lack of judgment?
"Were there no signs this was coming?" His question was directed at Teo, one of the few men who remained uninjured, but it was answered by a rather grumpy Gaddes, who had finally lost his patience with the nurse attempting to tend a small scratch on his arm.
The Sergeant's head wound had been cleaned, treated, rewrapped and deemed non-fatal, though he'd been ordered in no uncertain terms to rest and recover the strength lost on the haphazard flight into Palas. He sat now, perched on the edge of the medical cot, waving the girl at his side away with a short, clipped, "Leave it." He then turned his gaze towards Teo and Dryden where they stood at the door. "There were a few brawls in the morning, but nothing out of the ordinary. Men drunk and fighting over cards. There was never an indication of something so huge."
Dryden left the doorway and crossed to Gaddes' bedside, scowling down at the mercenary, though he hardly meant to. "Nothing at all? Usually riots like this build up from escalating tensions. There was no increase in violence in the days and weeks prior?"
Gaddes seemed a bit insulted that his word had been questioned, but he maintained a reasonable tone as he looked up, fixing Dryden with his own displeased expression. "There was no increase in violence. Only the same things we've been seeing for the past three months. But I'll tell you one thing, sir. Those men were pretty well prepared for an unplanned riot, if you catch my meaning. They were fighting like soldiers with swords and moving in units and columns, shouting orders. I've never seen a population of boatsmen and merchants fight like a band of trained soldiers before."
His expression did not change, but the report hit Dryden like a lead weight. "Like soldiers?" A riot, he could deal with, but this had begun to sound more like a revolution. Or an attack. He remained silent for a moment, working through the information in his mind before finally venturing the question that they had all been itching to ask. "What of Allen?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Millerna flinch slightly where she stood tending to one of the more critically injured mercenaries, though she did an admirable job of maintaining her composure and masking her attentions.
Gaddes had flinched as well, though it was more noticeable on his fatigued body. "I don't know. We tried to wait for him, but we couldn't hold off those bastards any longer. If we'd lifted off even a moment later, we might not have gotten out at all." The wounded Sergeant scowled, one fist clenching in the sheets beneath him. "We had to leave Reeden and Kio behind, too."
Silence stretched heavily over the room for a few moments as the heavy weight of their obvious burden settled upon the group. Finally, though, Dryden broke the silence with his soft, measured tones, calm despite the sense of uncertainty in the air. "If nothing else, Zandira must be retaken. To allow Basram to act so boldly against us will only send a message to the rest of the world that our ports are ripe for the taking.
"I'll make out orders to send the army down the coast. There's a small port just north of Zandira. A trading port not frequented often, mostly only by local merchants who don't venture far from home. It's insignificant as far as ports go. A small target and the place to land our armies."
He finally ventured a glance to Gaddes. "But I have another assignment for you, if you're not opposed to coming late to the front lines."
xxxxx
Repairs to the Crusade had been put at the top of the military priority list and after a few days and nights of near constant labor, the ship was deemed operational. On the third day since its arrival in Palas, the small airship was manned once more with a larger crew, complete with a field medic and a duo of young knights.
Gaddes had retained his command of the crew, refusing to remain behind in the care of the palace doctors. Not only had he insisted upon not being separated from his men, he also refused to abandon Allen Schezar, be he dead or alive. Eventually Dryden had reasoned it more troublesome to argue with the mercenary and had allowed it, but only on the condition that Gaddes follow every order given by the medic.
One of those orders had been rest, but the Sergeant had already opted to ignore it, even before the Crusade had left Palas. He stood in the middle of the landing pad, directing the loading of provisions into the ship's hold, and along with that the loading of a pair of melefs belonging to the knights he'd very reluctantly agreed to bring along.
Not far away, also observing the goings on was one of the boys, a stern looking youth with an arrogant way about him. It wasn't an unusual combination in a knight, but there was still something about the boy that rubbed Gaddes the wrong way. The superiority complex he was used to, but there was more to it with that one. Baedan Trevelian looked at the men as if he'd like nothing better than to run them through with his blade. Still, he'd been assured by a number of individuals that there was no more talented swordsman in the ranks of the Knights of Caeli, other than Allen Schezar, of course, nor one more skilled in melef combat.
"He's been on edge ever since Zaibach left."
The soft voice at his side startled the mercenary out of his thoughts and he turned a bit too sharply to greet the girl at his side, causing an unsettling bout of dizziness. "Ah, Celena. Come to see us off?"
"You could say that," she responded, her eyes still focused on the brooding form of Baedan Trevelian. There was something foreign in her expression that Gaddes could not quite read; an intensity not entirely unfamiliar to that of a bird of prey.
He'd heard through the queen that Celena had been often seen in the presence of the young knight and while few specifics had leaked into the palace rumor mill, it was widely speculated that the two were more than friends. Celena had vehemently denied it, though, and Gaddes knew for a fact she had never once mentioned Trevelian in any of her letters to Allen. But from the way she looked at the boy now, not like a lover, but more like a beloved dog who'd failed to sit on command, Gaddes was inclined to believe there was something other than romance between the two.
"Keep an eye on him, Gaddes." Only now did Gaddes note that the girl's tone seemed to contain a certain cold surety, a tone only heard in men like Allen with a commander's presence. To hear such coming from this petite girl certainly caught the Sergeant's attention. "He's a brilliant soldier, but his loyalties have wavered as of late. I doubt he'll take kindly to working under your command." Her gaze seemed far away for a moment and it sounded almost as if her mind had wandered from the landing pad to places far distant from Palas. "But he's always been headstrong." Only then did the faintest hints of affection make themselves known.
"But he never promised to bring onii-sama back, so I making you promise, Gaddes."
Gaddes' expression warmed momentarily and he placed a hand on the girl's small shoulder. "Of course I'll bring the boss back. He'll probably be waiting there for us with the entire city wrapped around his little finger." The mercenary tried very hard to sound certain, but even he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Allen. Even a man like him couldn't stand against such an uprising.
"Probably." The reply seemed distracted, though, and for a moment Gaddes wasn't certain she had even heard him. A moment later, she reached up to give his hand a gentle pat, then slid out from under it with the grace of a doe. As she approached Baedan, the knight turned to greet her with the barest hint of a smile before turning his attention back to the loading of the guymelefs.
xxxxx
The Crusade had set a course to the northwest nearly an hour before and all was going smoothly, especially given the condition the ship had been in not two days before. As per doctor's orders, Gaddes had dragged a chair up from the lounge onto the bridge, where he sat half slouched against the back, watching the mountains that stretched out before them. The bridge was nearly deserted and other than Teo at the wheel, the room was blessedly empty. Despite the company of the other man, they had avoided conversation for the better part of the hour, leaving a heavy, but not unwelcome silence.
However, with silence, came thoughtfulness and for the most part, Gaddes found himself dwelling unhappily on the events they had fled in Zandira. More specifically, he could not help but wonder what had become of the rest of the crew. And Allen. Had he been given his way, Gaddes would have gladly remained behind, but the boss had been counting on him to bring word to Palas.
Still, Gaddes had expected to be en route once more to Zandira, not headed in the completely opposite direction. This cruel detour left the Sergeant feeling restless, shifting every so often in his chair. In fact, he moved so often that he caught more than once, Teo casting concerned looks over his slender shoulder. If nothing else, that helped to still him. He had to at least pretend to have confidence in their orders. They would come to the battle soon enough and hopefully much better equipped to deal with the Basrami than they might have been otherwise. Still, it was absolutely infuriating to be forced to wait.
"How long now?"
Teo glanced again over his shoulder, a few wrinkles forming in his forehead as if he couldn't decide between laughter or annoyance. Eventually he turned forward again, leaning casually against the wheel. Piloting the Crusade did not require the constant attention of some larger ships, but merely one hand on the wheel in the event something unexpected popped up. It allowed Teo the opportunity to take a shot at Gaddes worry. "Ten minutes less than when you asked before. Gonna have to get you a damn helmet if some little bump on the head is gonna make you that forgetful."
Realizing his attempted humor had fallen flat, the dark skinned man cleared his throat quickly. "We should be crossing the border any time now, which means we'll be over Castelo before long." Despite Teo's posture, a slouch which left his head bent half over the wheel in a casual attempt to hide his expression, Gaddes still managed to catch what might have been a bare hint of a grin. "Should I call down to tell Ort just in case he wants to take a shit over the railing?"
Gaddes made a valiant effort to maintain some form of serious expression, but in the end his own smirk had to be covered by a well placed right hand. Out of the lot of them, Ort had been fond of their little border fortress and had been exceedingly unhappy to learn that after the war they would not be resuming their posting. A few words from the Queen had kept Allen occupied in Palas and he'd managed to avoid any of those pleasant, isolated postings that certain members of the crew had begun to enjoy. Some men, Gaddes found, weren't meant for cities. Especially, in Ort's case, cities full of well dressed aristocrats with a tendency to look down their noses at those of common birth and appearance.
In fact, it was just such an aristocrat that commanded Castelo now. Calling the man ancient was an understatement, but his family's line was even more ancient and it had been one of King Aston's final acts to grant the man this assignment. No sooner had he moved his pompous ass into the fortress, he'd dismissed nearly the entire compliment of mercenary soldiers, claiming no desire to waste provisions on men who served their own pockets before Asturia. Gaddes did not blame his men in the least for feeling distaste for the man. The cold and arrogant were given the cushy jobs while real men like Allen Schezar were thrown to the lions.
"If I weren't afraid I'd topple over the railing, I'd join him in shitting." They were words he shouldn't have said; not from his position. He was the commander of this crew, however well he might know them, and it wasn't proper to express distaste in the workings of Asturian military politics, especially with those knights running around. They were half as likely to call him a traitor as scold him for his crudeness.
Allen would have smiled.
At least Teo found it amusing, though he managed to school his reaction to a soft chuckle. "If you're really that interested, I'll make sure you don't-"
His words were interrupted by a slightly muffled voice, filtered through the tube that connected the bridge to the engine room. The voice belonged to Katz, though his usually jovial tone was replaced with one of clear irritation. "Teo, is the Sarge up there?"
"You think he'd do as he's told and leave? Course he's up here."
There was a noise that sounded almost like a snort of amusement, but it was difficult to say. "Pyle's on his way up. Said he found himself some brat kid hidden up in one of the melefs."
Gaddes cursed under his breath. This was the last thing he needed, some stowaway kid that would do nothing more than waste provisions and get in their way. It was probably some brat that belonged to one of the nobles, dreaming of war and glory and all that other bullshit the aristocrats taught their kids.
His head was just beginning to throb anew when the door opened to admit Pyle. At his side was a slender figure dressed in boys' clothes and topped off with a rather large and unfashionably floppy hat. However, the instant Gaddes got a good look at the figure, he was out of his chair and crossing the bridge with strides far to brisk for his throbbing head to handle. Still, it did not prevent him from advancing and snatching the hat unhappily from the head of their stowaway. From beneath the hat, pale hair tumbled down, falling just below shoulder length and a pair of blue eyes fixed him with a rather scolding expression.
"Gaddes, the doctor said you shouldn't go getting yourself excited like this. That's why you've dragged a chair all the way up here." Celena stepped away from Pyle, who managed to look both angry and amused by the entire situation, and took hold of Gaddes' arm, leading him back towards his chair.
For an instant he followed along, stunned by shock. However, it did not last half as long as the girl had intended. He would not allow her to take the upper hand so easily as she might have back in Palas. Right now the Crusade was his ship, and Gaddes would not have Celena Schezar ordering him about. This was one time she could not be allowed to have her way.
"What in the world are you thinking, Celena? You're supposed to be back in Palas!" He made some effort not to yell at the girl, but he could not help but wonder what manner of death her brother would choose for him when he found out.
His firm tones had no effect, though. Celena merely pat his arm lightly before giving him a gentle push into his chair. Only when he found himself seated did Gaddes realize he'd completely lost the upper hand... if he'd ever had it at all.
"It's absolutely infuriating having to wait around. They let you out of the hospital, but I'm not allowed to come along, even though I'm perfectly capable of fighting. I refuse to sit around and practice embroidery while my brother is in danger." There was a disquieting calm in the way she spoke. Her tone was by all definitions casual, yet just beneath the surface there was an unquestionable malice just waiting to bubble to the surface. It sent a chill down Gaddes' spine.
"When we reach Basram, I fully intend to fight. I can handle a sword as well as any of your men. You know it, Gaddes."
It was a point he could not argue. Whatever else he might say, he could not claim the girl possessed no skill with a sword. Luckily, he was not forced to rely on lies to quiet her. "That's all well and good, Celena, but we're not going to Basram."
Whatever coldness had taken over her fled and in a heartbeat she was once more a young girl, frightened and uncertain. Blue eyes wide, she turned quickly to the windows, peering down over the Chatal Mountains. "What...? Gaddes, where are we going?"
There was no stopping his grin this time. It blossomed fully before he could even think to put a stop to it.
"We go to wake the Dragon."