A/N: I hit 100!!!!

Okay... pardon me for freaking out here on you all, but I HIT 100! Thank you, thank you. All you reviewers out there... you're all absolute angels. Give yourselves a pat on the back and a big chocolate-chip cookie--or some healthy, organic whatsit; I'm not making any distinctions or discriminations here.

This chapter is especially dedicated to: Chris, my 100th reviewer, who unfortunately didn't use an ffnet account, so I couldn't reply to her/his comment--but I kind of get the whole suicidal thing, but still... there ARE things worth living for, at least for a while (like hitting 100 reviews!). Also to starlight2005: please, please take better care of your health. If you die, I might have to kill you. And to jinjyaa, for her 'sympathetic magic'--it worked for me, and I hope it'll work for you! Also, since I already made the blonde/blond mistake, I'll just let it go for this fic, but I'll work on it the next time.

And to all of you out there who took the time to review, thank you and this is for you. I can't ennumerate you all with all the things I would like to say, because even if I chopped down every Ent in creation (or imagination), I would still not have enough paper to write my gratitude. Also, the ent-protectors would go after me. LOTR fans would roast me alive.

Anyway, this is dragging on too long, so without further ado, I present to you Chapter Five.

Chapter Five: Rips and Tears

"Ah… Devon, was it?"

The cadet looked absolutely terrified when Yuuri had just walked up to him and addressed him that way. "Y-yes, Your Majesty!"

Well. So it wasn't the usual 'Yes, Lord von Bielefeld', but it wasn't exactly a big improvement. "Please drop the formalities." Trying to remember what Wolfram normally said, he added, "Uh… at ease, cadet." Somehow it didn't sound quite right when he was the one saying it. Wolfram had more authority than he ever would.

But still, the soldier seemed to relax a little, although it seemed to be more as though he was amused at Yuuri rather than reassured. "What is it, Your Majesty?"

Yuuri hesitated. "I was just wondering how you were finding things here. Since you're a new recruit and all that."

Devon smiled. "It's nice here, although I miss my home and family very much. Of course it's hard work, having to train every day, but I can understand why. And the troops go out of their way to make me feel welcome. Lord von Bielefeld especially."

The king grit his teeth. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," the cadet said with enthusiasm. "He's always been there when we needed him, and he gives me private training, and although he's part of the nobility, he's not afraid to join in with us. The squad would die for him, if we needed to."

Mentally he wished that the cadet would die, but he didn't voice that particular thought. "I hope that circumstances will never get that extreme, but I'm touched by your loyalty to my fiancé," he said, putting a lot of emphasis on the last word.

The soldier looked searchingly into Yuuri's eyes before smiling suddenly—no, it wasn't a smile; it was a smirk. "But of course, Your Majesty. I love Lord von Bielefeld with all my heart. You're lucky to have Prince Wolfram as your betrothed—of course we all wish you good fortune, even if I grieve at the thought of ever losing Lord von Bielefeld."

Was it just Yuuri's imagination or were Devon's eyes suddenly far away and weary, as though he was speaking of some great burden like… like losing a loved one? "What do you mean by that?" he snapped.

As though waking from some vision that had momentarily absorbed him, the soldier flushed and paled alternately. "I meant nothing at all, Your Majesty," he said, traces of wistfulness in his words, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "I hope, though, that even when the two of you are married, Lord von Bielefeld will remember…"

"Remember? Remember what?" Yuuri asked, his eyes narrowing.

Devon shook his head. "It's… it's nothing, Your Majesty. Just… just the good times that he's had with… with us."

Instinctively knowing that he would get nothing more out of the cadet, Yuuri heard himself say, "That's all, thank you", but without really realizing what he was doing. There was a strange roaring sound in his ears. He was sure—yes, he was absolutely sure—that there was something going on between Wolfram and Devon.

Shinou help that cadet if he couldn't control himself. In fact, he wasn't sure that he would have been able to if Wolfram hadn't come running back, being pulled along by Murata.

"It's only… been… nineteen minutes," Murata said breathlessly. Wolfram, for some reason, was also out of breath, although he knew that the demon had better lung capacity than that. Had they just run around the whole castle? More likely, they had run in with Greta and amused the little trickster before dashing back.

"Nineteen and a half," Wolfram corrected him between gulping down air.

Yuuri laughed. "You guys didn't have to take the whole twenty minute thing that seriously. What was it that you got, anyway?"

"Just something I forgot to take care of earlier," Wolfram said breezily. "What were you talking to Devon about? You chea—"

He fell silent before finishing the sentence. He would never be able to fling that accusation at Yuuri ever again, not when he himself… no. He would not feel guilty. He could not. At the same time there was no way he could break away. The paradox was confusing and frustrating, but unavoidable.

"Ah… just asking how he was settling in."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "Well, you could have asked me. I know that he's doing wonderfully. We all do our little parts to try to make him feel at home." He sighed. "Devon's an orphan—that was one of the reasons why I took him in; he had no family, no home… he just turned up somewhere near the borders of the Demon Kingdom. I wasn't sure whether I should have taken him in or not, but Lord Weller convinced me. I'm glad that I did, though. He's amazingly talented."

For some odd reason, Yuuri looked displeased by the comment. "Can we just start practice now?"

"You seem eager to train," Wolfram noted. "You used to hate fencing practice. Something about it being too violent, if I remember correctly."

"I want to learn how to protect myself—and what's precious to me," Yuuri protested.

Something flickered in Wolfram's eyes. Something, perhaps, like a reminder of why exactly he loved Yuuri? Murata felt a wave of dread pass over him when Wolfram said steadily, "That's noble of you."

Yuuri's ears turned red. "No, no, I just—"

"C'mon, Shibuya, lighten up! I think it's pretty cool," Murata added quickly, defusing the moment. "Man, if Günter was here, he would probably be rhapsodizing about all your wonderful, heroic qualities…"

Wolfram laughed too, although it sounded queer and very unlike him. He merely picked up his sword. I love you, he thought, glancing at Murata. And you too, Yuuri. "Okay, wimp. It's time for training." His emerald eyes flashed. "And be prepared for… what did you call it again? Wolfram von Bielefeld's 'training camp of doom'."

"WHAT?! That's not fair! How come Devon got off easy?"

"Devon's different," Wolfram said coolly.

Yuuri's face broke out into a black scowl. "Whatever," he said. Then he frowned at Wolfram. "It isn't like you to associate with those beneath you."

"There you are again with the discrimination thing! Aren't you the one who said that we shouldn't make distinctions between the classes?" Wolfram asked, bewildered.

The next day, at breakfast…

"Greta, please pass the salt."

Greta looked up at him quizzically as she passed it to him. "Why are we the only ones here?"

"I don't know either," Yuuri sighed. "Of course, Conrart, Günter and Gwendal are away… Lady Cecilie's just up and left for her free-love thing last night… and Anissina's been holed up in her lab these past couple of weeks. No one can get her to come out, and the last few people who tried got roped into becoming test subjects."

"What about Wolfram and Murata?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

Greta looked darkly down at her food, a knowing light in her eyes.

Actually, they were still asleep.

Last night, they had had a very serious talk. It might have blown into a Yuuri-Wolfram type argument, but luckily they hadn't gotten that bad yet.

"Are you sure you're okay with what's going on?" Murata asked gravely.

"Of course I'm okay," Wolfram replied. "Don't make me doubt my decision, Murata. I thought about it a little, and I think that I've done what I need to do."

"You know what we're like?" Murata asked him. "Back on earth, there are these birds called halcyons. I remember that my mother from a long, long time ago—an era or two, I suppose—said that they built their nests in the middle of storms. And they had the power to calm the waves while everything was chaotic around them."

"We're halcyons," Wolfram said, smiling.

"And you don't mind… that Yuuri…?"

Wolfram shook his head. "Don't get me wrong… if there's any chance whatsoever that I can make Yuuri fall in love with me, I can't say honestly that I won't take that opportunity… but on the other hand, these… feelings… that I have for you… what I feel for Yuuri doesn't subtract from that."

Murata stroked his hair. "Thank you, love."

"I need a promise from you."

They stopped and looked determinedly, searchingly at each other. "Swear to me that even… even if Yuuri and I…" Wolfram looked down at the ribbons on his nightgown. "I want you not to be jealous. Or even if you are, don't let it interfere with your duties as a Great Sage. Above anything, we have to preserve the Demon kingdom. If there was ever a conflict between you and Yuuri… it would be chaos."

"You have my word of honor," Murata murmured. "And in turn, I also pledge to love you forever."

Wolfram averted his eyes. "Don't," he whispered.

"Wolf, if you really think that I could love anyone else after this, you're wrong." He had never made such an oath, not even to Shinou. But after the past couple of days with Wolfram, he had realized that it was the truth.

The prince didn't answer, merely leaned his head on Murata's shoulder. For hours they had said nothing, merely reveled in each other's presence. It was near dawn that they finally fell asleep.

Until…

"Shit!" From inside the Great Sage's room, they heard the sound of something crashing, things falling, and something large thudding to the ground.

"Ouch!" they heard another voice join in, with Wolfram's distinct tones. "That hurt!" They heard the prince retaliate with a noisy thwack!

"Sorry, sorry," the Great Sage said, trying to placate him. "Didn't mean to do that."

"What time is it?"

"It's… I think we missed breakfast."

"WHAT? I HAD TRAINING!" They heard another flurry of movement and more things crashing to the floor.

"ARGH! WOLFRAM!" They heard Murata let out a yelp.

"Well, you were the one who crushed me in the first place," Wolfram returned noisily—and rather crossly, it must be confessed. "Now we're even. And I didn't do it on purpose!"

Then, to the surprise of all the people who had stopped to listen, they heard chuckles coming out from inside. After a while twin peals of laughter rang out. Finally there was a brief moment of silence, although they assumed that they were merely talking too softly for their words to pierce the door's wooden frame. Finally the door was flung open and both of them came out, fully dressed. The two of them were perplexed at finding an audience awaiting them.

"Er…" Wolfram turned red and laughed nervously.

"Show's over," Murata added, addressing one of the maids. "Although we kind of made a mess… could you clean the room?"

Peeking behind him, the maid stared with shock at the sheets lying all over the floor, objects haphazardly strewn on the ground, and last but not least, feathers in the air. Yes, they had just emptied the pillows, and now the stuffing was everywhere.

"Sorry," Wolfram said meekly.

"So let me get this straight," Yuuri said, tilting his head to one side as Wolfram helped him sort out the papers. "When Murata got up, he tripped on the covers, which somehow managed to slide to the floor when you two were asleep."

"Right," Wolfram managed to agree. Actually, they had thrown the sheets onto the floor on purpose while they were half-asleep, because they found it much too hot to share both their body heat and doze under the heavy blankets.

"And then he crashed into the dresser, and when he stood up, he stumbled and fell back on you."

Murata winced at the memory of Wolfram's screech when he had accidentally landed on the demon. "Uh-huh. Sorry, Wolf," he said as he handed another stack of documents to Yuuri. "I already sorted out which ones you should sign, Shibuya."

"So when you—"

"—practically broke my back," inserted Wolfram.

"Er, I was going to say fell on you, but whatever," Yuuri acknowledged with a shrug before turning back to Murata. "Then Wolf started hitting you with the pillows."

The Great Sage's eyes twinkled. "He's got killer aim, even when he's just woken up."

"I heard the maids were horrified. Feathers flying everywhere," Yuuri said, grinning.

"Be quiet," Wolfram grumbled. "And Yuuri, you're smearing ink on that bridge construction plan." Murata took it from the king and moved it out of harm's way, but Yuuri was too busy being entertained by the morning's events.

"And then when Wolfram tried to rush out of bed, he tripped on the blankets and practically wrecked the room in the process."

"Hey!" Wolfram protested. "It wasn't that bad." Actually, he had had a headlong collision with the nightstand, making Murata rush over to his side—only to have the Great Sage tumble onto him (on purpose, he suspected). They had had a good laugh and shared a quick peck on the cheek with Murata lying atop Wolfram, chuckling at their clumsiness, before they had headed out.

Yuuri grinned. "Sure."

Wolfram's stomach grumbled. The prince's cheeks turned pink but he pretended to have heard nothing. "I had morning training, too," he muttered. "I'll have to make up for it with the troops later. And I'd better apologize to them."

"It's not like you to wake up late anyway," Yuuri added thoughtfully.

The blonde risked a glance in Murata's direction. "I didn't get very much sleep last night," he answered truthfully enough. "I was worried about the kingdom. The Great Sage and I were discussing the future of the realm last night."

"Wow. Serious," Yuuri said, feeling bad that all he had thought of last night were random, bizarre plots to assassinate Devon. His best, by far, was to take him to earth, dump him into a vat or toxic waste, and then use him as a source of renewable fuel for the Great Demon Kingdom. It was nice… very environmentally friendly. But he couldn't understand why he felt so murderous towards the cadet. The only thing he could come up with was that Wolfram preferred him, and he had gotten used to the prince liking him best. "You guys think too much."

"You don't think enough," corrected Wolfram. His stomach grumbled again.

"Hungry, Wolf?" Yuuri asked, grinning.

"No!" protested Wolfram, glaring at him. "Shut up."

"Well, I'm hungry," Murata said. "And seeing as we spent the WHOLE night thinking of the FUTURE of the GREAT DEMON KINGDOM, I think that Wolfram and I deserve a break. You, on the other hand, will be stuck here, chained to the desk and signing all these boring documents."

"WHAT?" Yuuri yelped. "That's not fair!"

"Indeed, Great Sage, I think you are correct," Wolfram said in a mock-grave voice. It wasn't typical of the blonde prince to joke around, but he seemed so much more light-hearted now. "It seems that His Majesty has spent the whole night snoring, and therefore must not shirk his duty."

"I DON'T SNORE!"

"Why, do you listen to yourself when you're asleep?" Murata asked as the prince laughed at his king.

"Um… no."

"Then you're not really in a position to defend yourself, are you?"

Yuuri glared. "Murata, you can go get your food—for both you and Wolf. I'm keeping him hostage here to make sure the two of you don't escape." When Wolfram opened his mouth to complain, he added, "Sorry, Wolfram. That's an order." But he added a laugh to it so that they knew that he didn't mean to talk down to them.

Murata smirked. "Seems you've been acting pretty high-and-mighty these days, Your Majesty." He patted Wolfram on the head, ignoring the blonde's irritated remonstrations. "I'm off to raid the kitchens."

The king smiled when the door swung shut behind his friend. "He's annoying, but he kind of grows on you. Like a fungus."

Wolfram laughed. It was a melancholy sound, and yet fond. "He's quite the character, isn't he?"

"Yeah. I'm glad that you guys are good friends now," Yuuri said cheerfully.

"Oh, we've been friends for a while, Yuuri," Wolfram replied.

"Really? But you guys seem so much closer nowadays," the king said with his classic naivety.

Wolfram smiled sadly. "Oh yes. Very close indeed."

When he was nine years old, Wolfram died.

Perhaps he didn't literally die, but metaphorically, he buried some part of himself—at an age where human children are roughly equivalent to five or six.

It began with his father, Wolfgang von Bielefeld—a man whom he resembled closely, although perhaps his hair was a shade brighter, his eyes a touch darker, and his father was of a stockier build, as opposed to the slender frame he had inherited from his mother.

His father had brought home a beautiful antique jewel, one that he told them not to touch. "It contains special powers," he warned them, opening the case a little to reveal a glossy emerald that was the exact color of Wolfram's eyes. His brothers, Gwendal and Conrart, nodded solemnly and walked away.

Wolfram, on the other hand, had stared with silent longing at the stone. He was feeling perverse that day; it was the day that he had discovered that Conrart was not like him, that he would only be his mother's pretty son. He was in a mood to do something reckless. And, like any good nine-year-old, he wanted to disobey.

Well, he hadn't really touched it. It was more like he opened the case and, marveling at the tiny facets of light playing on the crystal surface, had taken it out and held it in his chubby infant hands.

The crash and bang of the explosion had alerted the whole castle. And of course, Wolfgang was the first one to rush in and stare at the little boy bleeding badly in the middle of the room, his green eyes wide. And yet he still held on tightly to the jewel.

"Are you a fool?" Wolfgang roared, yanking him up by the scruff of his shirt. His mother Cecilie let out a cry when her 'beloved little angel' was manhandled by his own father, but Wolfgang ignored her.

He knew that all his tears would only further enrage his father. Instead, he swallowed them and raised his icy eyes to face him. There was no point trying to run away—no point in begging for mercy.

Wolfram glared, removing his father's hands from him and dusting himself off. He ignored the copious amount of blood flowing down from the cuts on his head and body as he drew himself up, although he realized with a sense of detachment that yes, all the red pooling on the ground was his.

"No, I'm not a fool," he snapped, throwing his head back arrogantly. "I am Prince Wolfram von Bielefeld, and I am no idiot."

The whole room fell silent. Wolfgang was known for his horrible temper, and to think that his nine-year-old demon offspring had the guts to speak to him in such a manner!

"You, boy," his father said, teeth bared in ferocious snarl, "are going to be shipped off for training as soon as possible."

Wolfram interrupted his mother's objections, his brother's dissentions, and Wolfgang's angry roaring. "As you wish," he said simply, resolving to become a great officer. He would show his father, he would show all of them.

Of course Cecilie had her way and kept him at the castle, but Wolfram's attitude had not changed. He raged against the coddling that they continued to give him. His father and mother split up because they differed in their opinion of how to raise him.

Every story had a beginning, and for Wolfram, this was his. It was also the end, the end of the little boy that he had been.

"It's strange to have a part of you dead," he said softly, not knowing that he had said it aloud.

"Eh?" Yuuri raised his eyebrows. "What're you talking about?"

The prince chuckled. "Just… a metaphor. From a long, long time ago. Half-forgotten, really." Was it? He wondered… again and again he had failed, tried again, had not known what to do. But he refused to give. He was Prince Wolfram von Bielefeld, and he wanted to be the best. Even though they snickered at him—the mongrel third son of a loose woman, even if she was the queen—he kept on at it. He had agreed with his father; he needed the training.

And had he succeeded? No. In fact, all he had as a claim to fame was being the king's consort apparent. There were better swordsmen, better nobles, and better officers—lucky for him, there was only one royal fiancé. Well, that, and garnering the Great Sage's heart. Absent-mindedly, he grabbed Yuuri's wrist. "You idiot, don't sign that! That's the reject pile, can't you see?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know?"

"You mean aside from the fact that it has REJECT PILE written on it in big, bold letters?"

"Oh…"

But Murata made him doubt his decision. He wondered if, after all those years, the little fool whom he had buried was still alive. It seemed like the Great Sage was resurrecting him. And indeed, that boy was a fool; risking everything for a madcap affair with the Great Sage? When he was the king's betrothed?

A fool.

"Am I supposed to sign these?"

"No, of course not, even though Murata already marked it URGENT and PRIORITY and NEEDS IMMEDIATE ATTENTION and SHIBUYA YOU'D BETTER SIGN THESE OR I'LL KICK YOUR ASS." Wolfram rolled his eyes at him. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Uh…"

"That was a rhetorical question, by the way. Answer it at your own risk."

"Well, then…"

"Yuuri. I advise you to keep signing and keep your mouth shut. Unless you want to be flambéed for tonight's dinner."

He stood up suddenly and opened the door. Murata stood blinking on the other side, his arms full, gripping onto a tray that was loaded with food, apparently at a loss on how to knock or open the door and about to raise his voice to ask for help. "Hey. How'd you know that I was already here?"

"I kind of guessed. I think I just knew that you were there." He snatched at a sandwich on the tray and sat back down.

Murata waited until Yuuri was completely absorbed in reading an interesting document concerning peace with the human countries. "You okay, Wolf?"

"Yeah, of course," Wolfram whispered back, squeezing Murata's arm underneath the table. "I am now."

The boy was a fool. But he was a live fool—and a loved fool.

Dear Conrart,

We're doing well here—even though it's already been a week since you guys left. Greta and Wolfram haven't blown up anything yet, thank goodness.

Conrart chuckled. "Well, there's a first," Jossak said as he read aloud. "Little Lord Brat hasn't made anything explode in a whole seven days?"

"Minor miracle," agreed Conrart.

Wolf insists on training every day, though—but he's been waking up pretty late nowadays. He can't get up earlier than noon anymore, and the whole castle is taking bets on what time he and Murata will get up. They always trash the room in the process; this morning the maids nearly fainted when they had to clean up. He gets annoyed whenever I tease him about it, but it's so funny to see him go red and mad.

"Waking up late?" Conrart wondered.

"Probably up all night doing… stuff," Jossak said, grinning. Conrart was pretty sensitive about discussing his brother and… well, that thing he had going on with the Great Sage. Still, Jossak couldn't resist.

Tell Gwendal not to worry; I've been attending to the official duties and yes, Anissina's under control. So far, anyway. Wolf and Murata sort everything out for me and tell me what to sign. But those two like taking revenge on me for teasing them for sleeping late, and the consequences… aren't exactly enjoyable. Yesterday they played a prank on me and I accidentally signed out a marriage announcement that said that you have to marry Jossak. Sorry about that. Looks like you two will have to get hitched when you get back.

"WHAT?" Jossak sputtered, laughing as he watched the mixture of emotions fly across Conrart's face: horror, shock, amusement and even perhaps a little bit of secret gladness? Nah. "Those devils!"

"Don't think that I'm about to do it," Conrart warned him darkly.

"Of course not," Jossak said with a mock-bow. "Heaven forbid, captain!" Then he smirked. "Will you wear the wedding dress, or shall I? I rather think that I would look prettier in it."

And then they played the same thing on me a couple of days ago, and now Gwendal has to give up all his stuffed animals because there's a kingdom-wide ban on knitting.

"Gwendal won't take that well," Conrart said, grinning.

"Understatement of the year, Captain of the Obvious."

Everyone's trying to be more cheerful now, I think. Greta misses you and Gwendal and Jossak a lot.

"No mention of Günter, I notice," added Jossak mischievously.

But still, she manages—she spends a lot of time with me, Wolf, Murata and Lady Cecilie and Anissina. And she sends her love. Wolfram seems to have mellowed out a little bit, although he's spending far too much time with one particular cadet. I disapprove of it, and I have told him of my views on this matter—

"Did the king just grow a backbone? Because I could have sworn that he suddenly went serious," Jossak said, swiping the letter from Conrart. "Let's see… blah, blah, blah. Tons of jealousy hidden in convoluted words. Man, he actually sounds like a king in here—lots of nobility-type talk. Very boring. Can we skip that?"

"Oh, very well," Conrart said, taking it back. He could read it again later. Yuuri raved a lot about Wolfram and something about 'fraternizing with his troops'—almost all the way to the very end, in fact.

We hope that the month will end soon. We miss you guys a lot! Wolfram and Murata do too, but they say that it's more fun (not to mention easier) to torture me when you guys aren't around.

Pleeeeeeease come back and save me from these two!

I miss you guys as well, and not just because I'm afraid of someday signing some war treaty by accident or because Wolfram still puts me through the training camp of doom everyday. Hope to be hearing from you soon.

Love,

Yuuri

"Done writing to Conrart?" Murata asked.

"Yeah, I sent the letter off fifteen minutes ago," said Yuuri. "What did I miss?"

"The pep talk ala Wolfram von Bielefeld," said Murata, grinning. "But be quiet, he's still in the middle of it. Maybe we can still hear some of the good parts."

Wolfram looked seriously at his troops. "Now that a week has ended… I'm sure that you're all wondering why we sent off the rest of the military forces. We have received word of a perceived threat to strike one of the villages near here. I apologize to all of you for not informing you sooner." They gawked at him, but he continued. "And so, men, it is left to us to protect the castle."

"Are you sure he should be saying all this?" Yuuri asked. "He makes it sound like some sort of suicide mission."

"Sure, why not? Makes him sound impressive as hell."

"This will last for a month. Afterwards, the rest of the troops will return. Until then, the Great Demon Kingdom is relying on each and every one of you." He gave them a smoldering, demon-eyed stare. "Is that clear, men?"

"Yes, Lord von Bielefeld!" they all roared as one.

"Wow," Yuuri said approvingly. Wolfram looked like some kind of avenging angel, sent to encourage his soldiers. The prince held his sword aloft, his eyes blazing with green fire. Then he spoiled the solemn picture by smiling—but Yuuri still liked that smile.

"Very bishounen," Murata snickered.

"He's wonderful, isn't he?" Devon asked him innocently from his spot near Yuuri, the words so distant that it seemed that he was just thinking out loud. Then he blushed. "I apologize for speaking so familiarly to you, Your Majesty."

"Think nothing of it," Yuuri said with uncharacteristic stiffness. "What were you saying?"

"Merely admiring Prince Wolfram, Your Majesty," he murmured with a bow before going off to get closer to the front where Wolfram was giving some instructions.

Murata put a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Cool it, Shibuya. He's not the only one who thinks that." Heck, I think that… but then again, some things were better left unsaid.

"Yeah, but he's the only one who has the guts to compliment my fiancé to my face," Yuuri said, annoyed.

"You used to hate mentioning that Wolfram was your fiancé. Now you're prattling about your engagement almost every other sentence."

Yuuri reddened. "Well, I—"

Murata felt a cold shiver of apprehension slide down his spine. If Shibuya was going to realize that he liked Wolfram—right now, just when had had gotten somewhere with the blonde demon—he wasn't sure that he would be able to take it. "Now shut up for a second, Wolfram's explaining something about the defenses," he said hurriedly, interrupting the king. "And unlike some people—hint, hint, Shibuya—I plan on listening so that I can help out with the troops."

"I listen!"

"Great, so what was Wolf saying?"

"Uh…"

Wolfram ignored the teasing argument that had unfolded between the two. "We're weakest on the east side, but no one else knows that. However, since there are so few of us, I won't be able to concentrate on that area. Those who wish to volunteer to guard that area—"

His voice was soon swallowed in the cacophony of cadets clamoring for the position. That was one of the things that he loved about them; they were all dying to prove themselves, to take on the worst and hardest jobs without complaint—with enthusiasm, even. His heart swelled with hidden pride as he scrutinized them. "Andrew, Devon, Bernard and Sylva can take care of it," he decided. "I'll be stationed there myself."

"I'll help out there too, Wolf," Murata offered.

"Same here," Yuuri added.

"Thank you—both of you. But I'm hoping that your help isn't necessary… we don't exactly want to get the King and Great Sage involved in something like this. You could get hurt. The main problem, naturally, will be communication between the guards," Wolfram fretted. "If one side is under attack, the others might not find out until it's too late. Since there are so few of us, we can't spare any to send messages and such…"

"It's all right, Prince Wolfram. We can always send signals via magic."

"Then we'll all have to be doubly on the alert. We'll have to patrol more at night. I know that it'll be hard since we'll all lose more sleep, but…"

"Of course not, Lord von Bielefeld!" one of them protested. Wolfram smiled at Bernard, the one speaking. "We're honored that we were chosen for this duty."

"More like no one else was available, but whatever works for them," muttered Yuuri. Murata bit back a laugh.

"Then that is what how we will proceed," Wolfram agreed solemnly. "I thank you all for your valor."

"I bet you he's trying very, very hard not to laugh," Murata whispered to Yuuri. Wolfram's ears turned pink when he heard them, but he made no comment.

The next night they were attacked. They didn't feel very much like laughing then.

A/N: I wrote this when I was in a quasi-cheerful mode, hence the insanity with Yuuri and Conrart. I suppose you guys can anticipate what's coming, but I still have a few surprises up my sleeve.

As always, the more reviews, the faster the updates. Now I'm setting my goal for 200 reviews! Hahaha. I'm so greedy. But again, thanks to you all--thank you for reading this far, and I hope you'll continue to give me your excellent feedback!