**Author's Note: Well you're on Chapter 1, so I'm hoping I caught your attention. Thank you for giving this story a chance :). Please review and take care!**
Chapter 1
"Hurry up dimwit, Lord Dilandau is due back within the hour!" Miguel snapped at his fellow comrade in arms, Viole, as he licked the last of his meal from his index finger. Miguel scowled at the disgusting act, but did not opt to tell the other boy to grab a napkin because his words would go unheeded.
Viole smiled at Miguel, his blue eyes sparkling with jest. He knew proper Miguel found his table manners atrocious. He eyed the brunette Dragonslayer, noting the way he kept his short brown hair neatly kempt, and parted to let partial bangs fall into one of his blue eyes. Viole ran a hand through his own wavy dark brown hair, not caring if he mused it.
Miguel almost growled at Viole's teasing expression and grabbed him by the arm, "Lord Dilandau will not be getting a good reason to back hand me on his first day back." He proceeded to drag Viole from the cafeteria. They traveled the long halls of the floating fortress Vione until they reached the hangar where the other 13 Dragonslayers stood in wait for their commander's return.
Miguel and Viole pushed through the lower ranks of the specialists to stand among the elite at the head of the receiving line. Gatty stood at the head of the line, being Dilandau's right hand man, and first in command in his absence. The tall blond stood proud, his blue eyes shining, he'd continued on with the training of the soldiers in his lord's absence, and could not wait for him to view the improvements. Next to Gatty, stood Shesta, the angel-face Dragonslayer, and also Dilandau's second in command. Shesta looked gentle and innocent with his shiny blond hair falling into his wide blue-green eyes. His expression was open and fair, but the boy had nerves of steel, and was known to stand up to Dilandau and assert an opinion when their temperamental commander was in the vilest of moods. Guimel was next to Shesta, yawning openly, blue eyes half open. His golden curls bobbed as he moved his head to an imaginary beat, that was obviously annoying the dark haired Dallet who stood beside him. Dallet kept shooting piercing chocolate glares in Guimel's direction. Viole moved next to him and ruffled Dallet's chin-length brown hair, "How late did you two stay up last night?"
Dallet rolled his eyes over to Viole after bopping Guimel over the head with an open hand, "The sun rose as we climbed into bed. The second I closed my eyes, Gatty was knocking on the door yelling at us to get up. Sergio and Andre are hopeless, I don't know what got into Lord Dilandau when he chose them to join us. I swear they both act like they've never SEEN a sword in their lives."
"But they're damn good Guymelef pilots," Viole interjected. "They can learn sword play as they go along, right now piloting skills are what's most important."
"But if they can't handle a sword on foot, how will they handle one in a Melef unit? I'm aware they haven't actually been out with us yet, but I wouldn't want them to be my back up when they do go! And I don't want them out there flanking Lord Dilandau; they're horrible!"
"And how much do you wanna bet he knows this...and knows you guys are going to try to train them twice as hard to make sure they are up to par to guard him?"
Dallet frowned, then sighed, "If I have to go without sleep for colors, those bumbling idiots will be fit to fly with Lord Dilandau, or I'll kill them myself to make sure they don't get the chance to mess up."
Miguel arched an eyebrow at hearing Dallet's testimony, "Well then Sergio and Andre better hope they start to show much improvement, from what I've seen I'd advise you to keep your sword very sharp for you will be killing them soon."
"Is that all you ever talk about? Killing people?" Guimel yawned again, and peered down the line at Viole and Miguel in greeting.
"We're talking about Andre and Sergio."
"Oh..Kill them, put US out of our misery," Guimel grumbled. "I hope Lord Dilandau doesn't make us run drills when he gets in, I'm so tired I'LL look like Andre and Sergio."
"Soldiers are supposed to be at their best at all times, Guimel," Gatty's ear was in the conversation, though he'd seemed oblivious, and lost in thought. "You should be able to get by with no sleep at all for days."
"I HAVE!" Guimel groaned. "You should be training them, Gatty."
"The commander is not a one on one personal trainer," Gatty said superiorly.
"You're not the commander, you're just a stand in," Guimel argued. "Those kids need help, and while Lord Dilandau may be pleased by the advancement in skill made by the elite and second string, he will be displeased with our newest recruits' lack of betterment."
Gatty flushed, and his chest puffed out indignantly, "I delegated the job of training the rookies to you two. If you were incompetent, you should have let me know."
"Incompetent?!" Dallet who previously wasn't in the argument flared, "Lord Dilandau himself couldn't train those clumsy oafs!"
"Lord Dilandau can train anyone. He trained you, didn't he?" Shesta intervened, his blue-green eyes cutting and sharp. He stared Dallet down, before facing forward again.
The argument died down at that. Dilandau, though harsh, was an excellent swordsman and trainer. Most of them had never been formally trained in the arts of warfare, and it was Dilandau who shaped and molded them to warrior's perfection. The road had not been an easy one for any of them, but it was still hard not to slight those who came after them who were working just as hard as they had to get to the elite level they now stood at.
"Once upon a time, you were Sergio, Dallet, and Guimel, you were Andre," Shesta said quietly. "I think you're doing a great job training them, and I commend you for staying up to help them during resting hours. I do see a little improvement on their parts."
"Yes, at least now they don't cut themselves with their own swords while trying to fend you off," Miguel chuckled darkly, ignoring the searing look from Shesta.
Their banter ended abruptly as they heard the approaching sounds of an airship and the large doors to the docking bay opened. Heavy winds from outdoors and from the airship whipped their hair wildly about their heads, and Viole couldn't help but laugh at the annoyed expression on Miguel's face as his perfect hair was mused.
The large military airship docked itself, and the elite nodded to one another and moved toward it to intercept their commander. The portal door to the ship opened, and Lord Folken Strategos stepped out first, his solemn presence tall and intimidating. He stood like a pale, dull haired statue in his long black robes, a single tattoo of a purple tear staining the area just below one of his eyes. He glanced at the elite team cooly, giving them no greeting. The team bowed to the Strategos, then dropped to one knee as their commander's tall form exited the ship stepping onto the dock.
Dilandau Albatou was tall for his 15 years and handsome, with skin smooth and light as rich vanilla cream, and hair as silver as starlight parted down the middle and hanging down into his delicate face curling at its ends. He would have looked like a fallen angel, if it weren't for his eyes which were a deep magenta that looked crimson as they smoldered with flames on the battlefield.
Dilandau stopped before the team, appraising each member, then walking past them calling Gatty's name as he continued to stride. Gatty was on his feet and jogging after Dilandau immediately, undoubtably eager for Dilandau to ask about the status of his troops.
"He looks thinner," Shesta commented after Dilandau had left the hangar with Gatty in tow. They stood at attention as Folken passed by them, then shivered. "That guy still gives me the creeps," Guimel uttered to no one in particular, but smirked when the others agreed, even arrogant Miguel.
"Well," Shesta looked purposeful, "Since Lord Dilandau and Gatty are away, I'm in charge, and say we should do our morning run through."
Guimel moaned, "You're just as sadistic as Lord Dilandau and Gatty..."
"And damn proud of it too," Shesta beamed, and winked. "Don't worry, I'll partner you with Dallet, and have someone else work with Sergio and Andre. Hmm, why don't you and Viole work with them today, Miguel."
Viole bit his lip on a loud "Ha!" as Miguel practically blew steam through his nose, "Fine."
~*~ ~*~
"...and everything is still going according to your schedule. If the dragon were to appear today your elite will be ready to fly," Gatty finished his report as he followed Dilandau back to his chambers. Dilandau's rooms were simple, garnished with almost the same furniture bestowed upon the Dragonslayers if not a little more elegant. He had a full sized poster bed, a dresser, a full length mirror, a rich mahogany desk and chair set, and two high backed arm chairs fit for royalty, and two full sized closets. Attached to his suite was an adjourning bathroom with a full sized tub, glass shower, toilet, water closet, sink, and mirror.
The Dragonslayers quarters were a bit smaller, the beds singles, for the elites bunked two to a room, and the lower ranking soldiers roomed three to a room. Their rooms consisted of two desks, two dressers, one full length mirror, two arm chairs and full sized closets. The only thing they lacked, that Dilandau was given the luxury of, was a private bath. They instead had a community bath down the hall from their rooms that consisted of 8 sinks, and 8 shower stalls, and 8 toilets.
Dilandau nodded along as Gatty had read his report, eyes flaring at certain points then calming. He moved about the room inspecting his things, making sure no one had disturbed anything. Once he was satisfied he turned to Gatty who stood at attention awaiting an order. "Progress reports on Andre and Sergio."
"They are under the instruction of Guimel and Dallet sir. They've been working night into day, but still show no significant improvement in their sword fighting technique. Their Guymelef piloting is exceptionally good though."
Dilandau narrowed his eyes, as he moved closer to Gatty who was beginning to pale, "Dallet and Guimel? Why aren't you instructing them Gatty?"
"Sir, I was busy with the other soldiers. They simply needed too much work and would require too much of my time, so I delegated the task to Guimel and Dallet. They are both highly skilled, and capable of training a..."
Dilandau's hand slapped across Gatty's face quicker than lightning, and he smirked at the blossoming redness on his first in command's peach flavored cheek, "You should never be too busy to train those greatly in need of your assistance, Gatty. From what you've told me, Sergio and Andre are unfit soldiers, and would not be eligible for a battle situation like they should be. It is your responsibility to make sure every player on this team is competent when you are commander. Was I wrong to make you my first in command Gatty? Perhaps the job should have gone to Dallet or Guimel, since you have been letting them do your job for you."
"N...no Lord Dilandau. I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so absorbed in other tasks. The team is as strong as its weakest players." Gatty hung his head a bit in subordination.
Dilandau stared at the top of the blond boy's head trying to control the rage that surged within him. He'd expected to be ready to fight when he returned, he expected to be able to call out the names of drills and have everyone under his command fully capable of doing them. Instead, he was going to have to work with soldiers at an elementary level, pushing back his plans. He sighed, and dismissed the humbled blond before him, shoving him out the door then slamming it in his face.
He didn't want to have to deal with it right then... He made his way to his freshly made bed and flung himself down on it, as his head spun. Celena....
He could still feel her aura, it was dim, but still there. His last memory was of her touching his face, then he was aboard a ship with Folken. More blank spaces in his memory... He pounded his fists on the soft black comforter and screamed into a pillow he grabbed from the head of the bed to vent his rage. Damn Madoushi! He hated them. He threw the pillow from the bed, smiling as it crashed into a glass lantern sitting on his desk. The lantern shattered on the wooden floor, small glass slivers raining beautifully about the area.
He let himself fall back onto the bed, his cold aching body begging him to crawl under the blankets, battle ready and all, and go to sleep. He supposed he didn't feel well, maybe he was sick. He'd never been sick before, so he didn't know exactly what to expect. He closed his eyes willing the pressure building in his head to leave him.
But he couldn't go to sleep, not then. His Dragonslayers would be doing their morning run through, and he had to be there to note the improvements and things that still needed to be worked on. If his soldiers were not getting the morning off, neither would he. He grunted slightly, pushing himself up slowly onto his elbows. Why hadn't he realized he hurt so much on the trip back to the Vione? He recalled the silent trip, he'd been lost in a wintry daze then, his body so cold and numb he was surprised he was able to stand and walk like he did off the ship onto the deck of the floating fortress.
He stretched his muscles delicately, wincing as they cried out for him to stop the torture. Straightening his jeweled tiara, he glanced at his reflection in the full length mirror. Still beautiful he noted, but as he crept closer looking into his own eyes he saw something that had never been there before. His fusia tinted eyes were dark with a bleakness that he couldn't fathom. It was like they knew something that he himself had yet to figure out. He scrutinized himself longer... she'd said they'd been one, and that the Madoushi had separated them. If that was so, shouldn't he see a difference in his appearance? Shouldn't he feel differently?
There was no change in his appearance, nor his attitude.
Celena. Who was she really, how did she really know him, and why did she make him feel so loved in her brief presence? Maybe she was just another ploy set up by the Madoushi to hurt him, to confuse him...
Damn Madoushi. They were always finding new ways to break him. Nice try, but he wasn't going to be tricked by them that easily this time. Celena was nothing to him, nothing.
But why did he still feel a strange sense of calm and security whenever he thought her name. Celena.
He whirled from the mirror then, eyes red with flame, he had soldiers to finish preparing for war. He'd brainstorm various ways to kill the girl later. Screw the Madoushi, and screw her too! He kicked over an arm chair on his way out, smirking as he heard it crash to its side. He wondered where Folken had hidden his matches...
~*~ ~*~
Gatty was tempted to begin bashing his head against the wall of the training room. The two fencing before him were horrible. He cringed as he heard the clatter of yet another one of their blades hitting the floor before he could instruct them to start. He was getting a headache. He glimpsed Miguel, Guimel, and Dallet smirking at him from across the room where they fenced each other skillfully, taking occasional breaks to snicker at Gatty's misfortune. "No! Sergio, pick up your sword. Widen your stance! No, do it like I showed you before."
The clatter of a sword was heard yet again, and Gatty smacked a hand to his forehead wishing he'd struck Sergio instead. A little pain might help him to concentrate better... Dilandau was rubbing off on him. "Pick...it...UP! Now, aga...." A hand touched his shoulder and he turned to be face to face with Dilandau who didn't look pleased.
"Lord Dilandau! I didn't think you'd be joining us today, seeing as you just got in a little while ago," Gatty said bowing quickly.
Dilandau studied him for a moment, and Gatty felt himself tense. He was doing it on purpose, Dilandau knew he disturbed people when he stared at them. "Andre, Sergio... hajime!"
Gatty jumped out of the way as the two rookie Dragonslayers began their clumsy dance with their fencing swords. He stood back with Dilandau who stood with his arms folded over his chest mentally taking note of every mistake the two before them made.
"Sergio is left handed," Dilandau commented dryly to Gatty. "Why didn't you correct his stance?"
Gatty blinked. He was? He hadn't noticed. Sergio might have said something instead of letting him be embarrassed in front of Lord Dilandau! "I...wasn't aware, sir. But it will come to be to his advantage if he can put up a strong front on both sides."
Dilandau frowned at him, "Matte!" The two dancers stopped, and turned to Dilandau for instruction, "Sergio, switch sword hands." He then moved closer to the boy to teach him a new stance better situated to his disposition. "Always play your strengths before your weaknesses, Gatty, or you may never get a chance to SHOW your enemy you can do it both ways."
"Yes sir."
"Go join Shesta, I'm sure he's gotten quite bored with disarming Viole," Dilandau ordered, his voice sounding preoccupied.
"Yes sir," Gatty was glad to get away. Sergio and Andre were infuriating, and he didn't want to be there at the first sound of one of their swords falling and hitting the wooden floor.
"Shesta," Gatty called to the other blond, who was towering over a fallen Viole with his sword at his jugular.
"Yes?"
"Lord Dilandau told me to join you. Viole, go partner with Miguel."
"But he, Guimel, and Dallet have a good three person round going. Can't we start one?" He tried to smile and look inviting. The look failed miserably as he was still shuddering under Shesta's sword that he'd yet to retract.
"No. Go!" Gatty barked, and Shesta withdrew his sword. Viole grinned at them both, then went to tell Miguel he'd have to leave his erstwhile engagement.
Shesta took a natural stance, "I didn't think Lord Dilandau would attend this morning."
Gatty attacked first, nodding as Shesta countered his blow, "Me either, he looked tired when he arrived."
"He still does," Shesta said, blocking another attack. "I know we've all discussed this before, but what do you think he does while he's with the Madoushi? He never looks well when he returns." He sidestepped Gatty, and claimed his victory. "Pay attention Gatty, that was much too easy."
"I've heard stories about the Madoushi, bad ones. Anything he goes and does there could not be good."
"I wonder why they make him go."
"Maybe he's ill."
"He only looks ill after he comes back from that place," Shesta threw off Gatty's attacks again. "Really Gatty, if I closed my eyes I could almost picture myself sparring with Viole again. Lord Dilandau should have sent Miguel over, at least he's serious."
"Miguel's too showy. Sometimes it provides an excellent distraction, but if his opponent is any good they'll cut him down in minutes."
"Guimel?"
"Too slow."
"Dallet."
"Too choppy."
"Me?"
"You shuffle your feet too much when you parry," Gatty commented promptly tripping Shesta and claiming his first victory.
"Now that's more like it!" Shesta accepted Gatty's hand in pulling himself to his feet. The metal clatter of a sword striking the floor drew both of their attentions away from each other and toward Andre, Sergio, and a fuming Dilandau.
After slapping the both of them, he then claimed Sergio's fallen sword, tossing it to him and snatching Andre's. He then went on the offense stabbing and swiping at Sergio. The boy's large brown eyes widened with fear and he attempted to block the attacks. Dilandau was going to back him into the wall very soon, and the ferocity of his onslaughts led his troops to believe he was out to spill blood. Sergio saw it too, for suddenly, his blocks were quicker, and he actually sidestepped one of Dilandau's thrusts and was able to get in a few attacks of his own. He made Dilandau take a few steps back before he was disarmed.
Dilandau smirked at him, a manic gleam in his eyes, then looked about the room to see that all eyes were on he and Sergio. "All you needed was the proper motivation. Consider every practice a fight for you life, because if you EVER perform that badly again during one of my training sessions, it surely will be."
He tossed Andre's sword back to him, and nodded to the two again as he stood back with his arms folded, "Hajime!"
Gatty stared wide eyed, "Well I'll be."
Shesta grinned, "See, all you had to do was scare the love of gods into them."
Gatty chuckled, "Well now that Lord Dilandau is back, hopefully I won't have to work with them again...nor Guimel or Dallet. I really do feel kind of bad, but those boy must have learned something. Sergio actually showed a little skill, rather than mad swinging and dropping his damn sword."
"Hmm, I wish you'd show a little skill," Shesta murmured as he feinted forward and Gatty stumbled backward.
"You couldn't handle it," Gatty bantered.
"Try me."
"You're on."
~*~ ~*~
"The attack on Fanelia will betide tomorrow evening," Folken said to Dilandau as they sat in the small common room at a table set for two. A slender bottle of wine sat in the middle of the table, the warm reddish glow of its liquid casting an odd light on the table's surface.
"Very well. My men will be ready. I don't really feel the need to send out the entire regiment, though, for such a small backwater country. I will travel with my elite and a few of my second string Slayers."
"Don't underestimate Fanelia, Dilandau," Folken said calmly, laying his fork down across his empty plate, and taking a small sip of wine from his glass.
"What is there to estimate Folken? Those people live like peasants, even the royalty. The citizens will probably thank us for leveling that pile of dirt and hay," Dilandau lifted his wine glass and swirled the cherry red liquid around fascinated by the small whirlpool he'd created.
"Fanelia has prized soldiers..."
"Who fight with pitch forks and wagons," Dilandau snorted setting down the wine without tasting it. He tapped the table impatiently with his index fingers, "Come on Folken, tell me why you're really so keyed up about this attack. You've seen my men, you know they are sensational."
"The dragon is in Fanelia, Dilandau. I'm afraid you won't take the proper amount of caution."
Dilandau narrowed his eyes, "Are you trying to insinuate that you think I'm inapt?"
"No, I'm insinuating that I think you are impulsive and excitable."
Dilandau smirked, "Hmm, perhaps, but being impulsive and excitable is what's gotten me to the top of the ranks." He stood to leave, frowning at the slight feeling of disorientation he felt and placed a hand on the table to balance himself.
"Are you alright?" Folken asked, his tone of voice never changing to reflect true concern, but then Folken's voice never changed to reflect any emotion what-so-ever.
If the dark walls of the room hadn't been swirling, he might have been annoyed with Folken's question. Of course he was alright...or, maybe not. He sank back into the chair he'd abandoned trying to blink the dancing lights out of his line of vision. What was happening? The pain and nausea from earlier still hadn't subsided. He'd felt a little better after working with his Dragonslayers, but after the temporary adrenaline high had faded the unfamiliar feelings of weakness returned.
"Dilandau?"
"I'm fine, Folken," the boy tried to snap bitingly, but his voice was too faint. Had his head ever hurt so much?
Movement. Someone was moving behind him. His reflexes screamed to act, and snap the neck of the person sneaking up on him, but the pain screamed louder. "Try to relax yourself, Dilandau, I'm going to help you."
"You're going to what? Leave me alone Folken..."
"Relax your muscles, you'll only feel a little sting."
A sting... what.. "Fol..." His body tensed as something sharp pierced the skin of the back of his neck. The disturbing darkness was washing over him again, the one that only ensued when They were coming. But...but he'd just been with them, he'd just done what they'd wanted. No! They couldn't be taking him back again!
"Don't try to fight it, just sleep. You'll be alright. No one is coming to get you."
No... he pleaded silently as the world vanished, not again. Celena?.... J... Jajuka? Don't leave me alone. Please, don't leave me alone!
~*~ ~*~
"Lord Dilandau is sleeping," Gatty said, after entering the rowdy soldiers' mess hall, and sitting down at the table reserved only for the fifteen Dragonslayers, and their captain if he decided to grace them with his presence at meal times.
"Good," Shesta nodded, spearing a potato and tucking it into his mouth. "I saw him after practice this morning, and he looked about ready to collapse. Did you get a mission report from Lord Folken then?"
"Yeah, Fanelia in the morning," Gatty said eyeing what was on everyone's plates, and trying to get a taste in his mouth for what was being offered at the Dragonslayers' buffet table. They ate in the cafeteria with the other soldiers aboard the Vione, but they surely did not eat the same slop they did. Dilandau had seen to that personally after dining with his soldiers the first time and tasting the difference in the food he ate when with Folken or the other commanders, and what his men were being given to eat. He'd had their menus changed immediately to where instead of powdered military rations, they received fresh fruit and vegetables, and a fine selection of starches and proteins.
The Dragonslayers reveled in the power their commander seemed to have. They had the best lodgings, best food, best communal bathroom, best hours in the training halls, and the best Guymelefs. The other, older, soldiers, of course, were envious of the privileges the young Dragonslayers got over them, and sometimes retaliated. They learned quickly that picking on anyone under Dilandau's command was a health hazard, to themselves. This lesson was mastered by the other soldiers three weeks after the Dragonslayers had arrived. One particularly burly solider in the Odyssey unit tried to teach a Second String Slayer to bow to him when he passed. Dilandau had broken the man's arm in three places before his commanding officer arrived to plead in his soldier's behalf. After that, no one would come within 5 ft of a Dragonslayer without breaking into a sweat, and they turned and found an alternate route if they saw Dilandau for weeks.
"Fanelia is that small country swarming with all those damn land dragons, isn't it?" Miguel muttered, not looking excited about the upcoming mission.
"We'll be in our Guymelefs, Miguel, I'd like to see a dragon take down an Alseides."
"I wouldn't," Miguel said darkly. He pushed his empty plate away from him.
"Lord Dilandau is probably going to summon us later in the evening after he's woken up."
"Are we going to go on with afternoon flight practice if he's still asleep?" Guimel asked lazily licking his spoon.
"Of course we will! I'll lead it, like I have been for the past few days," Gatty said looking taken aback. "Lord Dilandau would not be pleased with us if we started to slack off a day before a mission."
Guimel sighed. He was looking forward to catching up on a few hours of beauty sleep. Damn that Andre and Sergio... he tensed, "Hey, do we have any idea who's going to be sent out? I doubt the whole unit is going to go on this raid... I mean, Andre and Sergio..."
He felt Dallet shudder beside him, "Oh gods no."
Shesta rolled his eyes, "I doubt Lord Dilandau will send out anyone but us, his elite. This job is to be quick and without signature. He won't trust anyone else but us to do the job properly."
Gatty agreed, "It will probably just be us in stealth mode. This should be easier than most of the practices we've had."
"Don't get overconfident Gatty, there's a reason the Strategos wants Fanelia leveled. They're harboring something big."
"The dragon?"
Shesta nodded, covering his empty plate with his napkin. "Do you think we'll have to fight this dragon in Fanelia?"
"We're Dragonslayers, Guimel, of course we'll fight it...if we see it. They'll have it hidden. So, I guess once Fanelia's buried, we'll have to dig it up."
"Sounds like fun, wonder if Lord Dilandau will join us."
"If it involves destruction, you know he'll be there," Viole chuckled. "I bet he could take down Fanelia himself without any of us."
"I bet he could," Gatty said. Nothing cheered their leader up like a good day of demolition, and there was no one better at destroying things than him.
Even without Dilandau to gripe at them, the Dragonslayers finished their meals within 30 minutes, and went back to the training room to practice for 2 hours before bath time, meditation hour, which most used to play cards or finish up homework, and bed.
~*~ ~*~
Dilandau awoke late in the evening, groggy, damp, and in the solemn company of Folken. He sat up slowly massaging pillow creases off his left cheek, "Folken? What are you doing in my room?" And just when did he get to his room? He didn't recall coming there at all, after his meeting with Folken.
"How are you feeling, Dilandau?" Folken answered his questions with a question.
Dilandau scowled, he hated being ignored. "I asked you two questions first, Strategos," he snarled.
"I'm here watching over you, you've been having some rather disturbing dreams. You were screaming, Dilandau, I calmed you."
"You, what?" Dilandau ran a hand through his hair pulling it back into some semblance or order. His mouth felt dry, his eyes heavy... that sleep had been unnatural.
"You seemed to quiet once you heard my voice...You kept mumbling about not wanting to be alone. So, I ask again, how are you feeling?"
"I don't know," Dilandau grumbled lying back down, " my whole body hurts, and I'm sticky." He wasn't exaggerating, even his eyebrows hurt. "You tell me what's wrong."
"You have a moderate fever," Folken said. "Your pains and elevated body temperature are more than likely to be effects of a virus."
"A what?" Dilandau stared incredulously. So he had been right earlier....of all the lousy, rotten times to catch his first illness, or rather the first he could remember.
"Your men are waiting for you to give them their mission briefing."
Right... his Slayers... What time was it? He hoped he hadn't slept through their practice. "It's an hour before the lights out you instated for them."
The last he remembered was being with Folken at lunch time, he'd been asleep for that long? "How..." he blinked, then stared at Folken, "Have you been here with me for that long?"
"Almost, yes."
"Oh." He didn't know what to make of Folken's bedside manner, so he brushed it aside. He slid out of bed, frowning at his lack of armor. Someone had relieved him of his heavy costume, leaving him in the soft leather pants and cottony light lavender tank top he wore underneath. "Did you...?"
"You didn't really want to sleep in all of that armor?"
His hands felt his naked forehead for his diadem...gone. His fingers came away slick with sweat instead. He needed a shower, but he knew he'd have to brief his men first. If he didn't, he'd never get to them before their lights out. He didn't mind, and in fact loved breaking the rules of others, but he hated stepping over his own rules. He turned to glance at himself in his full length mirror, even from afar he looked like shit.
"What orders are you planning on giving them?"
Folken was still there? He barely turned to meet his eyes, "Just what you want Folken, take out Fanelia, find the dragon."
"Are you planning on accompanying them?"
"I'm only going to send my elite Dragonslayers, and yes I am going with them.."
"I don't think that's wise, Dilandau. You aren't well."
Dilandau narrowed his eyes, feeling rage rising to combat the feelings of weakness plaguing his body. "I'm fine, Folken." He walked to his first closet, throwing open the door to find his armor waiting for him expectantly. He dressed quickly, and moved into the bathroom to wash his face. The water he used was cold, and only resulted in making his teeth chatter along with the sudden chills he was beginning to experience. What the hell was happening...? He gazed up at his reflection again, his eyes were so hollow... The Madoushi had poisoned him, he just knew it! He ran his hands through his matted hair, feeling relieved when the silky tresses obeyed his hand and seemed to spring back to life. He looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower. Shutting off the water, he dried his face, and stepped back into his bedroom to find Folken gone.
Good.
He found his diadem on his night table, and fastened it, smoothing his hair around it. His knees trembled a bit as he moved toward the door, and he had to will them to continue to carry him without stagger. He had business to attend to, and he never let anything get in the way of his business. Not even this...
Gods, what's happening...
*"I still say we've done it too early. Is he truly strong enough to survive such a premature separation procedure? He's too young."*
He braced himself against the door, as his body went cold.