**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews again :). Um...ok...please don't be mad at me, but I butchered Escaflowne in this chapter. I have a logical
explanation for it that I could ramble on all day about and make you see it my way...but uh.... to be brief about it; I let my friend borrow the series, I tried to
recreate the scenes from memory, turns out I mixed up a lot of episodes and forgot some stuff. But.... instead of redoing it, I decided this was still ok, because
I don't want to just retranslate the series until I get to the parts that are going to be way different...and this way I can get to the fun stuff a heck of a lot sooner
hehehe. I hope it is ok :) Please review ;)**
Disclaimer: I own Escaflowne, but the people who created it don't know that yet... so if you could keep it quiet for a while, I'd really appreciate it. (Just
kidding! Laugh at me people, it encourages me :P ).
Chapter 5
"So I'm not real, that's what you're telling me..." Dilandau murmured. "I'm a science project. The sorcerers got Celena, gods know how, and experimented on her, and...then I existed. That's why I don't have any memories before I was 8...if I was 8... they told me I was..."
"You are biologically 15 years old, Dilandau."
"Biologically..." Dilandau was rocking back and forth vigorously rubbing his arms. "So...so I stole her life, and now she's got it back. She's not gonna want me back. She's glad I'm gone..."
"Dilandau, don't worry about her. Lets focus on you, and getting you better."
"But you said people... things ...like me don't survive. We were separated too soon."
"You're different. You're stronger than the others...."
"Really?" Dilandau purred, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "And just how many others are there? Where are they? I want to find to find them...all. Do any of them know what's been done to them, what they are?"
Folken sat back in his chair looking up at the ceiling, "There were precisely 14 Fate Alterations that I know of, where an alter ego emerged from the host and took corporeal form."
"Were? How many of them still live."
"The only ones that still live are the ones who've been separated, the 3 hosts and 1 alter ego."
"So we all die if we're not separated eventually, but even then there's a good chance it won't work?"
"The ones who died that were not successfully separated went mad. The host ego emerged in all of them, and I believe there was a struggle. They had to be...silenced."
"The Madoushi killed them?" Dilandau was beginning to feel nauseous again. "And I..."
"You...you were becoming unstable Dilandau... General Adelphus sent them a complaint, I warned you to be careful around him."
"And why didn't they kill me?"
Folken actually laughed then, "Kill you? Dilandau Albatou? The most notorious soldier in Zaibach? Grown men fear you, soldiers in your regiments flourish under your command... You're the best they've ever created. They performed the separation in an attempt to save you."
"But... I'm going to die, aren't I?" Dilandau ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You think I'm going to die. If I don't on my own, I'll fall in battle. I'm losing my edge.." he began to giggle then. "They would have had me...silenced....but instead they tried to save me. Their attempt is going to kill me, so...I guess the problem is solved either way."
Folken watched as the albino cackled hysterically, he reached for the glass of wine he'd been nursing while listening to Folken's story. He had drunk more than half the bottle already, and Folken moved the glass out of his reach, "Enough, no more for tonight. I think it's best you went to bed now. In the morning, we'll look into treatments. I've been doing some research, and I think I have..."
"I'll be in Astoria," Dilandau said amiably. He grabbed for the half empty bottle of vino and took a deep swig of it.
"You won't. You aren't going. You're going to stay here. You're in no condition to..."
"Ah..ah...ah...Dornkirk said, I can't go against his orders, now can I? It's the reason I had to get fixed in the first place," Dilandau gave an deranged grin. "I'll see you when we get back Folken, with the dragon. If it'll make you feel better, I'll see if we can be back in the same night, so I can come see you in the morning."
"You're drunk."
"Am I?" Dilandau batted his eyes. He stood without swagger, "Well shit, hope it won't be too much of a problem. Thanks for the chat, Folken, it's been most....enlightening."
He slammed the door when he left, and Folken still sat at the table staring at the half drunk glasses of vino. The liquid glassiness of the fine wine was the same tint as Dilandau's eyes as they watered when he'd made his last remarks to Folken before leaving.
Perhaps Dilandau hadn't been as drunk as Folken had perceived him to be.
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The wine was hot coming back up, and tears of pain ran down his face. Great, more tears, that was all he needed. He'd known Folken was going tell him something unpleasant, but he hadn't thought.... He dropped his head in the sink and turned on the faucet letting cold water wash over his face, hair, and neck to cool him.
Ok, Dilandau, he told himself while under the spray, time to get your shit together. You hear me, get it together! You got 15 people out there that need you, think you're the sun that rose this morning, and the Mystic Moon that shows its face at night. Now, straighten up...
Dilandau turned off the water, stood up straight, and pulled a red towel from the rack to dry his head. He ran trembling hands through his hair to give it some semblance of order, and rinsed out his mouth.
Suck it up.
He fought the nausea and pain that gripped him. He ignored how hot and tired he felt, and shook the shake from his limbs.
Good boy, now lets go.
He turned off the light to his bathroom and walked into his bedroom to reclaim his sword. He slipped it back into his sheath, and went to open his bedroom door. Just before cutting off the light he took a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror. His skin was still paler than usual, his face gaunt...his armor didn't quite hug his body as well as it used to, but in his eyes, and in his posture he could see some of his old confidence returning.
Perchance he really didn't need Celena after all, he could make it all on his own. For once in his short life he wished to prove the Madoushi right.
He was the best thing they ever created.
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The King of Fanelia was arrogant, pushy, and overall not someone Allen would appreciate on a daily basis, but he was a monarch in need, and as a knight it
was his sworn duty to serve and protect royalty. Unless of course, the need went against the laws of his country, or would bring it harm. He returned Van's
sword, but frowned at his request to return his guymelef. The youth was rash and headstrong; he would do no good in the machine. He would try to leave,
and Allen felt it in his better interest to keep him near. The boy was still grieving over the loss of his country, and in a righteous anger that could get him killed
in a foolish quarrel. He didn't even know who his current enemies were.
He watched the boy storm off in a huff, smirking at his scrawny physique. Who had he ever believed would be intimidated by that? He looked up at the night
sky… their guests would be arriving shortly. In fact… he stood and peered into the horizon… he could see flags. They were no more than 15 minutes away.
He'd better be in the main hall to greet them. He couldn't have them reporting to King Aston that one of his best knights was rude to them.
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"I want to go home," Miguel stated as soon as he saw the men who would be greeting them loitering around the castle through his binoculars. "They all look like they have fleas. I bet the castle is full of vermin."
"Miguel, you are such a snob," Viole teased, laughing as Miguel looked down his nose at him. "I love you too!"
"Whatever had you under the impression that I love you, Viole?" Miguel asked haughtily, his horse gave a snort and seemed to sneer at Viole as well.
"Geez, Miguel. I think you've been riding that horse too long. You've bonded with him, and you're starting to look and act like one another. Look, Guimel. Miguel's horse is glaring at me!"
Guimel gave a tired sigh, and rolled his eyes to Viole, to Miguel's horse, and nearly fell off his own, "By the gods it is! Dallet, Miguel's horse is glaring at Viole, look!"
"Slayers, are we truly that bored?" Gatty asked coming to ride between Miguel and Viole. "The Second and Third String are looking at us. We are supposed to look esteemed and intimidating."
"We don't?" Viole frowned. "I thought we did… I mean, Miguel does, and so does his damn horse. Look it, Gatty! I swear he's giving me the evil eye!"
"Gatty, I will ride beside Lord Dilandau, please take my position beside this moron. I would thoroughly appreciate it, and will be in your debt," Miguel requested, looking at Gatty with extreme pleading in his eyes. Riding beside Viole for 4 hours was a harsh sentence he'd done nothing to deserve. Gatty grinned at him apologetically, "Go on Miguel, I'm sorry no one has relieved you sooner."
"Thank you," Miguel nearly took Gatty's hand and kissed it. "You're a prince, Gatty!" He turned his horse and trotted to relieve Ryuuon, who had taken Gatty's place at Dilandau's side temporarily until his return.
"Back to your position Ryuuon, I'm taking over for Gatty," Miguel said gruffly to the Second String slayer. Ryuuon nodded briskly, his eyes revealing the slight awe, and even fear of Miguel. He looked to Dilandau, "Lord Dilandau?"
"Dismissed, Ryuuon," Dilandau said not even glancing at him. Ryuuon nodded turning his horse to rejoin his regiment, face alight with pride at the position he'd been given for the short period of time.
"Lord Dilandau, Gatty is taking my place beside Viole, and I am requesting permission to ride at your side," Miguel said formally.
"Fine Miguel."
Miguel glanced at Shesta who nodded at him. The blond looked preoccupied, he kept shooting looks at Dilandau trying to gauge his current state of health. They had all thought for sure Folken was going to pull Dilandau from the mission. He'd surprised them when he'd boarded the small ship that was to set them down hours from Astoria so that they could approach by horse looking moderately worn. The Vione was traveling perhaps an hour behind them, and going to station itself a half hour away.
The pale boy sat tall on his horse, his wine colored irises staring straight ahead to their destination. Miguel grimaced as he gazed upon it. He bet it was crawling with mice, and cockroaches.
"We are no more than 15 minutes away from our destination Miguel. You could not suffer Viole for 15 minutes more?" Shesta asked him, talking across Dilandau. He leaned forward a bit in his saddle so he could see Miguel.
"He was asking me questions, making stupid comments, and singing, Shesta. No I could not put up with him for one more minute before beheading him."
"That would leave me a man short Miguel," Dilandau said, making Miguel jump. Dilandau usually didn't involve himself in their conversations.
"You wouldn't miss him, sir… unless you actually appreciate remarks about resembling horses, and songs about beer and whores," Miguel didn't hide his dry tone, and his heart fluttered when he saw a small smile tugging at the corners of Dilandau's lips. "You amuse me Miguel, as does Viole. You make the perfect pair in my eyes. It's a shame you don't get along, though I even find that quite amusing."
"Pleased to know I amuse you sir," Miguel colored a bit. He wasn't sure if he should be mildly insulted being put in the same category as Viole, or whether to simply be pleased Dilandau was carrying on a real conversation with him.
"The castle looks interesting," Shesta said, his voice was flat. He wasn't pleased with the overall appeal of the castle either.
"I've seen worse," Dilandau muttered.
"The servants look diseased," Miguel reported.
"We won't be staying long Miguel, just don't touch anything," Shesta suggested with a smirk. Miguel frowned seeing that Dilandau was now amused with Shesta, and his comment to Miguel.
He actually felt rather comfortable in his new arrangement, riding beside Dilandau. He always loved getting the honor, but he had to admit he always felt a little nervous. Dilandau was so silent, and seemed to be in another world when he rode, but he was very attentive to everything. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, much less smile and join in jest. He was changing… but Miguel couldn't complain. He'd always wanted to feel closer to the captain, all of the Elite did. They wanted him to laugh with them, and tell them things… He was a little jealous of Gatty and Shesta because sometimes Dilandau would tell them things the others would have to hear thought them. And like earlier…he'd confided in them. He should have been second in command. He often pondered how Shesta had gotten the job over him. Shesta was a good, but his fencing and piloting skills did not compete with Miguel's. Gatty was an all-around soldier, winning him the easy position of number one, but why Shesta?
He was good with people; that was why.
Miguel was often berated for being snooty. He couldn't help it, it was how he'd been raised. If his parents had known before birth being raised as a noble would prohibit Miguel from promotion in his teens, they might have shipped him off to one of those dreadful military camps Gatty had come from.
Viole came from nobility too, shockingly enough. He had been raised by his widowed mother and older sisters; he ran away from them for fear of his sanity. Well Miguel hated to tell him, but he'd lost that long before he'd met him. What kind of nobility had they been to produce such a person as Viole? He was silly, and flighty, and so unlike anything Miguel had ever come across in his days of ruffles and lace. Maybe that was why Lord Dilandau claimed to enjoy him so much; he was different.
Miguel could be different too; he just didn't choose to be. Someone had to set an example of dignity in the regiment, besides Dilandau, who did have wild tendencies at times. They neared the castle and stopped as the first of their procession arrived at the gates. The loitering servants began welcoming them and helping them remove their saddle bags.
"Better grab yours now Miguel, here they come," Shesta chuckled, and Miguel glared.
This had better be worth it, he thought bitterly, letting the dirty little man take his small bag of necessities.
They were going to catch a dragon, if Miguel had to use Viole for bait.
Now that idea was amusing...
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Van watched the foreign soldiers entering the building from the balcony, feeling oddly on edge. Something about them… he rubbed at the gooseflesh on his bare forearms. He wanted to go downstairs and have a closer look, though Allen had told him to stay away. He was harboring Van, he'd said, and he didn't want anyone else knowing that he was here so soon after the invisible attack on his kingdom. He shrugged the warning off, and ventured down the castle stairs.
He heard the voices of many, but one in particular was raised above the commotion, and he was speaking badly of Fanelia. Van pushed through the crowd to view the person talking. A pale man stood near Allen, laughing about the devastation Fanelia had fallen under. He was blowing the destruction of his kingdom off, like it was nothing. Who needed it, he said. All at once, it became clear to Van who had been the ones to burn his homeland. He came forward to curse the murderer, "You were the ones who destroyed Fanelia!" he shouted trying to get in the pale man's face. The man turned, sliver hair fluttering about his face. He proved to be only a boy, and for all the youth his face betrayed he was rather tall. He looked at Van with cold ruby eyes, a scowl of disdain etched on his delicate features. Instead of responding to Van however…he looked to Hitomi who turned out to be beside Van. When had she gotten there, and why hadn't he noticed her before?
"You girl, what land are you from that has you dressed in such odd garments?" he demanded, his voice strident and carrying.
"I…"
"The girl is with me, she's one of my paramours," Allen said smoothly, and leaned to press a kiss against Hitomi's cheek. Van sputtered indignantly as the girl's cheeks burned red. Not only was Allen kissing Hitomi in front of him…he'd just been ignored and pushed aside like a…like a peasant! He glared at the silver haired boy, who was in turn glaring at Allen, he stepped back from the scene as if washing his hands of it all. "Show us to our rooms, the first fifteen heads you count after me, are to be given your finest quarters."
Allen barely suppressed a scowl of dislike at the impertinent youth. "Fine." He nodded to a man behind him, who stepped in to guide the soldiers away.
"Van…" Allen's growl was low, and meant for Van's ears only, "we will talk about your disobeying me later. Now get back upstairs, and try to avoid those soldiers."
Sure, Van thought, nodding at Allen and retreating. I'll avoid them…for now.
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"That girl, that one with short hair… she was the one from Fanelia. She's the one that could see us. She pointed right at me," Dallet was informing Gatty, who looked to Shesta for confirmation. Shesta nodded, adding "And the boy is the Fanelian monarch."
"Good!" Miguel clapped his hands and the other 5 Elite started.
"Miguel, for gods sake, why are you so happy?" Guimel snapped, he had been lying down on one of the single beds trying to take a nap.
"If she's the girl, and that's the Fanelian King, then the dragon's definitely here. We can catch it, and go the hell home. I'm starting to itch."
Viole snorted, "Well if you wouldn't wash yourself with those scented soaps maybe you'd quit getting those rashes on your…" Viole's last word was cut off as he was rushed by Miguel and pinned to the floor with Miguel's knee in his stomach and hand at his throat.
"Hey, hey, hey stop it!" Shesta pulled Miguel away from Viole who sat up sputtering curses at Miguel. "We have to go tell Lord Dilandau this information."
"Lets go then!" Dallet looked eager to go. "It's not often we have good news to tell him. And he's been… I don't know, different. Ever since we talked to Folken, you know, he's been…almost friendly."
"What do you think Folken told him?" Viole asked.
"I don't know, but I wish he had said it a long time ago," Guimel muttered stretching. "It's nice to see him relaxed. Maybe all that weird stuff from before was from nerves. He was probably giving himself ulcers, or something."
Shesta looked troubled, what did Folken say to him? "Lets go. We'll have to ride out to the Vione to get further attack plans, and our Alseides units tonight,
after we tell Lord Dilandau."
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He was in the company of two other captains, when they knocked and entered. Dilandau rose and stood before them, "Lord Dilandau, the girl from downstairs, the strange one. She's the one from Fanelia that could see through our stealth cloaks, and that boy was King Fanel."
Dilandau nodded, "I knew the boy was King… but the girl…" he smiled disturbingly, and looked delightedly at his slayers. "I told Folken we'd catch the dragon before morning. Lets go, we'll have to go back to the Vione to get our units. Captain Blakely, the Dragonslayers are moving out… location of dragon confirmed. Further orders will be issued to your regiment upon our return to the Vione."
The tall dark haired man stared hard at Dilandau and his slayers, before acknowledging the orders gruffly. He was rolling his eyes when he choked as strong fingers encased his throat and pushed against his larynx painfully, "Can you say, yes sir, a little more… respectfully, Captain?"
"Y…y…yes sir," the man stuttered as best he could through Dilandau's choking grip. The other captain stood back, eyes wide with horror.
"Much better," Dilandau purred, pushing a little harder, smirking and only releasing when a trickle of blood ran from the man's nose. "Remember that for next time, because if you address me disrespectfully again, or roll your eyes, I will break your neck."
"Yes, yes Lord Dilandau," the man gurgled holding his bruised throat, ignoring the blood dribbling down his lips getting into his mouth.
"Very, very good. Did you hear that Slayers, he called me Lord. Is there anything you would like for him to call you?"
Dallet nearly choked, Guimel's eyes bulged from his head, and Viole began grinning like a fool. Shesta and Gatty chanced a look between each other communicating privately, and Miguel stood looking supreme, "They can call me, sir."
"Sir is fine with me….Lord Dilandau," Dallet said, and Guimel agreed.
"Sir sounds nice," Gatty and Shesta decided.
"He can call me anything I want?" Viole inquired, looking like a small boy in a confectionary shop.
"Anything."
"I want to be… your supreme majesty, I want to be god; I want to be…"
"Sir, will do fine for Viole as well," Miguel said looking pained.
"You hear that Blakely, my Elite wants you to call them sir..."
"Y...y ... yes.... sir, sir's..."
"Very good. Dallet, Guimel, Viole, go get the rest of the slayers," Dilandau commanded. "Tell them to get their things together and to follow you out of the castle... quietly... not drawing attention to yourselves. Gatty, Shesta, Miguel, and I will have the horses ready for your arrival."
"Yes sir!"
Dilandau smirked, pleased with the fear in the older captains' eyes, and further pleasured by the elevation of testosterone in his bloodstream at thought of the forthcoming chase. He was going to have fun tonight, he felt sure of it.
If only he could convince the rest of his aching body the same thing.
Suck it up, Dilandau, and keep smiling!
"Lets go."
**Author's Note: Whoo hoo time for fun now *rubs palms together* So, was this chapter ok, or should I work on it? I hope my anxiousness to get it finished doesn't show...much....lol. Please review, I love mail more than ice cream *bats eyes* Take care!**