Blue Lightning and the Bear

by Blue Paladin

Two shadows from the past rise up to confront the New State Army. First they must dispatch the vampire who seeks to make life dance to his whims. But who will aid them against the Dark Knight of Chaos?

11. Chapter 11 The Heart of Jowston

Chapter 11 – The Heart of Jowston

What remained of Viktor's Mercenary Army set off early that afternoon, heading west down the broad, unpaved East Road out of Toto towards Muse City. Flik, glancing at the adjoining fields as he rode along, noted how empty the countryside seemed. Though the planting season had begun, the farmlands that they passed were devoid of workers. The small villages that they went through seemed similarly deserted; nobody was out hawking their wares or even lazing about at the gates looking for gossip. Fear appeared to rule the day.

That evening they set camp just off the road. The mood was good; the mercenaries had been resupplied by Hauser, and they were marching, at least in the short term, away from potential danger. Viktor and Flik moved among circles of men, drinking in the high spirits. Eventually they came to the circle where the women had gathered. Barbara, who seemed to have appointed herself leader of the little group, looked up as they approached.

Viktor gave an embarrassed smile. "I'd like to talk to you all, if you don't mind," he said, in a subdued tone.

Barbara gestured towards the spot next to her, and Viktor sat down. Flik, out of the corner of his eye, noted Millie scooting over, offering him the spot between her and Apple. He shrugged and walked around the fire to sit there, noting, as he did so, that Apple seemed to be looking better. At least, she was down to just having one blanket wrapped around her.

There was a moment of silence, as everyone waited for Viktor to give voice to whatever it was that he wanted to declare. Instead, Barbara spoke. "I know what you're going to say. You're here to apologize to all of us for losing the battle, allowing Highland to torch our towns, and putting us through that hell of a march, right?"

Viktor's mouth hung slightly open, frozen in the act of forming the words that he had intended to use. Finally, shaking himself free, he turned to face Leona, and said, "I'm sorry about Toto. I wish we could have better avenged the burning of your hometown."

Leona glanced at Viktor sidelong, face bright from the reflected light, and answered in a quiet but intense voice, "It's not your fault. Besides," she clenched her right hand into a tight fist, "there'll be plenty of other chances to strike back at them."

Viktor paused, trying to work up his next statement. Barbara forestalled him again. "Now you're going to suggest that we'd be better off, safer even, if we all left you. Am I correct?"

Viktor sighed and then answered, "For all I know, I may not even have a contract when we get to Muse. There's nothing to be gained by following a potchless ex-mercenary commander."

"You think I'm following you because of the money?" Barbara chided, smiling to soften the blow. "Doesn't my being from North Window count for anything? We're all that's left from there. You're like a…little brother that I've got to look out for."

"Little…brother?" Viktor looked a little dazed.

"Besides, if I'd wanted money, I'd have stayed with my idiot husband."

Viktor shook this off. "What about you, Leona?" he asked.

"Where would I go?" she responded. "I've already decided that my place is with your company, Viktor. I can't fight back by myself, but I can fight back by helping you and your men. And don't think for even a moment that Anabelle will let your contract expire. She likes commanders who fight, and if there's one thing that you do well, it is fight."

Viktor looked around a little more desperately. "What about you, Apple? You could always go back to your research."

"Not a chance," she said, vehemently, coughing at the end of her statement. "I can't stand by and let a creep like Luca Blight become even more powerful. It would be an insult to the spirit of Master Mathiu if I left the job unfinished."

Viktor was running out of possible candidates for departure. "Millie. Don't you have parents somewhere that are worried about you?"

Millie shook her head, nearly upsetting her beret. "Nah. My parents probably haven't been around to check on me in a year or two. My Nana and the butler, they might know I'm gone, but what are they going to do? I'm not going home yet; I'm not through playing with everyone. This is all too much fun."

Flik found himself wondering at that. He'd never found marching through the cold and the rain particularly fun, and that was nothing compared to the constant threats to life and limb.

Barbara spoke again. "So you see; you're stuck with all of us. You should be glad, too. Don't worry so much about how you'll protect us. You'll know what to do when the time comes, okay."

Viktor frowned, not at all pleased that his innermost thoughts were being read so easily. Finally he replied, "Okay."

Their journey recommenced the next morning. About mid-morning the dirt East Road gave way to a wide, slightly raised, cobble-paved highway: the King's Road. Flik had read that the first king of the old Dunan Monarchy, Bernand, had placed the first stones. Some legends even credited him with the building of the entire distance, from Coronet in the south to the Highland border in the north, Greenhill in the west, and…well, none of the legends ever suggested why it stopped short of Toto. Regardless of who built it, the men seemed pleased to get out of the dust of the dirt road. The horses might have had other ideas, but not being able to articulate them, were summarily ignored.

Aside from the mercenaries, there was little evidence of other travelers on this road. Distant forests to the north shimmered in the sunlight, and at one point they passed a sprawling quarry, now long abandoned. Only in the late afternoon, as they entered the more built up areas west of the intersection known as Bernand's Crossing, did Flik finally begin to see people on the road.

They were headed west, a long stream of travelers, towards the distant, but steadily approaching promontory known as Jowston Hill. Actually, hill was a bit of a misnomer. The setting sun had turned the southwest facing, hundred foot high cliffs stark red. The city of Muse sat at the foot of the southern face of the hill, its walled bulk standing out in a sea of buildings and tents all around it. The cliffs ran east and north away from the city, a natural obstacle more than twenty miles long in either direction. Atop the hill, linked by a zigzagging causeway, was the diplomatic heart of the Jowston Alliance, the conference hall. Farther out from the cliff edge were a series of interlinked walls and fortifications, the Ring Forts, which served to deny the heights to any enemies.

The last sliver of the setting sun was visible far off to the west when Flik, Viktor, and the mercenaries arrived at the southern gate of Muse. By city ordinance, the last half-mile of the road had been without any permanent structure, and the men approached the city gates down a broad, tree lined lane flanked by open fields on either side. This was not to say that the fields were empty, for Flik could see the huddled forms of displaced people crowded under each of the trees and long lines spilled out from the gates along the walls. Getting to those gates was no problem; most people were wise enough to get out of the way of the organized mercenaries. Getting through the gates, however, looked to be a bit more work.

"I need to see an entry permit before you enter the city of Muse," a rather bored looking guard spoke, laconically.

Luckily, Hauser had provided Viktor and Flik with just such a piece of parchment. Viktor, after fumbling a bit at his pouch, managed to produce and unfold the germane document.

The guard did not so much as even glance at the paper before he continued. "If you do not have an entry permit, one will be provided to you after you register with the Muse Entry Permit Authority. Entry permits will be given out on a first come, first served basis."

Viktor, clenching his teeth, shoved the entry permit to within three inches of the guard's face, seething, "We have an entry permit. Let us in."

"The current waiting list is sixty-nine thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight. At the current rate of entry permit authorization, you can expect to wait somewhere between four and fifty two months for your authorization. Current Muse Entry Permit Authority hours are from nine to five on weekdays and one to two thirty on Swordsday and Shieldsday. Thank you for visiting Muse City, fair jewel of the Jowston Alliance."

"Enough!" Viktor snatched back the paper and unsheathed his sword. "Let us in you…you blundering excuse for a soldier," he roared, brandishing the blade at the guard's face. The soldier blinked…slowly. Viktor growled. "Soldier, bah, that's too good a word for you. You aren't fit to stand guard over a latrine. You wouldn't know the pointy end of a sword if I came and rammed it up your-"

"Let's not do anything rash," Flik interrupted, noting other Muse soldiers approaching. He heeled his horse closer to Viktor, who looked up at these new arrivals and then contemptuously sheathed his sword. Flik took possession of the permit, saying, "I think reason is our best option here. Besides, I'm sure the next guard we speak with will be a little more…responsive…than the last."

And that next guard was already speaking, in a slightly snarky tone of voice. "You there, what's going on? Don't you know that Entry Permit Authority hours are over?"

Flik put on his most agreeable voice. "I do, but we already have an entry permit, so we'd like to get in."

"Already have an entry permit; I find that highly unlikely." Flik's smile began to slip as this guard waved his halberd around dangerously close to Flik's nose. "Well now, give that here." The guard reached up and snatched the paper out of Flik's hand, perusing it with a couple of skeptical "Mmm-hmmm's." Several of the other soldiers were clustering around, listening to his running commentary. "Let's see here…Viktor of Viktor's Mercenary Army and Flik of the Blue Lightning…are hereby granted unfettered entry and egress to and from the limits of the municipality of Muse City. Well, isn't that grand." He thrust an accusatory finger at Flik. "And which one of you chumps is Viktor?"

The fingers of Flik's sword hand jerked, violently. He tried to cover this up by pretending to fiddle with his tunic. Viktor answered, in a strained tone, "That'd be me."

"Oh really?" The snarky guard glanced over at Viktor. "How do I know that you are who you say you are? Maybe you're some sort of bandit trash that's pretending to be Viktor's Mercenary Army, hmm. You certainly look the part."

"Well, I…" Viktor looked towards Flik, as if he had the answer.

Flik, for his part, was busy wrestling down his right arm with his left, while the various parts of his face began to twitch.

"I suppose that you must be the one calling yourself Flik of the Blue Lightning," the snarky guard continued, looking back towards Flik. "Honestly, I've had it up to here with all of these sad cases trying to get into the city. Just two days ago I had to run off some pug nosed, shrimpy, tomboy girl and her friends. Really, I don't think you're worthy of Flik of the Static Electricity myself, so-"

There was a blinding flash of light and a sudden crashing boom followed by a resounding gong as the snarky guard was bounced off the gates by a well played beam of electricity. The remaining guards -save for the unresponsive one- looked in awed astonishment as little crackling lightning bolts played across Flik's right hand as he pulled it into a fist. "Now," he rasped sharply, "open those gates."

"What happened to not doing anything rash?" Viktor chuckled and watched as the astonished guards fell over one another in a rush to unbar the doors. "So, what now? I'm all for seeing Anabelle immediately, but we really ought to see to the men first."

Leona approached with a ready answer. "I know the owner of an inn near this gate. It's not an upscale establishment, but I think I can beg some rooms off of her." She looked back at the assembled mercenaries. "But not enough rooms for everybody."

Flik nodded and then motioned over Rossgard. Pointing towards the open field, Flik said, "Take the men and set camp there. Viktor and I will go in and see about more permanent quarters."

"Sir." Rossgard wheeled his horse around and the line of men and carts began to move off the road.

Flik looked back at the gates. They were now open, flanked by two lines of obsequious looking guards. He rode in, followed by Viktor, the women, the cart with the strongbox, and the rest of Riou's recruits. It was now fully nighttime and there was little traffic on the city streets. The main thoroughfares were well lit, but the narrow blackness of alleys spoke of their own particular dangers. The inn was located at an intersection, just past a blocky watch building. It was a modest two-story building of wood and brick, windows full of bright lights and babbling voices.

There were also two bulky looking men at the door. One of them fingered a cudgel, saying "Got no room for riffraff like you. Move along before we call the watch."

Before Viktor or Flik could speak, Leona had jumped down from the cart and swept towards the men. "How dare you treat potential guests so?" she berated. "Is this how the owner of the establishment pays you to act; to scare off the customers?" The two guards shrank back a little, unsure how to handle matters. "I should march right in there and give Emma a piece of my mind."

Luckily for the guards, at that moment the door to the inn swung open and a rather short, stout woman stepped outside. "Is that you, Leona?" she asked, and then answered herself with, "Of course it is. Who else would be outside my inn, shrieking at the top of her lungs?"

"Shrieking?" Leona responded, with a smile on her face. "I never shriek; I was just putting some men in their places, that's all."

Then the two old friends fell into an embrace, Leona having to stoop a little to make up for the height differences. "Oh Leona, I'm relieved to see that you're safe," Emma said. "When I heard that Toto had been burned, I could hardly sleep worrying about you. But yes, you'd taken up with some mercenaries, that's right." Emma stepped out of the embrace, carefully perusing Flik and the others, her happy smile shrinking somewhat. She looked back at Leona and then leaned close to her. "They got any money?" she asked, in what probably passed as a whisper for her. "I mean, I'll always put up an old friend, but-"

"Don't worry, ma'am, we've got potch enough to pay the way." To prove the point, Flik pulled out a string of potch, the little coins strung together through a hole in the middle of each.

Emma's eyes danced as she watched the coins jingle back and forth. "Of course, I mean, I wasn't implying that you…well, you're mercenaries after all." She shook her head. "Never mind, let's get you all settled in." She clapped her hands, ordering one of the bouncers to go and fetch the stable hands. Then they were ducking through the doorway into the interior. "We're a little crowded," Emma said, "because of all the refugees, but I'll chase some people out of their rooms and we'll find you all places to stay."

Flik looked around. A little crowded was something of an understatement. Every table in the common room seemed to have five or six people gathered round it. More patrons were going up and down the stairs.

"Do you have hot water for baths?" Leona asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "My dear, what sort of establishment do you think I'm running? Of course I have hot water." She clapped her hands again and a maid, a girl of about sixteen or seventeen years, ran up. "Yuki, draw some water for the tubs, quickly, and make sure it's hot this time." The girl squeaked and ran off. Emma turned back to her new guests. "So, will you eat first or bathe first?"

Actually, there weren't enough tubs to accommodate all of the travelers, so the men ate first and the women bathed first, which more or less satisfied everyone. The food was filling, though Flik noted that the vegetables were all aged and shriveled and the meat was fairly tough.

Afterwards it was time for the bath. Flik's clothes were so dirty that he was tempted to jump into the water fully clothed, but he relented, disrobed, and washed himself. The bath was relaxing, at least until Viktor decided to start a water war, which Rikimaru willingly joined in. The stone floor of the room was soon soaked with a fine sheen of steamy water. Then Gengen showed up to wash. A moment later, Flik got up to leave; there was little he liked less than the smell of wet Kobold. However, where he had left his clothes there was nothing now but a slightly sodden towel.

He sighed; with no better choice, he pulled the towel around as much as he could and stepped out into the chilly corridor beyond. He got no farther than the first intersection before he came across Leona and Millie, who were both carrying linens. Leona chuckled and regarded him with a bemused half-smile. Millie stared openly, then blushed and pretended to look aside. Flik fought to keep from blushing himself. It was a valiant but futile battle.

"Where…are my clothes?" Flik asked, when he could no longer keep the blood out of his cheeks.

"They reeked," Leona answered. "I thought about having them all burned, but we're washing them instead." Flik now noticed that both Leona and Millie had changed outfits. The older woman was wearing an ill-tailored forest-green dress that did not go with her complexion and was really too short for her. Millie was wearing an extra maid's outfit. Bonaparte was resting contentedly on top of the linens in her arms.

"What am I supposed to wear?" Flik asked.

"Men!" Leona answered. "Take away their clothes and they're nothing but big babies. Don't worry, they'll be ready by tomorrow. Oh, and watch where you drip, Emma won't be happy if you ruin the finishing on her floors." With that, Leona and Millie moved along, heading up some stairs. At the last instant, Millie turned back momentarily to drink in some more beefcake. Flik, meanwhile, glanced down at the little pool of bath water forming at his feet.

As promised, the clothes were ready the next morning. There was also an official messenger from the Office of the Mayor of Muse City, bearing an invitation for an audience with said Mayor of Muse City. Viktor and Flik set out on foot after breakfast. Already the city was bustling, full of people and horses and carriages and carts, all travelling down streets covered with little pink flower petals. The war had not yet affected commerce, and Flik saw merchants hawking fish from Lake Dunan and the oceans, as well as sugarcane grown in distant Middleport and fine wines imported from Kanakan.

The day was pleasant and the city smells and sounds, which might have been unnerving to some, were relaxing to Flik. Danger seemed far off, and he hardly noted when he bumped into a blond haired man wearing a hooded long gray cloak. He could've sworn there was something familiar about that man, but the press of the crowds bore them apart, and he had other duties to attend to.

About midmorning they arrived at the building that housed the executive branch of the Muse government. It was set back from the street on a raised terrace, with small gardens flanking the paths to the entrance. The front of the building was a columned portico, with windows facing out into the street. There were no guards in evidence at the front doors, so Viktor and Flik let themselves in. The foyer, inside, was muted and dark in comparison to the streets. In the distance Flik thought he heard quiet conversation and the constant clacking of countless pencils. Likewise, unobtrusive officials scurried about, carrying stacks of papers and books. No one seemed to notice, let alone care about, the two mercenaries with weapons at their sides who stood, unattended, in the heart of Jowston.

Flik looked around. "So, what now?" he asked, feeling the urge to keep his voice down.

"This way," Viktor motioned, leading them towards a grand stairway that led up to the second level. More clerks moved about in the artificial twilight of the upper floor. To Flik, it seemed like the choreography of some languid, alien dance. Viktor was already walking towards a smaller hallway off to one side.

It was there, finally, that a bespectacled functionary intercepted them. "What are you two doing here?" he asked, officiously. "Military matters are to be taken care of in room one thirty-seven."

"Invitation," Viktor glowered, presenting the letter.

The bureaucrat scrutinized the letter, gently pushing his glasses up his long, thin nose. He coughed, once, in what Flik thought was surprise, and then pocketed the paper. "The Mayor is in a very important conference right now. I will announce your arrival, but don't expect that she will have much time for ruffians like you. Please wait in room two hundred and twelve."

Flik didn't feel much like waiting. He suspected Viktor didn't either. Instead, as soon as the little man darted down the hallway, they followed him. In this manner, he led them to the door of the office of the Mayor. At the door he stopped, looked back, noted Viktor and Flik, sighed, and entered the room. They, on the other hand, were polite enough to wait outside. Moments later, the bureaucrat scampered back out the door, a fearful look in his eyes.

"Y-You may enter, sir."

"Thank you," Viktor offered, slapping the man hard on the back. Flik closed the door behind them, and then they were face to face with the Mayor of Muse.

She had already stepped around her desk, leaving her two aides dumbfounded in her wake. She strode determinedly towards Viktor, her arms coming up to embrace him, but she stopped just short of that, as if suddenly aware that they were not alone. There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of them gazed at each other, eye to eye, Anabelle's natural height augmented slightly by the heels of her boots.

"I'm back," Viktor said, a goofy smile breaking out on his face.

She hesitated between a frown and a smile, finally settling halfway between the two. "You don't know how worried I've been over you," she said, struggling to keep some harshness in her voice. "I didn't send you into East Muse on a suicide mission. You never should've tried to take on Luca Blight's army." She shook her head slightly; the long, thick, fiery curls trailing down to her waist exaggerated the motion.

Lesser men might have quailed under her gaze; Viktor's smile never faltered. "I had to make a pretense of defending, didn't I? Besides, it's not like I was going to let myself get killed."

Now she did frown, a little. "You never change, do you? I've known you for more than ten years and you still think nothing will ever harm you. There's nothing more foolish than meaningless bravado." Flik considered what Viktor had told him of their pervious relationship. They had met shortly after the destruction of Viktor's hometown, North Window, while she'd been investigating rumors of conflict between South Window and Two Rivers. All things considered, Flik had concluded that neither she nor Viktor was the type to hold anything back, in conflict or in any other facet of life.

Viktor's smile became still broader, now growing teeth. "Well, if something does ever harm me, you'll be the first to know."

Anabelle's response came like the striking of a snake; her unfolding arm propelling her hand, palm first, straight into Viktor's sternum before he'd even begun to try and ward the blow. Flik winced, watching as the muscles in her bare arm rippled with the impact. Viktor stumbled backwards, thumping his back hard against the door, and began coughing earnestly.

"My lady!" one of the two attendants gasped, a small, reedy young man with a mop of brown hair on his head. This, Flik knew, was Jess, Lady Anabelle's Vice-Mayor. He also handled most of her correspondence. Indeed, he was holding several sheaves of paper up against his gray vest even as he spoke.

The other attendant, a shifty looking man in a long green tunic and gray pants, nervously adjusted the red headband that held his brown hair in check. He was Fitcher, the man charged with overseeing Muse's foreign relations. He looked as though he were trying to find some way to safely leap out the window that he had backed up to.

Gradually, Viktor's coughs became laughs, and he continued to laugh until he wheezed out of breath. "Ouch," he gasped. "You've been keeping in shape."

Anabelle laughed, crossing her arms across her blue shirt in such a manner as to show that though she had been a tomboy years ago, she was now very much a mature woman- very much. "You can stop hamming it up, Viktor. The only part of you that's thicker than your chest is your head."

Viktor made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. Turning to Flik, he said, "You see what I have to put up with? I always envied you and Odessa, you two got along so well. This woman, she's all sharp edges."

"Hmm. I don't remember you saying anything like that the last time you were here," Anabelle retorted, mock-sweetly, though still smiling.

Flik closed his eyes. "Odessa had her core of steel, too," he heard himself say. "She wore her cheerfulness and optimism like a garment, to hide the cares and worries of her position."

When he opened his eyes he found, much to his chagrin, that everyone was looking at him. Anabelle's smile was now sympathetic. "Yes, I understand. Leadership in battle is trying on anyone, but more so for a woman. I'm surrounded by people just waiting for me to slip up, show the slightest sign of weakness, that they might sweep in and strip me of all authority." She laughed ruefully. "And that's just within my own city walls."

"Your recent defeat did not help matters in those regards," Jess snapped, safely behind Anabelle's desk.

Viktor frowned, but then hung his head. "Jess!" Anabelle barked.

"Sorry, my lady." Jess stepped back, abashed.

Anabelle sighed. "The promissory note, if you would," she commanded. Jess scurried forward and, disdaining Viktor, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Flik.

Flik felt his eyes go wide; he'd never seen so many zeroes on one piece of paper. "Th-This is for us?" he blurted out.

Anabelle laughed again, almost mournfully. "For years I begged and pleaded and cajoled the Senate for every potch of military spending that they would give me. Only now, now that they can see the smoke still rising off their precious summer cottages and hideaways, now they will give me the money I ask for and more. And do you know why? Not because they expect me to win, no, but because they expect me to lose. So that they can say to the angry voters, after all the deprivation and hardship and suffering, that they gave me all the support needed to win the war, and that it was my incompetence that lost it."

Viktor growled. "You're not going to lose the war. Not while I'm around."

Anabelle smiled. "At least I can count on the knowledge that you will always be giving your best effort. You, too, Flik. This war isn't yours at all, but I rely on you to keep Viktor safe." Flik felt himself blush. Anabelle handed some more papers to Viktor. "You'll quarter your men in the Dawn Fort, the farthest east. I need your best efforts to guard the road from the north. Highland may attempt to bypass the forts from the east and attack the city directly. If they do so, you are to report any attempt and thwart it if it lies within your capabilities."

"Consider it already done," Viktor replied.

"Um…we need to ask them about the son of Genkaku," Fitcher nervously interrupted.

Viktor glanced quizzically at Fitcher. It was not that Viktor didn't know who Genkaku was. He had been a general for Muse in the time of Anabelle's father, the Mayor Darrel, who had fought against Highland in the wars almost twenty-five years ago. By his efforts, and those of Highland general Han Cunningham, a peace treaty had been negotiated. However, through the scheming of Mayor Darrel, Genkaku had been forced to choose between his country and his honor. He chose to retain his honor, and had retired to Kyaro village at the end of the conflict. The confusion stemmed from the fact that none of the stories about him, as far as Flik could recall, ever mentioned a son.

"Yes, thank you Fitcher," Anabelle said. "That nearly slipped my mind." She turned to address Flik again. "You wrote of a certain Riou from Kyaro, who had witnessed a staged attack on his unit, the Unicorn Brigade. Is he with you in Muse?"

Flik shook his head. "No, he, and several other children from Kyaro, have been missing since the fort fell. I hope they're headed towards Muse."

Fitcher pounded the wall in frustration. "That's not going to help our cause at The Hilltop Conference."

Anabelle sighed. "We had hoped that Riou might shed some light on the incident that precipitated the current fighting. It is proving…difficult…to get firm commitments of support from the other members of the Alliance. Proof that we were not the aggressors would've gone a long way in building up support for us among the other cities."

"Wait," Viktor said. "Are you saying that Riou is Genkaku's son?"

Anabelle glanced at the floor, and then completely away from Viktor. "After my father drove him out of Muse, Genkaku adopted two orphans of the war. They went to live in Kyaro. I always wanted to apologize to him for what my father…my father-" She couldn't speak any more, but hugged herself and shuddered.

Both Viktor and Jess lunged towards her, from opposite ends of the room. They both, when seeing the other, pulled up short, casting dark looks at each other. Flik hung back, unsure of himself. Fitcher had turned away, gazing fixedly out the window.

Finally, voice straining with effort, Anabelle spoke again, almost in a whisper. "Do you know what they said about my father, over their glasses of wine at their dinner parties, when they thought I was not listening?"

"My lady," Jess tried to interrupt, but Anabelle continued, heedless.

"They always say that there is no way that such a deformed, shriveled husk of a man could ever have been the father of such a giant ogress of a daughter."

"You shouldn't-" Jess creaked vainly.

Anabelle put the steel back in her voice. "They say that my mother must've dallied with some barbarian from the Nameless Lands to the north. That is what they say."

"-speak-"

Anabelle cut Jess off again, this time by bringing her fist down on her desk, splintering one of it's legs. "My father may have been a contemptible coward, but I am sure that he was mine. And do you know-" She stopped again, swaying. Viktor reached out, trying to embrace her, but she swatted his arms away, meeting his gaze with blue eyes that glinted like metal. "Do you know why? Because we both share the same fierce drive to fight, that's why. I understand why he did those things, even if I can't approve. He could never stop fighting, to the point of creating his own enemies so that he could continue." She paused again, momentarily. When she continued, her voice was again a mere whisper. "And I'll keep fighting, too. Even if it's hopeless. Even if my death were a certainty, I'd still reach for some weapon, because I…have…to-"

Viktor managed to wrap his arms around her, muffling her sobs against his chest. Flik turned away, suddenly remembering the times when he had shared Odessa's tears, moments that had been for the two of them alone.

"You shouldn't speak of things like that," Jess finally whispered, plaintively.