Bleach: The Vandire Conspiracy

by Maderfole

The Winter War is over, but who are these strange newcomers in the Rukongai and what is their relation to a massacre commited there? Bear witness to a broadened view of the Soul Society and the potential start of an epic conflict between West and East

5. Black Noon

Author Note: Glad to see people like the Crusaders in their first real appearance, even if we really haven't had time to get to know the characters just yet (why would I want to do that so soon, when I can devote an entire story arc, the one after this one, to both sides feeling each other out, before the main plot really kicks off, and for those unfamiliar with me, that means 6-8 chapters worth of interactions, combats and humor). I'm endeavoring to write this story in the same kind of thematic or style format as Bleach itself, or also Full Metal Alchemist. As in, theres plenty of humor, and most of the time, even combats and the like aren't taken that seriously. But when things do get fucked up or serious, they get VERY fucked and serious, sometimes without warning, as the massacre in Crimson Dusk showed. This is not a kids story, ladies and gentlemen. This is a 16+ story thinly veiled in ribald jokes and pranks and irreverent, posturing loudmouths. Like in Steel Dawn, "Bold Text" here represents things said in the language of the Crusaders, which is, by and large, entirely unintelligible to Shinigami, and vice versa for stuff in "Normal Text", while things said in English will be "Underlined", in case for some reason its not obvious.

xxxx

Soul Society, Sereitei, en route to 1st Division headquarters, January 13th, midmorning

"For the record, I don't like this. I just want that known." Mal Elkiran, Duke of Shadows, pointed out, his voice pitched so that it would not easily carry beyond the ears of their little group, as they marched... well, more like strolled, really... along the well paved and confusingly laid out streets of this city, this "Ser-ee-eti". The architectural style was like nothing Mal had ever seen before, and he prided himself on his knowledge of such things. It wasn't even remotely related to any building styles from any of the provinces of the Imperium. It had been a century or so since he'd last ventured to the Living World... the battle against the Daemons was too intense for friviolous trips to that largely inconsequential domain... but he didn't remember seeing any architecture there like this either. The primary building material was wood, with slanted roofs done in some sort of clay tile that was dyed or painted a variety of colors. The craftsmanship of the wood and tile was quite intricate and beautiful, and definitely bespoke of an advanced and artistic culture as having created them. The question was, were the current occupants of this fortress-city that originating culture, or were they some sort of conquering tribe or vagrant immigrants? He had yet to see any sign of artisans or workers, just the black clad soldiers, but perhaps that was to be expected. The small folk and serfs were likely being kept well away from any potential combat.

"None of us like this, Elkiran, but what choice do we have? Her Highness has made her decree, it is our duty to follow it to the best of our ability." Alyster Fane, Duke of Order, snapped back, his tone sharp and irritable, a rarity for the young prodigy, who was well renowned for his manners and politeness when dealing with all, subordinates, peers and superiors alike. Though they were of equal rank, Mal had been a Sanctus Dominus... the formal title for Duke... for almost twice as long as Alyster had even been alive, and thus he had seniority over him, if only informally. It was a testament to Duke Fane's skills and temperment that he had been granted military command over this highly important mission, but there were still flashes of the hot headed and idealistic young man from the common classes that poked through every now and then.

Mal did not rise to the sharp tone of Fane's voice, recognizing that his young compatriot was sulking after being publicly, if gently, reprimanded by the Princess, for his inability to resolve the delicate first contact situation peacefully. Of course it had been Vladimo's provocations more than anything else that had unraveled the situation, but as the Commander, it was part of Alyster's job to keep his fellow Dukes in line and all pulling for the same team, so the responsibility was in the end his. Mal did roll his eyes expressively over the shorter man's head, much to the amusement of Vladimo, walking on the other side of the golden armored Duke of Order. Prodigious talent or not, Fane still had a lot of growing up to do, and mellowing out, before he would really settle into his role as a Sanctus Dominus. He was still too prickly, too easily riled, and too easily shamed... he saw everything in black and white, good and evil, right or wrong, and the world just wasn't like that, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

"Well, its a beautiful day for a stroll through hostile territory anyway." Vladimo commented with a yawning smirk, as he stretched his arms up and over his head before folding his hands behind his head and began to whistle tunelessly through pursed lips. Het noted how their black clad escorts all visibly tensed when he made the unexpected movement, and many of them dropped hands to hilts of their swords in the process. They were wary and mistrustful, but that was okay, because the Crusaders all felt the same way. He and Mal just did a better job of hiding it than Alyster did. As for the fourth member of their little counseling group, Kinkaid Grey, he was taciturn and impenetrable as always, walking silently in the wake of the three Dukes in what some might have construed as a subservient position. In reality, while Kinkaid did not command a military squadron as did the other three, his authority was really no less, because he was a direct representative of the Rex Divinia, the Royal Huntmaster, responsible for both leisure hunting and the tracking down and retrieving or killing of escaped criminals or rare creatures that caught royal notice. He was the Imperium's premier bounty hunter and scout, and rumored to even be an indirect relation to the Royal clan, hinting at huge reserves of spiritual power.

You'd have been hard pressed to find four men more dissimilar from one another in all the Imperium, yet they had still managed to all become friendly if not quite friends, brought together by the bonding experience of this most critical and dangerous and frustrating mission they had been tasked with. The insult and sin that Zacharis Vandire, once the Duke of Vengeance and their peer, had offered the Rex Divinia during his brief and abortive attempt at a coup, which had resulted in the Rex Divinia himself actually taking minor wounds at Vandire's hands, could not be borne! The traitorous Duke and his cultish followers had to be tracked down, captured or exterminated at all costs; no other solution was acceptable for addressing a crime of this magnitude! But in accepting this charge, none of them had any idea that it would take them for a fifteen year sojourn across untamed and uncharted wilderness far beyond the boundaries of the Imperium Animi, Vandire apparently willing to run to the ends of the world before he would be brought to bay! Now here they were, in some land of myths and legends that were ancient even before the Imperium had ever been founded!

Vladimo, tall and blustery, with his tanned skin criss-crossed with scars both pale and dark, worn openly, like badges of honor, quick with a joke or smile, quicker still to sheathe blade into flesh over some perceived slight, thought of it all like some grand adventure! He was having the time of his life on this endless pursuit, even if it did mean roughing it in the wilderness for long periods of times, and limited access to the comforts of civilization, such as fine wine and finer women. But he was walking paths no Imperial had ever trod, seeing sights that had never been seen before, and fighting foes that had never even appeared in myths... he needed little more from life than that. His untamed and ringleted hair, black as onyx, tumbled down across his shoulders, wild and free, like that of a pirate of the Spanish Main, which he was fairly sure he had once been in the living world, judging by his tastes in the Imperium. Yes, he was as content as he ever got, and he could not and would not restrain himself from laughing out loud boisterously to express his happiness, causing his companions to grimace and their black clad escort to flinch uncomfortably.

Only slightly shorter but considerably leaner than his carefree and animated best friend, Mal waited out his friend's amused outburst patiently, a grin fighting to break free from his control to spread across his face. Though not normally carefree or prone to outbursts of public amusement, there was just something about being around his outgoing friend that brought out the sunnier side of his personality and allowed him to relax and be the man he might once have been, before his duties and committments as the Duke of Shadows had twisted him into the man he was today. It wasn't easy being responsible for gathering intelligence on monstrous foes like Daemonkind, and even less easy having to turn his talents for observation and subterfuge on his fellows, including those whom he thought of as friends. He was a thief, an assassin and an inquisitor, and such roles suited him, but sometimes he missed being able to turn a blind eye to duty and just enjoying himself for the sake of enjoyment. He did not like this place, he did not know the rules or the secrets of this place, so he could not like it, not yet anyway. He cursed Vandire for his obstinancy, even as he was quietly grateful for the chance to be away from the burden of most of his duties back in the Imperium.

Considerably shorter than all three of his peers, and shorter than most of the people in his own Squadron too for that matter, even the newest recruits who were younger than him, Alyster Fane walked stiffly, his spine straight as a rod, his head held high, his eyes looking neither left nor right. He was doing his best to ignore the antics of his peers, though with Vladimo, that was no simple task. Similarly, he was doing his best to tune out the ranks of their black clad escorts, having only eyes for the Princess, as she walked accompanied by her handmaidens and priests, in a seperate group alongside the officers of this black clad military force, including the rogiush looking older man clad in, of all things, a bright pink over robe of some sort, complete with flower emblems on it! He'd never seen such an overtly feminine garment before, not even on women, yet here a man was wearing it openly? This was a strange place, and Alyster did not like strange places. They made him feel ill at ease and out of his depth. Still, his righteous ire and desire to bring honor to himself, his Princess and the whole of the Imperium Animi by bringing the arch-traitor Vandire to justice would not let him shy from the task at hand, no matter his personal distaste. He just wished she wouldn't be mad at him, being excluded from her company was worse than any torture Elkiran could inflict in his dungeons back home!

For his part, Kinkaid Grey was annoyed, though he would never let himself show it. He had sworn an oath to the man he respected above all others, his great uncle, the Rex Divinia, to hunt down and slay the man who had so wounded his Majesty's pride and body. He could not be content until he held Vandire's dripping decapitated head in his hand, dangling by the hair, so that he might lay it at his Majesty's feet so that all would know the inevitable price for rebellion and violent dissent against their rightful lord. Getting involved with these robed people and their vast fortress-city just seemed like a waste of time to him, a diversion from their mission. Vandire was getting further away and harder to find with each minute they spent in this farcial pageantry! Alas, he could not openly argue with or decry the edicts of a trueblooded member of the Royal family, any more than he could suddenly start to breathe water and drink air! He tried to occupy himself by analyzing and memorizing their surroundings, for future reference, as the Duke of Shadows was doing, but his heart wasn't in it. Cities were not his place, his home was the vast tracts of the wilderness, where civilization had yet to reach and hopefully never would. Where he could be once more the predator of predators that he had always yearned to be.

"I don't like these guys one bit." Madarame Ikkaku, third seat of 11th squad, announced to absolutely no one's surprise. What might have surprised people was his reasoning behind this statement, though, in typical Ikkaku fashion, he didn't bother to elaborate on his thoughts. Explaining yourself was for fools and pansies, and sometimes Ayasegawa, who generally needed quite a bit of explaining himself in order for anyone to take him seriously on a battlefield. One time, while on a mission in the Living World, prior to the actual fighting of the Winter War, Ikkaku had seen a show on TV, some sort of "self help" program where all the contestants had to sit in a circle and share their feelings with each other in a kindly and orderly fashion. He'd never seen anything more horrifying in all his days, both before and since, and this was from a guy that saw Kenpachi Zaraki at full power more often than just about anyone but Yachiru!

So he kept his mouth shut, save for that one outburst, which was only keeping in character, and because he just couldn't bite it back any further without feeling like he was gonna choke on it. But these guys really did give him a bad vibe. To be fair, he'd had a bad vibe regarding Kurosaki as well, and that had turned out more or less for the better, but still. Madarame Ikkaku was familiar with the idea of uneasiness... it was what happened to other people before they fought him or the Captain, but he wasn't familiar with experiencing it himself, which was the cause of his current bruised mood. There were just too many variables with these strange newcomers, in their full body suits of metal plate and odd looking weapons, and the way they deferred out of hand to the chick with the ridiculously long hair. Ikkaku was far from a misoygnist, he knew damn well that some women could be damned strong, and, like all 11th division members save Captain Zaraki, he harbored secret and deeply rooted fears of Captain Unohana, but the unquestioning respect even the most battle hungry stranger, the guy in the eye watering red and blue suit and flamboyant hat, displayed just rubbed him the wrong way. The guy had the balls to call out Captain Zaraki with an insulting hand gesture, to his face, but meekly turned the other cheek for some slip of a girl with too much hair? What... the... Hell?

And then there was the gloomy looking freak in the long black coat, who was plainly, even obviously checking out the Sereitei with more regard for its tactical layout than its artistic presentation, like a man planning a future invasion rather than a social visit. The grey haired guy in the grey and brown armor, a hideous color combination even to him, like a dead leaf on the forest floor, was probably also checking the Sereitei out, and the Shinigami as well, though he was more circumspect about it, unlike the guy in the coat, who had looked at Ikkaku like he was a bug in a jar with insultingly open appraisal before smirking for some reason and then looking elsewhere. Men had died or at least been seriously injured for less of an insult than such a casual dismissal! But though he ached to call the smarmy bastard on it, with a cease fire called by Captain Kyoraku and enforced by the Captain-General, his hands were tied, or at least they would be, in the prison cell he'd be thrown in for disobeying a direct order without cause!

Glaring with frustration, Ikkaku turned his gaze to the one stranger that he could get something of a handle on, the short guy in the golden armor. Though short was a relative term, the guy... young man, actually, since Ikkaku probably had at least a century on him and Ikkaku was no senior citizen by any means... was taller than half the Shinigami around him, just short in comparison to his buddies. He was the only one, even with his foreign facial structure, that Ikkaku could easily read, because he wore his feelings and emotions... anger, frustration, mild embarassment and longing... openly across his youthful features. He'd initially presented himself as someone powerful and extremely important, striding forward alone to yell whatever the hell his message was up at the Shinigami crowded on top of the North Gate, but was obviously feeling a bit deflated after the woman with the long red hair had stepped forward to prevent a conflict. Which was a hell of a disconcerting thing to recall, how her Zanpakuto, or whatever it was that these people had, resealed every other Zanpakuto around, even Ryujin Jakka! What the hell kinda power could do THAT?

Hozukimaru was being suspiciously mum on that incident, not that it was particularly abnormal for that lazy bastard to be holding back on his owner, but still, he'd never refused a direct request before, and right now he could barely even talk to his Zanpakuto! Judging by the frustrated and weirded out looks on some of the Shingiami walking nearby, he wasn't the only one to be having this problem. In fact, judging from the look on Captain Hitsugaya's face, even the Captains were not immune to this sudden restive attitude in their weapon-spirits, and the pint sized captain didn't look too pleased about it. Then again, the little guy never exactly went around grinning like most kids did, his moods, in Ikkaku's experience, read like the dial on those air conditioner things they had in the Living World... Cool, Icy and Fucking Freezing! Ikkaku itched for one of the strangers to step out of line, to provoke a challenge, to make a hostile action, because goddamn it, they made his skin crawl and the only way to make it stop was to beat them into the ground! Anything to alleviate this oppresive uncertainty and suspicion about whether they were really enemies or not! After all, if they were strong enough to hold him and the others off, then they would be worth befriending. And if not, well, then it was a moot point. Diplomacy was very simple in the 11th.

Unfortunately, Ikkaku and the others, as well as their uninvited guests from the West, weren't able to find an excuse to settle things in a more direct fashion before the escorted procession reached the 1st division headquarters and central conference chamber where the Captain-General briefed his subodinates in their weekly and monthly meetings. Well, unfortunately for the restive and overtly suspicious among them anyway, as far as the little group of senior officers that escorted the long haired Princess were concerned, it was nothing short of a miracle, given the tension that was palpable in the air. If the crimson haired Princess was overly bothered by this atmosphere of distrust though, it did not show in her voice, her face or her actions, as she strolled along, communicating in a jerky but amiable fashion with Shunsui Kyoraku, making small talk as they walked, neither offering nor seemingly searching for information.

Shunsui wasn't fooled however, as a man who lived everyday life by presenting a public facade of indolence, carelessness and disconnection from the events at hand, he knew well when he was faced with another consumate actor. This crimson haired beauty, La-cus or however her name was pronounced, was an excellent actor, every bit as talented and practiced as he himself was, keeping her face open and honest, her tone light and accomodating and polite, even as she probed for gossip and other seemingly irrelevant information that, in the right hands and when studied by the right mind, reveal a great deal more detail about a culture or society than one might expect. Were it not for the shielding effect of the language barrier, Shunsui was sure that she would have already gotten plenty of information out of him that he wasn't even aware he was giving her, just in how he conducted this seemingly innocent but very important small talk. Diplomats made the best spies after all, because they were expected to talk with people who knew important things, and were the best at inferring data from the slightest of changes in voice and tone and inflection.

While not as good at this discreet probing thing, at least in such a formal atmosphere... he did much better in an intimate setting, around drinks and other pleasant distractions... Shunsui had managed to notice a few details himself. For one, this emissary Princess was simply GORGEOUS, even with her foreign facial structure, she was like the most talented artist's depiction of feminine beauty come to life. This might seem like an obvious detail, especially for an avowed womanized like himself, to notice, but it was more in how she projected and utilized her looks that interested him than the looks themselves. He wasn't so fond of older women, no matter their looks, as they made him feel a bit intimidated and, for lack of a better word, childish, as if they could see through his public veneer somehow. This was one of the reasons he never made passes at Retsu, despite them being close friends and her being a very attractive woman in both mind and body. She only had a century or two on him, and both of them had more than a millenium under their belts by now, but she just made him feel like a misbehaving child for some reason. And not in the good way that Nanao did.

And though this Princess physically presented as someone in her late twenties, visibly younger than Retsu, more like Soi Fon's visual age, Shunsui would have been VERY surprised if she wasn't close to two thousand years old at the least. She had that aura of stately majesty about her, very much like Yama-jii, that comes from being much older and more experienced than pretty much anyone you happened to meet. Among Soul Reapers, where senility was mostly just an excuse to act odly and confuse your youngers and subordinates rather than any true debilitating condition, the adage "with age comes wisdom" definitely held true. And with great age, came very great wisdom, almost ad infinitum, the older one got, the wiser and more mentally capable they tended to get, because Soul Reapers, unlike mortals, didn't experience degradation in memory function as they got older. Shunsui could remember events from a thousand years ago with the same clarity as he did what he'd had for breakfast yesterday, and he didn't even generally make an effort to note things down, unlike some of his peers and friends.

But getting back to the topic, the Princess looked young and innocent and maybe even slightly naive, but she acted with the mind of someone who had been ferreting out secrets and negotiating in dangerous circumstances for hundreds of years before anyone but Yama-Jii was even born! A very dangerous combination, that. Especially coupled with her physical allure, which, Shunsui noted with a secret smile, was strong enough to even get a straightlaced, tragic prude like Byakuya Kuchiki looking a little flustered and hot under the collar, which was nothing if not scary, given that young man's dedication to the memory of his late wife. Not that he thought Byakuya was in any danger of losing himself to this foreigner, just that her looks were distracting even one of the least distractable Captains in all the Gotei 13, and that thusly it was probably a good idea to keep a watch on his other peers and their assistants for signs of unconscious influence. Especially Kira or Shuuhei, as both of them were already somewhat unbalanced by the betrayals of the Winter War, and painfully and fruitlessly pursuing Rangiku Matsumoto, who was in no mood for fun and games with friends in the wake of her own suffering during the battle with Aizen and Gin. They would be vulnerable to manipulative infatuation for the time being.

Reading much more from the Princess herself was difficult, but fortunately they weren't dealing with only this Pricness, but her entourage of Captain class escorts as well, and though he could not overtly turn and study them, he could indirectly observe his own compatriots and their reactions, and collate information that way. Captain Fon was fixated upon the tall, lanky man in the black coat, only the angry grimace on her face differentiating her posture from that of a lovestruck young girl catching sight of her first tasty looking man. This was not particulaly strange for the 2nd Division Captain, who always threw her all into focusing on what she perceived as threats to the Gotei 13, though Shunsui was fairly sure he could detect a note of discomfort from Captain Fon as well, obviously recalling the way this man had appeared in front of her and then escaped before she could even react, a blandishment on her professional skills. Sparks would fly there before too much longer, that was certain. He just hoped that said sparks would kindle no greater fires.

Because though the Gotei 13 did significantly outnumber the strangers, they were also still recovering from the shock and devastation, psychological as well as material, of the Winter War. And they didn't outnumber the strangers by such a large margin that it would be any easy task to defeat them should things take a turn for the worse, as they very nearly already had, and casualties from four or five Captain classes and an unknown number of Lieutenant classes brawling in the middle of the Sereitei would doubtlessly be heavy. For that matter, the rank and file soldiers of these strangers, with their odd plated armor and exotic weapons, would likely present a grave threat to the unseated ranks of each Division as well. Not least because these were fellow Reapers of a sort, not Hollows, and raising a hand or weapon against allies in spirit, if not actuality, would be hard for many.

And then of course there was the question of the massacre out in the Rukongai, and the connections these strangers had to it. Captain Fon had reported seeing Black-Coat there, but from her reports, it didn't appear that he was responsible for the atrocity either, just that he was investigating it, much like Fon herself had been. Furthermore, though Black-Coat did have a somewhat dark and disturbing aura about him, it wasn't so dark as Shunsui would have expected from someone that would commit such wanton violence and desecrations against the villagers. And judging from the somewhat harried or even openly annoyed expressions on the faces and postures of Pimp-Suit, Golden Boy and Grey, as he had nicknamed the other three "Captains", this diplomatic overture was not the primary reason for their presence at the Sereitei. No, they were here for some other, obviously much more pressing reason, and only respect for the Princess was keeping them from going to pursue whatever that reason was.

Juoshiro and Retsu were waiting for them at the entrance to the 1st Division, along with the 1st Division Vice-Captain, Chojiro Sasukabe, looking prim and proper as he always did. Shunsui waved gaily, with exaggerated cheer, at his two longest standing friends and peers, knowing that they would both read the correct message in his overfriendly action. It more or less translated to "Be on guard, these people could be trouble and I'm feeling a little out of my depth" in the highly situational and adaptable Shunsui Body Language code. He tried not to think about how the crimson haired Princess was casually eying him in a way that could not be considered anything but polite curiosity, yet he could not shake the feeling that she was smiling inside, having nearly perfectly translated his gesture as well. In retrospect, it probably would have been stranger had he NOT given some sort of visual cue to other allies as reassurance at least, and Shunsui chided himself for falling for making such an obvious mistake. Every action of his brought her just a little bit closer to figuring him out completely, and if that were to occur then he knew she would be able to run roughshod over him if she felt the need to do so.

For perhaps the first time in centuries, Shunsui found himself wishing he was on a battlefield somewhere, simply because the nuances of body language on a battlefield were much less important. You watched the eyes, monitored breathing patterns, and kept peripheral awareness of hands and feet in order to read your opponent and predict their motions before they could fully mature. Keeping a poker face yourself was much easier, especially if you were more experienced than your opponent, as was usually the case for him. Here, not only was his opponent more experienced than him, but every little thing about him, from his eyes to his facial mobility to the way he stood or even whether he was sweating or not could potentially give him and his inner thoughts away to his opponent and put him at a grave disadvantage. Of course the reverse held true as well, and both sides were handicapped by cultural barriers and the strangeness of the other, but regardless, the weight of experience generally told in situations like this.

Leaving behind the majority of the Shinigami, including the Lieutenants, at the outer gates, Yama-jii led the strangers and his gathered Captains into his conference hall, where Sasukabe had already set up a table with a formal covering and chairs, dressing up the hall a little bit in preparation for discussions that might be a bit more weighty than the usual standing briefing called for. Shunsui smiled thinly, realizing that Yama-jii was playing the game with his usual skill, obviously tamping down on his combative irritation from earlier in the wake of Ryujin Jakka being forcibly sealed, and opting to a more cautious approach to these strangers. Ever since the Winter War, Yama-jii had been even less tolerant of threats than usual, which explained his determination to nip this one in the bud early, with an all out attack from Ryujin Jakka, rather than let it devolve into a prolonged conflict no one in the Sereitei was ready for. Obviously, the direct route was no longer an option, so it was time to get political, put away the swords and bring out the poisoned smiles.

By reducing the meeting to just the strangers and the Captains, Yama-jii was displaying confidence and strength to the strangers, by saying that the Gotei 13 felt confident of handling them with just the forces at hand, so confident that they would invite them into the heart of their domain without further escorts. He was also working information control, and keeping most of the hot heads out of the direct loop of things, so that their presence could not destabilize already shaky negotiations. And he was potentially denying the strangers easy hostages or the ability to inflict extra casualties if they decided to get hostile if talks broke down. It didn't make the Lieutenants or the other gathered Shinigami happy, but nobody was going to argue with Yama-jii after seeing the mood he was in. Not even Zaraki was that determined to push his luck, despite his blood being up from the brief near-altercation with Pimp-Suit.

After their "guests" were seated and involved in a hushed conversation amongst themselves along one edge of the circular table, a similar quick hashing out of strategy was discussed amongst the Shinigami. It was decided that Ukitake and Unohana would lead the diplomatic efforts, assisted by Kyoraku and Kuchiki, referring to Yamamoto for any major decisions of course, but the Captain-General wanted to distance himself from things as much as possible, both to enforce the authority of his position in the eyes of the strangers and to give himself time to think and study them to come to his own conclusions. The other Captains were to stay and observe, and be ready to intervene if events took a turn for the worse, but they were not to interfere otherwise, not even to speak unless directly spoken to. Vice-Captain Sasukabe was already wheeling out a cart of tea and light refreshment snacks, causing some of the younger Captains to stare at him suspiciously, wondering at his efficiency and level of preparedness for such an exotic situation. Well, you didn't get to be the personal assistant to the Captain-General himself without some serious anticpatory skills... there were few things that Chojiro Sasukabe was not in some way ready to handle. Aizen's betrayal had been the last such thing, and he'd redoubled his efforts since that incident.

It was while silently serving the tea and crackers to the "guests" that Vice-Captain Sasukabe revealed yet another talent that seperated him from most other Vice-Captains. While passing a teacup and platter of snacks to the crimson haired Princess, Sasukabe took a chance and asked her a polite question in one of the languages that he had picked up in his infrequent sojourns to the "Europe" section of the Mortal World, a place that had quickly grown to be an obsession of his, culturally speaking. He'd even come to prefer "western" cuisine, clothing and fighting styles to those of his native Japan. And pat of blending in with his adoptive cultures had of course been learning the most commonly spoken languages of those areas; French, Spanish, German and English. Upon hearing the strangers speaking in their own tongue, Chojiro had recognized several root words and archiac pronounciations of words that he was familiar with, and so he had decided to chance the fact that if they were from a European style spirit culture, they might be proficient in some of the modern languages of such cultures. His gambit paid off when the crimson haired woman with the train of attendants smiled at him and replied in perfect English to his query of how she liked her tea.

"One lump of sugar please, no cream, thank you." She replied, though there was a calculating look in her periwinkle blue eyes as he complied with her direction. "You speak English well." She replied, though she was speaking French, obviously doing some probing of her own. Vice-Captain Sasukabe did his best not to react and show that he understood her words, figuring that it was best to keep the true extent of his multi-lingualism a secret for the time being, but he got the feeling that his attempts were a dismal failure somehow, and that this Princess could see straight through his attempts at a poker face.

"Sasukabe..." Captain-General Yamamoto spoke up, his tone sharp but carefully neutral all the same. "Am I to presume you are conversing with that young lady in some sort of common language?"

"Yes, sir. It appears they are from some sort of European culture, judging by the style of their dress and weapons and armor. Much as our agents that spend time in the mortal world often learn to speak Modern Japanese in order to communicate with Plus souls and modern mortals, I figured that they might learn modern European Languages to do similarly. You remember how I noted how Europe seemed curiously free of both Hollows and Plus souls both, even though we have little to no presence there? It is my guess that these people are responsible for that area of the Mortal world. If my Spiritual History lessons can be trusted, I think I recall a mention of other spiritual realms of Soul Reapers, besides just the Soul Society. We sometimes forget that as great as our responsibilities are, they still only pertain to roughly a third of the Mortal World. It seems obvious that there must be other organizations responsible for the other two thirds of the Living Realm." Sasukabe replied, an uncommonly long utterance for the usually reserved and contained man.

"But if that's true, then where do they come from and why haven't we ever encountered them before? We don't often send agents to far flung sectors of the living world, but we have done it before in the past few centuries. Surely they could not have sprung up in the time since you were last in Europe, Vice Captain Sasukabe! That was only about fifty years ago, during that last major conflict in the Living Realm." Captain Komamura pointed out. He eyed the group of five European Soul Reapers, somewhat surprised to see that other than the occasional curious look, none of them seemed surprised or bothered by his lupine facial features. Plainly he was not the first were-creature or humanoid-hybrid organism they had encountered before. Given that his own race was scarce almost to the point of extinction, so rare that he'd never even met another like him other than his parents in his most distant memories, Sajin wondered what others might be out there, in whatever remote place these strange Soul Reapers came from, that could so inure them to animal-human hybrids that they wouldn't even stare askance at him, as some Shinigami still did!

"Perhaps they will be kind enough to explain this to us if we ask?" Retsu pointed out. "It seems obvious to me that they aren't here to pick a fight with us, or if they are, they want to talk first. Regardless, we would be poor hosts by any standard if we continue to just sit here and talk amongst ourselves. Let us listen to them, and see what they have to say, then once we are better informed, we can further discuss what to do. Making blind decisions is worse than making no decision at all, in this case."

"You always did have a way with wise words, Retsu." Shunsui replied with a lazy grin of appreciation.

"That's the truth!" Joushiro agreed with a slight upturn of his lips. Byakuya, seated beside him, made no comment, but then again, any sort of complimentary exclaimation from him was all but unheard of anyway. The Captain of the 6th seemed to be engaged in some sort of disdainful staring contest with the youth in the golden armor, both men eyeing each other like they'd found the other man stuck to the sole of their footwear after walking through a sewer. Before the staring contest could escalate any further, Captain Ukitake cleared his throat, or perhaps contained a shuddering cough spasm, but once he had everyone's attention, he nodded at Vice-Captain Sasukabe in a dignified fashion. "If you would translate, Vice-Captain, I think it would be prudent to start with some introductions." Ukitake turned to meet gazes with the crimson haired "young" woman.

"This is Captain Joushiro Ukitake, leader of the Court Guard's Division 13, and he extends geetings to you in whatever way your culture finds acceptable." Chojiro translated for his white haired superior. "He will be functioning as diplomatic proxy for Captain-General Genryusai Yamamoto, the commander-in-chief of the Court Guard forces, who will be observing our discussions for the time being. Captain Ukitake is assisted by Captain Retsu Unohana, leader of Division 4, as well as Captain's Shunsui Kyoraku and Byakuya Kuchiki of the 8th and 6th Divisions respectively." Chojiro pointed out each peson in turn. "I am Vice-Captain Chojiro Sasukabe of the 1st Division, and I will do my best to translate accurately and unobtrusively."

"Thank you, Vice-Captain Sasukabe, and extend my thanks to your superiors for their patience and politeness, especially in the wake of our near confrontation earlier. Please forgive my subordinates for their zeal, yours is not the first such foreign civilization we have encountered on our journey, and our past experiences have not all be so polite as you are." The crimson haired woman replied, her voice aching in its melody, the voice of not only a trained diplomat but a trained singer or performing artist as well, harmonious and perfectly pitched to subconsciously relax those that heard it, a subtle weapon more potent than any threat or confrontational declaration could have hoped to be. "I am Princess Lacus DeCirc, third child of his most Holy Majesty, the Rex Divinia, may he rule with benevolence and power for all time. I am empowered with the mantle of Ambassador Plenipotentiary, able to speak for my father with the power of his own voice in the pursuit of my duties regarding our mission. My escorts are Sanctus Dominus Alyster Fane of the Order Squadron, Sanctus Dominus Vladimo Morieth of the Battle Squadron, Sanctus Dominus Mal Elkiran of the Shadow Squadron and Royal Huntmaster Kinkaid Grey." Lacus pointed out the golden armored youth, the man in crimson and blue, Black-Coat and the grey haired man in turn.

"What exactly does "Sanctus Dominus" and "Rex Divinia" stand for?" Sasukabe asked, anticipating the query from his superiors before he completed the original translation.

"Oh, my apologies, I forgot that our terminology would of course be unknown here. Hmm, if I had to translate liteally, Rex Divinia would be "Divine King" and Sanctus Dominus would be "Holy Duke". I would gather that our Dukes are roughly the equivalent of your Division Captains, though I strongly doubt our militaries are at all organized in the same way." Lacus replied with a slight smile.

Sasukabe completed his translation and waited for the reply, secretly all but glowing inside at this unique opportunity to be of service to the Captain-General and Soul Society as a whole. Serving as the Captain-General's Vice-Captain meant he was often overshadowed or eclipsed by his superior's actions, and he was kept busy enough with 1st Division affairs that he rarely had time to socialize with his other Vice-Captain peers, nor did he have time for any but the most critical of missions, so he rarely had the chance to distinguish himself further than he already had by becoming 1st Division Vice-Captain. His love affair with western culture had long been a minor bone of contention between him and his extremely traditional superior, but now it was all proving to be justified, and he was planning on basking in his time in the spotlight, so to speak, even if he was still merely a facilitator for the true conversation. Captain Zaraki snorted in response to the assertion that these "Dukes" were the equal of Gotei Captains, but that was nothing less than expected.

The Princess looked like she was ignoring Zaraki's ill mannered vociferation, but the golden armored youth, Duke Fane, looked like he was about to jump across the table and try and smack some respect into the towering Kenpachi, before a slight narrowing of the Princess's eyes froze him to his chair as surely as if he had been stapled there. Fighting the urge to shoot Zaraki a reproving look, knowing that it would do nothing to change the gruff man's attitude, Ukitake decided to forge on. "Then I would like to welcome you and your escorts to the Sereitei, or Court of Pure Souls, Princess DeCirc. We are the Shinigami, the military protectors of the Soul Society. Before I go any further, is there any particular title or manner of address we should use with you? I would hate to unintentionally forgo showing proper respect to someone related to the ruler of your nation."

"Princess DeCirc is fine, as is Ambassador. Were we in my nation, the Imperium Animi or Spirit Empire, you would address me as "Your Highness", but we ae not in the Imperium, but rather your "Soul Society", so I will not stand on ceremony if that is acceptable to you. My escorts probably wouldn't approve, but I'm sure you're familiar with overly prideful men..." Lacus replied demurely, with a slight twitch of her eyebrow in Zaraki's direction. "I see that you have many questions for us, and I can assure you, we have many for you. But as this is your homeland, it is only right that you ask first. I will begin by assuring you, we are not here in an aggressive capacity with regards to the Soul Society. Your nation is barely even a myth to us, I didn't even believe you really existed until a short while ago. To think, that there are other Crusaders in the world besides those that follow my Father... though you are actually "Shinigami", aren't you?"

"That is good to know, Ambassador." Ukitake replied, assimilating the translation from Saukabe, hoping they weren't losing too much nuance in the translation from one language, to a median language and then into a language he and the other Captains could understand. He made a mental note to have Sasukabe instruct him in this common language as soon as possible, assuming Mayuri didn't come up with some sort of technological solution in the meanwhile. Shifting his gaze sideways a moment, using a hand across his mouth and a politely faked cough to disguise the motion, Ukitake eyed the Captain of the 12th, who seemed transfixed with studying Duke Morieth and Duke Elkiran for some reason. It was impossible to get a grip on what Mayuri was thinking beneath his mask and face paint, Ukitake just hoped the brilliant but often unhinged scientist wouldn't try and turn their guests into experimental subjects of some sort. "Please pardon our own reaction, we were not expecting guests and due to matters of internal concern, we have been on high alert lately. I can assure you, we have no hostile intentions towards the Imperium Animi or her people either. You are welcome to shelter within our walls for as long as you need to, though we will have to institute basic security precautions as a matter of course."

"Do whatever you need to in order to feel secure, short of demanding our weapons or try to incarcerate us." Lacus replied with a smile to show that she considered that to be a jest. "Our journey has been long and arduous, the chance to relax in a civilized environment, even such an exotic one as yours, will be greatly appreciated by my escorts. I doubt we will stay too long, as our mission is not yet complete, but I thank you for your offer of hospitality nonetheless."

"May I enquire as to the nature of this long and arduous mission you are on?" Retsu asked carefully, watching the other woman for any telltale signs of discomfort or evasiveness about the topic. She saw nothing of the sort, but then again, the composed features of the Princess might as well have been a stone mask. Getting a read on her was not going to be easy or quick.

"Of course. It's no real secret. My Father has dispatched my escorts to track down and capture or slay a notorious criminal of the Imperium Animi, who fled from our domain after committing the most heinous crime imaginable... open treachery against my Father's rule, even attempting to slay my Father in his own court! This assassination and revolt were unsuccessful, but even as they were crushed by the Imperium's armies, the revolt's leaders managed to gather a small group of supporters and fled East, beyond the bounds of the Imperium, into the great wilderness domains. I assigned myself to this mission in the interest of facilitating peaceful communication with any third party groups we might come across in pursuit of the mission, and also because I was the closest member of the family to the path the rebels took out of the Imperium, and thus best able to respond. I am a peaceful woman by nature, but I cannot tolerate an attack upon my Father, especially by someone whom he had placed great trust in..." Lacus replied, her face briefly becoming stormy as she related the brief tale.

"Why does this situation sound familiar?" Captain Hitsugaya put in from the sides of the table, where he was standing at attention, carefully eying the gathering of Crusaders, though the table was high enough off the ground that he had to almost stand on tiptoe to get his eye level above it.

"He's right. The parallels between their situation and the Winter War are striking." Ukitake acknowledged. "I don't suppose this was a military commander that went rogue, was it? Someone well liked by their peers? And when exactly did this criminal escape your borders?"

"Yes, he was a military commander. The Duke of Vengeance, Zacharis Vandire. As to his popularity I cannot say for sure, but I don't believe he was excessively social or comradely with the other Dukes. Vandire had a troubled past, he wasn't the sort to let others in. He rarely even took off his helm, I cannot recall having even seen his face in the century prior to his rebellion. Though, in retrospect, seeing as how his face has changed disturbingly from the man I once knew, perhaps there was a reason he kept his helmet on." Lacus replied, after a brief conversation with her subordinates, punctuated by a single explosive "HA!" of derision from Vladimo at the topic of Vandire's social tendencies. "As for when, well, we have been pursuing Vandire and his allies for almost fifteen hard years now. The wilderness domains of the Plus realms are much more expansive than I had ever realized. It feels like we've pursued him to the edge of the world ten times over already, and still he eludes us! But we are close now. I know we are..."

"FIFTEEN YEARS?" Captain Komamura was all but flabbergasted at the thought of the distances involved. Even with their supply train, the Crusaders should have been able to make almost fifty miles a day, perhaps more depending on their rapid movement abilities. Such a pace would take one from the gates of the Sereitei out to the edge of the 80th Rukongai district in slightly more than a week, and that was practically the edge of the world, as far as most Shinigami were concerned. No wonder they'd never heard of, or encountered these Crusaders before, if such a massive distance seperated the Soul Society and Imperium Animi that it would take a half dozen years of continuous Shunpo to bridge the borders! And since Senkaimon gates could only usually be erected between two known locations, one could only portal there if they first sent a delegation of their own across all that distance to set up the receiving gate!

"Excuse me, but how exactly do you know you are close to this Vandire person? What evidence do you have that you are still on the right track?" This was from Captain Kuchiki, speaking up as the Crusader delegation looked questioningly at Komamura's exclamation.

It was the Princess that spoke, but it was Kinkaid Grey and Mal Elkiran that actually provided the answer. "Vandire has a supply train of his own, and we have had several encoutners and near misses with him over the years. We've never been much more than a week or so behind him, though rarely closer than a full day behind either. At first I believed he was leading us on, into some sort of prepared trap or advantageous battlefield, but as the weeks become months, and the months years, I realized he had no greater strategy, and was merely fleeing for his life as best he could, and just lacked the resources to fully evade our pursuit. He was always a direct sort, unskilled at subterfuge."

"But did he not fool you and rebel unexpectedly in the first place? Obviously he is not so unskilled at masking his true intentions as you say." Byakuya pointed out, drawing frowns from the Crusaders.

"Perhaps." Was all that Kinkaid and Mal were willing to concede, at least publicly. "Though we would have thought 15 years to be a excessive time to wait to act while being hotly pursued by those determined to take your head and leave your body to rot in a shallow grave. In any case, we have recently discovered surefire proof of Vandire being in the area, within the borders of your Soul Society. His troops spent the night a few days ago at a settlement about a three day foot journey from here. But you already know about that, correct? Duke Elkiran reported seeing that young lady with the fierce frown exploring the area during his own investigation. Your Soul Society is the first major civilization we have encountered on our journey... everything else has been small holdfasts and wilderness villages, little better than savages or primitives, ekeing out bare bones sustenance from the wilds. There are many potential victims here... Vandire will be hard pressed to deny his troops a chance to loot and pillage freely after such a long retreat."

"So it's this man Vandire that's responsible for the massacre Captain Fon found." Ukitake felt his choler rise at the mere thought. "A criminal not only in his own lands but now ours as well."

"So they say, anyway." Soi Fon replied, suspiciously eyeing Duke Elkiran, who smiled in what was obviously a poor attempt a charm in reply. "Their story is very... convenient. It seems calibrated specifically to resonate with our own recent conflict involving Aizen, a bald faced play at sympathy to get us to lower our guard. I don't trust any of them, least of all that Princess. She's not telling us something important. I know it."

"Know it all you like, can you prove it?" Shunsui replied laconically, greeted only with a dour look in reply, which earned a small sigh from him. "Well then, lacking real evidence to contradict their story, I don't see as we have much choice but to believe what they say, for the time being anyway. Yama-jii?"

"What do you suppose they're chattering about now?" Vladimo commented, not so quietly, to the others, eyeing the animated conversation or debate going on amongst the Shinigami Captains.

"I imagine they're trying to decide whether they believe her Highness's explanation of our mission." Mal replied, keeping his attention fixed on the short captain with the braids and the frown. It was bothering her, he could all but smell the annoyance wafting off of her, but that more encouraged him than dissauded him. An irritated person could be relied on to be less effective than one in perfect control of their mental state. He surmised that she was his opposite number amongst these "Shinigami" people, and idly wondered how such an expressive and impatient person could have ever been selected for such an important position. These foreigners sure were strange...

"Her Highness would never lie! How dare they even entertain such a disrespectful..." Alyster began to protest, his eyes flaring with wounded pride, before Lacus placed her hand on his arm to quiet him, a small smile taking the sting out of the rebuke.

"It's their right to be suspicious, Alyster. We are after all, strangers in their realm. It would indeed be remiss of them if they did immediately believe every word I say. I certainly wouldn't expect it of them were our positions reversed. Time, and our GOOD BEHAVIOUR, will show the truth for what it is." Lacus stressed those two words while looking specifically at Mal and Vladimo, who endeavored to look slightly bashful and lazily innocent respectively, and miserably failed with both.

"Captain Kurotsuchi, you've been quiet." Captain-General Yamamoto said, cracking one eyelid to stare at his 12th Captain.

"Well, had I known you expected me to tender inane commentary without proper observation and correlation of data first, I would have spoken up earlier, rest assured." Mayuri replied curtly, as usual treading on the very line between disrespect and outright hostility with his words and snooty tone. "I will submit a full report of my observations and recommendations in due course. In the meanwhile, I would like to be the first to offer the 12th Division chambers as accomodations for our "guests". We have lots of room in the 12th, plenty of extra beds. Secure beds." Mayuri's golden eyes tilted towards the crimson haired Princess. "There's so much I... I mean we... could learn from a close inspection of these "guests". Yes, a very close inspection indeed."

"Well, why don't we just stab them in the back now, and get the war started off properly?" Kenpachi added with brutal sarcasm. "I wouldn't let a rabid dog stay overnight in the 12th Division. Better to just cut off it's head cleanly."

"Yes, let us run headlong into conflict with beings that have already demonstrated powers equivalent to Captain class Soul Reapers, and, in the case of this "Princess", power beyond anything any of us have encountered before. That is obviously the BEST course of action..." Mayuri rolled his eyes in long suffering exasperation, each eye swiveling seperately in a deeply disconcerting fashion. "Perhaps I should find you a banana to stuff your face with, to spare us any more of your moronic blatherings, you neurologically impaired, unwashed ape."

"And perhaps I should finally cut your fucking freaky painted head off your scarecrow shoulders and mount it on my wall..." Kenpachi made as if to rise, hand going to his sword hilt, a bestial smile breaking out across his face as he allowed himself to be stared back down into his set by Retsu. Couldn't let the clown-freak think he could just say whatever the hell he wanted to. Though truth be told, he was far more interested in squaring off with the guy in blue and red. It would be a long time befoe Kenpachi forgot that mocking hand gestue made directly to his face. He couldn't even recall the last time someone had so blatantly challenged him. Not even that six armed Espada had been that brazen. Dismissive, yes, but not brazen. Kenpachi was used to people dismissing him and looking down on him, for his habits or his past or just on general principle. He wasn't used to being looked in the face and taunted. It made his blood boil... in the way he liked. He hadn't felt this pumped up since his first battle with Ichigo!

"I have decided." Yamamoto intoned gruffly, pointedly ignoring the bickering of his most troublesome subordinates. Though to be honest, all of his subordinates were troublesome in one fashion or another, they were all very opinionated and self confident people, with ego's to match. Conflict between them was not only natural but normal and even desirable, as long as that conflict stayed in the realm of words, gestures and sarcasm. It kept them all on their toes. Complacancy was the greatest foe of efficiency after all. And in the wake of the Winter War, Yamamoto had privately sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to become complacant ever again. He did not trust these foreigners any more than Captain Fon did, nor did he like them, or desire their presence in the Sereitei. However, despite these misgivings, he couldn't just toss them out on their ears either. It would be an unforgivable insult to the traditions of honorable propriety, as these people had not yet offered any true insult or harm to the Soul Society.

Furthermore, if what he was beginning to suspect was true regarding this Princess DeCirc, he wasn't even sure he COULD throw her out on her ear. Well, he could, the option was always there, it was just a matter of the consequences and whether he was willing to accept them. If his superiors in the Royal Realm found out that he'd tossed a fellow Royal, even a foreigner, unceremoniously out his door, he could very well lose his position as Captain-General! Or at the very least suffer a heavy reprimand. It was quite a quandry... in the Soul Society, Royalty never left their secure realm, and communicated through several buffer layers of flunkies. It had been almost two millenia since Yamamoto had seen anyone from the Royal Realm in the flesh, and that time had been when he was ordered to create the Gotei 13! The idea of a free roaming Royal, much less a family of them, was shocking to say the least. For one of the very few times in his extensive life, Yamamoto had no previous precedent for how to handle this kind of situation. Caution was therefore warranted. Best to take things slow, feel his way, rather than rely on his usual snap second judgement calls. The last thing he needed to do was provoke a war between Soul Reaper Realms. That would be absolutely unforgivable.

What he really needed was an emissary from the Royal Realm, because this Princess DeCirc was almost certainly above his pay grade, to use the vernacular of some of his subordinates. Yamamoto was imbued with tremendous authority and autonomity, and in practice ruled the Sereitei in a military governership, while publicly acknowledging the advice of the Central 46 judiciary, he wasn't entriely obligated to follow their dictates slavishly, though this was a closely held secret. They were an elected body after all, while his position was a Royal decree. It had never really come down to a real conflict in authority, as he was content to play along with their decisions for the most part, and they never found out about the times he sidestepped them, so everyone was happy. But as far as negotiating with Royalty, he wasn't sure what he said could really be binding. But he needed to buy some time, so his word would have to do for the time being.

"Princess DeCirc..." Yamamoto said through Sasukabe. "By the authority invested in me as Captain-General of the 13 Court Guard Divisions, I hereby provisionally welcome you and your escorts to our Soul Society. You are welcome to stay for as long as you deem fit, and have full use of our facilities, barring those normally off limits to uncleared personnel. I would ask that you stay within the Court of Pure Souls itself for the time being however, in the interest of heading off any potential misunderstandings before they can occur. One of our currently unused Divisional Headquarters will be set aside for your use during your stay, and I am glad to offer the assistance of the Court Guard in tracking down and apprehending or slaying this criminal Vandire. Captain Ukitake will show you to your quarters for the night. I apologize for the delay, but I have other issues to attend to, so I will speak with you again at our regularly scheduled briefing tomorrow afternoon. If you have any other needs in the meanwhile, Captain Ukitake will act as my proxy and will do his best to procure them for you."

"I thank you for your generosity and hospitality, my Lord Captain-General Yamamoto." Lacus replied with a heartfelt smile, as she stood and made some sort of gesture, dipping her body without actually making a bow, though judging from the reactions of the Dukes, she'd just done the Captain-General a nearly unheard of honor. "We will gladly take residence in your provided accomodations for the night, and we deeply appreciate your understanding and patience. I will personally assure you of my subordinates good conduct while we remain in your homes, and I gladly accept your assistance in tracking down Vandire and his cult while they remain within your borders. Your local knowledge could very well be the advantage we need to finally corner that heinous man once and for all. I look forward to speaking with you again tomorrow, and perhaps then we can discuss more permanent matters." Lacus continued, a slight twinkle in her eye telling Yamamoto that she had figured out that he was stalling for time because he needed to get confirmation on his negotiating powers. She stepped around the table, every motion a portrait of noble grace that put even Captain Kuchiki to shame, offering her hand to Joushiro, who took it with aplomb, though he was unfamiliar with the exact custom.

"Shall we go then?" Lacus asked, her intonation of Japanese still a little rough, but leagues better than she had been only an hour or so ago at the North Gate, without long pauses or misused words. She was plainly learning their language at a frightening rate, and the Shinigami Captains all shared uncomfortable glances, wondering just how much of their dicussions she had overheard and understood. Lacus was far too polite to smile at their discomfiture, but any good diplomat knew that the sooner you could put your opponent on the back foot, the sooner you would start negotiating from a position of strength. These people seemed like fairly nice sorts, but that wasn't going to stop her from utilizing them to the best advantage of the Imperium whenever possible. She had a duty to her people, her Father and her Realm after all.

xxxx

Soul Society, Rukongai District 61 East, January 13th, Afternoon

The sky was so blue here, Lilia Derraster thought, lying on her back in a field of grasses and staring up at the expanse of bright azure, punctuated by small flocks of fleecy white clouds. Not that the sky wasn't blue back home in the Imperium, but it was so often tainted with the smoke of wartime industry or seige that it was rare to get a good glimpse at true blue sky. This was the sky of a peaceful land, and she was taking every opportunity to enjoy it the fullest, because she knew that the days of peace were numbered now that Zach had arrived. At one point in time in her, not that many decades ago, the idea of the conflict to come would have horrified and even sickened her. That had been before Zach had come into her life, or rather her into his, and he had helped strip away the gauzy blinders of ignorance that she had unwittingly worn for her entire previous life. Seeing the world as it really was, a mire of enforced ignorance and corruption perpetuated by a ruling, near immortal elite with no real accountability to the masses, was not a gift. It was a burden, and a heavy one, but it was one she was glad to be able to bear. Now that she could see the world order for what it was, she could finally take action against it, to tear it down so that a better one could eventually come into existence!

Stalks of grasses penetrated through seams in her Ornatus Sancti, her blessed armor of heavy metal plates that covered her from neckline to toetips, with a helm for her head in times of battle. The grasses poked at her, but were blunted by the layers of leather and chain and thick cloth that she wore as padding and additional protection beneath her plate, the additional weight and warmth of the layers all but forgotten after decades of wearing her Ornatus Sancti in every imaginable weather and situation, often for days at a time without taking it off. It was gross, but that was life on the battlefield for you. And better to stew in your own grime and body fluids encased in your Ornatus Sancti than bare your soft flesh to the merciless claws and fangs of the numberless Daemon hordes that regularly assaulted the fortress-towns and cities of the Imperium. Even the irritation of the grass stalks was welcome to Lilia, as there were few grassy fields remaining in the Imperium, most open spaces having been churned to mud and bare ground by innumberable battles over the millenia.

The familiar scent of smoke tickled her nostrils, and reminded her that she had not yet broken her fast for the day, because she had actually had the luxury of sleeping in for the first time in years! It was only an extra three hours, but still, when you were a fugitive from the oppressive elite, even such a short period of rest time was worth her own weight in gold and steel! Their pursuers were dogmatic and fanatical in their hatred, and even after fifteen years of searching for a place beyond the reach of the Imperium and their corruption and stagnation, still they were given no peace! It was beginning to look like Zach had been right all along. They would have to turn and fight, or else they'd never be free! It pained her to have to turn her blades against her former fellows, decieved as they were by the lies of the established order, but she couldn't allow the spark of freedom that she and her friends represented to be stamped out, no matter that it meant spilling the blood of others in order to survive!

Clambering to her feet, taking the time to enjoy the soreness of her body... part of the reason she'd slept in so late was that she and Zach had finally had a night to spend together uninterrupted, for what felt like the first time in months, and they had both been ravenous in their desires, Lilia adjusted the sheathes of her dual blade Arma Sancti, Libertate, one curved saber hilt protruding over either shoulder pauldron, within easy reach of her hands, ready to be deployed at an instant's notice. It was normal for a Crusader to wear their Arma Sancti and Ornatus Sancti pretty much everywhere they went, as battle was an ever present risk in the Imperium, even in the safest cities, but life on the run had made her feel like her Arma was a physical part of her, like extra bones attached to her back. The thought of being without them within touching distance, even while she was in Zach's bedroll, was both horrifying and laughable.

Fifteen years of living on the run had taught them all a great deal about camouflaging their campsites so that they were all but invisible to a casual glance, most of the unit opting for lean to's and makeshift shelters made from tree branches and soil which blended perfectly into the forest, rather than the few tents they still carried with them. They were a band of misfits, the majority hailing from Zach's old unit, the Vengeance Squadron, but there were handfuls from pretty much every Squadron of the Imperial Armies. Lilia herself was formerly of the Order Squadron, though she had been all but officially a member of Vengeance ever since her relationship with Duke Vandire had become more than just evaluator and evaluee. She was all but within the camp before she saw any signs that there was a camp there at all, her progress unimpeded by sentries scattered along the perimeter, everyone within the unit now recognizing everyone else by sight by now.

Though Lilia had held no particular rank while in the Order Squadron, and no official rank within Vengeance, her status as Duke Vandire's lover and confidante had resulted in a great deal of reflected respect and eventually responsibility being attributed to her. She was his second in command, and in truth she spent more time with most of the unit, both in and out of battle, than Zach himself did. She was also his keeper, though no one phrased in that way for fear of their very life. Because the bald truth of things was that Duke Zacharis Vandire, Lord of Venegance Squadron, the visionary leader that would eventually create a new world order from the ashes of the old system, was more than a little bit unhinged. To be more blunt, he was crazy, barking mad even, though Lilia had never actually heard him bark or howl like a beast. Yet. It was a lucid, charming madness, rather than gibbering or foaming or disconnection from reality, but madness was madness, and the only choke on his excesses was Lilia herself. She was the only one who could drag him back from plummeting forever over the edge into murderous, chaotic insanity.

But far from degrading his rapport with his soldiers, Zach's very irrationality and warped illogic seemed to only enhance his charisma and presence, at least amongst those were strong enough to cast off the shackles of ignorance and willful blindness that the ruling elite placed upon their subjects at birth. He was a being completely unfettered by the rules of society and ethics, a purely free entity that cavoted and danced with chaos itself, never the same from one moment to the next, yet always unmistakably himself. Perhaps it was as he often said... he wasn't really crazy, he'd just transcended the limited concept of sanity that the rest of the world held. He was enlightened, and they were still all but blind and deaf to the deeper truths of reality that were plain as day to him. His absolute confidence was infectious, his strength and surety contagious, so that even when morale was at its lowest, one only had to put your faith in Duke Vandire, and one would find all the stength and determination one needed.

Though privately, Lilia was still fairly sure her lover was cracked and seriously unhinged, but that didn't make her love him any less, if anything, this secret understanding between them, this unspoken, unrealized vulnerability only she could see, tied them ever more tightly together. He was her savior and her guide, but she was his anchor, his totem that kept him grounded and centered and focused. Though occasionally their very closeness led to certain conflicts, such as when she tried to reign in certain excesses, such as his actions of several nights prior, when he and a significant portion of the unit fell upon that town of farmers and lost themselves in a blood soaked orgy. Lilia had seen worse before, but not much worse, and she'd made the hard decision, after being nearly thrown through a building by her raving lover, that perhaps this was a battle that was better off conceded before it was entirely lost. It was unfortunate, but if a night of perverse bloodlust would result in a week or more of coherence, then it was worth the price.

Snagging a stick of roasting meat from a campfire without slowing down, throwing good natured insults over her shoulder at the cluster of Vengeance soldiers that had been lounging nearby, cleaning their armor and weapons of blood and rust now that they finally had some free time in which to do so, Lilia headed for the large crimson tent that was the headquarters for the Vandire unit. It was also the quarters of Duchess Lorensol, and sometimes where Lilia and Zach slept too, when space was tight, though thankfully that had not been the case last night. Lilia's opinion was still divided on the issue of the Duchess, whom she respected enormously, as both a woman and a fighter, yet managed to still dislike on a personal level. Perhaps it was just jealousy... after all, the Duchess was Zach's only real peer amongst the unit, the only one who wasn't in some way obligated to follow his orders but could rathe go her own way, not that she usually did. And she knew that Zach had spent the night with the Duchess before, back at home in the Imperium. A necessary diversion, he'd called it, though his tone was unapologetic when she'd confronted him about this breach of fidelity. "Do as thou wilt" was Zach's favorite command, and one of the tenets by which he governed his own life, trying to nail him down in any way was destined to failure.

Tearing off strips of succulent game bird with her teeth, hot grease dribbling down her chin, Lilia nodded at the tent sentries as they uncrossed their heavy halberds from her path, allowing her access to the command tent interior. A folding table was set up in the center of the space, crude maps of the surrounding area placed upon it, held down with wooden goblets and plates, some of which still had traces of food or drink on them. Zacharis sat to one side, or rather reclined on a makeshift cot made from mattress materials looted from the raid on the town, some of them still stained with the blood of their previous owners, which wasn't very hygenic, but then again, blood had never bothered Zach. He was relaxed, his own Ornatus Sancti, heavy plate and chain as was standard for the Vengeance Squadron, stacked haphazardly to the side of his couch. Duchess Lorensol stood nearby, shrugging back into her own Ornatus Sancti, which was patterned after studded leather armor rather than the heavier plate or chain mail, as befitted someone whose Squadron didn't see a lot of frontline combat time.

Lilia suspiciously eyed the Duchess, who was a striking woman, enormously tall for her sex, almost six and a half feet from heels to crown, with a lithe form and long limbs, she had many admirerers amongst the men of the unit, especially with her milk pale skin and white streaked red hair that flowed heavily to her midback. Lilia did her best to sniff unobrtusively, nostrils searching for the musk of sex, but all she scented was the aroma of her roasted fowl. Stuffing feelings of jealousy and mistrust back down into a dark corner of her mind, Lilia dropped to one knee by her Lord and lover's side, brushing her own waist length blue hair out of the way as she proffered him a bit of her game stick. Zach had almost certainly already eaten, but then again, he was always hungry, and this time proved no different. Smirking in his usual fashion, he allowed her to feed him, taking a huge chunk of the roasted bird, the stick itself splintering as he chewed through it. This wasn't hard for Zach, his teeth, indeed his entire facial structure, weren't entirely human. Not anymore.

She was still unsure on the exact details of what had happened to Zach, and if anyone else knew, they were either dead or keeping very quiet about it. She supposed that his features might be frightening or unsettling to those viewing them for the first time, what with the feral cast to his features, and the mouth full of jagged jangs as long as her fingers, and the eyes of solid black with crimson red slit pupils, he looked very much like some forms of Daemon. Which was only apt, she supposed, since Zach claimed his altered appearance came into being because of his accord with his "Inner Daemon", whatever that meant. Monster he might appear and act, he was still definitely all human where it counted. Still, it took a strong stomach to watch those fangs rend and masticate the meat and stick alike, and Lilia diverted her attention by nibbling at the pitiful remnants he had left her. She should have remembered that Zach always took more than he was offered, it was just his way. Give him an inch, and he'd take miles and miles.

Propping himself up on one arm, Zacharis Vandire swallowed the mouthful of meat and sllowed his face to settle once more into its usual expression of a toothy grin that would have strained the limits of his human mouth, were he entirely human once again. Fortunately such a pitiful state of existence was far in the past for him. Cupping Lilia's chin in one cheek, tilting her face to the side, smirk widening as he scented her hidden jealousy all but pouring off of her, he brushed her jawline with a mollifying kiss before rolling to his feet, leaving her kneeling, a bit flustered, at his side. Claudia, the former Duchess Lorensol of the Hospitaler Order, just glanced over at them with her carmine red eyes and snorted, softly enough for Lilia to pretend she did not hear the tone of derision. Personally, Claudia found the little games her peer and his second played with each other to be disgusting and childish, but she refrained from pointing this out. Derraster was one thing, she could kill the blue-haired wench at any time of her choosing, but Vandire was not so easily confronted or appeased when angered.

Slinging her blood red cloak around her shoulders, and tightening the hip baldric she wore her Arma, Cruor, upon, Claudia gave one more perfunctory nod to Vandire, before striding regally out of the tent, to attend to the business they had mutually been discussing prior to Lilia's arrival. She could almost pity the girl, who was caught up in a web of deception and half truths far more pervasive than she could ever dream, but pity was one of those soft emotions that Claudia was doing her best to eradicate from herself. Almost a thousand years of giving out pity, sympathy and kindness to those who took her hard work and that of her Squadron for granted, and then later ridiculed them and belittled their accomplishments, and Claudia was tired of it all, bone weary even! Too long had Cruor only staunched wounds, rather than created them, and had it not been for Vandire's intervention, Claudia had doubt that she herself would have soon been committed to a Sanitorium as her peer and friend once had been. And she somehow doubted that even 150 years in such a hellhole would be enough for her to sort herself back out again, as he had! No, she was fortunate indeed for Vandire's friendship and support, and she would continue to strive to prove herself worthy of his deepest trust!

"Hail, Mouse." Zach commented lazily, as Lilia stood once more. "I prefer you on your knees, you know?"

"And how do you prefer Lorensol?" Lilia retorted, taking a tart tone with him that she never would have dared were other people around, striving not to react to the affection he packed into his little pet name for her. She did not and would never doubt his love for her, but with Zach, love did not entail fidelity, the concepts literally did not match up in his mind. Getting mad at him would get her nowhere, it would only get him frustrated and mad too, and he was much better and being both than she was. And far more destructive in such moods as well.

"She does better bent over the table." Zach replied with a shrug and a yawn, stifling a chuckle at the dirty look the Mouse sent his way. One would think after almost fifty years of being together with him, she'd learn not to ask questions she really didn't want the answers to. Then again, her stubborn refusal to learn was one of her endearing qualities, it was endlessly amusing. He playfully reached out and tweaked her chin once more. "Jealousy becomes you, Mouse. Listen to it. Let it stoke your feelings like a forge fire. Let the darkness in. You'll find it comforting. The night is nothing to be frightened of, when you are the darkness itself."

"One of these days, I'll finally figure out just what the hell you're hinting at when you say such things." Lilia shook her head in exasperation, tossing aside her now empty and splintered stick of roasted fowl. "Unlike you, I don't have voices in my head telling me to do things."

"Of course you do, Mouse. Everyone does. You just don't know how to listen to them yet." Vandire shrugged and gestured to his piled armor. "Gird me, Mouse. I've lounged around enough, I've things to do yet today."

"Yes, sir." Lilia replied, shrugging aside her irritation and helping him don his midnight dark armor, starting with the sabatons for his feet and calves, moving on to the greaves for his legs, then the cuirass for his torso, each piece fitting into place like sections of a steel jigsaw puzzle. "I don't suppose you're actually going to tell me what you're thinking of doing, for once? And why we stopped running? And what's so special about these strange foreigners whose land we now reside in?"

"For once, I am." He replied, though he did not extrapolate further, greeting her dark looks with ever widening smiles until it looked like his bared teeth were going to wrap all the way around his skull. "Or rather I'm going to show you, and assume you're smart enough to figure the rest of it out for yourself. And we were NEVER running, Mouse. Coming to this area was the goal all along. They only THINK they were chasing me, but it is really I that was leading them here. As for what is special about these "Soul Society" sorts? Absolutely nothing, Mouse, save two things. They're foreigners and they are organized. That's all that matters." Armor fitted, Vandire leaned down and picked up his very distinctive Arma Sancti, the Falx Mortis, or Deathscythe. Lilia might handle his armor, his clothing, even his bare flesh, but she would never be allowed to touch the Falx Mortis. That was his and his alone.

Leading the way out of the tent, one hand choked up high on the dark wooden shaft of his Arma so that he held it like a walking staff, Vandire accepted the salutes of nearby soldiers with a casual nod and grin, his mind occupied with matters more weighty than mere formalities, the Mouse striding a careful step behind him, as befitted a Lieutenant officer. It was not a long walk, barely a minute or two, to the far edge of the camp, the edge that led deeper into this trackless forest proper, to the section of camp that he had set aside for "investigative procedures". It was something he and Claudia had devised during their long journey, whenever they could set up camp for more than a day at a time, they would establish an place in which they could study the indigenous life of the area. Currently, they had three specimens on hand, though they'd had four last night, before Claudia had conducted an exhaustive dissection to determine that the native creatures were indeed standard Plus souls, despite their strange outward appearances.

Her merticulously sorted and displayed experimentation results hung from hooks and chains at one edge of the cleared section of campsite, in plain view of the remaining three specimens, who were bound to cruciform sections of wood that hung from sturdy tree branches. Two of the captives, local peasants in ragged and worn robes, were half hysterical, their eyes bulging in their sockets, dirty black hair plastered to their faces by sweat and tears as they panted for breath, their arms and legs numbed from hanging on the wooden crosses all night long, the screams of their friend ringing in their ears as Claudia "investigated" his biology with her fingers and saws and cutting blades and needles. One of Claudia's underlings, dressed in the red and white leather armor and apron of the Hospitaler Squadron, with a tall peaked cap of white cloth covering his facial features, was cleaning the examination table, though dignifying the open frame of branches and wooden planks with such a term was perhaps a little generous. Well, table or rack or bench, whatever you wanted to call it, it accomplished its purpose of holding the specimen steady while Claudia worked her magic.

However, it was the third captive that Vandire was interested it. This one, also a male, wore finer garments, dyed black robes that were apparently the military uniform of soldiers in this realm, and he was less debilitated by his night on the cross, though substantially the worse for the wear nonetheless, as it had taken some doing to subdue him in the first place, since it was always harder to take someone alive than dead. Especially when these soldiers neglected to wear any sort of armor at all, they were like turtles out of their shells, you were afraid to even touch them with a weapon in case they split open! That had been the fate of the rest of the ten strong unit of soldiers that Vandire and his patrol had stumbled across the day before... they all split open when struck with even the slightest force. Striding up to the tree the soldier's cross dangled from, Vandire stared up at the hanging man with a contemplative expression on his twisted face. The soldier grumbled something at him in the sing song language that was prevalent around these parts, his tone both bleary and defiant.

Three lightning fast swings of Falx Mortis's dark grey blade later, and the black robed soldier was crumpled on the ground, his arms and legs unable to support him after being benumbed by lack of blood circulation for hours and hours. The soldier spat something else derisive in his foreign tongue, his defiance soon crumbling into a shriek of pain as Vandire leaned down and hoisted the man first to his feet and then into the air like he was a sack of vegetables, gauntleted fingers digging into the soldier's collar until the bones there snapped like dry twigs, compound fractures that ripped outwards through the man's skin as he howled like a singed Daemon, his skin growing increasingly pale as slippery blood dribbled down his chest and soaked into his robes. Reeling the shuddering man in, Vandire brought them face to face, studying the whimpering man from all angles like he was a suit of clothing that he was thinking of purchasing. Finally, he grunted with both understanding and satisfaction, though grudging at that.

"I suppose he'll have to do." Vandire grumbled, looking to the Hospitaler as he dropped the shivering Shinigami to the ground at his side. "Saw." He ordered, teeth scraping against each other in a grating cadence.

"Now hold on a second, Zach, don't tell me that..." Lilia started to protest, getting a bad feeling about what the Duke of Vengeance was planning. She knew how he thought, and more important, she knew what he was capable of, and those two things combined to leave a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. Not that she was really concerned for this black robed foreigner, she was just concerned for Zach. He was not a good person, and never had been. She knew this. But regardless, the more evil he committed, the more evil he became, it was a vicious, endless cycle. And there was a line that, once crossed, could not be uncrossed, where the Zach she knew would be forever gone, replaced with a homicidal beast forevermore. "This isn't a good idea." She informed him flatly, before being silenced by a snarl of irritation.

"I didn't ask for your opinion on it, Mouse." Vandire replied coldly, as he accepted the bone saw from the trembling surgeon. "This is the only way for my plans to proceed in a timely fashion. Believe me, I don't look forward to it. This... this meat... at my feet is hardly the form I would choose to wear were there any other option." Vandire suddenly backhanded the kneeling Shinigami along the side of his temple, cracking the side of his skull like an eggshell, and knocking the man into a bleeding heap on the ground. Holding the saw up high, Vandire crouched over the stunned Shinigami and pinned the man down with one armored knee to his sternum. "I know you can't understand my words, ugly duckling, but I'm sure you get my drift anyway, so if you would please scream in abject terror now, that would be nice..." he crooned to the bleary eyed Shinigami, as he began lowering the saw blade towards the side of the man's head.

Lilia turned away as the screaming, high pitched and awful, began, soon underscored by the sound of steel serrated teeth biting into bone as Zach scalped the thrashing soldier, cutting the entire top section of his skull apart like it was a melon. This wasn't the first time she'd ever seen her lover utilize this ability, but it never failed to get to her all the same. There was no relief when the pinioned Shinigami's screams at last died away to gurgles, as that was when then the slurping and chewing and gnawing sounds began, as Zach began consuming the brain and nervous system of his selected pawn, scooping pink smeared grey matter from the opened skull like a beggar gulping down vegetable gruel. Soon the sounds of feasting were accompanied by the sounds of bones shifting, skin and muscles sliding and scraping, as Zach's form began to morph into a replica of the Shinigami whose brain and memories he was consuming. His black armor blurred and became bloodstained black robes, the Falx Mortis likewise changed appearance, taking the form of the single edged swords these soldiers all carried. It wasn't quite shapechanging, but it wasn't really illusion either, something of a mixture of both. None of Zach's physical abilities changed, he merely took on the appearance of whomever he devoured for a short time, perhaps a few days at most.

The appearance and at least some of the memories that is, at least enough to speak the common languages of the area and to blend in with a foreign culture without many overt signs that he wasn't who he appeared to be. It was the perfect infiltration power, but the method was so grisly that Lilia detested the thought of using it, no matter how effective it might be. Unfortunately, Zach hadn't been in a listening mood. She finally turned around once again, once the chewing and slobbering sounds were finished. Doing her best not to stare at the ruined remnants of a former Plus soul lying on the ground, Lilia fixed the disheveled looking Shinigami with the blood and bits of matter covered face and hands with an arch look. "You're hideous."

"I feel hideous." Zach-Shinigami replied with a grimace, carefully walking around the clearing a few times, trying to get his stride right, which was tougher than it might seem, given that he didn't want to betray the fact that he was wearing full plate mail when he appeared to be wearing robes. He probably looked like he had a steel rod up his ass, judging from the Mouse's not entirely successful attempts to keep a grin off her face, but such was the price of this method. "Claudia has my orders for the next few days. You are to listen to her as if she were me. I won't be amused if I return to find you at each other's throats over some petty issue. My plans are finally reaching a critical stage, we have no more time for frivolity."

"Just be careful, would you? We need you, Zach. All of us, but especially me. Especially now." Lilia bit her lip, knowing that Zach hated public displays of affection between them.

"Mouse, I shall be the very spectre of caution, I assure you..."

"I believe the expression is "soul of caution", Zach..."

"Perhaps, but since when have I ever been such a simple thing as a mere soul...?"