Ohh, I'm getting better and better at doing this sort of thing, guys!
So... not much to say about this chapter, really. There are cameos of characters from the series overall, including manga references. Kudos if anyone recognizes them!
Content warning: mention of wound care, though nothing graphic.
"I warned you."
Jou had only just landed in the clearing of the Turtle Shop when Yami's calm voice greeted him. He gave a violent flinch, but he did not look over at Yami.
The sky had started growing lighter as the sun began to rise. He'd made it back just in the nick of time. He knew he only had a small window of time before he would revert to being a dragon—with Yugi's barrier down indefinitely, and Yami's Shadow Magic was not strong enough to eat through the curses binding Jou.
He heard the grass rustle and knew Yami was making his way across the clearing. He still would not look at the spirit, however, and turned his back on Yami as he folded his wings over his shoulders.
"I wasn't rebuking you, Jou," said Yami after a moment's silence. "I did warn you of what would await you when you volunteered to go. What happened to her has understandably turned her against you. It was why I didn't want you to go."
Jou turned away and stalked to the shadow of a large oak tree, slumping against it and sliding to the ground. He buried his head in his arms and wrapped his tail tightly around himself. The touch of his own arm contacted his still throbbing cheek, and he felt his eyes burn. Mai's frightened shriek still echoed in his ears at each throb of his slapped face: Get away from me!
"Leave me alone, Yami," he said hollowly, voice muffled by his arms. "Just…just go."
Yami said nothing for several long minutes. Jou almost believed he had gone back into the inn. Then the grass rustled beside him, and aa cold hand gently rested itself on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I knew what would happen if you were the one to go, and yet I allowed you to leave. For that, I apologize."
Jou looked up at that. Yami was kneeling in front of him, watching him with something close to sympathy. For a moment, Jou could see the human soul trapped beneath the shadow magic of the Puzzle.
The door to the inn opened, and both looked up and over. Téa had come out, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The rest of her caravan had decided to leave after the attack of that night; Jou had transformed back into a fully-fledged dragon, and no one wanted to be around him then. Téa had remained behind, however—her fear and concern for Yugi outweighed any threat Jou posed.
Yami did not hold it against her. He was worried as well, though he would never show it—but he knew what was coming that very morning. They had little time to waste. "Jou."
The blond man looked back at him wordlessly, his ruby eyes filled with an aching pain.
"I am sorry for what transpired, and I know all you wish to do is grieve, but I have one last favor to ask from you," said Yami gravely. "As we have discussed, Téa must be taken to the thief's lair. In only moments, this place will not be safe for her or you. I do not wish to see either of you hurt. I'd rather not send her to Bakura, but there is no other place in the forest that she can hide."
"I said it before and I'm saying it again—I am not leaving!" Téa protested, planting her hands on her hips. "I won't leave you to fight alone! Yami, I can help!"
"It is not because I believe you can't fight that I send you away," said Yami curtly. "I do not need proof of your bravery and loyalty, as I have seen it from you in the past. No, I send you away because Yugi would hate to see you harmed."
Téa flinched, her mutinous expression immediately vanishing. She fidgeted in place and twisted the hem of her shirt. "But…what about you?" she asked at last. "If you're right about what's coming, who's going to help you?"
Yami smirked, and for the briefest of seconds the Millennium Puzzle flashed. "You forget what I am capable of. Do not fear for me, Téa—I will be fine."
He looked to Jou once again. "The spell I cast to make you temporarily human is fast waning. Take Téa before the time on it runs out. The less noticeable you are as you travel, the better."
Jou nodded tightly and rose to his feet, holding his hand out to Téa. The girl cast Yami one last worried look before she surprised them all by pulling the spirit into a hug. "Stay safe, Yami," she said, and then she hurried to where Jou was waiting.
Yami watched as Jou carefully gathered Téa into his arms before taking a few running steps, leaping into the air and spreading his wings to fly. He vanished into the trees without turning back once. Yami had no concerns for Jou abruptly attacking Téa, nor did he fear the girl would mistrust him—she was one of the few people who believed Jou had not deliberately attacked Mai.
At that thought, Yami's face darkened.
The attack had been sudden. Yami himself had not seen it happen, as he had been resting in the Millennium Puzzle. He had known Yugi had taken off the Puzzle, and had he so desired he could have materialized, but the events of that day had exhausted him. He had decided a brief rest was in order.
What had drawn him out was the moment Yugi's barrier had been violently broken and the cloying aftertaste of Shadow magic.
Normally, the magic involved with the barrier was supposed to explode and diffuse externally, to protect Yugi from any backlash from the broken spell. It did mean that there was an invisible force that was capable of knocking grown men over, depending on how potent the backlash was, but it never hurt—if anything, it felt as if one was hit by a strong, hot gust of air. The worst Yugi ever felt afterwards was a headache from the amount of magic that was dispelled.
Whoever had broken the barrier that night, however, had known how to use Shadow magic to redirect the backlash. Instead of flying outward, as it normally had in the past, the magic had rebounded inward. Yugi had received the full brunt of the backlash. To make matters worse, the damage had struck a serious blow against Yugi's magical core.
The one thing that had spared the magic caster from having his magical core and his soul completely shattered was Bakura's quick actions. The thief had realized what was happening before anyone else had. The moment he realized it was Shadow magic that was attacking Yugi, he had put the Millennium Puzzle back on the boy to shield him from any further harm. Shadow magic could not do direct harm to whoever held a Shadow item unless it was a Shadow game.
Yami grudgingly had to admit that he owed the thief a favor.
The effect of that night's events were still felt. Yugi's soul had retreated deep into the Millennium Puzzle to heal; Yami could barely feel his descendant's presence inside the item, and the magic caster had yet to answer any of his calls. The damage was not permanent, thankfully, but it would take some time before Yugi fully healed—no number of potions or healing water could undo this potent of damage. Yugi would have to recover on his own. That was why Yami now had full control of Yugi's body, though he could not say he enjoyed the reason behind this newfound freedom.
He watched as the sky above him began gaining red streaks through it, the sun starting to rise higher over the trees. "Red sky at morning," he began softly, chuckling and giving a rueful shake of his head.
He sobered, and then after a moment of reflection closed his eyes and sought out Yugi's presence. It was no easy task. Yugi was so deeply buried in the safety of the Puzzle that his presence could only barely be felt. Yami waited patiently, however, and in a matter of minutes he felt a familiar presence stir briefly in the back of his mind.
Yugi? he called hopefully. The other wizard had not spoken once since the attack, and he could feel the bone-deep, aching pain that Yugi was in. Still, he longed to hear some sort of noise in reply, even if it were a whimper of pain—anything that was an indicator that Yugi was healing and would soon return.
There was no reply. Yami's shoulders slumped. Yugi…
He heard whinnying and galloping hooves approaching. His eyes opened just as the armored men, numbering seven in total, rode into the clearing. This was why he had sent Téa and Jou away—he had known that these guards were coming, as Yugi's barrier had been the only reason they had not been spotted by the prince before now.
In addition to the man directly in front of this group were two other riders, one short and squat while the other was tall. They had painted one half of their helmets, so that if put together they formed a bizarre sort of mask. Another had pulled his helmet down to hide the upper half of his face, but one could still see the lower half and his eyes; one man had no helmet at all and had short white hair that stuck up in a style reminiscent of a broom; the last two guards had their helmets completely hiding their faces. They bore the insignia of the castle on their shields—a black dragon taking flight over a tower.
Yami watched emotionlessly as they filed into the clearing in a semi-circle around the shop. The tallest and most muscled of them dismounted to stride forward. While he certainly resembled Raphael in physique, he knew it was not that man; Raphael did not carry himself with the cocky arrogance this man was displaying.
Sure enough, when the helmet was removed it revealed a black-haired man whose hair came down to his chin and flared out in four spikes behind his head. "Are you really the magic caster who lives here?" he called, sneering at Yami. "You don't look like much."
"Appearances are oft misjudged," replied Yami mildly. "It would serve you well not to underestimate me. I believe it safe to assume you are here for a reason other than to taunt me."
The man did not seem shaken by how calm Yami was. Instead, he straightened up importantly and smirked at him. Yami was sorely tempted to laugh at the sheer amount of arrogance the man was carrying in his demeanor. "By the order of Prince Jean Claude, you are to be exiled from this kingdom. You must leave immediately—that means now, short stuff. If you play nice, maybe even offer the right price, I might consider letting you pack a couple things before you go."
Yami did not move when the other men in the clearing snickered and laughed, instead raising his eyebrow. "Suppose I decide that I am comfortable where I am and won't obey you," he said, folding his arms. "What then?"
Here the man's smirk grew. "We get to play rough with you," he replied, patting the sword at his side. "So then, my friend, what's it going to be? You're either staying or going."
Clearly this man and his companions were woefully uneducated when it came to magic casters. They genuinely believed they had the upper hand, when they were facing someone whose magical potential easily dwarfed their abilities with a sword? Either they were under a spell, or they really were that stupid. He repressed another urge to laugh.
He made eye contact and said, "What is your name?"
The man sneered. "You want to know who it is that is throwin' you out of your home?"
"Hardly. I ask because I sincerely doubt you would be fond of the name I desire to call you, O Pompous One."
The man bristled indignantly, but he recovered his mask quickly. He puffed his chest out and lifted his chin proudly. "They call me Sir Ushio," he said, and Yami once more had to repress the urge to laugh at Ushio's posturing. "So, short stuff? Are you going to cooperate?"
When Yami did not immediately reply, Ushio's smirk grew and he strode forward. He leaned down so that he was in Yami's face. "Y'know, you've got a nice little inn here. I bet it has all sorts of interesting things in it, since it looks like it doubles as a shop. I also bet my men would love to find out what sorts of goodies you have in there."
Yami's eyes narrowed.
"It would also be so terrible to watch it burn, but don't worry. Offer me the right price, and I will let you go and let your little inn stay standing. What do you say, hm?" he asked, and the men behind him gave a round of malicious laughter.
The very first spike of irritation flew through him. Yami personally cared little for the building behind them, but Yugi loved the Turtle Shop. It would devastate him if anything happened to it—and for his sake, Yami would protect it.
"Wretched little fool, you have chosen the wrong time to provoke a fight," he murmured, barely audible. He already felt the shadows climbing around his ankles and Yami forced them down.
Ushio frowned, not noticing the shadows pooling beneath him. "What did you say?"
Yami straightened up and stepped forward, causing Ushio to back away. "I surrender," he said calmly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I am outmatched and not in any position to cast spells. My staff is inside. I am, for the most part, defenseless."
Ushio's smirk grew. "Good," he said.
The men behind him laughed and one of them called, "And what of the shop, Ushio?"
"That depends on our friend here, Pandora," replied Ushio. "Whether he comes back to an untouched building or a pile of rubble depends on the gold he offers us."
Yami shrugged. "This place is not prosperous in that regard. I have little to no gold to offer," he said calmly. "However, I do have something you might be interested in."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Yami gained a smirk of his own as the wind began to blow. The summer months were ending, and autumn was approaching, so the wind held a bite to it. He caught a large maple leaf that was flying by and examined it idly. "I offer a game," he said pleasantly, looking up at last.
The same white-haired man who had called out earlier—Pandora—guffawed. "Like we'll actually play one with you?" he asked jeeringly. "Who are you trying to fool?"
Yami's eyebrows arched and he held the leaf in front of them, plainly visible to all in the clearing. He then crushed it in his hand and held up the gold coin that had appeared as a result. The guards all drew in a collective breath, half afraid and half amazed—it seemed they had finally remembered who it was they were bullying.
"My game will offer you plenty of gold. Yes, dear Ushio, it is real gold," he said, noticing how Ushio was eyeing him skeptically. He tossed the gold piece to the guard, who caught it and began examining it with narrowed eyes. "I would not be so foolish as to bribe you with fake coins."
"I thought you said you couldn't do magic without your staff!" called the stout man, looking nervous.
"This is a different brand of magic that I use, one that cannot directly cause harm," he replied, and the men relaxed again. "So, Ushio, what say you? Will you play my game?"
Ushio grinned unpleasantly. "Of course," he said. He was far too complacent, Yami thought with disgust. He was so certain that Yami could do nothing to him without the staff to channel the magic through. It probably had never occurred to the fool that Yami did not need Yugi's staff.
After all, Yami had his own brand of magic.
The wind began blowing fiercely, catching leaves of all shades and sizes. It blew them in a whirlwind in the center of the clearing; the leaves fell in a pile onto a large tree stump, looking perfectly undisturbed.
Yami gestured for Ushio to follow him and made his way to the pile, lowering down to the grass with a graceful motion to sit in front of the stump. "Come, Ushio, sit," he said. "The grass will not bite."
Ushio studied the scene carefully, but soon came over. Once Ushio had arrived and had sat down, Yami drew out a simple dagger. "I would assume you have one as well?" he asked.
The black-haired man drew out a large hunting knife in response. "What do we need knives for?" he said, watching Yami intently.
Yami did not reply, instead slipping one of his hands into the pile of leaves and gesturing for Ushio to do so as well. When the man had, Yami began to speak.
"This pile has leaves of three differing sizes. The largest signifies gold, the second largest silver, and the smallest bronze," he began. "The game is simple. We take turns stabbing the leaves with our knives, all the while keeping our hand underneath this pile. Whoever has the most leaves at the end wins."
The other guards had gathered round as well, eyeing the leaves curiously. At Yami's words, however, another man drew himself up indignantly. "But that earns gold for Ushio, not us!"
Yami raised an eyebrow. "Your leader plays for all of you. The number of leaves he stabs is however much gold you yourselves will have at the end. I am also a fair player, so the gold he wins will stay regardless of who wins."
Ushio snorted. "That's easy!" he said, looking oddly relieved. "I thought that this would be more challenging!"
"There is, however, one warning I must give," Yami said, and the shadows began circling all of them. "If you cheat in any way shape or form, Ushio, you must play a penalty game. That goes for those who are watching as well, as you all have a stake in this game. This is the only time I will warn you—after we start playing, you will be on your own."
"Yeah, yeah, let's do this already!" said Ushio impatiently, his free hand adjusting its grip on the knife in his hand.
Yami smiled coldly at him, the Eye glowing brightly on his forehead and shadows beginning rise. "Very well then. Let us play my game of Shadows."
"Raphael, you need to rest," Jethro said quietly. "At the very least, you have broken ribs that need to be tended to."
Raphael ignored him, carefully dabbing a wet cloth over another wound Alister's arm. He deliberately avoided thinking about how terrible the wounds were, focusing only on cleansing them as best he could. Alister's eyes were screwed shut, biting down on the leather strip clenched between his teeth as Raphael tended to his arm. A long, drawn out, and ragged cry rose out of Alister despite himself, and Raphael's jaw clenched.
"I know," he told Alister quietly, taking a moment to catch his breath. "This was the last one. Bear with me a little longer—I have to splint and wrap them again."
Alister gave the shortest of nods, breathless with pain. Raphael did not miss the tears in the corners of his friend's eyes, and his heart clenched. It didn't matter how many times he was assured otherwise—it had been his own fault that Alister and the other innocents involved had been hurt.
"Alister needs my attention more right now," he replied to Jethro as he started re-bandaging Alister's broken arms. "I can handle my own wounds."
He felt Jethro's frown on his back. "Raphael, lad, you're barely able to speak without becoming winded. Your wounds from the lashing are infected, and your broken bones could be causing internal injuries. Let me finish tending to Alister. Adias can help you tend to your own wounds—and don't refuse, Raphael. You can't help anyone here if you collapse."
Raphael hesitated. "I'll finish bandaging Alister first, then I'll let you treat me," he said quietly. "I know how to do it."
Jethro stepped forward. "Tell me how to help, at the very least. A second set of hands means less pain for Alister."
Raphael finally acquiesced to the request to help. He guided Jethro through wrapping one of Alister's arms as he worked on the other. He did his best to try ignoring Alister's whimpers at every movement made, but it proved difficult to do. Only when the bandages were finished being wrapped did Raphael remove the leather from between Alister's jaws, his heart heavy. "We're done, Alister."
Alister didn't open his eyes, trembling with pain. When he spoke, though, it was directed at Raphael. "Your turn."
Jethro took the comment to mean permission to start towards Raphael. "Come on," he said, gently tugging Raphael to his feet.
He led him over to the nearest empty bed; it took a few moments of gently coaxing the material from Raphael's back, as dried blood had adhered the shirt to his skin. Once it was off, however, Jethro started on the bruised, mottled, and bloodied skin. Raphael bore it as silently as he could, refusing to distress Alister—in addition to being whipped, he'd also been beaten.
There was one other thing that had been done, but…his jaw clenched again. He didn't want to think of it. He still couldn't fully banish their screams from his dreams, and he didn't dare linger on it. He didn't want to dwell on how badly he'd let everyone down.
While Mai had been recovering from her own ordeal, the group of men that had been with him in the forest had spent this time healing as well. They had been put back on duty within hours of receiving their punishment, as directly ordered by their new captain. Most of them preferred to stay out of sight of both Gurimo and Jean Claude; their new captain was fond of giving them tasks that caused the injuries sustained by the whip to reopen, and Jean Claude was an unpredictable man to begin with.
Alister stayed out of sight of everyone for the most part, often taking refuge inside the stables or in the upper level of the guardhouse. With both his arms broken beyond repair, it was safest for the archer to stay out of the way. Alister was the only man that had not been ordered back into active duty, and understandably so. The small group had limited knowledge of how to help him. Since they were all barred from seeing a healer, they had no choice but to try and keep the infection out of the wounds on their own. So far, they were not entirely succeeding.
Thankfully, there were other guards sympathetic with the group's plight and had picked up the slack in their absence. While nearly three quarters of the guards in the castle were men Jean Claude had brought back with him, the remaining men were made up of forest folk and castle guards who had not been banished. It was these men that were, for all intents and purposes, shielding the small group from being noticed any further.
Jethro frowned. "Raphael, these wounds haven't stopped bleeding, have they?"
"I haven't noticed," came the terse reply. "I've been preoccupied."
"…I understand. I'll bandage your back as well as your ribs. I've managed to clean the wounds out, but this bleeding needs to get under control. You should take lighter duties if you can—we can't have you collapse from blood loss."
"I don't know how we'll do that, since we can't access a healer," Raphael said, hissing when Jethro started wrapping his ribs. The pressure was uncomfortable at first, but already he felt as if he could breathe easier as Jethro continued his task. "We'll have to—"
"Captain! Captain!"
Jethro and Raphael both started at the cry, watching as Corda sprinted up the stairs and stopped in front of them. The boy was pale, panting harshly. He must have run from his post back to here.
"I'm not the captain anymore, Corda," Raphael replied tiredly. "Gurimo is."
Corda took a moment to regain his breath, staggering in and shutting the door behind him. Jethro finished bandaging Raphael before turning his attention to the younger guard. "Corda, lad, what's happened?" the bearded man asked, concerned. "It's far too early in the morning to look so panicked, and you're supposed to be on sentry duty."
Raphael slowly eased a new shirt on over his head. His skin rippled unpleasantly beneath the bandages, but there was not as much pain in his ribs now. "Corda? What is it?"
"The men that the prince dispatched yesterday have returned," said Corda, still gasping for breath.
Raphael frowned. He had remembered seeing the group leaving yesterday for the forest. All of them were men Jean Claude had brought with him back to the castle two months ago, but he had not understood why they were leaving. He had tried asking around, but as Gurimo would not tell him anything he had been in the dark as to what they had been up to.
"They've already come back?" he asked. "That was fast.
"Something's wrong with them, Cap—Raphael," said Corda urgently, correcting himself when he noticed Raphael about to speak. "It's something I've never seen, it's like they're all drunk! But they're gray and…and…their eyes…!"
"Corda, hold on a moment," said Jethro sternly. "Calm down and talk sensibly."
Corda had been about to start speaking again when they all heard it, a burst of hysteric-laced laughter that filtered in from an open window and one that sent chills running down their spines. They all hurried to the window, Raphael in the lead, and peered outside.
The men were looking disoriented in the sunlight, swaying drunkenly where they stood; two had yet to dismount from their horses and blinked owlishly around them, and one had even sat on the ground. Raphael felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise when he noticed that their skin and even their clothes held a gray cast to it. Their eyes had sunk in, dark rings under them. For all intents and purposes, they looked like walking corpses.
The hysterical laughter was coming from one man who had seated himself in a pile of hay, throwing it in the air. Raphael recognized this one as Ushio, a proud man who had grated on all their nerves. He looked almost fanatic where he sat, uncaring of the mud he was sitting in. He had been wearing armor when he left, but now there was not a trace of it. "Gold, gold, it's everywhere," he babbled, a stupid grin stretched across his face. "Lookit, so much gold!"
Raphael recoiled when he caught sight of Ushio's vacant gaze and black eyes, backing away from the window hurriedly.
"What in God's name happened to them?" murmured Jethro, looking horrified. "I didn't like them, but even so I wouldn't wish this on them…they're bewitched."
"No," Raphael said grimly, turning to head for the stairs. He had a sinking feeling he knew what had happened. "They're worse than that."
He ignored the startled outcry from behind him, moving past Adias, Faust, and a couple other men as he left the guardhouse. He strode across the courtyard, although he slowed as he approached the man sitting in the mud.
"Ushio?" he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled when he felt how cold and clammy the flesh was beneath his hand, even through Ushio's shirt sleeve.
The man looked at him blearily, but seconds later he paled. "No! No, get back!" he cried in panic, shoving Raphael away and fumbling at his own side. "Get away from me! Be gone, monster! Get away! NO!"
Raphael ignored the blaze of pain that had come when he'd been shoved. He realized Ushio was going for his sword and backed away, but Ushio's hands came up empty—the sword was no longer in its scabbard. Raphael did notice, however, that there was a piece of parchment sticking out of the front of Ushio's shirt.
The moment Raphael had moved away, the black-haired man had resumed tossing hay into the air. Realizing what this meant, Raphael moved to the man's side and gingerly caught the parchment between his fingers, taking care not to move into Ushio's line of sight. Once he had the parchment in his hands, he unfolded it and read the short message.
He dropped the parchment onto Ushio's lap seconds later, feeling suddenly ill. He knew now where they'd gone.
"What is going on here?"
Raphael heard Jean Claude coming and began crossing the courtyard. He had no desire to talk to the prince right now, still far too angry at him to be able to talk civilly to him. Given his currently precarious position with the prince, he felt that staying out of sight of him was for the best.
He made it back inside just as Jean Claude and another group of guards arrived, and Raphael shut the door behind him. He did not bother looking out the window again. He knew what had happened to them now—he had not mistaken the handwriting on the parchment, the message written in ink darker than night.
"Jean Claude, you're a certifiable idiot," he muttered, ignoring the querying expressions of the men around him. "Even I know better than to mess with Shadow magic."
Mai woke up that morning to the sound of hysterical laughter filtering in through her window.
She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and slipping out from beneath the covers to find out what was happening. She winced at the headache she had—her mother had often warned her about going to bed crying, and now she remembered why.
She moved for the window, opening it and leaning outside it. She looked down into the courtyard, trying to find the source of the noise, and after a few seconds of scanning she located the source of the laughter.
There were a small group of men who were standing idly around, and though Mai could not tell from here it seemed to her like they were drunk. She frowned at that—how much had they had to get so visibly inebriated? They were swaying in place, and…and god, did they look awful.
She heard a door open from a nearby building and watched Raphael make his way to this group, stopping in front of one man who was throwing hay in the air. Mai let out an inadvertent gasp when the drunken man reached for his sword, but to her relief it seemed he had lost it and Raphael was able to back away safely.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw Raphael take something from the other man, leaning further out the window to see what it was; it was hard to tell what it was from here, but it almost looked like a slip of parchment.
As she leaned out her palms brushed against odd grooves in the wood of the sill and she paused, rocking back with a puzzled frown. Granted, the room had been repaired after Jou had burst through, but there was still some sign of damage here and there—and the windowsill was no exception. She could still see the places where Jou's talons had dug in when he had taken her.
Her breath caught when she realized that these marks were far too fresh. They had been made recently…they weren't even a day old…
She flinched at the memory of Jou's heartbroken face from the night before and stepped away from the window. It hadn't been a dream after all. She had hoped it had been, and the tear tracks she could still feel on her face had been the result of a nightmare—not because Jou had come to see her last night.
"You heard it too, then?"
Mai jumped when Vivian appeared alongside her, hastily placing her hands on the sill to cover the fresh marks in the wood. "Yes. What's going on?" she said, recovering her composure and looking back outside. Jean Claude had arrived and with another group of guards was herding the disoriented looking men inside.
"Oh, I suspect that they went into town and got themselves drunk," said Vivian, frowning at that. "I can't say that I approve of that, but boys will be boys."
She cast a sideways glance at Mai. There was something deliberately calm in her voice as she spoke. "And on that note, Highness, care to explain why there are fresh talon marks on your windowsill?"
Mai turned to face Vivian, whose arms were folded over her chest and who was now scowling. "It's from the dragon's attack?" Mai offered weakly.
Vivian's scowl deepened. "Highness, those are recently made. I'm not an idiot, I know fresh talon marks when I see them—and then there was the fact I heard you arguing with a man last night. I know Jean Claude doesn't sound like that. What exactly happened?"
Mai groaned. "Vivian, are you sure you weren't half asleep?" she asked, heading for her trunk to find a dress to wear. "I mean, we all know you sleepwalk and it's entirely possible—"
"For me to have imagined Jou?"
Mai drew in a sharp breath and stiffened.
"I mean, I know I have an active imagination, but I find it hard for me to even dream up a half-human, half-dragon," Vivian continued severely. "And I'm not sure I could have named him Jou, if that's his name."
"…So you were faking being sleepy last night when you came in here?" Mai said, finally turning around to face her.
"Of course. I heard you start yelling and came to find out what was happening. It was hard for me to sleep through it, honestly. I'm sure you could have woken half the castle if you had gotten any louder." Vivian took another step closer and frowned at her. "When you told me what happened to you last week, I didn't push you on what you were omitting because you had just gotten back. You were in no state to tell me then. I'm asking now—what aren't you telling me?"
Mai debated on lying once more. Her eyes fell to the grooves in the windowsill and the image of Jou's heartbroken face once more came to mind, heard his pleading voice that begged her to listen…
I'm sorry, Mai…I'm so sorry…
"Let's take a ride, Vivian. A quick one around the castle, nothing too long or tiring. I need to get it off my chest—I've been bottling this in long enough and I need your advice," she said at last.
Vivian nodded tightly. "I'll help you get dressed," she said, reaching for the sleeveless white dress that was sitting on a nearby chair.
Jean Claude brandished the parchment at the cloaked man. "A poor attempt to capture me, little princeling. Better luck next time," he read aloud, visibly angry. "You assured me the magic caster was taken care of, and that he could not cast spells!"
"I never said anything about using Shadow magic," replied the other man with a bored voice. His eyes were on the group of still swaying soldiers that Jean Claude had sent. "The Shadow Game was clever, the penalty inflicted based on their own greed. It seems he thrives on twisted justice. Magnificently thought out, but the result is…less than desirable. I would have made them Shadows, instantly instead of giving them this temporary state."
"You were the one who told me it was safe to send them!" said Jean Claude, pacing angrily and ignoring the other man's musings.
"I did, didn't I?" came the lazy reply.
"Well where is he now?" snarled the prince. "I don't want this wizard running around, free to cause chaos wherever he goes! I want him taken care of, as you promised me! If you are not capable of that I will find someone else to—!"
He yelped as the cloaked man instantly whipped out a golden scepter, pulling the bottom half away to reveal a blade. The blade was pointed at Jean Claude's throat, the eyes underneath the hood dark with malice.
"Keep in mind that I am not one you order around like a common servant," he said icily. "I may be in your employ, but I care little for you. I'm bored of this game you're playing, put bluntly. If you desire not to lose what little I have left of my tolerance for you, shut up."
When Jean Claude said nothing further and hastily backed away, the cloaked figure sheathed the blade. He redirected the scepter so that the head of it—a sphere with winged projections and an eye on its front—was pointed at the tallest of the men in front of him. The man seemed to be babbling about gold falling all around him, but he was ignored. "Tell me where the magic caster went," he ordered.
The scepter's head glowed. The man's eyes widened before dulling once again, the pupils dilating and his face slackening. "The magic caster escaped into the woods," he recited, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "We lost sight of him. His shop vanished into thin air. There was nothing we could do."
"Fantastic!" said Jean Claude sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm down seven men and have nothing to show for it, save for a bunch of blithering buffoons!"
"Yes, yes, what a tragedy," came the clearly bored reply. "This has been most beneficial to me, however."
"Beneficial to you?" Jean Claude repeated incredulously. "Why did you let me send them if you knew this would be the result?"
The figure grinned at him, twirling his Shadow item idly. "I needed to see what I was up against. The best way to do that is using live bait," he replied, deciding to omit the fact that he had cast a spell on the group to embolden them. Normal guards would have tried to avoid provoking a magic caster, even if some of those men were on the morally ambiguous side of the law to begin with. He had needed to see what would happen if the other Shadow magic caster were goaded into a Shadow game—and the results were in his favor.
If that was the best his opponent had to offer, then there was nothing he needed to worry about.
He paused, looking at the entrance to the throne room. "Your dear princess approaches," he said conversationally. "I doubt you want her to see this."
Jean Claude swore, hurrying down the steps. "I don't care how you do it, fix this! I don't want her to know about these men!" he said over his shoulder, leaving the room to cut Mai off.
He smirked once the prince had left. There was no real way to undo the effects from a Shadow game; there were few rules to wielding the Shadows, but one of them was that no one could tamper with a Shadow game that had already been played. For the men in front of him to escape their penalty game, they would need to solve it on their own or risk becoming Shadows.
He lifted his own item in front of them, his smile growing as the shadows began creeping along the floor and gathering underneath the men. "You have served your purpose," he said, and he sent a large pulse of Shadow magic through the scepter. "Now be good little pawns and disappear."
All seven men abruptly collapsed, as if they were puppets whose strings had been cut. The shadows on the floor instantly swallowed their crumpled forms, leaving no trace of their presence anywhere.
He tucked the item into the specially made holster at his side and then turned on his heel to vanish. Should Jean Claude ask, the men had succumbed to the penalty game—that little fool would never know the difference.
Mai had just about reached the throne room when Jean Claude intercepted her. He was wearing nothing but a long shirt and a pair of pants—most likely nightclothes. "Mai, dearest! How delightful to see you!" he called, hurrying to her at once. "I had feared so greatly for your well-being and to see you out and about does my heart good. Would you like to have breakfast with me?"
"I'm afraid not," she said politely, distracted. "I was thinking of taking a ride in the area around the castle. I've been cooped up for so long and the weather is pleasant, so—"
"Oh, well in that case I'll join you," he said promptly, beaming at her. "Poor dear, I'm afraid I've been a terrible host and I haven't been doing a proper job of being your escort."
Namely because Mai was still afraid to talk about Jou, she nodded. "Very well," she said, feeling a familiar pair of brown eyes lock onto her. "I ride out in half an hour. Join me then."
"Of course!" he said brightly. "I shall change into something more appropriate, as I'm still in my nightclothes. Some of the men got drunk and I had to deal with them."
Mai curtsied and then walked to the main hall, making a beeline for the double doors that led outside. "Vivian, get that scowl off your face," she murmured.
"Don't think you're getting out of this," retorted the other woman. "You get a brief reprieve, but I will find out what's really going on if I have to tie you to a chair."
"I know, I know," she said irritably, blinking against the sunlight. Her eyes went to the stables and she let her vision adjust to the sunlight before she crossed the courtyard. "I can't keep putting Jean Claude off, though. I'm sure that the poor thing might explode from anxiety if I keep stalling a visit."
Mai made it to the entrance of the stables. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the stables were much cleaner than she expected, the scent of hay, oats, and leather masking other odors. "Is there anyone near here?" she called, looking around hopefully.
She was less than thrilled when Raphael leaned out of a nearby stall, an identical frown making its way onto his features when he saw her. "Can I help you with something, Princess?" he asked. She noticed that his voice was a careful neutral, not one hint of his emotions in his words.
"I need my horse saddled, as well one for my lady in waiting. Jean Claude may also want his horse saddled," she replied. "We plan on taking a ride."
Raphael dipped his head and then left the stall, disappearing into the stables. As he turned his back on her, however, Mai caught sight of the same vivid red lines that had marked the backs of the men she'd seen one week ago. Out of surprise, she said, "Those wounds haven't healed yet? It's been a week since your punishment, they should not be still bleeding."
Raphael paused, turning back to face her. His eyes flitted past her to something just inside the stable door, then returned to Mai. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I've had other things to tend to aside from my own injuries," he said quietly, He turned around and continued into the building. "Your horse should be ready in a few moments."
As Raphael left, another man slipped out from the shadows where Raphael's gaze had gone. Mai realized with a jolt it was Alister. His steps were half stumbling, and though she could not yet see his face he seemed utterly exhausted. He must have caught her from the corner of his eyes because he paused and looked over at her.
Alister was wearing an overlarge tan long-sleeved shirt, one that almost dwarfed his body and ended just short of his knees; it had to be one of Raphael's, because she couldn't think of anyone else who would wear such a large shirt. A hole had been put into the tops of both cuffs of the shirt and a rope was looped through them, going around the back of Alister's neck and his arms folded in front of him. Makeshift slings for his now useless arms, she realized.
Her eyes went to Alister's incredibly pale and haggard face, and she took a startled step backward. In this moment, she could see the agony that lined Alister's features and even crept into his eyes; he had let his guard down completely, and she could see the sheer amount of suffering he was in.
In the next second, however, his face cleared. He lifted his chin proudly. "Highness," he said, and though he was obviously trying they could hear the pain in his voice. Before she could call him back, Alister was disappearing in the same direction that Raphael had gone.
"I would have thought that his pride would have been stomped out of him by now," Vivian murmured, sounding as if she was uncertain if she was annoyed or impressed by the idea.
Mai was still remembering how much pain she'd seen on Alister's face, and she did not immediately answer.
Jean Claude arrived at the stables just as Raphael led three saddled horses out from the interior of the stable. The prince was already beaming at Mai happily.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you moving about once more," he said to her. He saw Raphael and waved him over. "I'm looking forward to this ride. Raphael, be a good man and help us up, would you?"
Mai, however, put her foot in the stirrup of her saddle and brought herself onto her horse, completely at ease. Although her shoulder had sent her a "friendly" reminder that it was still injured, it was not nearly as bad as it was last week. Mai had always felt at ease on a horse, and she settled herself gracefully on her mount. "Raphael doesn't need to help me," she declared. "I can take care of myself."
Jean Claude looked visibly startled, while Vivian fought back a smile as she mounted her own horse. For the briefest of seconds, Mai saw a rare look of amusement cross Raphael's face.
The prince cleared his throat and said, "Er, of course you don't need any assistance. Raphael, on second thought I can manage."
Raphael's amused look returned, this time with the barest hint of smugness, and Mai repressed bizarre the urge to smile. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he said simply, hiding the slight smile on his face and holding the reins of Jean Claude's mount.
The three of them had just mounted on their horses when Mai caught a glimpse of red hair in the upper level of the stables. She noticed Alister moving out of sight of the window. Her expression softened and she studied her hands for a moment. "Jean Claude?"
"Yes?" he asked, giving her a concerned frown when she made eye contact with him. "Why, whatever is the matter?"
"…Alister's arms are useless now, aren't they?" she said, glancing at Raphael. "I don't see any benefit in keeping him here in the castle. Perhaps you could allow him to return to the forest?"
Ryou had healing potion on hand, she knew. Maybe if Alister could go back, he could find Ryou or Yugi—provided neither of them had been killed that night. If they were alive, they could have something done for his arms. Surely something could be done to alleviate the pain she'd caught a brief glimpse of.
Jean Claude studied her for a long moment, and for the briefest of seconds Mai saw something that looked strangely like triumph move across his features. Then it was gone, and he was looking pityingly at her. "Of course, I could," he said. "You're so compassionate, Princess…Gurimo!" he called, looking around.
Mai saw Gurimo hurry over from where he had been stationed on the wall. He leaned over, looking down at them. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I would like you and a few men to escort Alister back into the forest. The poor thing can't properly ride a horse with his arms the way they are," said Jean Claude. "I'd like him on his way within the hour."
Gurimo paused, looking at first the prince before looking to Raphael with an unidentifiable expression. "Of course, Your Majesty," he replied after a brief pause, disappearing once again.
Jean Claude nodded to himself in satisfaction and wheeled the white horse around. "Now that that's been settled, let's head on out," he said cheerfully. "Rest assured, Princess, Alister will be taken care of."
Mai relaxed and turned her own horse to follow him. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of Raphael's face and she stopped, staring in surprise—
"Come on, Princess," said Vivian impatiently. "We've got a lot to do today!"
Mai nodded slowly, turning away with some reluctance and following after her lady in waiting. She was not surprised that the black-haired woman was so impatient with her; she was likely dying to know what Jou's role in Mai's impromptu "vacation" was.
Even so, Mai could not shake the uneasy feeling that she had somehow done the wrong thing by mentioning Alister to the prince. The uneasiness grew when she remembered the look of raw fear that had been plainly visible on Raphael's face—and that was really what it had been, because Raphael had looked genuinely afraid when Mai had seen him.
Oh, quit worrying over nothing, Mai! she scolded herself, nudging her horse into a trot to catch up with Jean Claude and Vivian. Raphael was likely worried that Alister would only get hurt worse by the ride back into the forest. At this point she doubted anything worse could be done to Alister, but if he were one of the burly man's friends it was not wonder Raphael was so worried. She really needed to quit projecting the worst in situations—everything would be fine.
The ride lasted for about two hours. During that time, Mai finally told Jean Claude what had happened to her in the forest; the story she told was vastly different than the one she had told when she had first returned. She felt Vivian's eyes boring intently into the back of her skull as she told the story, and she knew she would owe her lady in waiting an explanation in epic proportions for the altered tale.
They had taken a trail that looped about the castle, stopping on a small hill that overlooked the castle entrance; not even ten minutes into their ride Mai had seen a small group of people leave the castle and even from the distance she had been at she had recognized Alister among the guards. He seemed to be riding a draft horse, and she'd been surprised when she'd recognized the horse as the one she'd seen Raphael riding on her first day at the kingdom. So, Raphael had loaned Alister his horse? He probably trusted that his horse wouldn't spook as readily as some of the other horses.
"I must admit, my dear, that I owe you an apology," Jean Claude said, looking at her with admiration. "I had initially thought that you would have been unable to take care of yourself while in that situation, but you had those men wrapped completely around your finger. I must say, though, that bear attack! Goodness, it was no wonder you were so frantic when we found you."
Mai repressed a wince at that when Vivian's scowl deepened. She'd be hearing about that lie later. "I've mentioned it before, Jean Claude—I'm a big girl and I know how to take care of myself. I do have you to thank for coming to my rescue," she said, smiling graciously at the man. "If it had not been for you, I don't believe I would be here."
"I feared the worst when you were taken. My sword was unable to do anything to the beast that took you…but you escaped from it so easily! I can say that it was with great relief that I found you."
Mai's smile faded. Now was as good a time as any to bring up the topic of Jean Claude's weapon. "Jean Claude, tell me how you got your sword. Who fashioned it for you?"
When the prince shot her a startled look, Mai said, "I'd heard a rumor that the master of the White Dragons does not give out weapons crafted from the scales of his dragon. I don't know why, of course," she added, deciding that the man did not need to know that the sword could kill one of Kaiba's dragons. "I find myself curious."
Jean Claude shifted in his saddle, suddenly sober. "I'm afraid I was not nearly so honest with you as I should have been," he admitted. "I was so desperate to impress you on your first day here that I may have…stretched…the truth a bit."
Mai's eyes narrowed. The image of a pitifully mewling baby dragon re-entered her mind. "Oh?"
"Yes. You see, while on my travels I came across a forge that had White Dragon scales in the shop. I know how rare it is to find the scales, so I asked the man to forge my sword from it. I don't know where he got the scales," he admitted guiltily. "As the forge was a shady, seedy sort of place, I felt uncertain in asking."
"You didn't have to deceive me, Jean Claude," she said, barely managing to hide her annoyance. "I don't appreciate anyone lying to me."
"You're right, my dear," he said, looking guilty. "I am sincerely sorry I did such a thing. I feared that you would look over me and not pay attention to me, if I did not have something to show for my efforts. You deserve only the best, after all."
"You know that's right," she retorted, the comment made to mostly cover her uneasiness. She could not put a finger on what it was, but she found that she could not believe him this time. Something about his story was off, and she found that she could not entirely accept the story for being true.
They all heard the sound of galloping horses, even from here, and Mai looked down in time to watch the group of men who had left earlier galloping back to the castle; though it was hard to tell from here, Mai gained the impression that they were fleeing some pursuer. "What's happened?"
Jean Claude looked troubled. "I haven't the foggiest…we'd best return and find out. They act as if the Devil himself is after them."
When they got back to the castle, it was to find the same group of men in the courtyard, looking haggard and bearing injuries. Other guards were gathered around them or leaning out of the guardhouse to find out what was happening. As Mai came back into the courtyard, she noticed Raphael had stayed in the doorway to the stable. He was watching them all with a completely unreadable expression, noticeably tense.
"Gurimo, what on earth is going on?" asked Jean Claude. "I sent you on a simple errand to return Alister to the forest, so why would you—?"
"Bakura!" gasped out the other man, looking pale. "Bakura was waiting in ambush for us!"
Mai felt something cold settle into the bottom of her stomach.
Jean Claude's irritation abruptly vanished. "The Thief King? Tell me what happened," he said grimly.
"We were just nearing the forest and had stopped by the river to take a break. Alister begged us to stop because of the pain he was in. We had no sooner dismounted when the Thief King and his men descended on us. We've only just barely escaped."
"What of Alister?" asked Mai sharply. It had only occurred to her then that she had not seen the redhead amongst the others. The cold feeling in her stomach began to spread. "What happened to him?"
Gurimo's whole face tightened, and he turned and bowed to Mai. "Forgive me, dear princess, I tried to help him," he said, his voice distraught. "But the horse he was riding was overcome by the stress. It took off with Alister on it and began to gallop near the river. He couldn't hold on and he fell into the river. By the time we reached him, the current had already swept him away and…" he trailed off, his expression tragic.
Alister had drowned. That was what Gurimo was telling her.
Her eyes went to the stables, where Raphael was standing. She could see the look of white-hot grief on his face even from here, and her heart clenched in sorrow as she watched him duck his head. Valon's horrorstruck face once again returned to the forefront of her mind, and she felt a wave of sorrow rise within her. She disliked these men, but she'd never wanted them dead… Valon, honey, I'm sorry…
As Mai watched Raphael, she saw his expression shift from grief to absolute hatred when it landed on both Jean Claude and Gurimo. Her breath caught at the fury in those eyes—it seemed he blamed both of those men for Alister's death. He saw Mai watching him and then, with one last hurt and angry expression, retreated into the stables completely. She did not follow him, deciding to allow him privacy to grieve.
It seemed that Bakura had likely gotten angry at Jean Claude for his actions in the forest and was retaliating. It made sense, given who Bakura was and what she had seen of his temper while in the forest. Bakura would stage an ambush on any of the palace guards he found outside of the castle.
So why was it that she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong?
Night had fallen by the time Yami made it back to Bakura's lair. He would have been here sooner, except he had decided to scout out the situation at the castle to get a feel for what was going on. He'd used the shadows to his advantage, as he always had, and hid inside them. Yami had done this once before to find out why Yugi's grandfather had been banished.
He'd already had his suspicions, granted, but he had not even made it near the border of the castle before he caught that familiar cloying taste of Shadow magic and he'd had to turn back. It was as he had suspected—the situation had worsened in the amount of time since he'd last been there.
Ryou was still awake when Yami returned, brewing a potion in his mother's cauldron. He looked up when Yami ghosted across the grass. "What happened?" he asked, looking concerned. "You were gone for some time. Téa and Jou were worried."
"Is she all right?"
"Yes, she fell asleep a while ago." Ryou pointed to the trees above him. "Marik carried her up, as she dozed off near Jou and it's getting colder out."
Yami's eyes went across the clearing, where he could see the outline of the dragon in the night; he largely suspected Jou was quite awake but not in any mood to move. "Has Valon come back yet?"
Ryou shook his head. When Valon had returned to the clearing that disastrous night, he'd been both terrified and angry. Jou had been changed back into a dragon by that point, but that hadn't stopped the Aurosian from kicking, punching, and otherwise attacking the dragon. He'd had to be dragged away, but then the boy had taken off into the woods. He had not been around since.
Yami sighed. "Ryou, is Bakura in the Ring?"
"He is. Ever since the attack made on Yugi, he's been much more vigilant. I've never seen him so worried, though he'd deny it if you ask him," said Ryou, frowning. "He's resting for a change, but only because I made him."
His frown deepened when Yami continued looking at him. "You look like you wish to ask me a question."
"…I'm afraid I must ask you for a favor, Ryou, as I do not believe I can ask anyone else. I need you to run an errand for me—and it involves sneaking into the city of Hermos without Bakura's knowledge."