Chapter 17: A More Subtle War

Wyndham, Midland, 1 Week Later

In the confines of a silent tomb, far from prying ears and eyes, cloaked figures convened on the eve of celebration to speak of far darker matters.

"What a way for the conniving Griffith to cap off his military accolades." one conspirator spat. "Doldrey, fallen into the palm of his hand, and the war brought to an end."

"His ambition is outrageous!" another griped. "Anyone with the eyes to see it can tell. And to be placed on a pedestal so far above his station will give him the gall to ply his power within the court! It is impudence unparalleled."

"Ply his power?" a third interjected. "What can an upstart knight who knows only combat really try in the realms of governance?"

"It may not matter as much as you think." the fourth cautioned. "His popularity amongst the peasants and common people is tremendous. Even His Majesty seems to have fallen under his spell."

"Gentlemen." the man who had gathered them together said, drawing all eyes to him. "According to information that I have obtained through reputable sources, at the culmination of the upcoming festival week, the king plans to grant Sir Griffith the position of General."

The man paused as a shocked gasp ran through his, though highly noble, rather lesser of intellect fellows before he continued. "His majesty will also grant the White title, shared only by the Tigers and the Dragons, to him and his band."

"How ludicrous!" one of the conspirators exclaimed. "At least Lord Julius, may he rest in peace, would have kept his older brother's flights of fancy from coming this far."

"In any case," another interjected, "regardless of his experience, the White title will give Griffith that much more to ply the court with."

"Now," the man said, bringing his fellow's attention back to him, "this means that he is… a bit too bereft of discretion and good sense to survive within the castle."

A small smile on a pallid, hairless face seemingly did little to assuage those who listened to Minister Foss. "But Minister," one of the conspirators asked, "by what means shall we…"

He got no further as Foss, anticipating the question, pulled a vial from the cloak he wore, matching the others, waiting for a moment as a quiet gasp went up around the group. "Antiaris," Foss said assuredly. "Instant death. We will slip this in his goblet when the time is right, and all will see how fallible the leader of the Falcons really is."

Even still, Foss could see the indecision on their faces. "Is this truly safe?" one of the conspirators balked. "If someone were to somehow find out our scheme and take it to the king…"

"You needn't worry, Lord Kirsin," Foss said calmly. "Even if the scheme were to somehow be found out, it would not touch our circle. We will have no direct involvement in his death."

"But how?" Kirsin asked.

"Do not fear what might be."

All turned to the new voice, seeing someone in a stately dress approaching. As she came into the light of Foss's lantern, a quiet gasp went up around the conspirators as they saw Queen Amandine before them, a black veil pulled up from over her face.

"Even if what you suggest were to come to pass," Amandine said firmly, "I would see it settled privately. You have my promise."

Foss watched relief ripple across his coconspirator's faces. "Well," one said, "with such an assurance from the queen herself, what have we to fear?"

"Take heed, you sentinels of Midland's legacy." the queen said, her words hushing what whispers had begun to take root. "With this plot, not only shall we preserve the holiness and sanctity of the nobility in this kingdom, but we shall pluck a parasite from its body before its sickness and subversion should spread any farther. I will not allow this commoner from who knows where to trample upon the glorious history and future of Midland. I swear it upon God and all that is just."

As the others began to murmur their agreeance with the queen, Foss studied her with an intent expression. 'I was aware that Amandine and Julius were in a tryst behind the back of his majesty Adamar. Her support was worth the risk of letting slip Griffith's involvement in the assassination of her lover. But that she would go so far as to lead out in this plan to kill him…'

There was more to it. But what more there was would remain within her heart.

"Now," he said as he withdrew a piece of parchment from his cloak. "Though the practice is somewhat out of style, I have prepared a blood oath, to ensure that none renege on our scheme…"

. . .

As the meeting adjourned, Amandine took Foss's lantern from him, walking alone through the tomb of the Halbrand dynasty. Ancient kings and queens, buried together under stones carved into their likeness, were her only companions. Then, finally, she came to a stop in front of a particular tomb, gently tracing her finger across the stunningly captured face of Julius Halbrand.

'Julius…' she mused as she mourned. 'Your brother is a good king, for his shortcomings. But he has never been a good husband to me. You knew this. I never knew his first wife in any great capacity, mother of his only child. Perhaps she was the only woman he truly loved.'

She sighed quietly. 'Even still, I have stood by his side as queen, faithfully fulfilling my duties for this last decade. As all at home hoped, I entered this land as queen, not as a wife, to give it the stability it so desired after the first queen's passing.'

Her hand gently lifted from his face to the chest where a stone sword was clutched, so cold in the dead of night. 'I didn't love you when this started.' she admitted to herself. 'You were simply a warm body to keep a woman in a strange land from the cold of these stone walls. A way for me to sate my needs in a way that Adamar wouldn't. But now that you're gone… I understand now.'

'I loved you.'

it was such a simple thing, really, but it had taken her loss to realize what she had gained here, far beyond what she ever could have expected.

A fire lit in her breast, glowing large to fill where her love had flickered out as she placed her hand atop the stone hands of Julius. 'Griffith, peasant upstart, I will never forgive you for what you have taken from me. I swear my revenge on you. Not as queen of Midland, but as a woman scorned.'

. . .

The Next Day

One could hear the cheering from the city even as far out as the tail of the line of troops. It was a grand sound that only got louder as the Band of the Falcon, at the head of the column, drew near to the city.

The gates were flung wide open, and the Falcons, marching in ranks 5 across, entered into the midst of the joyous crowd. Flower petals rained from above rooftops and archways, people crowded as safely as they dared atop them to catch a view of the triumphant heroes of Midland.

At the head of the Falcons, the focus of so many here today, rode Sir Griffith, his hair falling free across the back of his chestplate as he rode tall in the saddle. All could hear the chants of his name echoing here and there across the causeway.

But he was not the only one to receive such praise. Judeau looked out in stark wonderment at the crowd. "Wow…" he said. "I didn't even know this many people could fit in Wyndham!"

He looked behind him, and it was rather easy to spot Corkus, lapping up the attention as he posed and mugged for the crowd. And it seemed, based on the cheers around him, that the crowd was enjoying it, at least.

A little ways away, Rickert and Pippin, side by side, found themselves pelted with bouquets of bright flowers, a decently sized squad of children running alongside Pippin's horse to catch a closer look at the massive man as he smiled slightly at them.

Leading her Vanguards, Casca found the attention more than a little overwhelming, often simply staring straight ahead as men catcalled her and, surprisingly, several groups of women called out to her. 'Man, can't this just end already?' she thought wearily.

She looked behind her men, however, as she heard the cries going up around her.

"Look! It's the Raiders!"

"There's Captain Guts! And the Midnight Dragon Daniel!"

"I heard Guts slayed General Boscogn!"

"He's the mightiest warrior of the Falcons!"

At the head of the Raiders, sitting stoic and largely silent in his saddle, Guts looked around calmly at the roaring crowds.

"Man," Gaston said from his left, Anna beside him as they waved to the crowd, "this is amazing! I've never seen such a big welcome for a victory!"

"And from what I can tell," Anna said with a smile, "this is only day one of the celebrations."

Gaston shook his head in amazement before looking over at Guts, the smile on his face shrinking slightly. "C'mon, boss, why don't you try giving the people a wave? They love you! You're the hero of the hour, after all!"

To Guts' right, Daniel leaned forward slightly in Shadowdanse's saddle, his hair, now about as long as Judeau's, pinned up in a simple folded bun with a leather thong. "It's fine, Gaston," he said with a smile. "I'll do enough waving for the both of us."

They continued, Daniel making good on his promise as Gaston studied his captain a little more closely. "Guts?" he asked, finally seeming to stir the man out of his reverie. "What's up? You're spacing out a little. Is something wrong?"

Guts shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, pausing for a moment as he looked out at the crowds.

"Y'know," he said after a moment, "not even three years ago, I don't think anyone could have thought this could happen."

Gaston chuckled. "You've got that right."

Guts looked ahead, up towards the front of the procession, as he remembered what Griffith had said all those years ago. 'I will gain my own kingdom.'

'Nobody but him could have made this possible.'

Guts thought, smiling slightly. 'And everyone's gonna know it.'

. . .

Daniel Theisman found himself gathered with the other captains and commanders of the Falcons as they came, dismounted, into the main square before the massive castle of the Court of White Carnations, festooned with banners, streamers, and flowers as the procession reached its destination.

The king, who had ridden out before them, stood on a raised platform, the queen and Charlotte at his sides. They waved graciously, and Daniel noted, even from here, how excited Charlotte became when she saw Griffith, placing her hand around what he was sure was a necklace as she waved a little more vigorously.

The commanders and captains of the Band of the Falcon, the White Dragons, the White Tigers, and the Capital Garrison, stood at attention as their soldiers surrounded the courtyard.

The king, resplendent in royal finery, raised his hands, and the cheering crowds fell silent after a moment. "Sons and daughters of Midland," he began, "today marks the beginning of our celebration of triumph. For we have now driven the houses of the Tudor Empire out of our lands!"

A cheer went up, the soldiers shouting a salute before the king continued. "Even now, the new High King of the Tudors sends an envoy to broker a peace that I will ensure will last a generation for every year this war has lasted!"

As the king continued, Daniel began to tune him out as he stretched out invisible fingers, the Frames of his soul growing like branches as he searched for the information he needed. It was a mostly noble retinue that was present, so it made the search easy. They wouldn't even know he was there. He paused for a moment as he digested a piece of information that would likely be quite useful for later, then continued his search.

Finally, as the king's speech concluded with one last cheer, Daniel, satisfied, reined in his Frames as the crowd began to disperse for the festivities. He looked around for a moment, finding Anna with the group of the Raiders that she had command over. "Anna," he said as he walked over. "Can I have a moment with you?"

Anna nodded and excused herself from her comrades. "What do you need?" she asked as they walked towards somewhere a little quieter and slightly more secluded.

"I have something in mind for what's coming up for us commanders in the Falcons," Daniel said with a smile as he gave Rhia the information that he gathered. "And with the royal celebration occurring at the end of the week, we should have plenty of time to practice before we take it to the others. Along with some other interesting news."

Anna arched a brow, then smiled slightly. "Yes. How interesting."

Daniel grinned in return. "Indeed it is."

. . .

3 Days Later

As the festivities progressed, far beyond the sight of Griffith, so easily framed in the window, a queen and her compatriots considered the Falcon's merrymaking with shadowed eyes and hearts.

"How go the preparations?" Queen Amandine asked.

"Everything is in its place, majesty." one of her subordinate nobles assured her.

She hummed quietly, considering the answer for a moment. "If all goes well," she said after a moment. "We should hold a banquet. In memoriam of his doomed cause."

As the gathered conspirators whispered amongst each other, Foss pondered silently. 'What an irony. The white falcon of the battlefield will meet his death here in the stone walls of this birdcage. What a small mercy it is that he dies in the greatest moment of his life.'

Foss mused on the poetic nature of it all before the conversation around him faltered with the clacking of footsteps. All turned to see what was clearly a palace guard, dressed in his best finery, approaching them. "Minister Foss." the man called out, setting the men around him to murmur.

"What is it?" Foss asked, hiding his puzzlement at the disturbance as he usually did, keeping a calm air about him.

The guard held out a scroll of parchment, bound with a ribbon kept in place with a blank seal. "This is addressed to you, sir."

"Who sent this message to me, pray tell?" Foss said as he took the parchment and stepped aside, opening it with an arched brow.

The guard shrugged slightly. "I only received it from one of the ladies of the court. She couldn't say who the original sender was."

Foss opened the parchment, scanning the words of the message quickly. Finally, as he reached the end of the message, his eyes went wide as shock slipped past his blase facade.

He stifled the shout he would have given in any other place, but it did not stop the others from noting his blatant emotions.

"Minister Foss." the queen said as she parted the whispering nobles. "What is the matter?"

Foss tried his best to compose himself, chuckling even as he did so uneasily. "Ah. N-no, Your Majesty. It is… it is nothing to concern you or this plot."

He took a deep breath. "However, I must excuse myself. I apologize, but a personal matter has arisen. Good day to you."

As he left the undoubtedly suspicious group behind him, stalking towards home, Foss turned the words he'd read over in his mind. The revelation. The things he was demanded to do. The threat that capped it all off. 'Why? How? How did this happen?' he seemed to shout within himself at the all-too-crafty man, the near god, that had done this, his face twisting in rage. 'You bastard. You bastard!'

. . .

As the day began to turn to dusk, Guts, Casca, Griffith, and the other unit commanders of the Band of the Falcon shared much the same confusion at being called to the quiet, out-of-the-way tavern that Daniel and Anna had directed them to.

As they found it and entered, they found the place strangely empty considering the festivities going on, still well-lit, with a space in the center of the room cleared of tables and benches. Sitting on one of the benches were the two soldiers in question, standing as the group approached. On another bench, half a dozen other Falcons, instruments in hand, stood to attention as well.

"Commander," Daniel said, "Captains. I appreciate your coming here on such short notice and sparse information."

"What'd you promise to clear a place like this out in the middle of a party?" Corkus said as he looked around.

"Absolutely nothing." Anna smiled slightly. "The perks of being a Falcon at the moment are many and varied things."

"Which doesn't exactly tell us why you brought us here," Griffith said as he stepped into the open circle. "What did you go so far as to plan behind our backs?"

Daniel smiled as he stepped forward. "Well, sir, as I'm sure all of you remember, the penultimate celebration this week is going to be a royal ball at Primrose Hall. With that reconnaissance knowledge in mind, as good soldiers must, we're here to train you for a very different kind of maneuvering than you might be used to for the coming moment."

He paused for dramatic effect, his smile widening as his arms did much the same. "We're here to teach you… how to dance."

. . .

It had been a remarkably strange affair for most of the Falcons involved, a shuffling of feet momentarily stepped on for all parties involved. As Anna was the only other woman there, and the only other dance teacher, most of the Band's commanding officers went to her, Casca the only one to dance with Daniel as their fellow Falcons played, as best they could, the sort of music that a dance such as what was waiting for them in Primrose Hall.

It was a rather interesting study, to see the officer's varied reactions as they practiced for the next two nights. Pippin, most surprisingly, was the most relaxed and at ease with the lesson, picking up the movements with a skill that his size belied. The next calmest was Judeau, glancing over at Daniel and Casca as he picked up what Daniel was doing with some speed. Griffith, his expression usually more curious than anything, was a little more stilted, a little more forceful at first, but soon enough settled into the partnered movements needed to really show off his agility and inherent grace.

Which left Corkus, Rickert, Guts, and Casca in a rather amusing competition for the most flustered. Rickert, young as he was, was simply shy at first, needing a little encouragement to come out of his shell and relax. Corkus covered his anxieties with bluster, leading to some rather… interesting debates between him and Anna.

As for both Guts and Casca… well, they simply remained largely silent, muttering apologies as they stepped on feet and faltered from the moves their partners made. Both Daniel and Anna bore the mistakes and blushes, from all of them, with a patient calmness, honing the Falcons they taught into forces that would impress any nobleman or lady of the court.

Now, here on the last night before they would adjourn the classes, there was one final matter to be settled.

"So," Daniel said as he faced the sitting officers, "you've come remarkably far in the last two days. I'd say any nobleman looking to scorn you for not knowing what to do is going to really put himself to the test."

"But," he continued, "there's one last thing that we should get you used to; switching partners. Many court dances have rings or patterns where one dance partner passes on to another in the line, making things just that little bit more complicated."

"As they like to do, it seems," Judeau said with a roll of his eyes, eliciting a chuckle from the gathered Falcons.

"Indeed, Judeau. So, Anna and I will be one of the couples, which means we'll need one more to show you what to do."

He paused for a moment, scrutinizing the officers before them for a moment before smiling slightly. "Guts, Casca, care to join us?"

Guts and Casca looked at each other as both Judeau and Corkus began to chuckle, one more softly than the other, then looked back at Daniel. "C'mon." Guts said. "Why not Pippin? He seems to have this down pretty decently."

"So do you," Daniel said pointedly. "Much as you might think otherwise. Come on. I promise it's simple enough. And the last thing any of the court needs to see on the faces of the makers of its triumph is hesitation. Especially when there are ways to use it against us."

Guts and Casca shared another glance, then both sighed as they stood. "You can do this, Captain," Rickert said with a wide, confident smile. "We'll show those stuffy nobles once we're done here."

Guts smiled slightly as he shook his head, turning to face Anna as Casca partnered up with Daniel. "I'll try not to step on your toes too much on the way out," he said as glibly as he could grumble.

"And I'll try not to step on yours," Anna replied with a slight grin as they began.

It was a little difficult to properly show how the dances worked with only four dancers, but the point largely came across as Casca once again shifted over to Daniel, letting go of Guts only a little less hesitantly than she had the last few times.

Daniel smiled slightly. "Well done. You're doing great."

"Doesn't always feel like it." Casca sighed. "And I'm going to have to do all this in a dress, too. Are you sure we need to go to all this trouble?"

"Think of it this way," Daniel said after a moment, and another switch, allowed them to talk again. "This is simply the way one maneuvers on the battlefields of the social life of the court. I just happen to be your drill sergeant for the upcoming battles."

Casca rolled her eyes. "Hell of a battlefield. At least I only have to worry about shutting up the other man in front of me on an actual field. Now I have to worry about them being as chatty as you are."

"No, sadly," Daniel said with a sympathetic grimace. "You'll have to worry about them being worse."

After a moment more, Daniel gestured back to their little orchestra of Falcons, the 'dance', as it were, ending. "Well done, Guts and Casca. Any of the rest of you think you need a go at it?"

Judeau shook his head. "I think we get the idea. And besides, we'll have plenty of other people to copy whenever we go to the dance, right?"

"A fair point as well," Daniel said. "Well, I won't keep you all any longer. I believe we've taught you everything we can. And I'd hate to keep you from tomorrow's festivities as I have these last few days."

Corkus was the first to stand. "Alright. See you all at the ball. I've got some beer to have and ladies to impress."

It only took a little while longer for the others to begin making their way from the tavern. As the tavern soon emptied, Daniel took a deep breath. "Alright," Daniel said as the door shut on them. "I think it's time to get things in order for the end of the week."

The words brought with them a serious air, for an all too serious task. "Are you ready?" Rhia said.

"I have to be," Daniel said matter-of-factly. "Everyone's lives depend on it."

"Not for that," Rhia said. "Are you ready to lie to the others? To Casca? To Guts? When the truth of it would mean losing their trust in you forever? Even gaining their enmity?"

Daniel was silent for a moment, sighing quietly. "For their sakes… it is a price I am willing to pay."

. . .

Walking into the not-so-quiet night, Guts regarded the celebration around him with a rather distant air. It felt… strange, seeing all this craziness be about something they did. A battle that they won. Was it all really this important?

'And what does it change, really?' he mused. 'Peasants are still gonna work in the fields, the nobles are going to do… whatever the hell they do, and soldiers still have to keep watch at night.'

"Guts?"

He looked back at Griffith. "Yeah?"

"Could I speak to you alone for a moment?" Griffith continued.

He looked at the others, who looked only slightly confused, before he shrugged. "I guess. I'll catch up to you guys later."

The pair paused, allowing the others to go on their way, as Guts regarded Griffith intently. "So, what do you need?"

"I need your help once again," Griffith said levelly.

A frown darkened Guts' face as he stepped towards Griffith. "Look, if you're asking me to knock off some other lord who's pissed you off…" he said rather menacingly.

Griffith raised his hands placatingly. "Nothing so serious as that, I promise. I simply… have some loose ends that will need to be tied up at the end of the week. Unscrupulous fellows who might try and sully our plans as we advance for their involvement with me. If I could have managed without them, I would have. But I cannot be everywhere at once. Please, allow me to explain further."

Guts consider the commander before him. The man who trusted him this far. 'If he's learned from what happened last time… what am I thinking? Of course, he has. We wouldn't be here if he didn't.'

Guts sighed quietly. "Alright. What's going on?"

. . .

Daniel and Anna walked together back to the Band of the Falcon's new barracks, a prime spot in the military district of the city that was likely sitting empty as the Falcons took part in the city's festival, silently contemplating what they were preparing for. As they drew close to the massive, stone hall, someone emerged from behind a raised tree bed, looking at them expectantly in the light of his lantern.

Daniel blinked in some confusion. "Minister Foss? How can I help you?"

"May we speak in private for a moment?" Foss said, clearly anxious as he glanced between Daniel, Anna, and around him at the silent courtyard.

Daniel was silent for a moment, then nodded at Anna. "Go ahead. I'll catch up to you later."

Anna nodded, walking into the barracks and leaving them alone in the courtyard.

"How may the Midnight Dragon be of service to you, Minister?" Daniel asked levelly.

"It's…" again, Foss glanced around himself. "It's Griffith. That… that bastard has taken my family hostage."

Daniel's brows arched. "What for?" he asked.

"My cooperation. My complicity. I…" Foss paused, his cheeks flushing as if he'd somehow spilled a secret. Or at least came close to it.

"Were you planning on betraying the Falcons?" Daniel asked coolly.

"No! No." Foss said hurriedly. " I promise, I had no intentions for you or your compatriots. Only Griffith."

"And yet, I feel that your work alone wouldn't have earned the ire of Griffith such as you seem afraid of," Daniel said. "Who else could you be working with?"

"Does it matter to you that much?" Foss said. "I didn't come to you to have you act like a priest. I just need my family freed. They're at my manor out southwest of the city. Can you free them?"

Daniel was silent for a moment, considering his options. "Your timing is uncanny, Minister." he finally said after a moment. "Be patient, for now. Your family will be out by week's end. And perhaps both our goals will be fulfilled."

. . .

Primrose Hall, The Next Evening

The Primrose Hall, the gathering place of nobility, was awash with people tonight, those of high birth coming from all corners of the Kingdom of Midland to make their celebrations, in their way, concerning the end of the war.

The music of the orchestra played softly at the moment, the royalty mixing and mingling and, as seemingly always, scheming to better their positions in the coming peace.

One of the noblewomen gossiping near the entrance to the grand hall noticed from the corner of her eye as the doors opened, and even in their new finery, the new guests were unmistakable. "Ah," she said, calling the attention of her friends, "the delegation of the Band of the Falcon is here."

The news spread like wildfire, all eyes turning to regard the well-dressed group of people that, like a whirlpool, drew everyone towards them. Most whispered of their victory at Doldrey, how the strategy of Griffith stole out the whole fortress from under its defenders. Others had less charitable things to say to their compatriots, some by far.

But most whispers went unheeded by the 7 people who now looked around the Primrose Hall, largely in wonder.

"Well," Judeau said softly, "I see where all the tax money's gone now."

"Mostly into the ceiling paintings, I would imagine," Pippin said softly, almost to himself. "Detail never comes cheap."

"Doesn't make it any less gaudy." Guts grumbled.

"C'mon, Rickert," Corkus said, "stick out your chest. Shoulders back. You'll look more confident."

As the group began to draw those around them towards them, Corkus chuckled softly. "But you know what? Now it feels like we really made it."

"Yeah…" Rickert said. "It's like standing in a fairy tale. Or a dream. If I hadn't joined Griffith… I don't think I would have ever dreamed this big."

"You said it." Judeau chuckled.

It was all anyone could say before a host of young ladies came forward and surrounded Griffith, pushing the others out of the circle as they wished him well and asked him to regale them with tales of the front.

"Oh, please," Griffith said with a slight smile and a chuckle. "Such stories must sound barbaric, not meant for halls like this and fair sorts as you are."

"Oh, no!" one of the ladies insisted. "What tales I've heard have been invigorating! Please, do tell."

The others watched Griffith deftly deal with those who surrounded him. "Would you look at that," Judeau said. "He's a natural already."

He looked back at Daniel, thus far silent. "Think you can match him?" he said with a slight smile.

Daniel chuckled. "Once, a long time ago, maybe."

"Well, I hope he doesn't hog all the attention," Corkus said. "Winning a war's a group effort, y'know?"

Almost as if answering a prayer, one woman, then another, approached them. "Say," the first asked Corkus, "you must be one of the commanders of the Band of the Falcon, am I correct?"

"Well," Corkus said suavely as he took off the rather stylish hat he wore, "that is correct, my lady."

"Ah," the first lady's compatriot said, "you must be very skilled to make it into the high ranks of Lord Griffith's forces."

As Corkus began to converse with the ladies, Guts looked around, taking in the sights of the hall. To one side, he saw a rather strangely dressed group of old men conversing with one of the nobles. 'Probably that papal delegation or whatever the king talked about at the beginning of the week.' he mused.

Standing behind them were two men and a woman. The men were dressed as he would have expected. The woman, however, wore a cloak and pants. And, most prominently, all three had ornate, probably largely useless side swords strapped to their belts.

The woman, her hair done up in strange twin pigtails, glanced over at him, meeting his gaze with piercing blue eyes. 'Now who are you?' Guts couldn't help but wonder.

"You must be the Raider Captain Guts."

His attention was drawn to the woman that now spoke to him quite closely. And the seeming ocean of young women that now appeared to surround him. "Is it true that you slew a hundred men all by yourself?" one asked.

"Not all by himself." Guts heard from behind him, looking to see Daniel making his way over to him, a fact that he found himself profoundly grateful for. "The number was a little over 150, from our last count. And being the fair sport that I am, I helped make sure that the hundred he decided to hold off was just that number, as he promised. Or as close as we could make it, anyway."

The collected women around him gasped slightly. "Oh." one said. "And you're Sir Theisman, the Midnight Dragon."

Daniel nodded slightly. "Indeed I am." he paused for a moment as he put a hand on Guts' shoulder. "One thing that he deserves all the credit for, however, is his riveting duel with General Boscogn. He even ensured the safety of young Lord Adonis as he fought."

The murmurs of appreciation and admiration were getting to be a little much. The little brushes of hands and skirts across his arms and legs built up and up and up, the crowd of women beginning to feel like a vice around him.

Finally, it became too much as Guts began to, as gently as he could, extract himself from his current situation. "Please," he said almost as an afterthought, "excuse me. You guys take care of this right now."

As he walked away, many of the women, at least those not distracted by the other members of the Band around them, looked after Guts with some confusion. "Did we say something wrong?" one asked Daniel.

Daniel shook his head. "Not at all. He simply needs some time to adjust to strange new environs, and this ballroom is as strange and new as any place could be. So it's been since he was but a boy."

"You knew Captain Guts as a boy?" another lady of the court gasped, drawing their attention back to him.

Daniel smiled slightly. "I'm proud to say that I raised him as best I could, and I continue to be proud of the man that he's become."

Guts, looking back and finding himself very grateful that Daniel had managed to distract the seeming horde of interested ladies, took an exhausted seat. "Man." he sighed wearily as he looked up at the ceiling. "You've got to be kidding me."

He took a brief rest for a few minutes, glancing around himself from time to time, his gaze caught for a moment by a group of noblemen speaking to a young lady who was clearly not into them. 'Nobody's able to take a hint here, are they?' he said as he scoffed, looking away as he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Hey, c'mon."

Guts opened his eyes to see… Casca. Wearing a very fine white and gold dress. His brain seemed to stutter for a moment as he took in the rather shocking sight. He knew that she and Anna were coming along later, but… had it been that long already?

"Could I get a little help here?" Casca continued in a low near-whisper. "These noble prodigal sons keep pestering me. You can keep them off me for a little while, I'm sure."

"Uh…" Guts managed to artfully say as Casca grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Come on!" she said as she nearly pulled him out of one of the nearby doors and into the night.

. . .

As all this transpired, two men watched from the sideline, keeping an eye especially on those who looked darkly in Griffith's direction.

"I swear," Owen said, "if some of them had their side swords, I could see one of them trying something very uncouth."

Laban shook his head. "Not here, in the light. Not when even they recognize how important the Band of the Falcon's strength and capabilities are to tonight's celebration. No one can doubt that they've answered the prayers of this nation."

Owen hummed slightly. "I must say, you have excellent foresight, advocating for Griffith as you have. I would be wise to stake out a share myself, so to say."

"And here I thought you derided the sort of statesmen that surround us, Owen," Laban replied with a quiet chuckle. "But perhaps that's the sort of mind we need to have these days."

Laban paused as he swept his gaze around the congregation of nobles. "The war ends with the blessing of the Holy See tonight. Would that the peace that follows lasts as long as the king promises, but now, we soldiers will have to find another way to survive in this resplendent battlefield."

His gaze settled on Griffith, still surrounded by those who hoped to become his peers. "And that can be said of the man who brought this peace as much as any of us. At least we can slip by mostly unnoticed. He is too conspicuous to have such peace. The more radiant the light, the darker the shadows around him."

"He'll have to find a way to deal with those shadows if he's wise," Owen said with a shrug. "Otherwise, like you said… he won't last long."

"If his acumen on the field is any indication," Laban said quietly, "he may already have."

. . .

Daniel, finally able to disentangle himself from the ladies that he'd distracted from Guts, made his way over to one of the far walls, towards the three people he'd least expected to be here.

The young man and woman, along with a stout man, stood a little apart from the festivities, most giving them a wide berth. The young woman was the first to notice him, regarding him intently as he stopped before them. "I am not here to dance, sir," she said curtly. "Find another partner."

"I have no intention of dancing at the moment," Daniel replied. "I simply found it interesting to find a woman such as yourself armed at a celebration of peace."

"Myself and my retinue are guards of the Holy See's delegation." the woman replied. "We are simply fulfilling our duty."

"And may I ask the name of such dutiful stewards?" Daniel asked with an arched brow.

The woman glanced towards the younger, thinner man beside her, dressed in green, who regarded her with slightly narrowed, almost bored-looking eyes for a moment before he shrugged.

The woman rolled her own eyes as she regarded Daniel again. "I am Commander Farnese Di Vandimion of the Holy Iron Chain Knights, the premier force of the Holy See. With me is Lieutenant-Commander Azan," she nodded to the stout man with a thick, dark mustache connected to muttonchops, "and my second, Sir Serpico."

Daniel nodded. "Well met, Commander Vandimion, Sir Azan, Sir Serpico."

As the two men nodded silently, Farnese regarded him intently. "You seem rather at ease with the idea of a woman at the head of a military force."

"My commanding officer is a woman as well." Daniel shrugged. "Lady Casca is not one to be trifled with, as I'm sure some noblemen here will soon come to find out."

Farnese frowned. "Lady Casca? Are you of the Band of the Falcon?"

Daniel smiled slightly. "Indeed. Lieutenant Daniel Theisman, at your service."

"Sir Theisman?" Serpico, his voice soft even here in the susurrus of the hall, said, a brow arching under a mop of almost pale blond hair. "The Midnight Dragon? Your deeds alongside the Band of the Falcon, and even before then, made their way even to the city of the Holy See."

Daniel sighed quietly. "As always, my reputation seems to run ahead of me like some excited dog. I am hardly an object worthy of worship, and I think I will find my fill of deference and kowtowing soon enough. Please, let us just converse, as one soldier to another."

The humility seemed to catch the trio somewhat off guard. "So," Azan finally said with a deep voice that was naturally loud enough for the battlefield, "tell me, what is life in the company of the Band of the Falcon like? That they are sent seemingly by God is apparent, as is His favor for Midland in sending such… angels as they seem to be regarded."

Daniel sighed, smiling slightly. "Frankly, it is likely somewhat different than you might expect. They are young, all of them. Idealists. Dreamers, following in the wake of Sir Griffith, with a dream of his own. Indeed, I might be one of the oldest people in their camp."

"What led you to join them, then?" Serpico asked. "Did they seek you out for your fame? Your skills?"

Daniel chuckled. "No. Largely, at first, they came for my money. Or at least, a few of them did. After that, I joined to keep my charge safe."

"Your charge?" Farnese asked.

Daniel nodded. "The young man who is my superior officer. Captain Guts of the Raiders."

"Captain Guts," Farnese said quietly. "The man who supposedly slew 100 men in a single night."

"Hardly supposedly," Daniel interjected. "I made sure the other 50 men there didn't get to him as well. And I promise, I do try not to exaggerate things. It makes life that much more difficult anyways."

Farnese hummed. "And where is this 'hundred-man-killer'?"

Daniel looked out to where he'd last seen Guts, scanning the crowd for a moment before catching the back of his head, and Casca's, exiting out into the night. "Ah. He's just stepped out for some air."

He sighed quietly as he looked back at the trio. "He's not used to things like this. I doubt he ever will be, fully. He's a simple soul, really. Given to sometimes thinking deeply before speaking, and only speaking the truth when he does."

"How long have you and he served together, to gain such familiarity?" Azan asked.

"Since he was a child," Daniel said. "I doubt you would fully believe his story if I told you it, but I have been looking after him since his adoptive mother died, in the camp of the Thunderbolts."

"The old mercenary company that you convinced to switch sides against the Tudors?" Serpico asked.

"It was not mine when we found Guts. And it only became mine after the former commander was grievously injured. But that is in the past, now." Daniel paused. "It has been… a privilege, seeing Guts grow into the man that he is."

"You seem almost like a father to him," Serpico said.

"I've had to be," Daniel replied quietly. "Since the only other person who might even try to claim the title tried to run him through in a drunken rage. But Guts has been… a constant lesson to me."

"Of what kind?" Farnese asked.

"To never judge a person's character by their appearance. So much of what makes us who we are is rooted in something that has happened to us before. Fears, insecurities, trauma, even simple loneliness. He is a young man just now realizing that learning who he is will be a lifelong process. But if nothing else, he knows for sure that he will do anything he needs to in order to protect the ones he loves."

It was silent for a moment. Then, Daniel found himself distracted by someone approaching. He smiled as he saw Anna, resplendent in a deep green and brown dress, pause in front of him, smiling slightly as she curtsied. Beside her was another familiar young man in a coat of brilliant red, his own ceremonial blade by his side.

"Hello, Daniel," she said. "I wondered where I might find you."

"Speaking with the guards of the delegation from the Holy See," Daniel replied before looking over at the trio. "Commander Vandimion, Sir Serpico, Sir Azan, this is Anna Rienè, my fellow Raider. Alongside her is the young Lord Adonis of the house of Halbrand."

"Well met," Anna said, nodding to the trio as Adonis simply gave a short, respectful bow. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander Vandimion."

"And yours," Farnese replied. "You have quite a strange commander in Griffith, to allow so many women onto the battlefield as he does."

"He simply takes in those that have the skills to defend themselves and their compatriots," Anna replied. "He is hardly discerning beyond that."

"And if nothing else," Adonis said, "I trust Lord Griffith's judgment."

Adonis paused as he looked up at Daniel. "May I ask where Sir Guts is? I would like the chance to get to know him better."

"He is indisposed at the moment, my lord," Daniel replied. He paused himself as he looked up at the meaningful look in Anna's eyes. "And it seems I will have to be indisposed myself. It is good to see you well, Lord Adonis."

"And you as well," Adonis replied.

Daniel nodded to the young man, then to the trio. "It was a pleasure to meet you all. Perhaps we will meet again someday. Good evening."

With that, Anna and Daniel took their leave. "So," Anna said quietly as they walked away, "when do you anticipate meeting them again?"

"Oh, about two or three years from now, if everything goes wrong," Daniel replied with a slight grimace. "If things go right… who's to say?"

. . .

It was a calm, clear night that Guts and Casca emerged into, both taking a deep breath as they came to a railing overlooking the courtyard, the fountain that Guts remembered looking at seemingly so long ago down below them.

"Finally," Casca said with a weary sigh. "I'm getting tired of being poked and prodded like some exotic beast."

She sat on a bench worked into the railing with a weary sigh. "I'm no good at this. I'd rather be swinging a sword than swirling a goblet in a place like this."

Guts sighed in turn as he nodded. "You said it."

After a moment, Guts regarded Casca with a rather amused expression. "I've got to say," he began, "I almost didn't recognize you. What made Casca, queen of the battlefield, start strutting and fluttering around in something like that?"

Casca rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare the dramatics. It's just easier to move around on a battlefield when I don't have to worry about a skirt getting in the way." she shook her head. "Clothes this thin make me feel like I'm at risk of catching a cold, anyways."

She paused, looking down at herself thoughtfully as she tugged at the skirt of her dress. "Come to think of it, though, it's been years since I've worn a skirt, let alone a dress. I've put on enough muscle, the sleeves feel like they might burst sometimes," she said quietly.

After another moment of silence, she looked up at Guts. "I know you'll give it to me straight. Does it look… silly? Weird?"

Guts studied her for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Not a bit. You look lovely."

Casca blinked in surprise. "Really? You mean it?" she said almost incredulously.

"Of course." Guts said with a shrug. "Way I see it, you look a lot better than most of those girls trying to get Griffith's attention."

As Casca blushed, Guts continued. "So how about it? Why not ask him for a dance, show him you learned something from the last two days?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Besides the last two nights, I haven't danced anything since I was a girl." Casca replied bashfully. "Even with all that, I think I might still step on his feet."

It was silent between them for a moment before Casca looked back up at Guts. "And even with learning dancing with us, you still came along to something as stuffy and formal as this. Why?"

Guts looked up at the moon, half full tonight, encircled by a necklace of stars. "Because I wanted to see what it would look like tonight," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Casca asked.

"I want to see the heights that Griffith, you, me, the whole Band have reached. And how much higher he can go. I wanted to see it with my own eyes."

It was silent again for a moment. "So, you're serious, then?" she asked quietly. "No matter what comes next for us?"

"I've had enough, Casca." Guts said after another somewhat tense moment. "I've had enough of looking up at him as just a part of his dream."

He looked down at a hand that didn't look like it should have been coming out of a sleeve like this, clenching calloused fingers in an equally calloused palm. "Now," he said quietly, "Griffith's the only other person I don't want looking down on me."

Before Casca could reply, a round of applause rose from within the massive ballroom. Casca and Guts stood after a moment, returning into the room as they saw the king, flanked by the queen, a gaudy man who was probably a bigwig priest of some sort, and Princess Charlotte, come to a stop at a balcony above the floor.

"My brothers and sisters," the king began with an air of pride, "I come before you with great news. Today, I met with the envoy of the Houses of Tudor, and we have signed a peace treaty officially ending the Hundred Year War."

The words elicited another round of applause, one that lasted until the king raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "I thank you for your patience, endurance, and strength as we have prosecuted this war. I understand those who want to drive onward, try to crush the Tudor houses completely for their part in ravaging our home, our parts of our kingdom. Such hatred as persists for three generations cannot be dispelled in a single night."

"However," he said firmly, "we must now focus on the rebuilding of our kingdom. Only when we return to the strength and prosperity of our grandfathers, our great-grandfathers, can we even begin to consider such a task."

"Now," the king continued, "we must laud those that brought us to this point appropriately. As I am sure you all have heard, the Band of the Falcon, led by the young Lord Griffith, has been instrumental in the winning of this war. Indeed, even with the capture of Doldrey said to be impossible, the Band of the Falcon managed to accomplish what all of us have prayed for since the days of two kings past."

"Thus," the king said after a dramatic pause, "I hereby decree that the Band of the Falcon be given the title of White." he began.

The final words elicited a gasp that the king spoke past. "This title, an ennoblement reserved only for the finest fighting forces of our kingdom, has not been bestowed since the christening of the White Tigers almost 50 years ago by my father. Now, Lord Griffith is General Griffith of the White Phoenix Knights."

Another, smaller round of applause echoed through the room for a moment before the king continued. "With such a title as has been bestowed upon Lord Griffith, his commanding officers, commensurately, shall all be knighted and raised to the peerage of this kingdom. Noble White Phoenix Knights, I welcome you in full fellowship to the nobility of the Kingdom of Midland."

Again, a round of applause broke out for the newly minted knights, a cheer of Griffith's name, and his well-earned title, echoing through the room.

Guts simply watched on, catching Griffith's eye and smiling slightly. Griffith, after a moment, smiled brightly at him. 'You smile like that," Guts mused, 'but ain't it a little cruel? Letting only me have a clue of what you want to do?'

But, at the moment, there was still yet more of a celebration to be had, as the dancing fully began in earnest.

Casca, having made her way towards Griffith as best she could, found herself waylaid by yet another group of overly curious noblemen. As they tried to converse with her, she saw Griffith, just a little ways away, speaking to Princess Charlotte for a moment before taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

She sighed quietly, the slight smile she had at seeing him falling. Then, before she could find herself too caught up in sadness, a shadow passed over her, and as the men around her faltered in their attempted conversation, she looked up and saw Guts, smiling slightly as he nodded out to the dance floor with an arched brow.

His timing was surprisingly good, as a more upbeat song saw those around them partnering up, a grid forming that had them in the middle of it.

"Hope you're ready." Guts said.

"As I'll ever be, I guess," Casca replied as the dance began.

They had plenty of examples to copy, Guts and Casca swaying and moving across the floor in a way that almost reminded them of crossing a battlefield. But there was no battlefield that they had ever crossed quite like this, quite so… together. Casca smiled and laughed as they twirled and spun, Guts smiling slightly in turn as they, all too perfectly imperfectly, went through the motions that those around them made in turn.

They found themselves, at times, passing by other Falcons, Corkus or Judeau with one lady, Pippin dancing with as many as three with some passes, and even little Rickert in the mix with another young lady.

Finally, they managed to find themselves alongside Daniel and Anna for a little while, Daniel looking over at them and smiling widely, warmly, the most open and grand look of pride in his eyes. Guts found some solace in that pride tonight, steeling himself for what had to be done.

Finally, the dance ended, and Guts and Casca parted, taking deep breaths.

"That was…" Casca said as they began to walk off the floor. "Fun."

Guts nodded. "Yeah. It was."

He looked towards one of the doors. "I'm going to try and get some fresh air and a little space. Go try and get a dance with Griffith before things wrap up. I'm sure he'd like it."

Casca frowned slightly, then nodded. "Alright. I'll see you later, Guts."

Guts nodded, making his way outside and into the cool night air, taking a deep breath as he leaned against the railing, looking in.

It was probably almost time, now, for what Griffith was planning to do.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, a ways away from him, he saw Daniel and Anna walking out, clearly enjoying each other's company as they did much the same as him, leaning against a railing and looking in.

He looked over at them for a moment, then saw Daniel's smile falter. He wondered, for a moment, what he was thinking.

. . .

"I think…" Daniel began, then paused as he sighed wearily, an ache that went well beyond the physical tiredness of the dance plaguing him once again.

"What is it?" Rhia asked.

It was silent for long moments as Daniel grappled with whether to say anything or not. "I think she would have liked this." He finally said quietly.

"Eleanor?" Rhia asked, equally quiet.

Daniel looked over at Rhia for a moment. "And where did you hear that name?"

"Casca," Rhia said matter of factly. "With her being the only other woman my form has to interact with in camp, there's much she says in confidence to me."

"Like her growing relationship with Guts?" Daniel said with an arched brow.

"You don't even need to talk to Casca to realize that, I would guess." Rhia retorted. "You can likely see it painted across Guts' face."

Daniel nodded. "True, true," he admitted.

It was silent again for a moment. "But that's not who we were talking about at first," Rhia said quietly. "You were thinking about Eleanor, weren't you?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "Yes. As good as I am at putting on a performance, nights like these, unless it's under the right circumstances, are… mentally exhausting. She had an energy for these sorts of events. A strength that gave me strength. On nights like these… I can't help but miss it."

It was silent again as the dancing concluded. Then, Rhia broke the silence again. "Who was Eleanor?" she asked softly.

Daniel took a deep breath. There was no turning back now, it seemed. "She was… no, she is… my wife. Regardless of the distance or the time, we are… bound together, at least to some extent, to the depths of our souls."

"What happened to separate you from her?"

It was such a simple question. It still terrified Daniel to answer.

"I was taken as part of an… experiment." he began. "At the end of that experiment, I made… a choice. To save the only other life that remained beside me. It was a risk. A great one."

Daniel paused. "And… I failed. I fell short. And the mistake compounded itself, over and over and over again, until at last, at the end of it all…"

How could he say what he'd done to her? How could he even think of it without the brand upon his brow jeering him? "I did… something I deeply regret to her."

"So she left you?" Rhia asked softly.

Daniel shook his head. "No. I left her. I left… everything that I had… loved. I could not face her after what I'd done, the shame of repaying what she did for me at the end with my act. I still cannot face the shame of it. I'm not worthy to be by her side now. Not yet. Not until I've done… more. Helped more, to make up for my mistake."

It was silent between them. "Daniel…" Rhia said softly, placing a hand over Daniel's. "I'm sorry."

Daniel gave a choked chuckle. "Well, at least I have a captive audience in front of me, don't I?" he said. "It makes it a little better than admitting it to the reflection on the water, doesn't it?"

"We are alone," Rhia said. "I will inform the others later. For now… do not be afraid to talk to me about your past."

'Are you sure about that?' Daniel mused darkly.

It was silent again before Rhia shook her head. "Do you think she waits for you?" she asked.

Daniel looked back into the ballroom and heard in the distance the king calling for a toast. "Perhaps. Perhaps she waits at the home I ruined, helping rebuild it. Or perhaps she even searches for me, for one reason or another. Either way, I have to be ready whenever I face her again. Have proof that I'm no longer what I was."

"And what was that?" Rhia asked quietly.

Could Daniel admit it?

It seemed that, at the moment at least, he didn't have to, as he heard the crash of a goblet make the whole ballroom silent.

"Griffith!" they heard Casca scream, and the whole ballroom became a noisy, chaotic mess.

Daniel took a deep breath, looking over to where he'd seen Guts standing as he walked out.

The young man was gone, disappeared into the night. It was time for them to follow his lead.

"Alright," Daniel said, turning towards the stairs. "Let's go get ready."