| Luella woke with a sleepy yawn and even though sunlight was filtering in through the window to her room, she still felt groggy like she hadn't slept for quite long enough. Sitting up made her long blonde hair form a shroud around her, even as she yawned again, longer than before. Her mouth felt dry like it had been stuffed with cotton while she slept and she moved her tongue like her mouth was full of syrup. With a start, she realized that she didn't know where she was, and was dressed again in her pink pajamas. Well, another set of pink pajamas.
The floor was carpeted and soft on her feet as she swung her legs off of a bed large enough for three people and walked around. Her footsteps were light and silent, an unintentional byproduct of her elvish dexterity. There was a double doorway on the wall towards the foot of the bed, and another door that looked like it led to a large washroom.
Luella was a little scared being alone in a place she didn't know and wasn't sure if she should call out for Feliks or the others or if she should stay quiet. Hesitantly, she went to the large double doors and pushed them open. She was greeted by the sight of Boris sleeping in a chair directly across the hall.
There were some paintings on the walls and a long carpet running down the center of the hallway with a few windows spaced here and there, but overall it was largely empty. Smiling mischievously, her discomfort forgotten, Luella crept up beside Boris and stood in the chair vacant next to his. Then, she grabbed some of her long hair and dangled it in front of his face like a palm frond. Letting the blonde locks brush against his face and nose.
The old veterans face contorted minutely at the irritation, his nose twitching and Luella had to stifle a giggle. His hand came up suddenly to rub his face and very nearly grabbed the lock of Luella's hair, only for her to pull it away again just in time. His hand went down again after a moment and muffled grunt and Luella repeated her previous action. Dangling the lock of her hair in front of his face.
She rubbed the lock of hair just on the tip of his nose and his cheek, the silky strands making Boris' face twitch at the irritation.
Boris' eyes opened after he let out a grunt and a sigh from the tickling hair and he looked up at Luella, who by now was just about ready to break out into giggles from her little prank. She let out a yelp of surprise when the big bear of a man drew her into a hug tight against his chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice heavy with concern.
"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" asked Luella puzzled when the hug was finally loosened enough for her to breathe.
"But do you hurt anywhere? Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?"
"Well, my neck is a little sore and I'm thirsty, but that's it. Um. Boris. Where are we?"
"We're at the Russian Federation Embassy," answered the Veteran promptly.
"Oh, okay. Where's that?" asked the elfin girl curiously.
"She's awake now, how is she feeling?"
It was Feliks and Ianthe walking up towards them, carrying trays with soup and drinks on them. Now hurrying as quickly as they could without spilling anything to where the veteran and petite elf were.
"Soup for breakfast?" asked Luella, perplexed hopping down from the chair to the floor below.
"Well it's almost two in the afternoon."
"What?! That late? I haven't slept in that long in 30 years when I tried wine for the first time. I must have been really tired after we left the Diet and went...where did we go? I remember getting on the subway, but nothing after that. Um, Ianthe? It's okay," consoled Luella surprised as the silver haired mercenary grasped her tightly, looking as though she might cry.
"I am so sorry teacher. I should have stayed by your side and you would never have come to harm. I failed you little elf."
"Um, what's going on? Why is everyone so worried about me?"
"A group of people tried to abduct you when you went to use the washroom in the subway. They drugged you and that's why you slept so long. I...didn't see it coming until it had already started," said Feliks, seemingly unable to look at her and sounding distraught.
"Well, I'm okay now, so you guys don't have to be so hard on yourselves. I mean, I'm safe now and I don't really remember any of it anyways so it's okay. You don't have to feel bad on account of me. Ianthe, it's okay, you don't have to cry."
"I'm not crying," said the mercenary stiffly, sniffling shortly thereafter.
Luella stroked her hair and sang a few notes softly for the mercenary, her nightingale voice reverberating up and down the hallway until Ianthe's breathing returned to normal. Luella ran her hand over the cuts and scrapes on Ianthe's face and they disappeared like smudges of dirt, leaving untouched and flawless skin in their place.
"I do have a question though," began Luella. "How did I get into my pajamas if I was asleep?" She held up her arms as if to display the pink garment she know wore clinging to her frame.
"I put them on you," answered Ianthe in Common, rising and wiping at the corners of her eyes.
"But, that means you," began Luella, face flushing pink in embarrassment and covering herself as if nude.
"Don't be embarrassed little elf, no one else was present."
"But still," mumbled Luella, cheeks still flushed pink.
"I will never tell a soul about it teacher, you needn't worry. Now, we were given new clothes if you wish to change out of your nightwear we can get you into more appropriate attire."
"Once wasn't enough for you?" asked Luella incredulous, covering her already covered breasts with her forearms and turning to the side. "I'm not that kind of girl."
A startled look came across the mercenary's face and then in a rare display of mirth, much to Luella's shock, the silver haired warrior's face cracked into a wide smile and she laughed high and clear. Betraying her elvish heritage with the musical laugh that belted from past lips.
"Little teacher, I don't think you would ever be that kind of woman," chuckled Ianthe wiping tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.
"You look very pretty when you're happy Ianthe, I wish you were happy more often," said Luella without really thinking about what she was saying. With a start she realized what she'd said and her hand came up to her mouth like it would bring the words back.
"Oh. Well, maybe I'll have to work on that then," said Ianthe after a pause. Not looking angry or upset, just surprised.
Luella's stomach growled rather loudly then and she let out an embarrassed chuckle.
"Is the soup still warm?"
"Of course, here," said Feliks and Luella found a tray with a bowl of soup and sandwiches all but dropped on her lap. The bread was soft and there was strange sauces on it that tasted very good in addition to the vegetables and meat. Normally Luella would abstain from meat, but she wasn't completely adverse to it and she did like fish. Plus she was very hungry, surprisingly so even. She was half done a sandwich when she realized that everyone was still watching her.
"I'm fine, really," said Luella to the concerned stares, letting out a small burp and excusing herself. "You should all eat something too."
"Alright, but if you start feeling sick, just let us know," said Boris in a fatherly way.
"Okay, I will. But how did we get here, and where's Itami and the Japanese? And, why is there a bruise on you face Feliks?"
"Well," began Feliks.
The night before
"This...this is a joke right?" asked Feliks, the closest he'd ever been to coming completely unglued since he'd joined the army.
"Well, no. I figured that with everything that was going on this would be the safest place to be," answered Itami in his usual complacent manner.
Komakado had been their only escort from the Japanese Public Security Agency. He had injured himself trying to pick up Rory's halberd from the ground that a man had tried to grab from the apostle. He'd underestimated just how heavy the weapon had been and put his back out doing it. Telling them to continue on to a predetermined rendezvous where they would be put under continued protection and have a roof put over their head as an ambulance had taken him away.
It had been impossible to explain why Luella wouldn't wake up from all the commotion and so Feliks had been forced to come clean about the attempted abduction, but abstained from mentioning the murders he and Ianthe had committed in the process of preventing her abduction.
So with the arson at the hotel, the attempted abduction, their bus being followed that they had ditched, and now bereft of any security escort, Itami had begun to speak of a safe house where no one would be able to find them or think to ever look.
The idea appealed to Feliks, himself having stayed in several well stocked safe houses in his time in the GRU. They would be in a nondescript house with plenty of food, entertainment, and best of all, privacy. So, believing that to be where they were going, he had agreed wholeheartedly to the idea. Reality however, had been much different.
"This is your ex wife's house," began Feliks venomously. "This is not a safe house. There is no heat in this building despite the fact that temperatures drops below freezing at night. The water is turned off so there's nothing to drink, there's no food besides that damned takeout you brought for her and going by these past due notices, the power looks like it will be cut any day, if not today. We have no weapons stash here to defend ourselves. No emergency cash supply to support us if we need it. No goddamned way to even call for help unless you use your cellphone to call the police, because I'm 90% sure that this place is foreclosed and isn't listed. There are fifteen of us here Itami. Fifteen. This is at best a bachelor apartment. There isn't even enough room for all of us to lay down on the floor without laying on top of each other. There is only one way in and out of here. How in the FUCK did you think this was a good idea?!"
"We needed somewhere safe to go so I went to the place where I knew where nobody would look for us. This is exactly why I picked this place and if somebody is spying on us then going where we were supposed to would have just led to another kidnapping attempt or something worse," retorted back Itami, his voice rising and jaw setting firmly.
"If your country couldn't handle security, why the fuck did you have us stay more than a day? You said you were an S didn't you? That you were supposed to be special forces?"
"Yeah, I got the training," said Itami, speaking curtly. "My specialty was avoiding detection and evasion, which is exactly what we're doing now."
"Then obviously it must have been shit training because you have no idea what a safe house is. There's no panic room here. No hidden way of ex-filtration. No medical staff or equipment besides an expired box of band aids," continued Feliks, growing more irate as he continued and throwing the box of said band aids across the room, face fixing into a snarl. "How the hell do band aids expire anyways? The only thing that we are well stocked with is poverty and gay porn!" He accentuated his point by kicking a bookshelf full of man on man doujin that Itami's ex-wife both collected and authored. Rattling the bookshelf and making some of the more descriptive pieces fall open to the ground.
"Hey, don't kick my doujins, those are expensive," snapped Itami's ex-wife Risa.
"Shut up bitch, this doesn't involve you!"
"Don't you dare call my wife a bitch!" growled Itami, eyes flashing and fists tightening.
"Fuck you and your cunt of an ex-wife!" Perhaps it was his anger that clouded his perception, but Feliks didn't see the punch that Itami threw until it hit him square in the cheek.
Feliks almost collided with the Imperial Princes Pina as he was staggered by the blow, but he slammed his foot down and caught himself, feeling murderous himself.
He charged at Itami, taking him in a tackle that saw them land on, and break a small circular table strewn with bills and other papers. Feliks started raining blows down onto the Japanese Officer, Itami shielding himself with his forearms, but unable to stop all of the strikes.
He moved out of the way as Feliks threw another blow, catching his arm and managing to wrap his legs around the Soviet, throwing him off of him. Then, throw some of his own punches into the younger man when he couldn't block.
Feliks twisted in Itamis grip, every strike that landed on him only making him angrier and angrier. He managed to free himself of Itami's grasp and they struggled to their feet, Feliks holding him in a headlock, feeding knees into the Japanese officer's stomach. Actually managing to lift Itami off of the ground with some blows, and managing to make a hole in the wall with Itami's head in a shower of plaster, before throwing him to the ground.
When Feliks tried to get on top of him again, Itami managed to kick and trip him at the same time making him fall backwards to the ground heavily. Feliks was just rising, when Itami hit him over the back with a wooden chair, breaking it. Feliks half fell to his knees as pain exploded across his back and then again as a wooden club struck him across the side of the head, both making his vision flash and dim at the same time.
He felt his rage melt away into cold fury, an emotionless hate and he forced himself to stand despite the pain, stopping another swing from Itami and his club by catching the arm that held it in a lock. Past the hate, beyond the pain, Feliks felt something else. He felt a way that he hadn't felt in a long time. The other him that he had thought was dead taking over. Feliks then delivered a short but vicious blow to Itami's throat making the older man gasp, before throwing him to the ground in movements almost too quick to follow. Preparing to give a finishing blow, Feliks found himself yanked back roughly by the collar of his shirt by a strong, yet small hand.
"Now now, I like giving praise to Emroy as much as anyone else, but that just simply won't do," chastised Rory like she was speaking to a child. Though for her, she technically was speaking to a child. An infant perhaps in her mind, maybe only a mortal gnat barely worthy of her attention.
She carried him back to the door where everyone else had watched the fight proceed, perhaps too shocked to intervene, or even restrained from doing so by Rory herself. She dropped Feliks like a mother cat does a kitten before going back and helping Itami to his feet. Coughing as he fought to get his breath back.
"We're leaving," said Feliks sharply, rising and fixing his coat. Wiping blood away from his nose.
"Feliks," began Boris.
"Sergeant Kotov, we're leaving here now."
"Yes Comrade Lieutenant," answered the older man promptly, ingrained military discipline taking hold.
Feliks took him and his party away from Itami's house, going to a payphone and making a call to the Embassy of the Russian Federation. If they were serious about wanting to help out, they were about to find out.
Hardly ten minutes after he'd made the call, a limo pulled up and a well dressed man opened the door and ushered them inside. After that, they went directly to the embassy.
"But why did you two fight?" asked Luella. "I thought you two were getting along well."
"I let my temper get the best of me. I shouldn't have said the things that I did."
"You did do something kinda dumb," agreed the elfin girl. "But you just have to say you're sorry. I mean, you don't want to stay mad at each other, it's not healthy."
"No, it's not," agreed Feliks. "If you're feeling better now, I have to go talk to Comrade Myshkin."
"Okay, see you later!" offered Luella with a wave, watching both Feliks and Ianthe leave.
"Boris, you have some mustard on your nose."
"Really? Where?"
"Right there," offered Luella, pushing the edge of her sandwich against the end of his nose and leaving a smudge of mustard, giggling like a misbehaving child as she did so.
"Luella," said Boris reproachfully.
"I kno-mpfh! I can't believe you just did that!" exclaimed the elfin girl, wiping lettuce and mustard from her incredulous face, while Boris let out a great belly-shaking guffaw and Luella joined him with her ringing, melodic laugh.
Xxx
Pina wasn't entirely sure what had transpired the night before or why, being unable to speak the language of the Japanese, but she had understood something all the same. A division existed between the Japanese and the Soviets, a crack between their two nations. A weakness that a wedge could be driven in between to further widen and exploit.
She could not negotiate with the Soviets, she had spoken to their highest General and he had rebuffed her totally and utterly. It had been crushing, especially seeing their tens of thousands of men, and thousands of iron elephants waiting to be let loose. It had planted a seed of fear in her, but also ignited a fervent desperation for her to save the Empire.
Force of arms would not save the Empire, she had seen that much, it had been proven. But force of will? Force of perception? Those things she could easily accomplish. The Japanese she had learned quite quickly from even a cursory skimming of their recent political and historical archives that they called news articles had revealed that they were not a warlike nation. In fact, even now some of their citizens were openly opposing military operations in Falmart. Such a thing was simply inconceivable in the Empire. During times of war, the public always gave support, secure in the knowledge that the Empire was acting in the best interests of the nation and the Empire itself.
They, and the Americans were humanitarian nations, as she had learned the term to be, though the term humanitarian was still something new to her. Giving monetary aid and relief to less wealthy and stable nations. Yet they were hungry for resources, many articles pointing to America specifically going to war for things like oil and various political reasons. Some, merely because their people had wanted nay, demanded that they go to war.
It was just like the Empire, although the Emperor may sit upon the gilded throne, the mob held the real power. If the people demanded something as one, even the Emperor had to bow to them. And with their leaders bound by the wills of their people, having only temporary reigns, much like senators, they were as much slaves to their people as a demi-human to the mines. The only question was, how could she bring both the Japanese and the Americans to the aid of the Empire?
She had read, studied, and had translated so many articles and texts until they had blurred together and her head had hurt. She had been tempted to study more of the art that Risa, Itami's former wife made for a living, but she had resisted doing it for her own gratification (though she had set Bozes about the task) and instead devoted all of her energies to more pertinent studies. Her own carnal desires in no way of the same importance that saving the Empire was.
Now they were staying at a natural hot springs called Hakone. After the fire at their previous inn, the Japanese and Americans had increased security, with men in dark suits similar to those worn by the members of the Diet roaming the grounds around the springs. There was some discontent being spoken, concern about the Soviets seeking shelter with the Russian Federation. Though she wasn't sure what that nation was, or if it was indeed a nation, the body language used when they had discussed it had transcended any language. Pina had been awarded an opportunity, one that she had to seize upon before heads cooled and the previous confrontations were forgiven. She had to find a way to make the Japanese and their allies sympathetic to the Empire in any way she could.
Sir Itami, or Youji Itami as was his real name, was a commoner. Lacking noble lineage or gentle birth, but he was a hero amongst the Japanese people, one who still held some sway even now in their mood. His actions saving a few hundred peasants and bringing the gaggle women from Falmart had done nothing but increase his popularity. He had a usefulness attached to him, one that could make him a valuable tool. Or lead her to ones who could be valuable.
Pina was dressed only with a towel protecting her decency, in the mens side of the hot springs. She was carrying a cup of frost leaf tea, a somewhat common tea in the Empire that was excellent for soothing throats, especially when mixed with honey as she had done for it. Itami's voice had been hoarse for most of the day, ever since the Soviet officer had hit him in the throat the night previously.
Right now he was lounging in the steaming water, back to her as she padded softly towards him in her bare feet, carrying the cup of tea. He didn't notice her, even when she was but five paces from him. She almost stopped then, turned around and walked back, her own propriety rejecting the idea of being nude before a man, a commoner no less. But she quelled her trembling stomach and taking a deep breath removed her towel, baring her body for any that chose to see and entered the warm spring next to Itami, careful to avoid spilling the tea as she did so.
He didn't react for a moment, perhaps believing that it was one of his comrades that had joined him. He said something in Japanese with is eyes closed, his voice still sounding gravelly as he did so. When Pina didn't respond he opened his eyes and looked at her. His response was rather immediate.
"P-princess?! What are you doing here!? This is the mens area," sputtered Itami, splashing in his attempt to distance himself from Pina.
A thrill of horror coursed through Pina, believing that she had offended him with some unknown cultural nuance and that he would leave, but the blush bright upon his cheeks spoke instead of prudishness and conservatism, not repulsion or revulsion at Pina's form or proximity.
Pina kept the worry from her face and instead smiled at Itami, allowing some of her embarrassment to seep through to make it seem all the more geniune.
"I know that I am not supposed to be here, but I was concerned about you and so I brought you some tea."
"Hm?"
"Your throat. You have been speaking very hoarsely since that Soviet officer assaulted you last night and I wished to aid you. If you wish me to leave, I will, I did not intend to cause harm. Though, I had wished to speak with you. Perhaps, another time when more convenient. I will leave the tea if you wish it. If not, I may make more another time," said Pina, gambling and doing her best to look as crestfallen as possible. Using her youth and sex to pull at Itami's heartstrings. Her own fear of failing making her dejection all the more real and she allowed it to show on her face.
"Wait, don't go. It's fine, I overreacted," said Itami, his tone conciliatory, even apologetic. Pina fought to stop a grin from spreading to her face and bit her cheek to stop it.
"If it's not too much trouble," said Pina meekly.
"No. No, it's fine. I've just been thinking about everything that's been going on lately and feeling sorry for myself. Here, I'd love some of that tea."
"I'm glad, I made it myself. It may not be the best, but I believed that it was something I had to make personally to thank you."
"Thank me?" asked Itami puzzled. Pina had to suppress a surge of satisfaction as his eyes flicked down to her exposed breasts as she handed him the teacup with both hands. A man who was thinking with his lower head would not be thinking clearly with his upper. But she had to be careful, she couldn't come across as an easy whore. She must maintain some form of respectability and naivety for her plan to work.
"This is really good," complimented Itami taking a sip. "What is it?"
"Ice leaf tea with honey. I always carry some when I travel with the Rose Order. My throat often gets sore calling orders and I drink it to soothe it. I find it very helpful and I thought that you would as well."
"Yeah, it's definitely helping," said Itami, sounding surprised, his voice already sounding less scratchy. As if the tea were sealing up cracks and smoothing over the abused flesh. "Thank you. I've never had tea from a princess before."
"Let us not stand on ceremony, my name is Pina and I would like you to call me that. If, I could call you Youji."
"Uh sure. What did you want to talk about Pina?"
Pina smiled sweetly, but on the inside she was spinning. How could she approach the subject of Japan and the Americans helping the Empire without making it painfully obvious that she had an agenda?
"Well. I was wondering, does your face hurt?"
"My face? A little yeah. It was a stupid thing to fight about," muttered Itami, rubbing at the bruise on his face. "I lost my temper when he insulted my wife. Well, ex-wife."
"It was not a foolish thing to fight him, not for the honor of your lover, or former lover," said Pina genuinely believing what she said. "What woman would cherish a man who wouldn't defend her honor when so affronted by a stranger within her own home? You did the right thing, something than any woman would appreciate you doing for her."
"Maybe, but it was still dumb to do. I'll probably be in trouble from my superiors for making the Soviets go to the Russian embassy instead of staying with us," lamented Itami, rubbing his forehead like he had an intense headache. "Plus I assaulted him first, which is against the law in Japan."
"Maybe a friendship with such a nation whose officers and diplomats act so crudely is not a friendship worth having?" ventured Pina, gauging Itami's reaction which seemed relatively neutral.
"No, we still have to play nice," said Itami with a weary sigh, voice sounding much more normal. "The tea was very good thank you. It helped a lot."
"My pleasure, here, allow me" said Pina, taking the cup back, but being sure to brush her breasts against Itami's shoulder as she did so, before drawing back in mock shock, and some real embarrassment, face flushing and half in disbelief that she had actually done it.
"I-I'm sorry about that Youji," stammered Pina, face flushing crimson, needing no acting to make it do so.
"Don't worry about it," assured Itami, but there was a huskiness to his voice that hadn't been there before, and it wasn't from a sore throat. Although it was dark and the water somewhat murky, Pina could tell that he was stiffening.
"I must apologize for my clumsiness, I'm afraid my head has been clouded of late."
"Oh? Why?" asked Itami, still under the spell of his own semi-arousal. Despite her own embarrassment, Pina had to bite her cheek again savagely to suppress a smile.
"I don't wish to trouble you with it Youji."
"I don't mind, not like I'm busy doing anything else anyways. What's bothering you?" asked Itami in his usual laid back, but concerned tone.
"When we went to Mt. Rubicon, their general, Alexandrov, said that he would never accept peace with the Empire. Only total subjugation and the eradication of the nobles, senate, and our nation as an entity. The Empire is not adverse to change, but we are like stone. We change gradually, over time like a rock washed over by the rivers water. To change it too fast would see the Empire shatter and its people scattered, our traditions lost. I have fear not just for the Empire, but the noble families as well. I have heard whispers of that when the Soviets go into a lords lands, they take him and his family away and they are never seen again. There are many noble families within the Empire and all of them have children. I must admit that I am also fearful for myself and any children I may one day sire. I am of the royal bloodline and I have a strong claim to the throne. I would be a threat to them, even with no designs upon pressing any claim. Any children I have would be a threat to them. Hunted even. I must admit it makes me...afraid," confided Pina truthfully, but also playing it up by allowing her crimson hair to obscure her features as she seemed to shrink in on herself in the hot springs. She waited for Itami's reaction, wondering if her exaggerated ruse would be discovered and how far to play it.
She had to give off the perception of a distraught and vulnerable woman, who was still strong and a useful ally to have. One that would valuable to both the Japanese and the Americans. She pinched herself hard on the arm, skin turning white under the pressure, feeling as if it would tear until she made herself tear up and let them fall to the hot springs below.
"Hey, it's alright," Pina heard Itami say and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Pina trapped him in a hug that took the older man by surprise, burying her head into his neck. Pina's heart was hammering in her chest at the scandalous act, but nevertheless she held him close to her in a tight embrace. Feeling his hardness poking into her thigh but she held onto him regardless. She could feel his pulse increase with her head so tucked into the side of his neck.
"Youji, I did not expect to find a friend in you after what my nation has done to your people. But, even still, I am glad to have your support. It means a so much to me knowing that I have a friend close to me when everything else around me is unknown."
"Uh," stammered Itami, hand up and away from the princess, unsure of what to do.
"I had feared that I would be punished for the actions of my nation when I came to meet with your diplomats, but instead I found them civil and willing to negotiate an end to needless bloodshed. It gives me hope."
"Well, hope is always good to have," said Itami rather lamely.
"It really is," said Pina, a smile cracking her lips, hidden from Itami with her head buried into his neck.
xxx
"Good. Now, what was the third card that you drew from the second deck?"
"The three of clubs."
"Very good," praised Dr. Pajari, giving the green 'haired', feathered, and eyed siren girl a peach. The girl took it and devoured the peach with quick, almost jerky bird-like movements. Wiping her hands and face when she was done with a handkerchief and folding it like she had been taught specifically how to do it.
They were seated at a small wooden table, large enough for four people with cards spread out over its surface. The walls were a plain white stone, that wasn't really stone, and the floor covered in linoleum. They were in a private building, nearer the top of Mt. Rubicon, set aside for research and study of local flora and fauna. A large portion of it under the direct control of Dr. Pajari. Light filtered in through a single large window set at ground level into the room, negating the need for artificial light.
"Now. The 30th card from the 1st deck, the 19th card from the 8th deck, and the 50th card from the 12th deck," said Dr. Pajari, writing down notes on a clipboard while he waited.
"Um. I don't remember all of those sorry," said the siren apologetically, feeling a thrill of anxiety as the doctor stopped writing and looked at her as if she was something unpleasant that he had stepped in. Pulling back a plum off the table and into his pocket.
"Ace of spades, king of hearts, four of spades, and seven of diamonds," rattled off the siren girl quickly, looking down into her lap as she fumbled with her hands.
"That is...correct," said Pajari after a moment and double checking his notes, a tone of astonishment in his voice. "Why did you lie if you knew what they were?" It was a kind question, or at least it sounded kind. Maybe curious was a better word for it.
"I don't know," murmured the siren girl, playing with her hands in her lap.
"Yes you do. Please, answer truthfully. No one is judging you in here."
"I...I've always been different. Odd. It's got me in trouble before with my village. They didn't like me for it," said the Siren in short sentences quietly, avoiding looking the Dr. in the eye.
"What do you mean different? Please elaborate. Explain in greater detail," added Pajari, after realizing that the siren before him might not understand what the word elaborate meant.
"Well, I've always remembered things better than anyone else. Even things that no one else does, I just remember it. I've always been like that. I...I know that exactly 452 days ago I ate an apple in six bites and chewed each bite fifteen times. I remember the day, the fourth day after the summer solstice. The weather was sunny, with fifteen clouds to the North and nine to the South. Even the smells, pollen, horse sweat, and molting feathers mixed with crushed pine. I remember everything. It's like when I see something or do something, my mind paints a picture of it that I can look at it any time I want. It's always just been something I've been able to do. My village thought I was odd. I...I didn't always understand what everyone meant when they said things. I would do things, stupid things that would make people mad. Mad at me. I don't understand when people say one thing and mean another very well. I would break things, because I wanted to know how they worked. I would take them apart. Sometimes I could put them back together, other times I broke them when I took them apart. I've always been…a freak," finished the Siren, her voice only a murmur.
She cringed when Pajari put his hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him, averting her eyes although her head stayed where it was. It wasn't a mean or cruel motion though, if anything it was almost gentle, like he was treating her like she was made of glass. Fragile, and precious.
"You are not a freak. You have a gift. A very rare and a very special gift. You have what is called an eidetic memory. It is the ability to recall an image or interaction so vividly it's as if you're seeing it again in person."
Dr. Pajari said it slowly and purposefully, in his educated and soothing voice. His brown eyes kind and slowly, she began staring into them, finding comfort in them where normally she only found anxiety.
"Yes! When I think about something, it's like I'm standing there watching myself do it again. Nobody ever understood that before, they always thought I was lying," said the green haired girl excitedly, practically cooing. Overjoyed to finally have someone who understood what she lived through daily.
"I don't normally say this Circe, but with this gift, it makes you special. You are special. You never had to study something to learn something, or read it more than once did you? You'd read it once and remember it exactly. Page number, sentence number, even the word. Correct?"
"Yes!" said Circe, shaking her head up and down excitedly. "My tutors always thought I was cheating or trying to make them look foolish. They caned me when I said I could still see the pages in the tome, saying that cheating was wrong. They never believed me."
"That was because they weren't special like you Circe. They didn't understand what you can do. You are gifted," said Pajari emphatically, putting the plum back on the table for Circe, adding several more kinds of fruit for her as well. Kinds that Circe had scarce ever been able to afford before.
She felt...nice when the doctor complimented her. Warm and fuzzy on the inside. He was obviously a respected man, maybe a noble and he was showering her with praise that she had never experienced before in her life. She let out a shy smile.
"Do you really think I'm special?" asked Circe timidly.
"I don't think so Circe, I know it as a fact. Most people will say that everyone has something that makes them slightly different, unique in their own way. Childish imagining," said Pajari with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Their differences are minimal at best. More products of environment and upbringing that actual quantifiable difference. What you have is special. It is rare, it makes you valuable. I could have a million other people and none of them would be able to do what you can do."
"Thank you Doctor," was all Circe could think to say, blushing from the praise.
"Please. Call me Konstantin," said Pajari.
"But your title," protested the green haired siren.
"A PhD acquired through study at a university. Something that took me seven years of note taking and testing to acquire. Something that you could learn in the time it took you to turn the pages in the textbook. I had you do high school math earlier and in the time it took you to look at the equations and read the rules, see a handful of examples, you were able to complete the assignment with one hundred percent accuracy. I am not your superior in intelligence. Given similar opportunities as me, I would be working under your tutelage. I am humble enough to know when I meet someone smarter than I am Circe. All I have over you is education, something that you can acquire at any point. You are naturally intelligent. A genius even. We are equals here, you and I. Perhaps myself even subservient to you. Would you like juice? We have ice to keep it cool."
"Yes, very much please," said Circe, still aglow with warmth from the praise, face flushing in embarrassment.
"Very good. Apple, orange, or peach?"
"I've never had any of those," admitted Circe, feeling inferior for the fact.
"That is no issue. You may have all three and see which of them you like best."
"That...that's not too much trouble?" asked Circe, tentatively.
"No, not at all," smiled Pajari. "Felicia. Bring three drinks for my guest. I hope you heard all the kinds to get."
It was said as not a question, but rather a statement. Like he was tired of speaking to someone who was continually befuddled by the simplest tasks.
"Yes Doctor, I will bring the peach, apple, and orange juice in three separate glasses with ice," answered the red haired warrior bunny in a monotone. Golden eyes downcast, ears following suit flopped forwards, and dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, complete with high heeled black dress shoes.
"Then what are you waiting for? See to it."
"Yes Doctor," said Felicia, doing a curtsey before leaving to perform the task.
"She doesn't call you Konstantin?" asked Circe perplexed.
"She is not my equal," said Pajari simply.
xxx
"You know in my younger years I wore a uniform just like that," said Ambassador Myshkin, smiling fondly like a caring grandfather staring at a beloved grandchild. A half dreamy look crossing his features as if remembering happier times from a half remembered past. "I may not look it you know, but in my younger years I was a member of the Morskaya Pekhota, 55th Division. We were based out of Vladivostok and I tell you we were crack troops. Though, that is well over 40 years ago now by my count. Almost fifty in fact, a lifetime by most reckonings. Still, I was young and strong then. We were strong then. Powerful," continued the ambassador, this time sounding almost mournful at the admission. Like a carpenter who built a grand mansion in his youth, the pride of all of his works, only to find it abandoned and decrepit years later. A shell of what had once been. "Tell me again Lieutenant, how old are you?"
"I am 24 years old Comrade Ambassador," replied Feliks promptly and politely.
"A good age. Use your youth well, it slips by before you realize it and your strength will go with it."
"But not always the mind."
"No, not always the mind," allowed Myshkin, a ghost of a smile creasing his face. "I would like to ask a favor of you if I could Lieutenant. Nothing to compromise your integrity or make promises that you can't keep. Merely...a courtesy."
"What kind of courtesy?" asked Feliks, voice neutral, but studying the wizened face of the Russian Ambassador, seeking a glimpse of intention within the weathered features, but finding none. Feliks had learned how to read people, taught really in the GRU. Yet this man was a politician, a master of obfuscation and misdirection. One as comfortable with words as Feliks was with a Kalashnikov.
"I would like to send a letter back with you. Nothing too big or exquisite. Just a few pieces of paper and some strokes of ink. I have addressed it to Colonel General Alexandrov with hopes that he will pass on what I have to say to the Politburo. Now, the letter itself is rather confidential so I believe that it goes without saying that it would be for his eyes only."
And use my diplomatic immunity to ensure that no one even knows that it was given to me. And get it through the gate, thought Feliks, but didn't say.
"It is an inconvenience I know, but only a small one. One which I would not be hesitant to make in the desire to make new friends. If so able I would like to deliver it in person, but I fear that at this time that is not possible. The Japanese are hardly letting the Americans in as it stands now. So the chances of letting an old Russian in to poke around? I have my doubts."
The tone was cordial, but Feliks wasn't so dense as to pick up on the underlying tone and unspoken words. Myshkin had covered up a triple homicide. Cleaned up after it to make it seem as though it had never happened. He had done a favor, a rather large favor for Feliks and now wanted one in return. Feliks could refuse, he could say no. But then a body might turn up in an alleyway. Perhaps the harbor. Somewhere inconvenient that would make people ask questions. He didn't know if the ambassador would do that, if he even planned on doing that, but perhaps that was part of his power. To hold the cards and not show them to who he was playing against. Make you guess what he was going to do.
"It wouldn't be any issue at all to bring back a letter for my General," said Feliks.
"Very good then," responded Myshkin, the old man smiling. "All the preparations have been made for your transport and the Japanese are expecting you at the Gate this afternoon. There is one more thing of note though I believe that you should hear."
"What is it?"
"The inconveniences you faced were the result of Korean interest, north to be precise."
"I see. May I ask why?"
"When a man is sick and he finds a cure, he will want to acquire it by any means."
"I suppose he would. Thank you for the information Comrade Myshkin, I hope that we meet again under better circumstances in the future. Once again, thank you for your hospitality."
"Think nothing of it, and I could have not imagined more favorable circumstances," said Myshkin smiling.
Xxx
Ianthe wasn't one to brood, but when she did she would nibble on her lip as she lost herself in her own thoughts and what had caused her foul mood. Though foul might be the wrong word for it this time, it was more like a startling revelation.
No one had ever called Ianthe weak, not since her 14th season and she had always been proud of her strength, of her hard won strength and skill. Gained through years of dedicated sweat, hardship, and blood. Yet when her skills had been put to the test, she had been made completely helpless when the man had pointed a gun at her.
Gun. Even the word felt heavy to have pass through her thoughts or be spoken aloud, like it weighed down the end of her tongue as she dared to speak it. Half a season ago the ultimate power on the battlefield had been the dragon, or its lesser cousin the wyvern. A handful able to change the course of an entire battle. Unstoppable, powerful, majestic. The best weapon to have on hand for defense, the sword. An elegant weapon requiring years to master its use. She had lived her life around the blade, around becoming a draconian knight. Of becoming a Messalonian blademaster. A lifetime of blood and sweat, of utter dedication had been needed to forge herself into what she was now. Yet now guns were threatening to undue all of that.
They were too fast too dodge, too fast to deflect. A shield couldn't stop them and any fool could pick one up and use it to kill a warrior far their superior. A gun was no less powerful if a peasant used it than a knight unlike a blade. Just point and pull, like a crossbow, but infinitely more powerful. How a man with less skill than she possessed in her little finger had threatened to undue everything she was. How she had froze when he had even just pointed the gun at her.
Now her mood was turning foul, remembering the fear that she had felt with the gun pointed at her. How could she protect anyone as a sworn sword if she couldn't even protect herself? Her weakness shamed her. She didn't realize how hard she was clenching her fists until she felt a hand fall lightly on her shoulder.
"Good All?" asked Volkov in broken Common.
"Yes, I'm fine my lord," answered Ianthe as she unclenched her hands, feeling the small flaps of skin that her nails had torn up in her white knuckled grip. Not quite drawing blood, but still breaking the skin.
Leaving Japan was a much less stately affair then when they had arrived. It had been arranged in conjunction with the Russian embassy and the Japanese that Feliks and his party would be dropped off by an embassy vehicle just outside the GATE perimeter and then they would be led through by Japanese personnel. Most likely SDF members.
Luella, despite everything that had happened to her was humming rather cheerily in the back of the car as she looked out of the window. The Embassy staff, Ambassador Myshkin in particular had been most generous and provided the elfin girl with a full set of good, light winter clothing. The embassy staff had been exceedingly welcoming to her, especially when she had been able to converse with them in their own language. Her childlike enthusiasm and endless questions had amused and endeared them to no end. but what could she do?
Ianthe was finding that she was increasingly helpless as a lifeguard, she hadn't mastered their tongue yet, and if they ran into any Messalonian mercenaries she would put her lord in danger. The more she thought about it, the more Ianthe's self-loathing increased. What could she do to prove her worth?
xxx
The mood was festive at Camp Zhukov, it was New Years Eve and just a few days after Feliks and his companions had gotten back from the other Japan. There were fireworks planned for later in the evening, but Feliks was in his room and was busy planning their next recon mission. Plotting their route and pouring over all relevant intel that they could possibly need. So engrossed was he, that Feliks was actually taken by surprise when there was a knock on his door.
"Come in," called out Feliks.
The door opened and soon it was filled by Boris' large frame.
"Figured I would find you here."
"What can I do for you Senior Sergeant?"
"Well not too much, I just came to let you know that the fireworks are going to start soon. It's almost New Years and I thought that you'd like to come and join everyone."
"Hm, so it is," said Feliks, checking his watch. "That's alright though Boris, but I've got work to do. We're going to be going on patrol again soon and I want to make sure that everything is ready."
Boris got a look on his face, the kind that a father gets when he wishes to impart some wisdom on his son, but knowing that he's old and reckless enough to either not listen or do the exact opposite of what he tells him.
"You know Comrade Lieutenant, dedication is always good, but you still have to leave time for you and the people around you. You can finish doing that later, but if you wait much longer you'll miss out on this entirely. Plus I think I saw Ianthe wandering around camp with a vodka bottle, so you might want to contain that."
"Boris, we're going to miss the fireworks," came the childish whine from beyond the door, and the unmistakable voice of their resident wood elf.
"Anyways Feliks, just thought I'd let you know."
Boris closed the door behind him and left Feliks alone in his room with his maps. There was a muffled crump and the sky lit up as the first of the fireworks went off. Maybe Boris was right, maybe he could just enjoy himself for a night? Plus there was a potentially drunk mercenary with a volatile temper wandering the camp..
Xxx
Captain Nikolai Vasiliev was one of the few members of the 1st Gate Army that was not overjoyed at his deployment. He was an air force pilot, a fighter pilot to be exact and an exceedingly good one. He was also blooded, 23 times to be exact. An ace four times over and nearing his fifth remuneration of the honorific. He wanted to be over the muggy Vietnamese skies with green canopies of sweltering jungle below him. Fighting against an enemy that could fight back.
As an adviser to the North Vietnamese, he had taken down swathes of American and South Vietnamese planes. His MiG 21 unadorned save for a flag marking the country of origin for each kill he made and a single painted rearing rider with sword drawn on the nose of his aircraft. He had made a name for himself, for Soviet pilots and had challenged numerous American pilots to dogfights in South East Asia. Challenges that only he had walked away from. They always underestimated the dog fighting ability of the MiG 21. Always.
He had grown accustomed to the constant stress and pulse pounding exhilaration of aerial combat. It was where he belonged and had already submitted several requests to be sent back, but for the time being he was providing CAP missions against an enemy that would be hard pressed to keep PO2s in check, much less MiGs.
Today was different though, if only a little. Radar readings were inconsistent here sometimes, fuzzy was a better way to describe them. Some days you could pick out a bird seven hundred miles away, other times the stations had trouble telling one MiG from 90 MiGs. There were lots of false readings, unnecessary alarms, and far too many scrambles for a haywire radar dish. This time though, a part of Nikolai could feel that it was real.
They had picked up something BIG on radar. To the North East into the territory of the Kingdom of Elbe. An ally of the Empire and as such fair game, yet the radar contact had been worrisome. It had set the whole early warning array off on red alert and sent pilots scrambling to the tarmac, expecting the mother of all wyvern swarms. The contact had been fading in and out, like it was dropping out of range, or like it was going too low to be picked up, but the thing was cruising at 10 000 feet. There had been discussion if it was another faulty reading or if something really was cruising around in their backyard. A faulty radar reading was no big deal, but ignoring a possible threat was. So a decision had been made and Nikolai and his flight had been scrambled on an intercept course.
It was a long mission and they were being guided by ground stations to their target. Large centreline fuel tanks protruding from them like swollen ticks extending their total air time by another hour and giving them the range necessary to engage their target and still get home. The four MiG 21s like sleek daggers, cutting through the pristine blue skies of an untouched world.
"Long Flight, you are five zero miles to target. Alter heading to zero four zero and proceed to last known target location."
"Spectacle, this is Long Lead, altering heading to zero four zero and proceeding to target location," answered back Nikolai, banking his MiG around and the rest of his flight doing the same. Forming up in a loose finger four formation.
"Smoke plume ahead. Forest fire?" asked one of the younger members of the flight, as they turned in line with a billowing cloud of black smoke still some miles distant. Orange flames seen faintly lapping up flora through the breaks in the cloud cover.
"Possible," allowed Nikolai, scanning the far horizon. Eyes searching for even the most minute of details. The thick black pall of smoke going up into the air making it hard to see anything other than smoke. Then all at once he saw it. So big, so massive, it was mind boggling that he hadn't seen it sooner. His brain perhaps refusing to acknowledge that something like that could even exist.
It was a mass of leathery wings, red scales, and mythological fury. There was a dragon, one the size of a damned mountain burning down a forest. Why? For all Nikolai knew just for the hell of it, but one thing that he did know, was that this was what had set off their radar warning like a New Years fireworks display.
"High pass, do not engage," called out Nikolai and he received a gaggle of affirmatives from the rest of his flight, but with tones of disappointment. Everyone wanted to fire what they had and more into this thing of legend. See if myth could stand up to modern firepower.
The MiGs passed over the creature, ten thousand feet above it and sounding like dull thunder as their machines cut through the clear skies like a quartet of thrown blades, leaving white contrails in their wake. Nikolai had his plane canted to the side, looking down below to see what the dragon was doing. So far as he could tell it was just burning down a forest because why not?
There's people down in that forest, that's why it's burning it down. You know it, so don't play dumb. They're probably all burning to death right now too while you're just flying up here all safe and secure in your fancy MiG. But you might be right, it might be doing it for shits and giggles. I'm sure that the people on fire down there find it hilarious.
It was Nikolai's own voice, or at least a critical and cynical voice that resided inside of his that spoke to him and he knew it was right. That dragon was probably massacring an entire village of something and somebodies. More effectively than American napalm ever could and with nothing that could stand against it.
"Spectacle, this is Long Lead. Target Acquired over the Schwartz Forest at coordinates provided. Target is a giant dragon, possibly 80 meters tall, wingspan approximately 160 meters, and it is breathing fire. Target is also missing an appendage."
"Uh, Long Lead this is Spectacle, did you say breathing fire?"
"Affirmative Spectacle, target is capable of breathing fire. Permission to engage?"
"Affirmative Long Lead, but orders are to keep clear of possible retaliation. Boom and zoom only."
"Roger Spectacle, engaging target. Break-break, Long Flight assume attack formation, but stay out of dogfight range. Follow me in, over."
With that Nikolai aggressively rolled his MiG over and it screamed into a dive, maneuvering into position for an attack run. Jettisoning the spare fuel tank as he did so, letting it fall away lazily from his plane. A familiar rush of welcome G's forcing him back into his seat, his heart starting to beat just a little faster at the thrill of high speed flight. The three other MiG fighters rolling over and staying on his tail just like he had told them, but leaving enough of a delay between them so that they could all fire. None of them had seen combat, but they had drilled endlessly and as such knew what to do and how to do it. A solid buzzing filled Nikolai's ears as he targeted the beast with a missile. Its hot maw a perfect target for the IR missiles they carried. By breathing fire, it might as well be rolling out a welcome mat. Nikolai hit the firing stud and watched the missile streak away like fiery vengeance.
Xxx
Hell. That was the only way to describe what was happening around them. The heat cooked and treated your skin like leather, threatening to crack it. Your eyes watered and ran, soot stinging them and making any attempts to flee blind fumbling through a forest increasingly enclosed. The smoke, choking and stealing the breath from your lungs. The only voices you heard were the unearthly howls of those being burned alive.
Maeldes stumbled and fell to her knees, a hacking cough stealing the breath from her lungs as she held her cloak up to her face to try and keep the smoke away. Her head hurt and she could hardly see anything through the thick and twisting pillars of smoke around her. Maeldes coughed until she thought she would die and then took in a great breath when it felt as if her lungs would burst.
The ground shook under her feet and like a child she wished to crawl under her parent's bed and hide away. To bury her head under the blankets like she had when the elders had told them scary stories, meant to sway them from committing wrongs or what would happen to misbehaving children. Looking up, eyes wide with fright, a whimper escaping from her throat, Maeldes saw the dragon above her.
It's eyes showed maleficent intelligence, old beyond years and cruel beyond measure. It was a beast that wouldn't understand mercy, couldn't understand fear. It seemed to know only hunger and feel a need for destruction.
It opened its maw wide, ivory white teeth the length of pikes and a tongue like some terrible sea creature filled its mouth. Its breath smelled of soot and ash. And death. So much death. It went for her like an avalanche of red scale and teeth. Maeldes didn't even scream, she was too terrified.
An explosion of fire and smoke hid the beast from view and the shock wave hurt her ears and her hands shot up to cover them. It did little to blot out the dragon's roar of rage and pain though.
It threw back its head and let out a roar of outrage that something had dared to attack it. To make it feel pain. It was in the middle of this roar yet another explosion hid its head from view. A metal cylinder with fins rushed passed it and struck a burning tree, erupting in an explosion as the magic contained within burst free.
The dragon shook its head angrily as another metal cylinder struck it on its flank and exploded. More and more struck the beast, or else near it in the burning forest. Enough that with a final enraged shriek, the beast took flight, the dark elves forgotten as it chased after the ones that had dared to attack it. Metal blade heads that cut through the sky, with red stars on their wings.