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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: dil3.txt
Chapter 15
He sat on the bed in the room they'd given him, with its walls of
metal and floors of stone, and contemplated his rebirth. After all,
what else could be called? Rescued from the brink of death, granted
a new body, a new focus, and a new allegiance; he was now what he
once was in name only, and not in spirit.
At least, that's what he'd been telling himself every day for the
past three months.
It was more difficult than he thought. Not the studies that they'd
thrust upon him. He'd devoured these magics, no, these "sciences",
hungrily, surpassing others in the school around his age with
ridiculous ease, earning for himself a name to be whispered jealously
on the lips of both his colleagues and his superiors. A potential
problem, but not nearly as pressing as the one currently before him.
Home.
Mother. Brother.
A responsibility unfulfilled.
They were thousands of miles away, mourning the death that he'd never
experienced. Sometimes he'd pick up a quill, set it to parchment, the
words of apology and regret just beginning to form. Then he'd see the
silver glint in the candlelight, a forever reminder of what was not
to be, and the words would blur, then dissolve, leaving him to stare
at a paper with nothing more than the first upswept beginnings of a
letter (perhaps a name, perhaps a greeting). His hands would tremble,
and he'd sweep the unfinished thing to the floor to later be picked up
by one of this place's many unseen workers. It had been a while,
though, since he'd tried, and both the Emperor and his teachers were
busy thrusting theory after theory at him, demanding that he draw up
some sort of schematic for this or that and the gods be damned if
someone else had asked for something else first.
Schematics...
He stood, walked to the desk, and picked up the beginnings of one of
the Emperor's requests (which, of course, took precedence over any
of the others). A Guymelef, this time, with capabilities unforseen by
any Gaean country. There was one thing that was always lacking, he
speculated, in the models back home. It was so difficult to see
through the protective grates that were allocated in order to protect
the pilot, and therefore left him blindsided to attacks from either
the far right or the far left. What if there were a way to get around
using human sight? Perhaps something else to even enhance it...?
His mind twisted and molded his new learnings into physical
possibilities onto the rich parchment. As of yet, he knew not enough
of what they called "physics" and "chemistry" to put any of his
theories to work, but the basics and his own intuition were enough to
start formulating ideas and speculation. It was a thankful, if
impermanent, distraction.
A shuffling, scratching sound came from under his bed, followed by a
small thump. For a moment he attributed it to rats; they had been
quite common where the rooms were furnished with stone and wood. A
few minutes later he realized with this place's need for sterilization
and the tightly fused metal walls, there were no rodents.
He stood with a great commotion, hoping to startled the unwelcome
visitor. "Who's there?" he demanded.
No answer.
Rather than take the chance of being surprised, he grabbed the side
of his meager bed with one hand, slamming the furniture vertically
against the wall, and grabbed for the intruder with his other. He'd
been prepared to yell and to fight, but what met his eyes shocked him
to silence.
It was a girl. She couldn't have been more than five or six; she
still bore some of her baby fat. The face was sweet, a touch of rose
on each of the cheeks, framed by silvery blonde locks had been shorn
so that the bottom of the curls graced the shoulders of her simple
blue gown. Her eyes were blue, red-rimmed with past tears, and in
them hung more misery than he thought possible for someone so young.
With a normal, child-like innocence, she lifted a finger up to her lips.
He shook his head. "No one will hear us. What are you doing here?"
"I'm playing hide and go seek."
He blinked in confusion. Who could possibly be doing such a thing in
here? As far as he knew, the other residents were either students too
young to be thinking of children or instructors too single-minded to
think beyond their work. "From who, little one?"
"From my invisible friend." She spoke candidly, using that berating
voice children use when adults ask questions that had such obvious
answers. "He can be kind of mean when he wins, so I'm not going to
let him this time." Her feet dangled in the air and she began to
casually swing them back and forth.
He smiled. The child had no fear at all, even though she had an
incredibly close view of his unique disfigurement. "And what is his
name?"
She smiled happily at the thought of he who must have been the most
wonderful person in the world. The little mouth opened and drew in a
large breath of air to appropriately make such an important
announcement.
"Dilandau..."
Van regretted the momentary release of precious oxygen the moment it
left his mouth. The fingers around his neck were surprisingly nimble,
finding painpoints on his neck that he couldn't believe existed. Through
the blood roaring in his ears he heard muffled screams and several
bellows for the royal guardsmen. Only three sounds were distinct
through the din; Allen's desperate pleas, Millerna's shrill commands,
and his attacker's triumphant laugh. His pull on Dilandau's wrists
yielded no results, serving only to drain what little strength remained.
Blackness closed in.
Salvation was, thus, nearly too late, and whoever yielded the blow was
curiously unidentifiable. All that could be seen was the flash of a
female figure wrapped in dark blue sweeping in from the side. A sweet
gust of air then swept into his unsuspecting lungs, and a coughing fit
ensued. Gentle hands caught him and laid him slowly onto the ground.
His eyes had filled with pain induced tears so his second benefactor
also became a mystery.
Allen roared over the din - "VAN! CELENA!" - while continuing to
shove his way through the fleeing masses. He'd already barked orders to
the arriving palace guards to keep the guests calm and demand that
they remain where they were. Unfortunately, the gentry had decided
that either they had the right to know right now who had let such a
diseased individual into their presence or that they had the right to
be let loose from the premises with all the haste that could be
mustered. As a result, Allen found himself being pulled left and right
by emissaries who had reached the conclusion that the Hero of the
Knights had all the answers. Both Eries and Millerna flitted from
group to group, assuring them that everything was under control and
began sending them bit by bit back to their guest chambers under armed
escort.
"Boss!" Gaddes waved frantically, wedged unfortunately between a few
bulky Cesarian knights (who were trying to help calm down their
fellows as best they could). "Celena, she's--"
"Gods, no!" Allen cried, tearing through the dignitaries towards
where he'd last seen his foolish friend. He feared what Gaddes'
panicked expression implied, and if Van had a hand in its doing he
planned on tearing his friend apart. He dove between several fleeing
men and women (nearly choking on the expensive Asturian perfume),
to find the back of a leathered and armored Zaibach uniform. The
soldier had a struggling figure in his grasp, one hand clamped around
a pale wrist and the other in what Allen assumed was a rather binding
chokehold. A glimpse of silver hair, and the identity of the
soldier's victim was sealed.
Allen tackled him with more ferocity than he'd originally intended,
sending all three of them sprawling onto the floor. The soldier let out
a small oomph in surprise, and the high pitched tone immediately
branded "he" as a "she." The other sound, a male's grunting curse,
stole the last fleeting hope that his sister's situation was not as
terrible as he thought. The fight in him fled, replaced by a growing
feeling of guilt and misery, and all he was able to do was keep a
futile hug on the Zaibach woman.
She was therefore the first to recover. She elbowed him hard in the
chest, pushing herself away from him at the same time, and lept to
her feet. Almost immediately after came Dilandau, who let out an
outraged roar and slammed into her hard enough to send them both back
to the ground, where a fistfight ensued.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch!" Dilandau shrieked, driving his fist towards
the woman's unprotected face. She deflected a few, but not all, and
his perch on her stomach hindered her ability to defend herself.
She snarled in defiance, serving only to fuel her antagonist's anger.
He wanted her to plead, to scream in fear, and she would have none of
that.
Then Dilandau stiffened, his eyes rolling back into his head, and
he slumped forward, resting his head on her shoulder's plate armor.
Behind him stood the Sorcerer, a spent hypodermic needle in one hand,
a relieved look on his tired face.
"Are you all right, Zhi?" He began to bend down to lift the boy's
unconscious body from hers when a swordpoint met his neck.
"Stand where you are," said the Asturian guard. A ring of them had
formed around the group, hands on their swords. Zhi violently shoved
Dilandau off of her, causing a chorus of withdrawn steel, and Allen
caught him before he could hit the floor. She stood, and cast the
paltry soldiers a baleful glare.
"Celena," Allen whispered, although the sharp, arrogant features on
the face before him was not truly the much-loved beauty of his sister.
He drew Dilandau to his breast, tears stabbing at his eyes.
Van rubbed the developing bruises on his neck. He took a step towards
Allen, hoping to apologize, but found himself unable to form the right
words. A guilt-ridden sigh left his lungs, and he took the brief moment
of sanity to take a look at the Zaibach couple.
The Sorcerer was rather normal, only a few inches taller than himself,
and though the features were young, his hair was shot through with gray
and white. The lines that had started to form around his mouth were
more suited for frowns than smiles. Had he told anyone that he'd just
greeted his thirty-fifth year it was doubtful that they would have
believed him. He stood calmly, a mixture of resolution and pity in his
eyes, his form hidden underneath the floor-length black cloak that
made Van wince in remembrence.
The soldier, though, was outlandish. She stood at a comparable eye
level with Allen, which meant that Van had to crane his neck slightly
to see all of her. Upswept almond eyes, black and narrowed over
high, pale cheekbones, and luxurious, though haphazardly shorn,
black hair marked her as a Freidian woman, though it was rare to see
one outside the home, not to mention her country. Her body, slim,
but by her actions earlier probably highly toned, was encased in the
tight, leathery uniform that was characteristic of only Zaibach's
elite Guymelef squad, the Dragonslayers. Dark blue covered her from
head to toe, peeking out from underneath only slightly lighter thigh
high booths, arm coverings, and heavy shoulder armor (each of which
sported a single, hand's-height spike). Gold trim lined the high
collar, the jacket split down her midsection, and the buckles that
were wrapped in from her back to meet her chest. A skirt, open wide
in both the back and the front, covered her from waist to knees, and
an empty sword hilt hung from one side. He'd seen the uniform before
and, like her companion's wear, the memories it brought were far
from sweet. Fleetingly he wondered what psychotic led the young s
quad now. Or, perhaps, was she here to claim their treasured
captain...?
"My Lord Van," Millerna called, gently making a pathway through
her guardsmen, "are you hurt?"
"No."
"And you, sir?" she asked of the Madoushi.
"A little startled, but otherwise fine."
"Your name?"
"Strategos Dineer."
Millerna blinked, then gave him a small bow. "My Lord."
"What did you do to her?"
The choked question came from Allen, who stared angrily at the
Sorcerer still cradling his Celena's -- Dilandau's -- unresponsive
form. Dineer looked at him, expressionless. "A strong sedative. It
will calm down his -- excuse me," he rectified, noting how the
Knight's eyebrows furrowed, "her body and make it more welcome to
change back to its original form. I have a bottle in my luggage,
enough to last--"
"You're not feeding her anymore of your... potions!" Allen snarled.
The Dragonslayer sneered. "Let her suffer, then."
"Zhi," the Sorcerer murmured. She shrugged. He looked at the princess.
"We will need a room, guards posted at the doors. A comfortable bed
is a must, as well as a set of chairs, a small meal, plenty of candles.
I'm certain that these three," he swept a hand towards Van, Allen,
and Zhi, "would also feel more comfortable with their weaponry."
Millerna frowned, slightly irritated at the man's presumptious
demands. "My Lord Strategos--"
"Allow me to be more forward, my dear." Dineer straightened up,
suddenly imposing, making even Van blink at the sudden change. "Yes,
I am the Strategos of Zaibach, second to only the Emperor himself.
Though the Emperor is by any means new to his position, I'm certain
that my mistreatment will not go over well diplomatically.
Furthermore," he gestured at Dilandau, "the notorious nature of this
boy's role in the War of Destiny is known far and wide. Alone, he is
thought to be responsible for the burning of an entire country, as
well as rather numerous accounts of depravity. This recent incident
was witnessed by representatives of every known country in Gaea, most
of whom have very long memories. I trust, then, that you realize my
desire for haste in this matter and my lack of propriety.
"That," he continued, looking meaningfully at the young Fanelian
King, "and there are many answers about the man who once held my
position that it is time you hear."
Author's Notes:
This story was inspired orignally by Sarah-Neko's "Scars of the Heart"
- http://members.tripod.com/sarahneko/prettyboy/scars.html
and Bambi Eloriaga's "Reflections Behind a Tear."
- http://www.pezcore.com/folken/reflections.html
Any similarities are figments of your imagination! Hahaha! They gave
me permission anyways. So... yeah.
Escaflowne and all their characters are copyrighted to Sunrise, TV
Tokyo, and Bandai.
"Zhi" is a female Chinese name meaning "Irises, Orchids, symbol of
character, true friendship."
"Dineer" was borrowed from Chris Claremont's "Shadow Dawn," sequel to
the movie "Willow."
Archived at http://www.crosswinds.net/~dilandau/nv/