Familiar of the Fairy: Zero no Tsukaima Fanfic

[Zaru]

Life happens to all of us. It happened to me and I'm sire it happened to you. No worries. You know I got your back.

 

[Juubi-K]

A quick keepalive message. I have posted CH16 to FF.net, and CH17 will folow. CH18 will come as soon as I can manage.

 

[Juubi-K]

Chapter Eighteen​

Alhambra, Kingdom of Gallia, 8th day of Ansuz

"Hurry! We don't have much time!"

Suleiman drew in a grateful breath as he emerged into the night. He had not much enjoyed scrambling through the dark, dank tunnel, and the light of the moon and starts was a welcome sight.

He glanced around. The desert stretched away around him, marked only by the low hills in the near distance, where the Ostland lay concealed. He glanced back, and saw the great, dark shape of Alhambra looming in the night sky.

If he never saw that place again, he would be quite happy.

"Did everyone make it?" he asked, looking around at his friends. Saito was there, pulling him up by the hand. The Ondine Knights were all there, carrying the still-sleeping figure of Tabitha's mother between them. The girls were all there too; Kirche, and Montmorency, and Siesta, and Alice, and Louise, and Tabitha.

And most importantly, Tiffania.

"You're the last!" Kirche declared. She looked tired, but triumphant. "All right! One last effort, and we'll be on our way home!"

"Thank the Founder for that!" declared Montmorency. "Dancing for drunken soldiers! Getting chased and shot at! And scrabbling through that filthy tunnel! I want a bath!"

Suleiman forced himself not to chuckle. Montmorency was caked in dust and sand, as were they all, from their hurry down the tunnel Verdandi had hastily dug for them. The enormous mole was nearby, being enthusiastically hugged by his – or was it her – master, Guiche de Gramont. They were scorched, scratched, filthy, and weary. But they were alive. And soon they would…

Then he paused, as something…familiar began to nag at him. A vague flicker, a hunch he couldn't put into words. It was as if…there was something nearby.

"Lei?" Tiffania asked, stepping up beside him. "What's wrong?"

"I…I don't know." Suleiman could not explain it, and felt all the worse for that fact. "There's…something here."

"You too?"

"Miss Tiffania?" Suleiman glanced up at the elf-girl, amazed.

"I felt something too," Tiffania went on. She looked unsettled, confused. "Almost like…"

Then she paused, her eyes fixing on something in the darkness. Suleiman followed her line of sight, and felt his blood run cold.

Two dark shapes had emerged from the night. One of them settled to the ground in front of the ramp leading up to Alhambra's gate, while the other began to circle around the fortress; like a vulture waiting for its next meal to die.

"Airships," said Alice grimly. "Those ones Irukuku saw?"

"Kyui!" Irukuku nodded nervously, clutching her hands over her chest. "But the nasty mean Ruin Dragon's gone!"

Suleiman remembered what Malicorne had said; two ships and a black dragon. But as he looked up at Alhambra, he could see no sign of the dragon. What had become of it?

"I'd say…Romalian make," Maxwell commented. "Fast ships. But I can't see any flags."

"All the more reason to go, now!" insisted Kirche. It doesn't look like they've seen us."

But Suleiman could not turn away. He could only stare, eyes straining against the darkness, as a procession of figures emerged from the landed airship. Lights glowed around them, and he could see a figure at the head of the procession.

A figure with silver hair.

(x)

Fernando Sotomayor kept a straight face as he led the way up the ramp. Behind him, the red-clad knights of the Scarlet Tower stretched out in a long line, down to where the Riverenza had landed. They advanced with swords held at en-garde, blades glowing with magic, illuminating their path towards the gate. Directly behind him were Carloman on the right, his enormous zwei-hander held forward in the same manner, and to the left Minerva.

Fernando could not see her. But he knew she had a smile on her face. She knew what was coming.

So then…why did he feel strangely on edge? As if some indefinable instinct was trying to warn him of something?

Before him, a gaggle of guards stood in front of the gate, muskets held at the ready, eyes full of fear. Their green uniforms were stained with desert dust, and what might have been soot. As he drew closer, Fernando could see their bloodshot eyes, how they twitched as they glared.

Rejuvenating potions, perhaps? Had they been dosed in order to deal with whatever had been going on in the fortress when Minerva had passed overhead?

He halted a few mails from the gate, the column behind him doing likewise. He stood still for a few moments, letting his unwilling hosts stew in their own dread a little longer.

"I am Fernando Sotomayor, Grand Master of the Order of the Scarlet Tower," he declared, in his best sermon voice. "I seek audience with the commander of the garrison."

"Why are you here?" demanded one of the guards, an older-looking man with greying hair. "You Romalians have no authority here!"

Fernando heard Carloman bristling behind him. He did not retort that a fair number of his order's members were in fact of Gallian birth. Nor did he intend to do what Carloman doubtless wanted to do. He had no reason to.

"That is why I seek audience with your commander," he said, his tone sweet reason. "Is it possible to speak with him? It seems like you've been having some trouble."

"What do you know of it?" growled the guard, hefting his musket. "Was this your…?"

He fell silent at the sound of shouting echoing through the gatehouse. All at once a portly man pushed his way through the crowd and stepped out in front. He was clad in expensive clothes; or at least they had once been expensive. They looked badly scorched, and Fernando stifled a chuckle when he noticed that the man's eyebrows were missing.

"I am Philippe Montcalme, Baron de Miscoeur." The man identified himself, bowing respectfully. "I have the honour to command the garrison here at Alhambra. May I ask your business here?"

"We were just passing," lied Fernando smoothly. "And we noticed you have some trouble. We thought it proper to offer our assistance."

"Your grace is most kind," replied the Baron. "But that really isn't necessary. We have the matter under control."

"I see." Fernando clasped his hands behind his back, draping his sleeves to hide them from sight. "May I ask what it was?"

"A little trouble with some visitors, your grace." The Baron had managed to fix his face in a look of gentlemanly bonhomie. But Fernando could see the fear behind his eyes. "A group claiming to be travelling entertainers. They tried to infiltrate the keep during their show, but my guards dealt with them."

"Ah, that's good to hear." Fernando fixed his eyes on the older guard from before, and let his power do its work, ever so gently. "From what my scout told me, it seemed as if a furious battle was taking place."

The Baron froze, and Fernando forced himself not to smirk.

"My scout saw something rather strange," he went on, keeping his tone suitably good-natured and friendly. "She claims that there was an elf here. Two of them in fact. And that they were fighting a desperate battle."

The Baron's smile looked increasingly forced.

"Your grace…I can explain…"

Fernando twitched one finger. The guard let out a wail as his body jerked, his musket's muzzle aiming straight at Fernando.

"Don't let me down, Carloman," Fernando thought, as he twitched another finger. The guard cried out as his finger tightened on the trigger, and the flintlock fell. Fernando could see the sparks fly from the frizzen, and the flash of the powder.

And here was Carloman, darting in front of him. The musket fired, and Fernando's heart clenched as the bullet bounced off the younger man's pauldron, the armour glowing as the spells worked into the metal resisted the attack.

The Baron had gone deathly pale, his mouth hanging open. For a few moments he stood, frozen to the spot, then turned around and ran towards the gate, wailing in blind terror.

Fernando stood perfectly still as Minerva darted past him, crimson robes billowing, her lips moving as she levelled her wand. An enormous fireball leapt from its tip, smashing straight into the Baron's retreating back. The Baron screamed as he was hurled forward into the stunned guards, and then all were forced back through the door, shrieking in terror and agony as the fire burned them.

Carloman snapped his head round, his eyes bright with battle-fury, waiting for the word.

"My son," Fernando said. Nothing else needed to be said.

"Brothers!" Carloman roared. "Purify their unclean traitor's nest with flame! Seek them out! Burn them out! Into the Fire!"

"Into the Fire!" roared back the knights. Carloman turned and sprinted towards the door, shoulder-first. Someone inside tried to push the door shut, but Carloman slammed into it, knocking it open and tearing away the frame as he barged through; his armour glowing as its magic fought the protective spells set into the wood. The knights raced in after him, and Fernando could hear the sounds of battle.

Fernando paused a moment, and looked up at the Contrizione. As planned, it had moved in close to the battlements at the opposite end of the fortress, and he could just see the red-robed shapes leaping down from its gunwhales. The garrison didn't stand a chance.

"Can we go, Grand Master?"

Fernando looked, and saw Minerva there, eyes bright with the joy that only fire and destruction could bring her. She was the only one remaining, apart from the four Siphonatores. Fernando smiled, and opened his mouth to grant permission.

And then paused again, as he saw something in the distance. He stared, fixing his eyes on the hills in the near distance, on the shape that was rising up from them.

That feeling again. That strange…niggling.

He looked to Minerva, who was also staring at the distant object. She saw his gaze, and turned to face him.

"Minerva."

Minerva looked up at the sky.

"SCORCHY!" she shrieked, the sound echoing over the desert. Fernando heard the familiar low rumble, and a great black shape detached itself from the Contrizione. It coiled around the fortress' outer wall, and raced towards them. Minerva ran and leapt off the ramp, fell for a few seconds, and then landed on the enormous dragon's back.

Fernando watched as the black dragon winged away into the night, following the distant shape as it accelerated away.

(x)

"Saaaaafe!" Saito breathed as he slumped in the chair. The others were crowding into the Ostland's mess hall, shedding their weapons, heedless of the dirt and soot spreading around them.

The girls had grabbed the other chairs, while the Ondines sat against the wall, and Malicorne took a whole bench to himself. Suleiman slumped by the wall, close to Tiffa.

"Well..." Kirche wiped her brow. "Like Guiche said... that couldn't have gone any better." She panted as she grinned. "A job well done if I do say so myself!"

"Indeed!" declared Guiche, raising his hand with a flourish. "We, the Ondine Knights, have won the day!"

Saito turned to Louise, who had sat down beside him, and patted her on the head.

"Hey," he grinned, giving her a thumbs up. "Good work Louise. I was getting worried back there."

Louise perked up, and her cheeks reddened as she registered his praise. Then she remembered herself, and puffed out her cheeks.

"Naturally." She huffed. "I am a Valliere after all. I have a reputation to uphold!"

But then her eyes softened, and she looked away.

"But…your master appreciates your compliment."

"Heh! You think that bunch of no hopers could stop us?" declared Derflinger, popping up from his scabbard to speak. "We stopped the seventy-five thousand!"

"Indeed." Louise drew herself up, in that puffed up way that made him want to pat her on the head. "I knew you would be all right. Have more faith in your master's judgement in future!"

Saito sighed, smiling. Still his adorably puffed up, preciously proud little master. He had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, but resisted it. He was too tired to get exploded.

"We did it, though," Louise went on, brightening a little. "We saved Tabitha, and her mother too. Though…I fear Henrietta will be angry with me."

Her face fell, and a sorrowful mood settled on the room. None of them had wanted to be reminded of what likely awaited them in Tristain.

"At us," insisted Saito, putting his hand on top of hers. "Whatever she doles out, we face it together." He beamed. "And besides, we rescued the Princess and her mother, right? That's got to count for something."

Louise blinked at Saito, then smiled again.

"Are you sure you're all right, Lei?"

Saito looked up to see Tiffania standing over Suleiman, regarding him with obvious concern. For the man who was supposed to be in charge of the entertainment, he had been roughed up quite badly. His clothes were rags, his bare skin bruised and bloodied.

"I'm all right, Miss Tiffania," Suleiman said, smiling, as Tiffania knelt down beside him. He winced, and reached behind his back. "Just a scratch, really."

"Should have saved that healing potion." Montmorency muttered as she looked over to the elf. Tiffania did not reply, but she looked worried.

"What's done is done ladies." Kirche cut through before any spat could begin, kneeling down beside Suleiman and glancing down his back. "Hmm, a bleeder, and a bad one. Down to the infirmary with you, young sir." She turned to Siesta. "Is Tabitha's mother settled?"

"Yes, Miss Zerbst," Siesta replied. "Tabitha is with her, along with Alice, Sylphid, and Maxwell. The other beds are free."

"Tiffa, if you would be so kind."

Kirche and Tiffania helped Suleiman to his feet. Suleiman tried to stand, but his legs wobbled, and both girls had to catch him. Saito bit his lip, fighting down a surge of jealousy. Both ladies were in their dancing costumes, and their bosoms were pressing against Suleiman's arms as they helped him out of room.

"Lei! You get all the luck!"

A growl silenced the jealousy, replacing it with anxiety. He looked around and saw a very annoyed Louise glaring at him, eyebrow twitching, wand at the ready.

Surely she wouldn't! Not on an airship!

"You're lucky we're in company," she growled, and lowered her wand.

"Gotta be more subtle partner." Derflinger. "A glance is fine, but don't linger too long."

"And you're not helping, tool" Louise hissed back at the sword. Saito couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay." Montmorency raised her hands and stretched. "With Colbert at the helm, I think we all deserve some beauty sleep!"

"No kidding. I'm dying for a bath!" Gimli added.

"Alas, this is what it means to be a Knight!" proclaimed Guiche with a flourish. "We must rest even in muddled clothing! But rest assured, for our good deeds and absolute success, a bath awaits us in the near future!"

No one responded. The adrenalin rush had faded.

"Yep," Saito yawned, standing up and stretching. "Louise, let's go to…"

A low, rumbling roar cut through the night. For a few moments they all paused, looking around, wondering what it could be.

Then the Ostland banked hard to the right. Saito let out a yell as he almost fell over. Malicorne shouted and spluttered as he landed flat on his face. All the rest staggered and fell about.

"Partner!" yelled Derflinger. "Trouble!"

"That roar," Saito breathed, as he managed to regain his footing. He had heard it before, at the fortress…

He sprinted out of the mess hall, rounded a corner, and darted up the stairs to the bridge, Louise hot on his heels. Inside, Jean Colbert was bracing himself against the wheel, struggling to turn it with one hand while pulling at levers with the other.

"Professor!" Saito called out, hurrying to his side. "What is it?"

"A dragon, I think!" replied Colbert. Saito could see the sweat on his brow. "It came from behind!"

"I can't see anything!" Louise glanced around, staring through the rounded glass bubble window for any sign of their attacker.

"It's in the clouds to our left," said Colbert, breathing hard as he hauled on the wheel, and the Ostland levelled off. "It'll be upon us at any moment."

Then Saito saw it, a great dark shape banking out of the clouds towards them. Its wings spread out as it levelled off, and Saito gasped as he saw it clearly. An enormous dragon, bigger than any he had ever seen, its scales midnight black, its eyes a nightmare red.

"Hold tight!" Colbert yanked another of his levers as the dragon opened its mouth. The Ostland suddenly dropped, and a gout of flame leapt from the dragon's mouth, flashing straight overhead, so close that the glass above them blackened and bubbled.

"That dragon!" cried Louise, as they levelled off again. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"I've never seen anything like it," mused Colbert, brow furrowing as he worked the levers.

"We saw it before at Alhambra," Saito said, looking up and around for any sign of it. "It must be with those other guys!"

"No time to speculate!" barked Louise. "Professor, have the crew man the guns! We have to fight it off!"

There was a pause.

"Professor?"

"There are no guns, Miss Valliere."

There was another pause.

"What do you mean there are no guns?!" shrieked Louise, a vein on her temple bulging dangerously. "What kind of ship is this?"

"Not a ship of war!" retorted Colbert sternly. "Besides, it can outrun anything!"

"It's not outrunning that thing!" Louise snapped back. "Oh! No time!"

She turned around and darted for the door. Saito ran after her following her down the steps.

"We have to go out there and stop it!" insisted Louise. "It'll come back and…"

"Kyuii! Don't go!"

All at once something wrapped itself around Saito and pinned him to the wall. It was Irukuku, fortunately clad in the oversized shirt and breeches she had borrowed at the fortress. She looked up at him, eyes wide with terror and brimming with tears.

"You can't go!" she wailed. "It'll kill you!"

"Let go of Saito this instant!" snapped Louise, that vein bulging again. Feeling her bosom pressing against his chest, Saito gently pushed the blue-haired girl back.

"Irukuku," he said, gently but firmly. "Tell us what you know. What do you know about that dragon?"

"It's nasty, mean and evil!" replied Irukuku with a sniff. "But not fast! Rhyme dragons are faster! That's how we get away!"

For a moment, Saito wondered what she meant. Then he heard that roar again, and dismissed the thought.

"Come on!" Louise dashed through the doorway and out onto the open deck. The Ostland was going a full speed, and Saito felt the wind buffet him as he followed her out. Tabitha and Kirche soon followed, the Montmorency and the Ondines. Struggling against the wind up as they looked up and around at the night sky. All around, Saito could see the snow-capped peaks of mountains, looming dark and grim.

A flash of light, from behind the Ostland. Saito's heart clenched as he saw the dragon again, breathing a gout of flame straight into the Ostland's starboard engine. The flames washed around, billowing and dancing amid the spinning blades, and for a moment Saito thought it would resist.

But then he heard the crump of something exploding, saw the whoosh of white steam, and flames gouted from every opening. He hoped, desperately, that there was no one inside.

He glanced up at Colbert. The Professor was yanking levers, and the scorched rotors began to slow. He felt the Ostland slow down, and almost jumped as the dragon shot past, coming around in a tight arc. He could see the rider standing on the beast's back, crimson robes billowing in the wind, a free hand aiming what could only have been a wand, the flicker and flash as a fireball took form.

"Explosion!" Louise shrieked, deadly magic leaping from her outstretched wand. In the same instant the fireball loosed, and then detonated as the two magics interacted. The dragon rolled hard over, shielding its rider with its black-scaled belly. The blast washed over Saito and his fellows, hurling them to the deck.

Saito snarled, and pulled himself to his feet as the dragon rolled over an over before righting itself, then came around and flew straight at them, wings flapping hard. As it drew in close, Saito could see the rider clearly. A young woman, one hand holding a heavy chain like a horse's reins, her hair flapping in the wind, her eyes bright with bloodlust.

She thrust out her wand, letting off another fireball. Saito readied to throw himself aside, feeling the heat on his skin. But an icy wind caught it, and the ball erupted, hot air washing over them. Saito looked, and saw that it was Tabitha, her borrowed wand outstretched. Soon Kirche, Montmorency, and the Ondines were doing likewise, loosing fireballs and windbolts in a deadly fusillade as the dragon passed over the deck.

But once again the dragon rolled, and then threw up its wings and fell away, vanishing out of sight. Saito dashed to the gunwhale and looked over. The dragon was a ways off, flapping and twisting in the air as it tried to gain height.

"This one's no slouch!" he yelled.

He found himself remembering his battles in the skies over Tarbes, and over Albion, when he had fought against Albion's dragon knights, and sent so many tumbling to the ground. They had manoeuvred in the air like that, so lightly and easily, but with dragons half that thing's size.

"Get ready!" he called out, as the dragon drew level and turned towards them again. "Here it comes!"

The dragon came on fast, even as the Ostland began heaving to starboard. A volley of wind bolts lanced out, but the dragon twisted in the air, a few hits puffing against its armoured hide. The beast's head dipped, and breathed a gout of flame straight into the Ostland's flank. At the same time, the rider levelled her wand.

"Inferno!" A bolt of dark flame leapt from the wand, racing through the air towards them. Again Tabitha loosed her freezing wind, but the bolt exploded much closer, flinging them all away. Saito felt the heat scorch his skin, and heard his friends cry out in fear and pain.

He looked up, and the dragon was gone; roaring in the night behind the Ostland.

"She's fast!" snarled Kirche. "I couldn't get a spell off!"

"The ship's on fire!" yelled one of the Ondines. Saito looked, and his blood ran cold as he saw the smoke billowing up over the bow, the flames licking up the gunwhale on the port side. Tabitha hurried over, screwing up her eyes against the heat, and set to work with her magic, Montmorency doing likewise.

Saito looked around, looking for something, anything. Tabitha couldn't fight that dragon and stop the ship from burning up. But no one else seemed strong enough.

"Kyui…"

It was Irukuku. She stepped away from the door, and forced herself to walk towards the starboard gunwhale. Saito saw the tears streaming down her face.

"What are you doing!" he yelled, waving at her. "Get back inside! It's dangerous!"

"No! Irukuku!" yelled Louise. But the blue-haired girl did not listen. She only stared up at the sky.

"Irukuku!" This time it was Tabitha. Saito looked at her, and saw, for the first time, fear in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, big sister," said Irukuku, her voice hoarse as if from crying. She turned back to the sky, as the dragon came round again, circling in the near distance, as if weighing up whether to attack again, or just let the Ostland burn.

"Not them!" Irukuku cried, her voice rising to a shrieked. "You won't take them too!"

And then she leapt over the gunwhale.

Saito let out a cry of denial, and threw himself at the gunwhale, the others doing likewise. But too late. He could only look down, not daring to believe, as Irukuku plunged into the darkness.

And then she changed. Saito stared, dumbstruck, as her body turned into light, and grew, and changed.

A cry rang out, a cry he knew well. And a blue-scaled dragon soared away into the sky.

"Sylphid?" Saito could only stare. "No way!"

"Impossible!" Louise gaped like a goldfish. "But she's…"

The black dragon let out a roar; a roar of bloodlust and fury. It turned a tight turn, aiming itself straight at Sylphid. The blue dragon turned lightly, dodging a gout of fire then flapped away hard. The ruin dragon fell in behind, dragon and ride tormenting her with bolts of flame. Sylphid dodged again, and again, but her attackers would give her no respite.

"Leave her alone!" yelled Saito, for all the good it would do. He was powerless! Damn it all! He could do nothing!

"We have to help her!" wailed Louise. She stared after the dragons, her eyes brimming with tears at Sylphid's sacrifice. Saito's heart ached, but there was nothing he could do to help.

Unless…

"Sylphid!" He jumped up and down, having both arms. "Sylphid! Come here!"

"Uh, partner?" Derflinger spoke up. "You got a plan, or did you hit your head?"

"Saito! What are you doing?" demanded Louise. Saito ignored her, and kept on jumping and yelling, praying to any God inclined to listen that Sylphid could hear.

Maybe she had. Sylphid came around, flapping her wings, and sped towards the Ostland. Saito gulped, trying to ignore the cold dread in his stomach.

"Everyone, stay down until that thing gets close, then hit it with all you've got!"

"Saito!" Louise persisted. "Saito, stop ignoring your…!"

Then she trailed off, as Saito kissed her full on the lips.

"Sorry about this," he said. He really couldn't think of anything to say. He glanced at Sylphid, who was closing in fast. He had to time this right.

"Sylphid!" he yelled. "Catch me!"

And with that, he flung himself over the gunwhale. He could hear the cries of his friends, Louise's shrieking his name, as he fell through the freezing air. And then all he could hear was the wind, the wind that buffeted and shoved at him, as he plunged through the darkness.

And Louise, still shrieking his name.

"Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work! Please let this work!"

And then, mercifully, he felt Sylphid catch him in her mouth. Sylphid bent her neck, flipping him onto her back. Saito grabbed at the dragon's neck, hanging on for dear life, his heart thundering like a jackhammer, his body icy cold with pure dread.

He had made it.

"Sylphid, great catch! Now let's…!"

"Dog!"

For a moment, Saito couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then he turned, and saw Louise slowly hauling herself along Sylphid's back towards him. She looked murderous.

"You…you idiot!" yelled Saito, stunned disbelief turning to fury. "Stupid, crazy…pettanko! You could've been killed!"

"Don't you dare criticize me!" Louise flung herself at him, beating at him with her fists. "How dare you kiss your master and jump off like that! You could've been killed! You could've been eaten by that dragon! Don't you dare do that again! Don't you dare! Don't you dare!"

Still she beat and pummelled at him, whimpering her rage and pain. Sylphid began to caw in protest. But Saito could see the tears brimming in her eyes. He threw his arms around her, pulling her in close, loving the warmth of her, and hating himself for hurting her like that.

"You can punish me later, my master," he said, as gently as he could manage. "But we have to save the Ostland."

"Uh, partner, do you want the good news, or the bad news?" asked Derflinger, with his usual bad timing. Saito looked up, and saw the black dragon falling in behind them. It was close, and Saito could see the scorching on its belly, the blood running between its scales. The others had hurt it!

Above them, the Ostland flew on, still in the air at least.

"Louise?"

"Later." Louise pulled back, blinking away her tears. "Now, we stop that thing!"

"How?" Saito called back. The Ruin dragon had come about, and was making another pass.

"We'll draw it away from the Ostland! You ride, and I'll cast!"

"Saito nodded. It wasn't the greatest plan ever, but they were out of options. He pressed in his knees, and Sylphid flapped harder in response. Behind them the black dragon loomed closer, its maw open, red light glowing within. The dragon released a gout of flame, as its rider loosed a stream of fire from her wand. Together they came on, closer and closer.

"Explosion!" Louise thrust her wand forward. Her spell caught both fireball and stream, all erupting in a flash of light. Wind lashed about them as Sylphid turned hard towards the black dragon, maybe hoping to slip past before it could loose another fireball.

Saito had an idea.

"Get me right under the belly! I'll gut it!" he yelled

"You'd lose me in the process! You're strong Partner," Derflinger yelled out over the wind racing through his ears. "But as I am now, against Ruin Dragon Scales? Good luck with that!"

"Luck's all we've got! That and this plan!" Saito retorted, drawing the sword and tightening his thighs around Sylphid's long neck. "Sylphid, take us right under its belly!"

The dragon warbled a reply as she beat her wings faster, accelerating towards the Ruin dragon even as its mouth began to glow again.

"Dive!" yelled Saito, heart hammering as Sylphid bent her long back and fell into a dive. Saito felt his stomach fly into his mouth. It was like being on a rollercoaster, only with a giant black dragon trying to flambee him alive. Down and down they went, closer and closer, until they were under the dragon's belly.

Saito roared and thrust Derflinger straight up. But the blade skidded and sparked on the hard scales. His arms recoiled, and he had to fight not to drop Derflinger. He felt something pop in his right arm, and then all he could feel was pain.

They were clear, Sylphid bending her wings to level off. Saito looked down at his right arm, and stifled yell as he tried to move his hand. The wrist was broken for sure.

"What did I tell you!" Derflinger yelled. "Those things are tough!"

"It's a Ruin Dragon! Few things can hurt it!" Louise called out, her voice just visible over the howling wind. Her hair was slick with damp, her eyes bright with fear.

And behind her was the black dragon, coming around for another pass.

"Okay! Plan B!" He looked around, and saw the mountains below. He glanced back at the dragon, and saw the Ostland in the near distance, just visible thanks to the fading glow of the fires.

That was a problem. Without those fires, he wouldn't be able to find the Ostland in the dark. They might not be able to catch up.

He shook his head. Nothing to be done for that.

"They're still after us!" he called out. "They can't let us go, not with your…gnnnhh…!"

The pain drowned his words. If not for the adrenalin pounding through his veins, he would have surely been helpless.

"Just hit it with your magic!" Derflinger added. "It's big and not all that nippy!"

"I can't manage much more!" Louise's eyes were bright, but Saito could tell that she was flagging. "We have to…look out!"

Sylphid heard her cry and dived to the right, dodging a narrow stream of fire that lashed like a snake towards them, coiling and flashing in the night air.

"She's using a whip!?" Saito called out, incredulous. He could see the rider, her crimson robes billowing, her arm rising and falling; in movements that were all too familiar.

"Explosion!" Louis fired off again, the whip vanishing as the spell caught it. Saito felt her arm around his waist, its grip weakening. He had to think of something!

Then he saw it. Below, just visible in the moonlight, a river valley…and a cave mouth.

"Go!" he grabbed at Sylphid's horns, pointing down at the at the cave. "Go! Down there!"

Sylphid seemed to understand. She dipped her head, and began to dive towards the river.

"What is this?" demanded Louise, yelling over his shoulder. Saito clung to the blue dragon's neck, pulling it left and right as she dived, praying that she understood.

She did, for she jinked left and right; a ball of dark fire flashing past on one side, then a jet of bright fire on the other; so close the heat made his skin prickle even through the cold.

No whip. Probably heavy on mana.

They dived faster and faster, the river drawing ever closer; until Saito could see it widen into a small lake just before passing into the cave. As the cold wind stung his hands and face, he turned to yell at the black dragon, diving hard behind them.

"You want us?" he roared, shaking his fist at the horrid beast. "Come and get us!"

Sylphid skimmed over the water, flying so low that the waters parted in bright waves. Saito clenched his teeth; they were flying straight, with a bandit behind!

"Louise!"

She turned, bleary-eyed, as black dragon and red-clad rider readied another attack.

"EXPLOSION!" Her spell flew true, and all three attacks erupted together. Sylphid warbled as the shockwave pushed them down, Saito clinging to her neck for dear life, and Louise clinging to him.

Then all was darkness. They were inside the cave.

The roar of the wind was gone, replaced with the thunder of water. Above him, stalactites glittered in a strange, unnatural light. Saito blinked, then realized that Sylphid was glowing. Was it magic?

He strained his ears, listening for the sound of their enemy, even through the endless echoing of the water, listening for the sound of a crash.

Instead, a low guttering roar.

"Damn!" Saito cursed. His plan had failed. That damn dragon was behind them somewhere. "She just won't quit!"

"Kinda like you, partner," commented Derflinger.

All at once they reached the cave's maw, shooting out into the night sky. Below them, the water gushed down the mountainside, vanishing into a cloud of mist below. He could see the river stretching out, bending gently away into a deep valley, lined with trees.

The moment died as he heard the roar again. Behind them, the black dragon emerged from the cave, thrusting out its nightmare wings and beating hard.

"Get close," Louise croaked, her strength almost gone. "I'll blast him." Her eyes were bright, though her grip around his waist grew slacker still. They had one shot at this. One last shot.

"Sylphid, when I tell you, pull back hard," Saito said. He glanced back, and saw the Ruin dragon drawing closer, eyes bright with bloodlust. Closer and closer, mouth opening to breathe, its rider drawing back her arm, fire-whip coiling and lashing.

"Now!"

Sylphid drew back her wings, slowing almost to a stop, so hard that Saito nearly flew off her back. The black dragon roared in surprise, but too late, as it turned away to avoid smashing into them. As they drew level, Saito saw the black dragon's rider; a young woman with long black hair, eyes wide with what might have been surprise.

Then she moved, thrusting her wand at him, the whip lashing towards him. Saito thrust out Derflinger, and the whip cracked as it struck the blade, bouncing off and coiling like a serpent.

"Explosion!"

The world slowed down. Saito saw the spell hit, heard the Ruin dragon roar in mingled fury and pain, saw the look of horrified disbelief flash over the rider's face as her mount turned hard, tumbling wing over wing as they fell away.

Then he felt the shockwave hit them. He grabbed at Louise, holding her tight even as his one good hand clutched Derflinger, squeezing his knees to stay on Sylphid's back. The blue dragon cried out in pain, flapping desperately as she tried to right herself. Left, right, left again.

They landed. Cold stabbed up from Saito's legs as Sylphid plunged into the water, thrusting down her wings to slow herself. The waves buffeted him, soaking him to the skin, so cold that he barely felt that pain in his wrist. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.

And they slowed. And they stopped.

He opened his eyes, tried to look around. His whole body was cold, colder than he could ever remember being; colder even than Albion in the winter.

Sylphid was moving, dragging herself across the riverbed, drawing them out of the river and onto the bank. Saito slid off her back, his strength gone, barely feeling the ground as he landed.

"Saito…" Louise whispered, her eyes half-open. "Are you…"

"I'm alive, Louise," he whispered back, managing a smile. "We're alive. We beat that thing."

Sylphid made a noise he didn't understand, and slowly coiled her body around him, folding in her wings. Saito almost felt like crying. Even then, after everything she had been through, she was trying to keep them warm.

"You're the best, Sylphid," he whispered, reaching up his hand to pat her scaled flank. "You saved us."

He looked up at the sky. It was full of stars, so many of them, so bright and clear. He could see them so well, so much better than back at home.

He knew he had to keep his eyes open, that if he fell asleep he might never wake up. But he knew that he couldn't. He didn't have the strength.

As his eyes slid closed, he saw a shape in the sky above them, and wondered if it was the Ostland.

(X)

The wind whipped around Fernando, his mantle billowing behind him.

From his vantage point on the Contrizione's bow, he scanned his eyes over the landscape.

Still no sign. Many hours had passed since he had sent Minerva and her dragon after the fleeing airship. He had expected to see a burning wreck, and the black dragon circling triumphantly overhead. But for so many hours, nothing at all.

This was becoming a complication. A complication, on a mission that had thus far left him with more questions than answers. Alhambra had been taken easily enough, its drink-addled defenders massacred. Shortly before he left, his knights had begun the work of inventorying the fortress' contents, with useful items to be sent back to the Scarlet Tower, and anything else of value to be sold. He had not made the order powerful by neglecting its finances.

But still he had nothing. No indication of what had been going on there, what secrets the fortress had been hiding. If Minerva had failed, as he increasingly feared that she had, his only chance would be that one mage officer they had found, the one with the broken back. Otherwise...

Otherwise trouble. He had taken a fortress of Gallia by force, slaughtered its garrison, and looted it for good measure. Had Gallia any king other than Joseph, war would be all but guaranteed, and it wasn't a war he was sure he could win; at least not by himself.

He needed evidence. He needed proof of whatever wicked scheme he knew Joseph was cooking up. He needed something the Pope could use to rally the faithful, to raise a mighty crusade against the mad King. He needed...

"Grand Master!"

Fernando turned to see who had called to him. It was one of the lookouts, a telescope in hand.

"Flames on the horizon!" he called out, pointing into the distance. Fernando looked, and saw there was indeed a fiery glow, illuminating the clouds beyond.

"Take us there!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the wind. The lookout nodded, turned towards the bridge, and began waving his arms in a manner that would be seemed ridiculous, had Fernando not known its meaning. Within a moment, he felt the ship come about, the masts creaking and groaning under the strain, aiming towards the flames.

Fernando clutched the amulet that hung at his throat, praying that Minerva was not dead. She had been a rare find, the talented child of a noble family of Albion, cast out because of her...tendencies. Having a Ruin dragon for her familiar had not helped matters.

So she had come to him. She had pledged to the Order in return for having her crimes dismissed, her sins forgiven, her accusers driven away. She had proven her worth, and risen to become one of his Executors, his elite four, alongside Thibault, Carloman, and Charlotte. She was near-irreplaceable.

Near irreplaceable.

The ship flew on, and Fernando saw the flames. The forests below were on fire, lakes of bright flame spreading ever wider. They would burn and burn until the rains came, or some mage bothered to intervene. Fernando followed the pattern, picturing in his mind's eye the strange ship, slewing through the sky as it dried to evade Scorchy's fire breath. Clearly they had put up a fight, but there was no sign of a wreck, or the dragon?

Who were they? Who could have put up such a fight? Who were the strangers Montcalme had spoken of?

Not Tristain, probably. Their young Queen was too chivalrous, and too cautious. Even Joseph was not insane enough to deliberately sabotage his own plan, unless some other faction was behind it; but then who? Was it that bitter young Duke over in Navarre? Or had the North Parterre revolted at last?

Or...

"Germania..." he mused aloud. He had some evidence to hint at it; namely the dregs in those beer kegs the garrison had been drinking out of. An expensive Germanian beer, which one of his knights reckoned had been made in Anhalt-Zerbst. It was suspicious, but not enough by itself.

Then again, the Schattenschwert might be able to pull off something like this. But then what was their motive?

Could it be...elves?

"Grand Master! Down there!"

It was the lookout again. Fernando looked, and his eyes widened as he saw Scorchy, lying curled up on the bank of a great river; itself fed by a waterfall gushing down from the mountainside.

His mind boggled. Scorchy was down! The black ruin dragon, that had overcome every foe set against it, was down on the ground. And he could see no sign of an airship wreck anywhere nearby.

Had they been defeated? Who were these strange people, to have defeated Minerva and her dragon?

"Set us down!" he ordered. More signing, and then Contrizione began her descent, spiralling gently around to land nearby. Fernando hurried down to the hatch, and was first down as soon as it was lowered, a handful of knights and clerics following on behind.

The dragon looked up as they approached, a low growl grumbling from its throat. He heard his followers pause, his knights reaching for their weapons. A understandable reaction, but quite pointless. If Scorchy was in that foul a mood, no power in the universe could save them there and then.

"Scorchy," he called out, fixing the dragon with his eyes. "Where is your master?"

Scorchy stretched out a little further, baring his fangs as he growled again. Fernando then saw Minerva, lying within his ebony coils. She was alive, but her arm hung at an unnatural angle, and her face was a mask of pain, though her eyes were closed.

"We will help her!" he said, his eyes fixed on the glaring amethyst orbs that sat either side of the long, scaled muzzle. "You must let us have her!"

He nodded sharply to the clerics. They stepped forward, and began carefully easing Minerva out of Scorchy's coils. She let out a moan, and the dragon snarled and snapped, eyes blazing. The clerics froze, and Fernando could hear their chanted prayer. They were at about their limit, and he could not blame them.

"They meant no harm!" he barked, trying to force his will on the beast. "You must trust us, Scorchy! We will save her!"

The dragon glared at him. It despised him, Fernando knew. It despised all other forms of life, perhaps even its own kind. It loved only Minerva, and would suffer no hurt to her. It had protected her with its own body, shielding and warming her. It might just as well kill him on a whim, without Minerva to restrain it.

The dragon snorted, and stood up, stalking towards the waiting Contrizione. As he passed, Fernando saw that it was walking with a limp, and was bleeding through its scales.

Now he wanted to know more than ever. Who or what could have done that to a Ruin dragon?

"We'll help you too," he said, as the beast passed. "Once Minerva is safe."

Scorchy turned his carriage-sized head to regard him through narrow eyes. The look put Fernando in mind of some stuck-up noble glaring down from the safety of his carriage, regarding some particularly ugly and malodorous peasant.

Then it grunted, and continued towards the ship. They would be slowed down with having to carry him, but there was no alternative.

Fernando looked up at the sky, some unanswerable impulse driving him to look, to seek some inspiration, some answer. All he could see was the stars, and the familiar shape of Justizia circling slowly around. Carloman had caught up, fortunately. It was time to head home, and prepare for what was to come.

"Into the fire," he whispered, and clutched his amulet.

(X)


Kingdom of Tristain

The blade hissed as it cut the air.

Majid moved, his scimitar flashing in the sunlight as he shifted from position to position. Upper guard, diagonal left, rear guard, back slash, upper cut, level guard, spinning slash, lower guard. From one to the next, in one sequence, then another. Fluid like water, quick as lightning, light as a falling leaf.

He finished, and straightened up, letting the sweat run down his back, his bare torso cooling in the breeze. A sense of peace, of stillness, settled over him; a feeling he had not felt in some time.

The gardens of the Valliere estate were large and expansive, covering much of the surrounding area. Majid's hosts had allowed him free run of the estate, in return for what they had called a parole; a promise that he would not try to escape, or betray their trust in any way. Majid had been initially uncomfortable with such a promise. The idea that he would attempt treachery while under another's roof was insulting to him, and he was not sure just how long they would require him to remain there. But the fact remained that they had taken him into their home, and nursed him back to health, given him food and shelter, and not simply locked him up downstairs. He could hardly refuse them.

He saw something in the corner of his eye. A quick glance revealed it to be two maids, walking side-by-side, carrying baskets of flowers. They did not stop, but he saw them glancing at him as they gossiped and giggled.

He supposed that was a good thing. It was hardly the first time he had been ogled by young women. And it made a change from the looks of fear and suspicion that had previously come his way; though he still got them from the male servants. And the maids who brought him his meals now seemed awkward rather than afraid. Perhaps they felt bad about him having to eat by himself, but could not do anything about it.

Not that it mattered. Majid was accustomed to dark looks. It was a ghulam's lot, to be feared and suspected, to be regarded as a threat. He was also accustomed to being alone. He had been alone before he met the young master, and his old mentor Silat had taught him to value it. It was easier to be a loner in company, the old warrior had told him, than to be sociable and alone. Loners merely found unwanted company annoying, while the sociable might die of loneliness.

Loneliness.

It came upon him again, the loneliness, and the guilt. His young master was out there, alone, and subject to a strange fate; the fate a birdwoman of the Ardenne had revealed, yet could not describe except in riddles. Yet here he was, in comfortable not-quite-imprisonment, doing nothing.

"What a marvellous display of swordsmanship!"

Majid almost jumped at the voice that disturbed his sad reverie. But he did not, for he knew it well.

He turned, and saw them approaching. In front were two young ladies; one blonde and stern-looking, the other pink-haired and smiling, with two maids in attendance behind. Both he knew, by now; two of the family's three daughters. The blonde was Eleanore, the elder sister, and the other was Cattleya, the middle sister. The younger sister, Louise, he had never met, and he knew what she looked like only from the portraits Cattleya had shown him.

But he had heard plenty about her. Plenty of chatter among the servants, and exasperated ranting from Eleanore, all of which Cattleya laughed off. Apparently Louise was at the centre of these strange events, and this was not in itself unusual.

"My lady." Majid bowed to Eleanore, and then to Cattleya. In Tristain, as in Arysia, the elder sister took precedence.

"Cattleya was just admiring your calinsthenics," Eleanore cut in. "The style is somewhat different to what we are accustomed to, but it is nevertheless interesting."

"I am flattered, my lady." And he supposed he was. But he hadn't expected them to take that much of an interest. He had little doubt that Eleanore could handle herself in a fight, assuming her glare alone didn't send her enemies running for the hills, but there was nothing warlike about her manner of appearance. And he had certainly not thought of Cattleya as having any such interest. Her manner was always gentle, almost motherly.

"It may not seem so, but we are a warlike family," Cattleya said, still smiling. "Our lady mother was a very famous knight of the Manticore Squadron before she married our lord father, and he too saw his fair share of battle; at least when he was younger."

"I understand, my lady."

"In any case, we thought you'd like to hear the news," Cattleya went on. "A letter arrived from our lady mother this morning."

"She has gone in search of Louise and her companions," Eleanore cut in. "With a view to leading them back to Tristain, by hook or by crook."

"But there is better news," Cattleya went on, her eyes twinkling. "Your young master, whom you described? Her Majesty the Queen confirmed that such a person is among Louise's companions."

It was all Majid could do not to fall to his knees. He felt tears prick at his eyes. His young master was alive! And among kind friends! He had not chosen wrong to stay with the Vallieres! He had not failed his young master!

"Too bad he had to go gallivanting off on one of Louise's mad adventures," grumbled Eleanore. "That girl is nothing but trouble!"

"I think its wonderful!" declared Cattleya. "Our brave sister, risking life and limb and name for the sake of her friend! How more like a true knight could she be?"

"She could try not making us worry all the time!" retorted Eleanore, rounding on her sister. "She could come home and get married like she was supposed to!"

"Ah, but you forget." Cattleya was trying very hard not to laugh. "She cannot marry before her elder sister."

Majid stared in mute amazement at Eleanore's reaction. He had seen people lose their temper before, but he had never seen eyes blaze or hair coil quite like that.

"You had to bring it up, didn't you!" shrieked Eleanore. "Yes, it's me! Eleanore de la Valliere, who sends men running for the hills wherever she goes! Whose marriages are forever called off! I'm through with it! I'm sick of men!"

Cattleya giggled as Eleanore slumped, steam rising from her head. A quick glance at the looks on the two maids' faces told Majid that this was all quite normal in the Valliere household.

"Well I suppose the poor fellow didn't have much choice," Cattleya mused. "He was her Familiar, after all."

The word cut through Majid's joy and relief like his own scimitar. Familiar?

"Ah yes, it was in the letter," Cattleya went on, as Eleanore continued to fume. "It seems your friend has been summoned as a Familiar. Strange isn't it, how these things turn out?"

Familiar? His young master was a Familiar?

"My lady…" It was all he could do not to explode. "I thought that Familiars were only animals."

"Not just animals," Eleanore said, having seemingly recovered her composure. "All manner of creatures, some of whom are as intelligent as humans. Though an actual person is…almost unheard-of."

"Don't worry, monsieur Majid," Cattleya went on cheerfully. "I'm sure this can all be sorted out when…!"

"Do not mock me!"

Majid saw the looks on their faces, and knew he had broken every rule of etiquette, but he could not stop himself any more.

"My young master has been enslaved!" he roared. "He has been snatched away by your vile magic, and bound to some brat of a mage!"

"How dare you speak to my sister like that!" bellowed Eleanore. The maids cowered in fear behind her. "Insolent vagabond! You dare to…"

She trailed off, as Cattleya suddenly doubled over, racked with coughing. The maids rushed to catch her, to stop her from falling over.

"Cattleya!" Eleanore rushed to her sister, helping the maids to hold her up. "Cattleya!"

Majid stared in horror, his fury forgotten. To see her in such a state, in such pain, it was…

"I…I'm all right…" Cattleya wheezed, as the coughing stopped. "It's just one of my turns. Nothing to worry about."

Majid tried to think of something to say, but nothing would come. He wanted to ask after her health, but then he saw the look Eleanore was giving him."

"My sister has a weak body!" she snarled, her eyes full of hate. "You fool! Getting her worked up like this!"

"Sister…" groaned Cattleya, straightening up, the maids hovering nearby, clearly worried. "Sister…it's all right."

She looked at him with sad, worried eyes. It was more than Majid could take. He squeezed his eyes shut, but could not stop the tears from flowing. He had let Druj enter his soul and erupt through his voice, and now this had happened.

"A thousand pardons…" he forced himself to say, his voice hoarse. "I should not have…done so wickedly."

He opened his eyes, just in time to see Cattleya step forward. She dabbed at his tears with a handkerchief, as if he were a little boy.



"Don't worry about it," she said, in a tone so sweet he almost started weeping again. "I understand that you're worried. When Louise summoned Saito, I was worried too."

She stepped back, and smiled that smile again.

"But Saito is a wonderful young man, and he'll make a fine husband for Louise."

"Cattleya!" Eleanore was incredulous. "How can you even suggest it? He's an uncouth beast of an aventurier! He tried to seduce me that night!"

"That was a misunderstanding and you know it," replied Cattleya sweetly. "And you know that Louise loves him with all her heart…even if she does express it by blasting him with magic."

Then she saw the look Majid was giving her.

"But that's just Louise. The girl in question is a Miss Tiffania Westwood. Louise tells me that she's a lovely girl, and she and your friend get along famously."

Majid did not reply. He was confused, and still fearful. He wanted to believe that what she said was true, but he had only her word for it."

"In any case, why not join us for lunch and we can discuss it further," offered Cattleya. "You can sit there feeling awkward, and we can explain mother's letter further."

"I…" Majid was caught off-guard.

"Or you can let Eleanore flog the skin from your back," Cattleya suggested, smiling sweetly.

"Promises, promises," growled Eleanore. Majid sighed, the decision made for him.

"I would be honoured, my lady."

(X)

It's been a very long time since I posted here. I let it drop off because no one else seemed to be posting, and I wasn't sure if anyone was still interested in this story. Nevertheless, at Zaru's suggestion, I thought I'd give it a shot.

 

[Soberan 123]

Never thought a new update for this story would happen again.

I am glad you don't abandoned it.

 

[Juubi-K]

Thanks. I appreciate that.

The thread had just gone quiet, is all. There just wasn't much going on, and I had to keep posting keepalive messages just to keep it going. IT trouble during lockdown didn't help.

But yes, I'll do my best to keep this moving along.

 

[Soberan 123]

@Juubi-K what's the technological level of Suleiman homeland?

In cannon it was said that the elves are more advanced than humans of Halkegenia but it don't explain how much advanced, only that Brumir needed to bring modern weaponry to level the field.

In my headcannon the elves hold a steampunk level of techonology at least for a few centuries, Halkegenia discover gunpowder recently while the elves use for a long time.

 

[Juubi-K]

Tech level is tricky to describe, because magic is involved. I'll take it bit by bit.

Overall, the original inspiration (IIRC) was Safavid Persia, so that's a fair place to start. Arysia has industrialised to a fair degree, but within that particular paradigm. So, lots of wind and water power, and some fairly impressive irrigation and canal systems.

Where things get interesting is magic. Due to being a mixed elf and human society, Arysia has access to both Spirit and Elemental magic; depending on the bloodlines of the users. Cyras taught her followers to seek and share knowledge freely, so Arysians have developed a somewhat different approach to magic than Halkeginians (more on that late), and as such have pulled ahead in certain areas. The most significant of these is alchemical metallurgy, which allows them to create a wide variety of alloys for different purposes, ranging from the mundane to the magical. This includes magic items, magic weapons, and larger and more powerful cannons; such as those Sheffield - herself an Arysian - used to help Reconquista.

Regarding elemental magic. Arysia's approach to it is different, mostly because of its different attitude towards magic, but also because of its history. What the Arysians learned about Elemental Magic they learned from Brimir or his followers, while they were in the area. As I see it, the Elemental system was invented by Brimir as a teaching aid; a means of expressing the differences between the four forms of magic in a manner that could be easily understood. With his death, and the deaths of those who knew him, there was no one to directly explain the deeper truth; so future generations treated what was originally a helpful but limited analogy as holy writ. The Romalian Church made this worse by enforcing such orthodoxy with fire and sword.

In the Church's defence, it was trying to impose a measure of order and sanity on a bad situation. This was the time of the Inheritance Wars, as the three sons of Brimir squabbled among themselves for control of Halkeginia, and ended up founding the Guardian Kingdoms. The darkhorse of this time was a mage named Gunnar, who led a band of rogue mages known as the Nibelungen to found Germania. Among the horrors of that time was a rampant abuse of magic.

As a canon example, in one of Tabitha's side-stories she encounters a mage who somehow transferred his consciousness into the body of a minotaur. As a result his power was increased, but his mind became warped, and he took to eating humans. This was mild compared to what happened in the Inheritance Wars.

So, to compare; Arysia is ahead of Halkeginia in some areas, but not others. As for why Arysia hasn't pulled even further ahead, this is down to two reasons. One is past crises, including civil wars and foreign invasions. The other is the Arysians themselves. Like the Safavids, they think life is for living, and would rather enjoy themselves than work hard for the sake of it. They can and will work hard if they have to, but the Protestant work ethic is alien to them.

 

[Zaru]

I blame SV's low traffic. SB is much more active from what I can see.

 

[Soberan 123]

Tech level is tricky to describe, because magic is involved. I'll take it bit by bit.

Overall, the original inspiration (IIRC) was Safavid Persia, so that's a fair place to start. Arysia has industrialised to a fair degree, but within that particular paradigm. So, lots of wind and water power, and some fairly impressive irrigation and canal systems.

Where things get interesting is magic. Due to being a mixed elf and human society, Arysia has access to both Spirit and Elemental magic; depending on the bloodlines of the users. Cyras taught her followers to seek and share knowledge freely, so Arysians have developed a somewhat different approach to magic than Halkeginians (more on that late), and as such have pulled ahead in certain areas. The most significant of these is alchemical metallurgy, which allows them to create a wide variety of alloys for different purposes, ranging from the mundane to the magical. This includes magic items, magic weapons, and larger and more powerful cannons; such as those Sheffield - herself an Arysian - used to help Reconquista.

Regarding elemental magic. Arysia's approach to it is different, mostly because of its different attitude towards magic, but also because of its history. What the Arysians learned about Elemental Magic they learned from Brimir or his followers, while they were in the area. As I see it, the Elemental system was invented by Brimir as a teaching aid; a means of expressing the differences between the four forms of magic in a manner that could be easily understood. With his death, and the deaths of those who knew him, there was no one to directly explain the deeper truth; so future generations treated what was originally a helpful but limited analogy as holy writ. The Romalian Church made this worse by enforcing such orthodoxy with fire and sword.

In the Church's defence, it was trying to impose a measure of order and sanity on a bad situation. This was the time of the Inheritance Wars, as the three sons of Brimir squabbled among themselves for control of Halkeginia, and ended up founding the Guardian Kingdoms. The darkhorse of this time was a mage named Gunnar, who led a band of rogue mages known as the Nibelungen to found Germania. Among the horrors of that time was a rampant abuse of magic.

As a canon example, in one of Tabitha's side-stories she encounters a mage who somehow transferred his consciousness into the body of a minotaur. As a result his power was increased, but his mind became warped, and he took to eating humans. This was mild compared to what happened in the Inheritance Wars.

So, to compare; Arysia is ahead of Halkeginia in some areas, but not others. As for why Arysia hasn't pulled even further ahead, this is down to two reasons. One is past crises, including civil wars and foreign invasions. The other is the Arysians themselves. Like the Safavids, they think life is for living, and would rather enjoy themselves than work hard for the sake of it. They can and will work hard if they have to, but the Protestant work ethic is alien to them.

Click to shrink...

So Arysia don't have electrecity?

In another note I was half expecting by now Suleiman would mention more practices of his homeland that would cause shock among the people of Halkegenia such as polygamy and saying something about harems and would cause confusion.

Saito would think the modern defination of harem where in reality it was just a place especifically for women of the family, such as mothers and daughters that include wives and in case of nobility concubines.

 

[Zaru]

So Arysia don't have electrecity?

In another note I was half expecting by now Suleiman would mention more practices of his homeland that would cause shock among the people of Halkegenia such as polygamy and saying something about harems and would cause confusion.

Saito would think the modern defination of harem where in reality it was just a place especifically for women of the family, such as mothers and daughters that include wives and in case of nobility concubines.

Click to shrink...

Did you read the chapter where Lei talked about Arysian culture for a spell?? It was what started the food fight and put Louise in a maid serving Saito.

 

[Soberan 123]

Did you read the chapter where Lei talked about Arysian culture for a spell?? It was what started the food fight and put Louise in a maid serving Saito.

Click to shrink...

He did say the woman could assume position of power.

I was expecting more scenes of confusion and incidents due to cultural clash when Lei explain other parts of his people's culture and society. Said a particular bit would be Saito misunderstand the meaning of harem when Lei mention in some small talk.

 

[Zaru]

He did say the woman could assume position of power.

I was expecting more scenes of confusion and incidents due to cultural clash when Lei explain other parts of his people's culture and society. Said a particular bit would be Saito misunderstand the meaning of harem when Lei mention in some small talk.

Click to shrink...

We could have that come around soon. We can't just expose it all en masse. Arysia is meant to be a bit of a mystery to the readers as it is to the Halkiginians. Otherwise it would just be a massive jumbo info dump. Best to give it as we go. In nice little spoonfuls.

 

[reality deviant]

so very glad to see this thing actually update!

 

[Zaru]

so very glad to see this thing actually update!

Click to shrink...

Me and Juubi ain't dead yet my dude

 

[Juubi-K]

Chapter Nineteen​

The Ostland, 11th Day of Ansuz

Louise de la Valliere took a long, deep breath.

The wind washed over her, crisp and cold, invigorating. Out on the Ostland's deck, amid a cloudless sky, she could see the land for many mails around. Great stretches and green and yellow fields, with curving blue rivers, pocked here and there with peasant villages. And up ahead lay a great mass of white-capped mountains.

They were almost there. Beyond those mountains, she knew, lay Germania; the lands of Anhalt-Zerbst, where only a few days ago they had been the guests of Benedict von Anhalt-Zerbst, the Margrave, and the father of Kirche; her classmate, nemesis, and comrade-in-arms.

And, for a while at least, her host. For the land up ahead was going to be her home, perhaps for some time.

She let out a sigh. Even that glorious visage, with the bracing wish washing over her, could only distract her so much. With their battles fought, their mission complete, and so sign of pursuit for two days, the joy of battle and the glow of victory had faded; as she knew from bitter experience that they must. Time to face reality.

She had once been Louise Francois la Blanc de la Valliere; youngest daughter of the noble Valliere family. She had been a student of the Royal Tristain Magic Academy, a friend and courtier to the Queen. But no longer. For the sake of a friend, she had thrown it all away. She had handed back her chevalresse's cloak, rejected the honour her oldest and dearest friend had so lovingly bestowed upon her. She had disobeyed her Queen's direct command, and escaped from her imprisonment. She had rescued an old friend and her mother from captivity, and risked a war that could leave her country in ruins.

She could not regret it. To do so would be to betray those she had saved, and those who had accompanied her into treason, and danger. Worse, it would be to betray herself, and the code of chivalry she had so yearned to follow.

But what now? Where did her path lead now?

Nowhere. And that, she supposed, was what it meant to be free. To be without obligation, or responsibility, or bonds. To belong only to herself, and live only by her own will.

And that of the Void.

Her lip curled in sorrow, as a terrible anguish rose within her. She wanted to go home. She wished she had never tried to learn magic, never forced herself to become what her whole family believed she could not be. She should have just stayed at home, with Cattleya and all her pets, doing ladylike things and waiting for some suitable man to come and ask for her hand in marriage.

Her hand clenched into a fist. That man would have been Wardes, the orphaned knight she had so innocently admired, the traitor noble she had so foolishly trusted. She would have been given to him in marriage, and followed him as a silent, obedient wife, not daring to imagine any other life, or that she might be good for anything else. She would have willingly used her power for him, the power that he alone had recognized, and valued.

No! She had made the right choice! She had been right to walk her own path, to learn magic, and follow her own will! She had been right to face the dangerous world her family had tried to protect her from! She had been right to fight!

But what now?

She sighed, letting the fury fade, and her mind clear. She was going to have to think about it, one way or another. She was going to need a plan.

So what did she have to work with?

She looked out over the gunwhale again, fixing her eyes on the distant mountains, drawing ever closer. Germania was there, vast, chaotic, barbaric; but also energetic, open-minded. It had always been thus, ever since the dark days of the Guardian Wars. It was a land of opportunity, a place where a fallen noble could start again, make something of herself.

So how to go about it?

Kirche had once suggested that Saito get himself a tax collector's post and work up from there. So…

Tax collector. A year or two in that post, if he worked hard, and he could maybe get a job working for a town mayor, or maybe a city mayor. They could buy some land, and invest in some businesses maybe. Give it a few years and they could afford a townhouse, with room for a couple of servants maybe. She would play the society hostess, holding dinner parties and maybe the odd soiree, to impress his boss and colleagues, and get him promoted. He could become a mayor himself, with a house big enough for many servants, and a ballroom, and they could afford a country estate by then.

And then…children.

Louise's cheeks reddened, as she semi-consciously laid her hand on her stomach. She had always known she would have a child, or had vaguely assumed that she would. Most women did, after all. But now that she came to it…

A child…with Saito.

That meant…marriage…to Saito…

Her face felt hot. There was a time when the mere idea would have provoked her to fury. But now, after everything that had happened, after the year that she had known Saito, it…well…

"Louise!"

Louise almost jumped at the sound of his voice. She spun around, and forced herself to remain calm as Saito came strolling across the deck towards her; a big silly grin on his face.

Damn that dog! How could he be so happy-go-lucky? Why did he have to keep grinning like that? Like all was right with the world! Like a stupid, brainless mutt who was happy with three meals and a warm place to sleep.

Especially if that warm place was her bed! The nerve of him!

"Saito…". Louise mastered herself. She would have to be firm with this dog, so no showing weakness!

"Good morning, little Louise!" Saito's grin somehow managed to widen. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

And he couldn't even pronounce her name right! Still he called her Loueesuu! It was so…so…

"Saito…I must speak with you!" she said, in a good, firm, commanding tone of the sort her elder sister Eleanore would have used.

"What about, Louise?" Saito asked, still grinning. It was all Louise could do not to blast him there and then.

"Saito…you have…conducted yourself with courage, over the course of this mission."

"Oh?" Saito's grin remained in place. "Is that a complement, little Louise?"

"Your prowess…in the last battle…was worthy of my familiar."

That much could not be denied. Never in all her wildest dreams would she have imagined facing a Ruin Dragon, let alone defeating one. Credit had to be given where it was due. But…

"Nevertheless, we face a serious situation."

"Do we, little Louise?"

She was of a mind to blast him if he called her that again.

"We must consider the future," she went on. "As you are no doubt aware, we are unable to return to our previous situation. We must make a new life in Germania."

"Hmm…" Saito looked thoughtful, which was unusual for him. "You've got a point there. What to do next?"

"You must apply to the Margrave for a job!" declared Louise. "You will work hard, and practice humility, and rise through the ranks! If you closely the follow the plan that I have formulated, then you will become a city mayor inside ten years!"

Saito blinked, regarding her with incomprehension. Then he grinned again.

"Ah, little Louise. You still want to be with me, don't you."

'"I…" Louise felt her face heat up.

"It's okay!"

Louise let out an eep as Saito stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.

"We'll be together from now on," Saito said. "I'll get myself a nice little job, and you can be my little wife."

Wife? Wife?

"Insolent dog!" Louise struggled against his strong, manly arms, beating at his chest with her fists. "You…you are not my husband!"

"Wife…". Saito pressed his lips to her neck. "Wife…"

No! Not her neck! Why was it always like this? Why did she always go gooey when he held her like this? When he kissed her like this?

"Dog!" Louise's shriek came out as a whimper. "Water flea! Lecherous beast! Lascivious brute!"

"My wife…" Saito kissed her neck again and again. "Little wife…

"I…I…I…!"

Why was it always like this? Why did he have this effect on her? What was it about just being…wanted that made her want to…want to…"

A great wind washed over them, throwing them down onto the deck. Saito let out a grunt as he landed, but his arms still held her tight, pressing her to him.

Louise pushed against him, forcing herself free of his embrace, and leaping to her feet.

"How dare you treat me as your wife!" she shrieked, whipping out her wand. "Lecherous dog! I…"

But then the wind washed over her again, and it was all she could do not to topple over. She looked up, wondering where it could have come from.

Then she saw it. A dark shape in the morning sky, coming about in a tight arc. For a moment she thought it was the Ruin Dragon again, but it was far too small.

It was a manticore. And there was a rider on its back. A slim figure, with a wide-brimmed hat.

It was…

The manticore finished its turn, and began diving towards them once again. She could make out its colouring.

It was…

"Louise!" Saito was back on his feet, and he sounded worried. "Louise, what is…?"

"LOUIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!" bellowed a female voice, amplified by Wind magic, reverberating around the ship like the roar of some terrible storm. The manticore dived, and Louise could clearly see the rider, and the iron mask covering her face.

It was…

"Louise!" Saito dived, grabbing her and rolling as he landed. The manticore swept overhead, soaring away and starting another turn.

"LOUIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!"

"Louise!" Saito gasped. "What the heck is that thing?"

"It's my mother!"

(X)

Suleiman's heart pounded as he raced up the steps.

Who was it? Who was attacking them now?

He reached the top of the steps, and raced down the corridor towards the open deck.

The door blew open, a gust of wind hurling him backward. He crashed into something soft, which let out an eep as it steadied him.

He knew that eep. It was Tiffania. And his head was in her…

"Miss Tiffania, are you all right?" Suleiman spun round, danger overriding embarrassment.

"I'm all right!" replied Tiffania, steadying herself as the ship swayed beneath them. "But what's all the noise?"

"I don't know! It sounds like another battle!"

Suleiman turned his attention back to the door. He heard another crash, and a sound like a terrible storm. Then cries of fear and pain. Steeling himself, he strode down the corridor and out through the door.

What he found was a scene of chaos. His friends lay scattered about on the deck, itself scarred and cratered from spell strikes. Louise cowered by the gunwhale, her clothes torn, whimpering in terror.

But what truly amazed him was in the very centre of the deck. It was Saito, standing with Derflinger raised, while what looked like a miniature tornado roiled around him, buffeting and lashing at him as if it were some kind of dreadful sea creature. Saito snarled, Derflinger's blade glowing bright, as he struggled to resist the attack.

Then the wind vanished. And Suleiman saw from whence the attack came.

It was a woman, much older than Saito, but still trim and strong-looking. She was dressed as a knight, with wide breeches, a close-fitting doublet, and a cloak billowing behind her. On her face was a plain iron mask, covering her nose down to her chin, and on her head was a wide-brimmed hat; which remained in place despite the wind gusting around her.

Her eyes made Suleiman shiver. They were bright and full of fury…no, not fury, but a predator's joy, like a lion leaping at its prey.

"Just stop it!" bellowed Saito, glaring at the woman. "She's your daughter, isn't she? Why are you attacking her like this?"

"Selfish little girls who disobey their Queen must be punished!"

The woman thrust out a narrow-bladed rapier, the blade glowing as the wind coiled around it. The wind gushed forth in a tight coil, rushing at Saito as fast as a snake's strike. Saito snarled and raised Derflinger, the blade glowing as the wind crashed into it. The wind lashed around him, buffeting Suleiman and almost knocking him over again. He heard Tiffania hiss with effort as she struggled to resist the gale.

"What's going on?" he called out, trying to get the woman's attention. "Why are you attacking us?"

The woman turned her eyes upon him. The murder-light faded, replaced with cold calculation.

"You are the Arysian, named Suleiman?"

Suleiman was taken aback. And then the blood ran to his head, as he realised that he had forgotten his headband, and his ears were exposed.

"Lei! Hang back!" Saito called out. "This lady's dangerous!"

Suleiman looked around the deck again. His friends were alive, at least. They were struggling to their feet, or trying to drag themselves away from the confrontation. Malicorne was quivering with fear. Montmorency had a bruise on her face, and looked like she was about to cry. Guiche looked like he wanted to run and hide. And Kirche was glaring at the woman with venomous eyes, wand thrust out in a shaking hand.

And to his left was Tiffania, still unhurt, and with her own ears exposed. She had gotten careless over the past weeks, so it seemed.

And so had he.

"I am Suleiman Reza Al-karim!" he called out. "Why do you attack us like this?"

The woman kept up her stare, regarding him with those same cold eyes.

"I am Karin the Maelstrom, Duchesse de la Valliere!" replied the woman. "My liege, Henrietta, by the Founder's grace Queen of Tristain, has sent me to seek you out."

"Then why attack us?" demanded Tiffania, "I am Tiffania Westwood! If you know about Suleiman, then you know who I am! Why are you attacking our friends?"

The woman did not reply. Suleiman wished he could see her face, but suspected that behind that iron mask, her expression was as cold as her eyes.

Was this really Louise's mother? Was what Saito had said really true?

"This girl," Karin pointed her rapier at the still-cowering Louise, "has disobeyed her Queen, and betrayed her family! By the Iron Code to which I am bound, she must be punished with severity!"

"But there are vulnerable people on this ship!" Tiffania pleaded. "Tabitha's mother is sick in bed!"

She was indeed. Suleiman had seen her just that morning, when he had gone to check on Tabitha. The blue-haired girl had been constantly at her mother's side, leaving her only to check on her familiar; the dragon Sylphid, asleep in the hold, still exhausted after her battle with the black ruin dragon a few days earlier.

"That is no concern of mine!" retorted Karin. "Punishment must be meted out!"

"Idiot!"

Suleiman gasped as Saito charged at Karin, Derflinger brandished high. Karin moved, quick as a pouncing cat, her rapier flashing to parry. The blades clashed and stuck, quivering as their wielders laid on their strength, each trying to force the other back. Saito glowered at Karin, and Karin's eyes blazed at Saito with what might have been outrage, or a terrible joy.

"Saito!" wailed Louise, staring at her familiar in horrified disbelief.

"Give no quarter!" shrieked Kirche. "She's an enemy of my family!"

"Saito!" Louise leapt to her feet and ran to Saito, wrapping her arms around his waist and trying to pull him back. "Saito! Please! No more!"

Karin's sword glowed, and a gust of wind flung Saito and Louise back; so hard that they almost toppled over. Suleiman saw her move, levelling her rapier to thrust, to kill. He opened his mouth to cry out.

And then Karin froze. Suleiman blinked, surprised, and then saw that she was truly frozen. Ice had formed around her feet, trapping her in place.

"Stop this."

Suleiman spun round, and saw Tabitha standing in front of the door, wand aimed at Karin's frozen feet. Alice was behind her, hand on her sword hilt, along with Maxwell.

"Tabitha…" Saito stared at the girl in disbelief.

"Karin the Maelstrom," said Tabitha, cold eyes fixed on the trapped mage-knight. "Put up your sword."

Karin stared at her, and Suleiman feared she would attack. Something told him that it would take more than this to stop her.

But Karin sheathed her sword, and Tabitha flicked her wand, the ice running away onto the deck.

Suleiman stared, amazed, as Karin pulled off her mask, stowed it in her belt, then swept off her hat and dropped to one knee. All except Tabitha gaped in disbelief, and none more so than Louise.

"Your highness," declared Karin. "You are exactly as Sir Bart described. Please forgive this unruly scene."

(X)

Kingdom of Tristain

The journey had been uneventful, thus far.

Majid gazed out of the carriage window, taking in the land around him; the land named Tristain. He had seen much of it already; its lush meadows, and gentle green forests, such a far cry from the rolling grasslands of Gallia, or the rugged mountains and wide, chapparal hills of his own homeland.

But that had been on foot, with aching feet, a rumbling belly, and the prospect of a night under the stars. Seated in the comfort of a nobleman's carriage, with a full belly, after many nights of sleep in a soft bed, the world seemed a different place.

There was a lesson in there, somewhere.

"I trust you are not uncomfortable, monsieur?"

Majid looked up at his travelling companion. Eleanore de la Valliere sat opposite him, hands folded on her lap, eyes fixed on him. Her younger sister Cattleya had remained behind, partly due to her ill-health, and partly to take charge of the estate during their absence.

"Not at all, mademoiselle," he replied, cautiously. "This is the first time I have ridden in a carriage like this."

The carriage bucked, as if on cue. Majid grabbed at the seat, barely keeping his head from hitting the roof.

"You'll get used to it, monsieur," said Eleanore, a touch of sour amusement in her tone. "I take it things are not like this in your country?"

"In my country, mademoiselle, we have such things as paved roads," retorted Majid, trying and failing to not sound as irritated as he felt. In truth only a few, particularly important roads were paved in Arysia, but he did not feel like admitting to that.

"My cousin the Queen has considered this," replied Eleanore, apparently unruffled. "Unfortunately, she has more pressing matters to attend to, and her funds are not infinite."

It took Majid a moment to realise what she had said.

"Your…cousin, mademoiselle?" he hazarded, wondering if he had understood the word correctly. "You are, the Queen's kinswoman?"

"I am," replied Eleanore, with evident pride. "The late Queen, may the heavens receive her, was a cousin to our lady mother. Our grandfather, who established the Valliere lands, was the younger brother of the King."

It took Majid a moment to process this. A cousin of the Queen was sitting opposite him.
"In my country, the Mirza are…of the blood," he said, in what he thought was the right idiom. "Any are fit to be Sultan, if there is no heir. If the Queen were to die, you and your sisters would be next in line?"

Eleanore regarded him with cold blue eyes, sending a chill down his spine.

"What are you suggesting, monsieur?"

"I suggest nothing, mademoiselle." Majid placed his hands over his eyes and then his chest, hoping the prayerful gesture would mollify her. Eleanore said nothing, but looked out of the window, fixing her eyes on the landscape as it rolled past.

"We have no designs on the throne, monsieur," she said. "While the House of Tristain stands, the House of Valliere stands with it. That is our loyalty, and our pride, and my lady-mother's iron code. Be content with that."

They sat in silence for a time, and Majid felt his heart sink. Perhaps he had indeed offended her.

"May I ask, mademoiselle," he forced himself to ask, unable to bear the silence any longer. "What manner of person is your Queen? What may I expect in the capital?"

"She is young," replied Eleanore, with little hesitation. "But she is also gracious, and generous. You need fear nothing from her, monsieur, nor from my lord father, so long as you are courteous."

"I will do my utmost, mademoiselle."

"Good. In any case, we should reach the academy by nightfall. We will spend the night there in safety, and travel on to the capital, arriving by the evening if all goes well. If mother's mission has gone to plan, and the Ostland is half so fast as they say, then they should reach the capital by tonight. Your young master will be waiting for you by the time we arrive."

Majid felt his heart flutter. Two more days, and he would find his young master. Two more days, and they would be reunited. And he could begin to atone for his failure.

And find some way to break whatever strange enchantment had been placed upon him.

"Mademoiselle, how may I express my gratitude?"

"For the moment, by sitting still and listening very carefully."

Eleanore reached into a pouch beside her seat and pulled out a book. She held it out, and Majid took it. There was a title on the cover, but it was in the strange, blocky script of Halkeginia; which he could still not fully read.

"The story in there is simple enough for a child to manage," declared Eleanore. "We will spend this journey profitably by working on your written and spoken Gallois."

She smiled a rather unsettling smile.

"Let's all learn together!"

(X)

Aboard the Ostland

Suleiman did his best not to look as nervous as he felt.

With the battle over, they had gathered in the Ostland's meeting chamber; in order to hear what Karin de la Valliere had to say. The chamber was silent, as the tall, pink-haired woman glared out of one of the portholes. The tension was almost suffocating.

Karin turned to face them. There was no denying that this was Louise's mother. She had the same pink hair, the same pale skin, even the same eyes; though Louise's face was rounder and softer. The haughtiness was the same too, though Karin carried herself with more restraint and dignity than Louise normally did.

How unlike her current state; standing with the others, wrapped in her cloak, shivering despite Saito's protective arm around her shoulder. Even after what he had seen only minutes earlier, it was enough to make him wonder just what Karin had done to make her daughter fear her so.

"You are delinquents, one and all," she said, in a tone that felt like a blow across the cheek. "Delinquent, and disobedient. Only the fact of your resignations spares you from the charge of treason."

"Treason, madam?" Kirche found her courage, matching Karin's glare with one of her own. "I am the heiress of Anhalt-Zerbst. I am not your Queen's subject, nor your subordinate, Karin the Maelstrom."

"No indeed," Karin rounded on her, her countenance hardening. "You are merely the importunate brat who dares to retort to me."

"This is Professor Colbert's ship," replied Kirche, eyes flashing with anger. "Built for him in Anhalt-Zerbst, and protected by our name. You are in my family's territory, madame, and I ask you to behave as such."

A strange look flickered over Karin's face, and she turned her attention to Colbert, who was standing at Kirche's shoulder.

"Professor Colbert," she said, coldly. "I am glad to see you alive. Nevertheless, you have allowed my daughter to run riot, and betrayed my trust. Were you not officially dead, I would demand your dismissal."

Suleiman saw Louise open her mouth to object. But Colbert merely bowed, a sad look in his eyes.

"I regret to have failed you, madame la duchesse," he said. "But to obey that charge would be to betray your daughter's ardent wish. I did it once before, when I prevented her from travelling to Albion. I could not do it again, not with the life of Miss Tabitha at stake."

Karin did not reply, but instead strode from left to right, regarding them all with those same cold eyes. Finally she turned to Tabitha, the only one among them who seemed unaffected by her presence.

"Your highness." Karin bowed low. "I bring the greetings of her Majesty, Queen Henrietta of Tristain. She respectfully invites your highness and your mother to reside with her as Tristainia as her guests. She offers her royal protection against all dangers, and her support in your dispute with your uncle, the lunatic who calls himself King of Gallia."

A wave of shock washed over the room. Once again, only Tabitha seemed unruffled, meeting Karin's eyes with her own. There was something hard in them, Suleiman thought. Hardness, and suspicion.

"Your Queen imprisoned my friends and left me to my fate," Tabitha replied, in her usual deadpan tone. "What has changed?"

Karin did not reply right away, but kept up her stare. Suleiman could almost sense the tension as their gazes met, as if their wills were clashing in an invisible battle for dominance.

"Your highness' friends disobeyed their Queen's command, and went to your highness' rescue," Karin eventually said. "Her Majesty has concluded that this is the most just path, and that it shall be so. She therefore hopes that your highness will accept her invitation."

If Tabitha was impressed, she made no show of it. Suleiman had to admit, he would not have been impressed either. It sounded like Henrietta had decided to accept the situation after the fact, on the age-old principle that it was better to be guilty than impotent.

"And what of my friends?" Tabitha asked Suleiman's question for him. "If she means to punish them, I will not come."

Karin did not like that question. Suleiman could tell that she did not. She was fairly self-controlled, but he had seen colder faces than hers, and learned to read them. It was something she had not wanted to hear, of that much he was certain.
"Your highness' friends must return and receive the Queen's acknowledgement," Karin said. "For the Queen has forgiven their disobedience, and wishes to show them to the kingdom as your highness' rescuers."

The tension in the room faded, amid sighs of relief and hope. The Ondines, who had been standing there looking like whipped dogs, looked especially relieved.

"But I have not!" bellowed Karin, rounding on them. The Ondines jumped, and Louise whimpered with fright. "You are delinquents, one and all! You have disobeyed your Queen, and brought danger upon your kingdom!"

The Ondines cowered, whimpering. But there was worse to come, as Karin turned her glaring eyes on Louise.

"And you, my disobedient daughter, have betrayed me."

"Leave her alone!" snapped Saito, tightening his arm around Louise's shoulder. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Saito!" cried Louise, half-pleading, half-furious, but Saito paid no heed.

"You never listened to her, not once!" Saito went on, eyes blazing. "Always telling her she's no good! Always trying to marry her off to random guys! You tried to marry her to Wardes, and look how that turned out! And now you go and blast her round the place because she chose her friend over some stupid rules! What kind of mother are you!?"

"Saito!" Louise looked utterly appalled, terrified. But Karin just fixed her gimlet glare on him, regarding him as if he were an insect pinned under a microscope.

"Stupid rules, Monsieur d'Hiraga?" It was the sort of tone a teacher might use with a recalcitrant pupil. "Can you call yourself a chevalier, and say that? I have lived my life by the Law of Steel, the law of discipline, dignity, and duty. I raised my daughter in that law, and she has betrayed it utterly. Discipline was owing, monsieur."

"Madame!" Tiffania cried out, speaking for the first time. "Please don't think badly of Miss Louise! She did it for her friend! For all of us!"

Karin turned her eyes onto Tiffania, and Suleiman felt a sudden surge of anger. He didn't like this woman looking at Tiffania in that way.

"And you, Miss Westwood." That same tone. "After all the kindness and indulgence her majesty has shown you; a half-elf from the Westwood forest. Your betrayal is all the worse."

"Leave her alone!" Suleiman yelled, unable to stop himself. How dare this woman talk to Tiffania that way? How dare she try to frighten her like this?

Karin glared down at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. Her eyes seemed to bore into his soul, pressing down his spirit. They made him feel small, unworthy, unimportant. He could almost feel the chain again, cold as it slid up around his heart.

How dare you? they seemed to say. How dare you challenge me? You worthless troubadour! You cowardly, lying…

"Madame." Tiffania stepped forward, gently laying a hand on his chest and pressing him back. Suleiman opened his mouth to protest, but something in her tone, her touch, silenced his voice.

"Miss Louise has been kind to me," Tiffania said. "And so has Mister Saito, and Miss Kirche, and everyone here. And if it was not for Miss Louise, I would not have met Suleiman, my precious friend."

Her words were soft and soothing, settling over Suleiman's heart, melting the icy chain before it could fully form.

"Madame, she is brave and kind," Tiffania went on. "She gave back the title that meant so much to her. She risked her very life to save Miss Tabitha, and to protect us all. So please, madame, do not dismiss her so."

"Tiffa…" Louise had tears in her eyes. Karin regarded her for a very long time.

"My foolish daughter has some fine friends," she mused. "I wonder if she truly understands that fact."

(X)

The Royal Palace, Tristainia, Kingdom of Tristain

Henrietta drew a breath, willing herself to remain suitably regal.

It wasn't strictly necessary. This was her private receiving chamber, where only those closest to her – and particularly important guests – were permitted to gaze upon her countenance. If she wanted to let out a squee, or weep with relief, or dance around the room, few would know or much care.

Such things could not be done in the grand throne room, with all her officers and courtiers looking on. And her office was too cold a place for an event like this.

Yes. This was the right place for those who had just arrived, and were being brought to her even then.

"I believe I can hear them coming now," she said, as she heard the faintest sound of footsteps in the corridor beyond. "You need not wait too much longer, your grace."

"Your Majesty's ears are much more alert than mine," replied Centurion, Duc de la Valliere, bowing his head in respect.

Henrietta regarded him for a moment. A blood relation, and the father of her dearest friend and cousin, she had known him for many years. He had always quiet and reserved, priding himself on restraint and dignity. But she also knew him to be kind, and even rather sensitive; a quality he did his best to conceal. Having spent a great deal of her childhood at his grand mansion, playing with his youngest daughter Louise and being fussed-over by his middle daughter Cattleya, she knew him better than most. While his eldest and youngest daughters had taken after their mother in character, the gentle Cattleya had taken after him.

But for all that, he was getting older. His regal face was lined, and his blonde hair was thinning and losing its colour. He had aged well, all things considered, but she could see the care in his countenance, and his eyes. The worry and rage towards the daughter who worried and infuriated him; whom he wanted to strike with one hand and embrace with the other.

Yes, she knew something of that.

Behind him, at a respectful distance, stood Bart de Castlemount; freshly arrived from his genteel imprisonment in Anhalt-Zerbst, clad in the proud blue uniform of the order of the Eastern Roses.

A reminder. A reminder of a tale to be told, a truth that had to be revealed, however painful it might be to hear it.

The double doors clicked open, and Agnes de Milan, Captain of her Guards, stepped through.

"The…supplicants have arrived, your Majesty."

"We are ready. Show them in."

Agnes bowed, and turned to gesture at those guarding the outer doors. Henrietta suppressed a smile at the look in Agnes' eyes. She would much rather have said prisoners, and Henrietta understood her feelings. But now was not the time.

She drew herself up, as the deputation entered. She recognized all of them, but those at the head of the column made her heart leap. There was her beloved Louise, and Saito, as well as Tiffania and her companion, the dark-skinned Suleiman. And there as Kiche von Anhalt-Zersbt, and the Duke of Montmorency's daughter. Behind them were the Ondine knights, led by Guiche de Gramont; who was doing his best to look noble and confident while doubtless wanting to run and hide. With them in turn was the maid Siesta, who had been hauled in too. And there was Alice la Durant, also in the blue of the Eastern Roses, and her companion Maxwell Grey.

And there was Professor Jean Colbert; who had survived his supposed death a year ago. Thus far Agnes had maintained her discipline, despite learning that the man who had destroyed her home in error, and saved her life in repentance, was not dead after all. But she could not be sure how long her faithful musketeer would hold up. This could get awkward, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew it himself.

But it was the two in front who drew her closest attention; and it could not be otherwise. For one of them was Karin de la Valliere, Duchesse de la Valliere, clad in the same battle gear as when she had taken to the sky a day earlier.

And with her was a short, blue-haired girl; who looked so very small and delicate, for all the cold intensity in her eyes.

A girl, who was at the centre of all these events.

"Your Majesty." Karin stopped and bowed, sweeping off her hat. "I have brought the Princess Charlotte of Gallia and her companions. Her mother, the Duchesse d'Orleans, has been taken to the chambers prepared for her."

All the others knelt, except for the blue-haired girl. The Princess Charlotte, who had once been called Tabitha.

"I thank you for your efforts, Madame la Duchesse," she greeted Karin with a smile. "And your highness. I welcome you and your mother to our court, and hope you will accept our hospitality and protection here. Come, and take your place."

Henrietta gestured to the floor beside her, where as a princess Charlotte had every right to stand, even as a guest. But the girl held her ground.

"Your majesty," she said, bowing. "I stand with my friends, who risked all for me."

The atmosphere in the room shifted. Henrietta glanced at Castlemount, and wondered if she could see pride in his eyes.

"As your highness wishes," she said graciously. "But I would speak with my cousin, Louise de la Valliere."

Taking the hint, Charlotte and Karin stood aside, allowing Henrietta to step forward and stand in front of Louise. Louise, though kneeling, met her gaze; though Henrietta could see the pain and shame in her eyes. Her disobedience, her betrayal, had hurt her as much as it had hurt Henrietta herself.

Though it shamed her, she felt better for the fact.

"Louise…Saito…". She allowed herself to shiver, allowed the floodgates of her heart to open. "Just…what were you thinking!"

"Your majesty…!"

"You disobeyed my direct command!" Henrietta barked, the fury and resentment erupting out of her. "I warned you of the danger, of the ruin you would bring on our kingdom! But you went on your way regardless! What were you thinking? What did you hope to gain?"

"My life," Charlotte said, her eyes cold and hard. "And my mother's life."

Henrietta ignored her, biting down her anger at the interruption. She could not blame Charlotte for taking her friend's side. What was she to say to a Queen who would punish those who saved her life? Could Henrietta of Tristain call herself Charlotte of Gallia's friend, while condemning those who had risked all to save her?

"Henrietta…"

It was Louise, her beloved Louise. Her pink eyes were full of tears; tears of anguish, and of shame. But to hear her name, as if they were young girls again…

"I confess my betrayal," she said, voice quavering. "I confess and acknowledge it. We all of us do. But…but I could not do otherwise!"

This was not the Louise she knew. Not the prideful, wrathful firebrand full of rage and wounded pride, who took out her pain on her hapless familiar and never, ever backed down from a challenge. This was another Louise, a Louise who had matured somehow.

"The honour for which you made me a Chevalresse!" Louise went on. "And the sacred bonds of friendship! For these, I could not do otherwise!"

Henrietta regarded her, for what felt like an eternity.

"I know this, Louise," she said. "This is the Louise I always admired. The Louise I wanted at my side."

Another pause, for effect. Just one little barb, one last blow to make her point.

"I should punish you," she went on. "But to punish you for acting honourably is offensive to my sensibilities. I prefer, rather to say that this never happened. That there was no betrayal, and no disobedience. Those mantles you returned were never returned, and are about your shoulders where they belong."

She could see their relief, and shared it. Now for the big one.

"Tomorrow morning, I shall address my courtiers, and officers, and all persons of note and quality within this city," she declared. "Declarations shall be sent across this kingdom, and across Halkeginia. I shall declare my intent, and the intent of this kingdom before all the known world."

She gestured towards Charlotte.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we hold that this, Charlotte, is the Queen of Gallia. We hold that her uncle, Joseph, is an abominable tyrant and a maleficent monstrosity; a ruin and plague upon his lords and commons, and upon all the lands of Gallia. We furthermore hold that his rule is unjust and illegitimate, and call upon the kingdoms and empires of the world, and all good persons of Gallia, to cast the tyrant from his stolen throne and place this, their rightful Queen, upon it."

She could see the awe and wonder in their eyes. Karin had doubtless warned them of this, but clearly they were excited to hear it. She glanced at Castlemount, whom she could have sworn had tears in his eyes.

"No."

The word cut through the room like a rapier's thrust. All eyes fell on Charlotte, who was glaring at them with eyes full of hurt.

"Your highness?" Karin asked in a warning tone.

"I didn't agree to that," said Charlotte, in her usual deadpan. "I didn't say I would be Queen."

The Ondines all started glancing at one-another. Louise and Saito looked thoroughly confused. Castlemount now really looked like he wanted to start crying.

"How now, madam?" asked Henrietta, keeping her poise but allowing the smile to fall from her face. "What means this wilfulness?"

"I don't want to be Queen," replied Tabitha coldly. "I never said I would."

"But…your highness…". Castlemount looked like the bottom had fallen out of his world. Henrietta sighed inwardly. She had feared this might happen.

"You do yourself a disservice, madam," she cut in. "Not to mention your friends. They risked all to bring you to safety, that you might be acknowledged as the rightful Queen. Do you now turn your back on them?"

Charlotte rounded on her, eyes flashing with anger. But her words seemed to catch in her throat.

"Their forgiveness is contingent on your acceptance," Henrietta went on. "If you are not the rightful Queen, if you are just some delinquent chevalresse who fled the punishment of her lawful master, then what are they? What are they if not delinquents, if not traitors to their Queen?"

"Treachery!"

Henrietta looked up as Kirche leapt to her feet, furious.

"Your flunky told us this matter was settled!" Kirche jabbed an accusing finger at Karin. "Yet now you start making threats! Are you the Queen of Honourable Poverty? Or the Queen of broken promises?"

"Have a care, madam!" bellowed Centurion, eyes blazing. "You are addressing the Queen of Tristain!"

Henrietta mastered herself with some effort. She glanced at Charlotte, whose angry eyes had softened, replaced with sorrow and pain.

"That's enough!" This time it was Saito's turn. The young man leapt to his feet, and stepped in front of Charlotte, as if to shield her.

"Your majesty!" he pleaded. "You can't just force Tabitha into something like this! Hasn't she suffered enough? If you want someone to punish, then punish me! But leave Tabitha alone!"

Henrietta turned cold eyes upon him, hiding the tumult in her heart. She saw Louise, frozen in horror and disbelief. And she saw Tabitha, and the eyes with which she looked at Saito.

No. Surely not. Not her too? What was it about Saito Hiraga, that strange youth from another world? What was it that made her want to be near him all the time? What made her want to throw everything away just to be with him?

"No, Saito D'Hiraga, I cannot do such a thing," she said, turning her attention back to Tabitha.

"Madam, if you will not do it for your friends, then consider your people. You know them better than any of us here, having lived among them for so long. Ask yourself, madam. Are they happy under Joseph's rule? Does he rule them as a king should? What has he done about the dukes of the provinces, who raise armies and run wild? What does he do to shield his people from danger? To ensure their prosperity?"

She fell silent, letting the words hang in the air.

"Madam, I confess I did not want to be Queen," she went on. "I feared it, and I shrank from it. But Cardinal Mazarin scolded me for my selfishness, and reminded me of my duty. I was born into this royal house, and the Founder did not see fit to grant my parents sons, or elder daughters. I was their only heir, and it was my fate to be Queen."

Another pause. She drew a breath.

"In all my life, I have followed my heart only twice. The first time, I tore off my wedding dress and rode to fight the Reconquista invasion; yet it was not I who saved the kingdom, but Louise and Saito. You were there at La Rochelle, madam, so you know. The second time, I allowed the revenant I thought was my beloved Prince Wales to kidnap me, though he assailed my guards and my friends, and would have taken me to Albion as a prisoner."

She could not stop herself from clenching her hands tight around her sceptre. How could it all have gone so wrong? How was it that everything she ever did ended in disaster, whether she followed her heart or not?

"I can only hope and pray, madam, that my efforts as Queen are worthy. I can only strive, madam, to succeed from day to day in small things, while others do great deeds. I was called to rule, madam, and to serve."

A pause. A breath.

"Madam, I can say with conviction that Joseph is a tyrant. He cares nothing for his kingdom, or his people. That his people suffer moves him not at all. That its laws and customs are misprised and thrown aside, causes him no disquiet. That his magnates squabble among themselves, and only his daughter's murder-knights can contain them does not trouble his sleep. Good men often make bad kings, and bad men may be forgiven if they make good kings. But madam, your uncle is a bad man and a bad king."

Another pause.

"Madam, you are afraid. You fear the crown and the burden it brings. That makes you worthy to rule, for those who want power are the least fit to wield it. But madam, if people such as you and I do not rule, then people like Joseph will do so instead. And all shall suffer."

She ended it there, silence hanging over the room like a shroud. She looked down at Charlotte, who stared back at her with eyes full of pain.

"Madam, do not fear for your friends," she said. "They are pardoned, regardless of what you say or do. Do not feel obligated to them. Do it rather, because Gallia needs you."

A contradiction, but one that might just get her what she needed. She stared down at Charlotte, silently praying.

"I'll do it."

Henrietta's heart leapt, and it was all she could do to keep her composure.

"But…" Charlotte said, her voice hoarse. "I…I can't do it by myself."

"You shall not, madam." Henrietta reached down and gently clasped her shoulder. "You are not alone, and you never were. You have precious friends here, and the friendship of the Queen of Tristain."

"And…" Charlotte reached up, clasping the wrist that held her shoulder. "You will suffer."

The words sent a shiver down her spine. But there was no going back now.

She turned to face the others, her hand still on Charlotte's shoulder.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Queen of Gallia! Rise from your knees, friends all."

Castlemount almost collapsed, tears running down his face. The others all rose to their feet, all smiles.

Most of them, anyway.

"Monsieur le duc, madam la duchesse," Henrietta said, turning to the Vallieres. "Your daughter is restored to honour, and my favour. Will you not welcome her home?"

"If your majesty is content, then so am I," replied Karin, acknowledging Louise with a nod. That was about the most affection Henrietta had seen her show her youngest daughter. And it seemed to delight Louise, if her smile was any indication."

"But I am not!" bellowed Centurion. "Louise, I understand that you want to be a mage! But this is too much! You must come home at once!"

Louise's face fell, and Henrietta's heart ached for her. She had half-expected that this would happen. But this was a battle only Louise could face.

"Father, why won't you understand?" pleaded Louise. "I am the Void mage! I have a power, and a duty! I can't just go home and marry some man I don't even know!"

"It's dangerous!" cried Centurion. The sound made Henrietta's heart ache, for there was more plea in it than command. "There are such dangers out there! Dangers you cannot imagine! You are my daughter!"

Henrietta's heart ached all the more. Those were not the eyes of wrathful patriarch, but a father near-heartbroken with fear. She had known it would be so. Louise had always been his favourite, always the one he had so desperately wanted to protect; to shield from the dangers and harshness of the world. Eleanor had always been clever and strong, strong enough to make her own way. Cattleya was capable, but so terribly sick, her illness bringing death hovering in her shadow. After living for so long with a daughter who might die at any time, could he bear to lose Louise too?

Louise stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around her father's chest, pressing her head against his collar.

"Calm down, father," she said. "You're always like this. You get worked up, and it makes you ill. You make your daughters worry, father."

Centurion let out a half-groan, half-sigh, and seemed to deflate. Henrietta saw the small smile on Louise's face, and knew she had won.

"Father, you and mother always fought for the kingdom," Louise said, pulling back and looking up at him. "I want to do the same. I always have done."

"Those were times of darkness," Karin cut in, taking her husband's side at last. "We fought so that you and others like you need not. Do not scorn your father for wanting a carefree life for you."

"I don't, and I never will," insisted Louise. "But we are in danger again, and I have the power to act. Mother told me about what happened at home. I'll be no safer there than anywhere else."

So, Karin had told Louise about the Scarlet Tower assassins, whose corpses were in her cold room.

"Yeah, those Scarlet Tower guys are something else!" Saito cut in, stepping up alongside Louise and clapping his hand on her shoulder. "But don't worry pops! Louise has her faithful Saito by her side!"

"Pops?" Centurion's face went red with fury, some of his old energy returning. "What did you say, boy?"

"Saito!" Louise was indignant. "That's no way to talk to my lord father!"

"This is Saito D'Hiraga," declared Karin, her tone somewhat lighter than before. "The chevalier who defeated an army of seventy thousand, raided the Alhambra to rescue the Queen of Gallia, and has recently fought off a ruin dragon. He's the one from the boat, you may recall."

"Him?" Centurion looked like he was going to explode. Saito began to look nervous, and Louise looked close to panic.

And what was that about a ruin dragon?

"He may be common-born, barely-educated, and utterly lacking in social graces," Karin went on. "But he is brave, skilled in battle, and even has the nerve to stand up to me. I think he will make a suitable husband for Louise after all. We won't even have to pay a big dowry."

"WHHHHAAAAAT?"

Henrietta wasn't sure, but the cry seemed to come from Centurion, Louise, and Saito all at the same time. At least.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh…" babbled Centurion, who looked as if he was about to have apoplexy. "What are you saying, my lady wife?"

"Mother!" shrieked Louise, red-faced and looking ready to explode herself. "Saying such a thing in front of her Majesty! Saito!" She rounded on her familiar. "Deny it at once! Tell her Majesty it's not true!"

Henrietta could not quite believe what she was seeing or hearing. Was this some kind of joke?

Perhaps it was. Karin de la Valliere's sense of humour was rather like a ruin dragon; rarely seen, but always wreaking havoc.

"Um…well…" Saito stammered, looking slightly confused. "Well…I mean…"

"Saito!" Louise gave him the death-glare. "You will tell them right this instant! Tell them you have absolutely no intention of marrying me!"

"Well…uh…you see…"

"Saito!" Her hair was curling like a mass of snakes. "Depraved dog! A-fter all we've been through y-y-y-y-you're thinking of naughty things about me! A-Aren't you!"

"But you'd make such a pretty bride!" pleaded Saito, hands raised to placate her.

All of a sudden, Louise's hair stopped curling. She stared at Saito, as if she didn't understand what he had said. All present stared warily at her, as if she were a bomb that could go off at any time.

"A…pretty bride?" she asked, in a nervous little voice. "Me?"

"Uh…yes!" Saito enthused, as the penny dropped. "Yes, a pretty bride! The prettiest bride ever! I just can't wait to see you in your wedding dress!"

He was smiling far too much. Henrietta could not tear her eyes away.

"Describe it."

"Huh?"

"My dress…" There was a strange look on Louise's face. "The dress…that you would have me wear…on our wedding day."

"Oh…uh…" Saito looked thoroughly flustered. "Well…it would have…big sleeves! Yes, those big puffy sleeves! And…lots of ruffles, and bows…and a long veil…"

"You don't know anything about wedding dresses, do you Saito?"

"Well…I…" Saito rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess it's not my area of expertise."

"You're lying to me, Saito…"

"Your Majesty…" Agnes hissed in her ear. "Be wary!"

Even the Vallieres were edging away, in as dignified a manner as possible. Henrietta sighed. The room had just been refurbished.

"I mean, I'm sure that her Majesty's dressmaker could…"

"You are having lewd and disgraceful fantasies about me!" shrieked Louise. "You only want to marry me so that you can debauch me as you please! You tried to make me call you husband!"

"Uh…Louise…!" Saito pleaded. "Not in here!"

"Take cover!" called Kirche, and all present began diving behind the furniture. Louise brandished her wand at the cowering Saito, eyes glowing with homicidal rage, hair curling and twisting.

And then nothing happened.

"With your permission." Louise turned, curtseyed rather hastily to Henrietta, and then stormed out of the chamber. Saito blinked, gaping like a goldfish. The others slowly emerged from their hiding places, looking utterly confused.

"No…kaboom?" Saito blithered.

"Well, that's new," mused Montmorency, looking almost as surprised as Saito did.

"Oh dear…" said Henrietta, as she understood. "Now…she's extremely angry."

(X)

The Royal Palace, Tristainia, 12th Day of Ansuz

Suleiman felt very, very alone.

The first day since their return to Tristain should have been a happy one. Louise and her friends had been forgiven, and Louise had seemingly settled her account with her parents. Even better, that very evening, Tabitha had used the potion given to her by Bidashal, and her mother's sanity had returned.

He had felt such joy to be there, to see the woman's eyes open, and brighten in recognition as she saw her daughter; to hear her whisper her name, and for mother and daughter to embrace at last. At least for those two there had been a happy ending, even if only for the moment.

He sat on the soft, wide bed, in the guest suite that Queen Henrietta had graciously provided. He had spent much of the day wandering about the palace, looking for something to do, or someone to talk to; something to make him feel something other than a strange emptiness. The adventure was complete, the heroes come safe home, the page turned, and the book closed.

But the story wasn't over. He was still there. He was still Suleiman Reza al-Karim, still the familiar of Tiffania Westwood. He still hadn't found Majid yet. And even if he did, what would he do then?

He didn't have a plan. He had never had a plan, not when they had fled in the night from Arysia, not on the voyage to Gallia, nor as the two of them had wandered the roads. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing with himself, or his future. He had so enjoyed the life of a wandering troubadour, the freedom of it, without any duty or responsibility to constrain him. It had been a fine little holiday, an escape from himself; a self he could never be anyway.

But what now? He couldn't go back to that life, not now that he was bound to Tiffania.What about her needs? What did she want to do with her life, once she had graduated from the academy? Was there any room in it for him?

Before that day, he would not have doubted it. But he had hardly seen Tiffania since that morning. He had wanted to talk with her, to ask her about her intentions, and her hopes. But then the Queen had turned up, her ladies trailing behind, arms filled with fine-looking cloth and silks. He had been all but shooed out of the room, and though Tiffania had looked unsettled, she had not objected.

He sighed, looking down at his boots. He should not have felt this way. She was a woman, and he a man. If she wanted some privacy, some time with women and away from men, then who was he to gainsay her? It was natural enough, from what he knew of women. Cyras had taught her people never to despise their own flesh, or that of others, and that men and women should stand as equals; but they still needed time apart from one-another.

It was the way they had done it. The way they had chivvied and shooed him, as if he were just a troublesome cat, or a lowly flunky. They had probably meant no harm or disrespect, but it had hurt him somehow; more than it should have done. It was a reminder that he had no place there, no standing, except as Tiffania's familiar. She was the Queen's cousin, and doubtless was going to be treated as such; dressed in fine clothes and jewels, and announced as Princess Tiffania of Albion.

There would be no place for him then. Not for what he had become, not now.

So he had wandered the palace, looking for someone else to talk to, or something worthwhile to do. But no one, it seemed, had any time for him. Henrietta and her councillors were busy with plans for the coming war; at least when Henrietta wasn't fussing over Tiffania. Saito had been following Louise around, trying to get a rise out of her; but all he got was a cold shoulder. Tabitha had been watching over her mother, catching up after so many dark years. The Ondine knights had been busy getting fitted for their new, formal uniforms.

And there had been Alice, too. Alice, who had just learned the fate of her old Eastern Rose comrades. The Eastern Rose knights, who had tried to dethrone the mad King Joseph of Gallia, only for his palace to collapse on them. The Eastern Rose knights, wiped out in a single knight. Her old comrades, old friends, gone in a heartbeat.

It was all so depressing, all so lonely. He didn't know how to help any of them, or what he could do to make things better. He had wanted so badly to talk with Tiffania, or at least to be near her. That always calmed him somehow, in a way that no other woman had ever been able to manage. He had never really felt comfortable around women, until he met her. There was something pure about her, something untainted and honest, without artifice or deception. She was open-hearted, and her eyes told him all he needed to know.

Not like them. Not like his father's wives, who had cared for him in place of the mother he had never known. Not like his father's wives, and his father's daughters by them, with whom he had lived in his father's house.

He thought they loved him. He thought they liked it when he played the sitar for them. He thought they were a family.

"Lei?" There was a familiar voice, and a knocking at the door.

"Oh, come in, Miss Tiffania," Suleiman called out, leaping to his feet. Tiffania opened the door and stepped inside, closing it after her.

"Oh, Miss Tiffania…"

He was surprised, mostly because she was still wearing her academy uniform. He had expected some fine gown, and royal jewels. But she was as she was.

Except…he couldn't see her ears.

"Are you all right, Lei?" Tiffania asked, looking at him in apparent concern.

"Miss Tiffania…I was…"

"Oh, that." Tiffania smiled awkwardly. "Her majesty wanted to give me some new clothes, so she had me fitted."

Her smile faltered, and she folded her arms, enfolding her bosom.

"They said I'm too heavy on top," she said, sadly. "They said the dresses will have to be redone. They weren't very happy."

Suleiman's heart ached, and he cursed himself for his selfishness. He thought Tiffania was beautiful, and her bosom was a wonder; the biggest he had ever seen. But he knew that it caused her great pain, and embarrassment. Men lusted after it and women envied it, or thought badly of her because of it. And because she had grown up in the forest, without people, she didn't know how to deal with people like that.

Henrietta had a big chest too, but she never seemed unsettled or nervous because of it, or anything else for that matter. Kirche seemed to enjoy the attention, and he got the impression that Siesta did too; though she was much more modest.

But Tiffania wasn't like them. She wasn't a queen, or the heiress of a noble house, or even a knight's personal maid. Tiffania was Tiffania, and Tiffania was unhappy.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tiffania." She must have been so disappointed. To be treated like a princess one moment, and then have it all taken away, just because of her chest.

"Oh, it's all right!" Tiffania raised her hands to placate him, her smile returning like sunlight breaching clouds. "It's just going to be late, that's all. It'll take them a little while to get it done properly."

Suleiman sighed, feeling somewhat better. There was just something about that smile.

"Anyway, I wanted to see you, Lei," Tiffania went on. "I never got to talk to you before."

"Oh…yes…" Tiffania stepped closer, stopping just by the bed.

"It's all so tense, here," she said. "Everyone's busy. Everyone's worried. About this war."

"I know, Miss Tiffania." Had she truly felt the same way?

"I thought that things would get back to normal," she went on. "I hoped that…that her Majesty would forgive, and we could go back to how things were before."
She looked at him with sad eyes.

"But we can't, can we." It was a statement, not a question. "Tabitha's the Queen of Gallia now. And there's going to be a war."

"Miss Tiffania, I…" Suleiman paused, trying to find the words. "I'm sure this will end soon. It'll be over, one day. If there's a war, it will end. Tabitha may become Queen, but she's still your friend."

Her friend. Not his. He wasn't a part of their world, not really. He could not allow himself to think so, to assume that he belonged among them.

"She's your friend too, Lei," insisted Tiffania. "We're all friends now. We all went together, and we all came back together."

"You think so, Miss Tiffania?"

"Yes."

Tiffania smiled. And Suleiman found he could believe it.

"Lei…" Tiffania paused awkwardly. "I…I want to go out for a while."

"You do, Miss Tiffania?"

"Yes." She smiled shyly. "It's so tense here, and so cold. I want to go out in the street, and see people, and hear them. I want to watch the sunset, with you."

The idea did not sound at all bad. Suleiman liked the idea of getting out of the palace, and just wandering the streets with Tiffania. Just wandering around, like they were just a boy and girl, and not half-elves.

Then he realised.

"Miss Tiffania, your ears…" He couldn't see them.

"Oh, that was Siesta!" Tiffania giggled, and ran her fingers through her golden hair. "She put this braid in my hair. It hides my ears."

Suleiman could see it. The braid ran from her temples and around the back, and there was a green ribbon entwined in it, and tied in a bow in the back.

It was so charming. And he hadn't even noticed.

"She told me about a nice place to go," Tiffania stepped forward, and took hold of his hands. "It's called the Enchanted Fairies tavern. She said there was good food, and entertainment too."

She beamed.

And Suleiman smiled back.

(X)

The sun was bright, and the sky was blue.

Standing atop the palace battlements, Tabitha had a fine view of the city of Tristainia. The palace around her gleamed white in the sunlight, contrasting with the warmer colours of the city buildings. The river Meuse cut through it like a glittering blue serpent, busy with barges and boats of all kinds. She could see the stevedores loading and unloading, the street traders hawking their wares, the people coming and going, doing whatever it was they did, day after day. Soft breezes made the waters ripple, and the sails flutter.

It was so peaceful here. So much more so than Lutece, or Vindabona, or many of the great cities of Halkeginia she had visited in her time. It had always been that way, ever since she had first arrived at the academy, what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been a hideout, a place from which to carry out her missions, and then to hide unseen; just another student, in an academy bustling with them. But it had become so much more than that.

It had become her home. A home to which she could never, ever return.

She turned her eyes to the city walls, to the great round towers that marked their length. Even at this distance, she could see the soldiers on duty, staring out over the gentle green fields, or patrolling back and forth. She could see them lugging powder barrels up to the towers, and cleaning the squat, short-barrelled mortar-cannon that lined the tops of each tower.

Henrietta had clearly taken her warnings seriously. She was a fine young Queen indeed, one who not only cared for her people, but had the will and wisdom to defend them.

Not like her uncle. Not like the Mad King, who had let the kingdom of his ancestors crumble into chaos and ruin.

The Mad King, who would be coming here soon enough.

She glanced back towards the castle, towards a particular balcony, high up on the keep's west wall; the one that offered such a fine view of the gardens, and the mountains beyond. Her mother was in that room, sleeping in safety, watched over by the Queen's physicians, and Bart de Castlemount. They had spent many hours talking, telling each other of countless things, saying what needed to be said; until her mother had grown weary, and the doctors had insisted that she rest. She was safe here, for now.

But he would come. Of that much Tabitha was certain. But when? And how? What dire scheme would he cook up this time? What evil stratagem would he devise?

"Are you still here?"

She knew that voice. Tabitha turned her head, seeing the smiling face of Kirche von Anhalt-Zerbst.

Kirche. Her first real friend. The first person to learn of her true identity, and her true past. Kirche, who had consoled and comforted her, soothing her nightmare.

Kirche, who knew what pain was.

"I've just been checking on your mother. She's sleeping soundly, and the doctors are in a good mood. She'll get better, and they'll get paid."

She smiled at her own joke, as she stepped up to the battlements beside her. She looked down, fixing her copper eyes on Tabitha.

"You really do take after her," she mused. "The face certainly, and the eyes."

"Thank you."

"I, on the other hand, got my father's hair and colour, and my mother's eyes and looks." Kirche smirked. "Fortunately, not his build or her personality, thank the Founder."

Tabitha paused a moment, not quite sure what to say. Kirche had only ever dropped hints about her family, but she got the impression that their relationship was less than ideal.

"You still don't get along?"

"Well…maybe a bit better than before," admitted Kirche with a sigh. She turned away, and looked out over the city.

"I've always lived my own way. My father didn't mind it, some of the time anyway. It was mother who complained all the time."

She paused, and her gaze seemed to fade, as if her mind had gone somewhere else.

"But anyway, we need to celebrate!" she declared, her old self returning with a vengeance. "The mission was a success, and we've come to Tristain as heroes! The sun is setting, and the night is young!"

Tabitha's heart sank. The weight on her soul cried out to be lifted, but…

"He will come," she said.

"Yes, yes, your uncle." Kirche frowned. "It's been complete pandemonium all day long. Knights and nobles running around the place, messenger birds coming and going. Henrietta's been in with the generals all day long."

"He will come," Tabitha said, heart heavy. "And there will be war."

"Now stop that right now."

Tabitha blinked, surprised by Kirche's tone.

"I know what you're thinking, Tabtiha. You're thinking that if only we'd left you in that place, none of this would be happening. Well forget about it. I'm a Germanian, so this comes naturally to me, but if I had to chose between leaving you to your fate and risking war to save you…" she smiled a brazen smile, "I'd save you any time."

"Kirche…"

Tabitha sniffed. She felt her eyes well with tears, as the wall that had held her anguish and weariness in check began to crumble.

"Oh, there there now." Kirche slid her arms around her, drawing her in. "Don't worry. Don't let it get to you. Whatever he sends, we'll all be here beside you."

"But I…I can't…"

How could it be like this? How could she have such friends as hers? How could she be so blessed, after all the evil that she had done?

"You're alive," Kirche said, gently. "This is your life now. You're free of him, now and forever. The past is dead, and it's time to live."

Tabitha sniffled, and rested her head against Kirche's shoulder, letting the sorrow drain out of her. She felt safe there, safer than she had for some time.

"There there, it's only us," Kirche said. "You, me…and little Maxwell."

Tabitha blinked, and drew back, looking up at Kirche's cat-like smirk. What did she mean by that?

She heard something, and glanced to her right, back towards the nearest turret and its door.

"Come on out, Maxwell!" called Kirche, half-laughing. "Come show yourself!"

Slowly, awkwardly, Maxwell emerged from the door. Tabitha's eyes were drawn to his ear, still pink and new from where she had mended his wounded flesh. The mark would fade in time, but Tabitha would not soon forget how he had acquired it.

How could she forget? The bullet that had given him that wound had been meant for her, from the pistol of a man who had done her uncle's bidding, and was ready even to kill her. She had healed the wound, for how could a chevalier do less? But she could not shake a heavy sense of owing, of responsibility.

"G…good day, you highness, and Miss Zerbst." Maxwell bowed awkwardly, making Kirche giggle. Tabitha felt sorry for him. He was only a boy, and a commoner at that, but he had been such pleasant company during the journey from Alhambra. There was something…comforting about those innocent eyes.

"And what are we doing here?" Kirche asked, smiling indulgently. "Leaving your lady unattended and eavesdropping on two ladies?"

Tabitha cursed herself. She had forgotten about Alice, and the dreadful news she had received. She must have been heartbroken, learning of the deaths of so many old friends; and at the hands of their own king, her uncle.

"You shouldn't leave her alone," Tabitha said sternly. "She must be lonely."

"Mistress…had no orders for me," replied Maxwell. He looked like he wanted to run and hide. "I didn't meant to eavesdrop…but…!"

"You were worried about Tabitha, weren't you?"

Maxwell went bright red, and Kirche let out another giggle.

"Well, I think we can let you off this time." Kirche stepped up to Maxwell, leant over, and patted him on the head. "Because you're so adorable."

Maxwell looked like he was going to faint.

"Incidentally, the boys have gone sneaking out to enjoy themselves around town," Kirche went on. "And us girls are going to go and spy on them. You want in?"

"I…". Tabitha paused, looking up at her mother's window once again. "I should stay, in case my mother wakes."

"Of course." Kirche turned to a still-blushing Maxwell. "Maxwell dear, you'll stay with Tabitha, won't you?" She smiled and patted his head again. "For me?"

"I…ummm… I-If Miss Tabitha permits it."

Tabitha blinked, as she realised what he'd said.

"You called me Tabitha."

"I…uh…your highness…!"

"It's fine."

And it was. She was surprised by just how fine it was. After being constantly called Charlotte or Princess Charlotte or your highness, it felt good just to be Tabitha again.

She barely noticed Kirche wander off, or that smile on her face.

(X)

The Palace

Henrietta willed her face to remain suitably porcelain.

The great table before her was set out with a detailed map of Tristain, and the lands directly surrounding it. She could see it all clearly; the southern fortress-towns of Valencienne, Mons, Amiens, and Arion; and to the west, Liege. And beyond the border, the Gallian fortresses of Sedan, Metz, Mont-Royal, and Strasbourg. There were model soldiers placed at each of the fortresses, and model airships over a La Rochelle.

So many places. So many names. So many battles and sieges. So many victories and defeats.

And there would be more, very soon.

"My lords," she said, looking from one to the other of the nobles present. "War is upon us, and we must prepare."

She knew them all, more or less. Cardinal Mazarin she had known all her life, as she had Centurion and Karin de la Valliere. Others she knew, though not so well. Armand de Gramont, the new lord Marshal; taking the place of Olivier de Poitiers, who had died in Albion. Henri de Montmorency, Lord Admiral of the Open Sky, commander of the air fleet; and an old family rival of de Gramont. Then there was Gaspard de Coligny, Lord Admiral of the Ocean Sea, commander of Tristain's small naval fleet. And last but not least, Johann von Guldenhorf, Prince of Guldenhorf, present largely because of his elite Luftpanzer Ritter; and the fact that most of Tristain's nobility owed him money.

"Firstly, our armies. Lord Marshal, your report."

Armand bowed his head respectfully. He did not look much like his youngest son, Guiche de Gramont; with his dark green hair and thin moustache. Nor were their personalities much alike. Armand was an honest soldier at heart, one who had led a squadron of mage-knights at Tarbes; racing to get under the Lexington's underside blind spot. She had not thought to ask him what he thought of his youngest son's recent exploits.

"Your Majesty. The Royal Army stands ready here at Tristainia, and the National Army is assembling at our fortresses."

He gestured with his wand at each location in turn.

"Here at Tristainia, we have mobilised two thousand city militia; which is enough to fully man the walls. We have also managed to gather four battalions of Royal troops, for a total of two thousand. Unfortunately, while we have arms and uniforms for them, we do not have any field artillery as yet."

That was no surprise. When the army of Tristain had fled from Albion, it had left a great deal of its equipment behind. Henrietta had allotted funds for replacements, but much of that had gone on revamping the defences of Tristainia, not to mention the fortresses.

"Aside from mage-officers for all battalions, five-hundred battle mages and mage-knights stand ready. There is also the twenty knights of the Manticore Squadron, twenty Dragon knights, and twenty Luftpanzer Ritter, ready to protect the city."

He nodded to Karin and Johann in turn, who nodded back; Karin gravely, Johann with a smile.

"Aside from them, we have forty battalions of infantry and ten squadrons of cavalry assembling at our fortresses," he continued. "This will give us another twenty-five thousand troops, not including town and city militias. On top of these, we can perhaps raise another two thousand mages. We may also call up lesser mages, though it is uncertain how many will turn up, and if all else fails, call up the faculties and students of the magic academies."

He fell silent, his words hanging in the air.

"So few," murmured Centurion, his eyes cast in shadow. "So few remain, when once there were legion."

"Pray we need not go so far, " Henri muttered.

The mood turned gloomy. Henrietta understood why. Tristain was a small kingdom, that had survived and prospered thanks to the strength and number of its mages. Tristain had more noble families than was usual for a territory of its size, and Tristain's royal family had long been able to attract outsiders into their service. But the price Tristain paid for this was instability, as there was simply too little land and too few high-paying jobs to support so many nobles in their accustomed style.

That, as much as anything else, was what had driven so many nobles into the arms of Reconquista. Without land, or jobs, or purpose, their only hope had been rebellion. They had paid with their lives, and in great numbers.

So bad had it gotten, that for the Albion campaign they had been forced to call up the students of the magic academy; the survivors of whom now made up the Order of the Water Spirit. Doing it then had been troublesome enough, for while her nobles knew their duty and purpose, having to send their still-young sons to war had rankled with them. The mere suggestion of sending the girls as well, or of allowing them to volunteer, had been unthinkable.

And as for the suggestion of conscripting the peasantry…

"What Lord de Gramont describes is our entire strength," Gaspard spoke up. "This only proves the need for a new military system. We can no longer rely on the old ways. We must create a formal army from among the peasants."

"Trust you to spout at a time like this!" snapped Henri, rounding on the older man. "If you have time to carp, then perhaps you should be doing something useful, like clearing the seas of pirates!"

"You are in no position to criticize, my Lord de Montmorency," retorted Gaspard, glowering. "If your beautiful ships were permitted to do other than float magnificently at La Rochelle, the seas would have been cleared long ago."

"My lords!"

To Henrietta's relief, her interjection silenced the argument as she looked upon each older man, their eyes on her. She spotted Karin, looking upon with judging eyes.

"My Lord de Coligny, I understand the position you have been in recently, as I am sure do all here present," she said, as grandly as she could manage. "The reform of our military system is indeed crucial, and will be attended to in due time. But right now, we have more pressing matters, such as how to defend our kingdom from a frothing lunatic."

Gaspard seemed satisfied. But she could not help but notice a bitter glare in Armand's eyes. Like many of Tristain's nobles, he understood the need for reform; of that Henrietta was certain. But like them, he didn't want it to have to happen .He feared what it might mean, for himself, his family, and all nobles. If warfare was no longer centred around nobles, then what future awaited them? If they were to raise a formal army from among the peasants, an army of trained, permanent regiments made up of skilled soldiers, then what would be the nobility's role within it? Could they maintain their accustomed independence and freedom? Or would they have to adopt that same discipline? To march in step with those they commanded?

What would the nobility become?

"My Lord Admiral," she said, turning to Henri. "What of your air fleet?"

"Fifty warships stand ready at La Rochelle," replied Henri, with an air of caution. "They have been refitted, and are ready to fight. But…it will be difficult for them to take on Gallia. They outnumber us considerably."

"The same is true on the sea," Gaspard cut in, his face grim. "If the Gallians combine their dual-use fleet with their naval fleet, my warships cannot stop them."

Henrietta kept her face straight. Thirty-thousand troops, and fifty airships, and less than a hundred aerial knights. With such, they had to face down the single most powerful state in Halkeginia; with many times their population and resources, under the command of an utter lunatic.

"Cardinal," she said, turning to Mazarin. "What intelligence is there from Gallia in recent days?"

"Some, your Majesty," replied the cardinal. "But all of it strange. There are no reports of troop mobilisations anywhere near the border."

The others all looked mystified. Even Karin looked at least mildly surprised.

"That doesn't make sense," said Armand. "If their intent is to attack, then they must muster at the border. Strike at our farms and fields."

"Perhaps they mean to attack by air alone," mused the cardinal. "Their airships can outrun any message our spies send."

"They might," admitted Henri. "But they cannot hold what they take without troops, nor can their entire land force be upon their naval and aerial fleets. Do they mean simply to destroy everything?"

"Or maybe they're not coming at all," Centurion cut in. "Maybe war is not coming after all."

"I doubt it," Karin spoke up. "The mad king may be no soldier, but he is no less mad, or the king for that matter. I say the good Cardinal is right, he means to come from the air."

"But where?" Henri asked, pointing at the map. "Will he strike at the fortress towns? Or will he pass them and strike at Tristainia? If the latter, he risks being trapped."

There was silence. Henrietta could tell that they were hoping he was right. Maybe there would not be war. Maybe they would not have to face an unwinnable battle.

She gazed down at the map, keeping her doubts and worries hidden. They needed their Queen now, their mother. Mother could not be frightened, or ruffled, when her children needed her. Mother had to know best.

"We cannot assume anything with the Mad King," she said firmly. "We cannot assume that he will not attack, or may attack anywhere. The capital, a fortress, or some random farm or town. We must maintain our musters for as long as possible, and make what preparations we can. When we receive word of the Emperor's intentions, we will better understand our position."

She turned to the Cardinal.

"Romalia has little reason to help us, and we understand the reasons, your eminence. Even if your messages have reached his Holiness the Pope, his forces are too far away, and can do little to help us. It may serve him best to do nothing."

"I profoundly regret it, your Majesty." The old man bowed his head, eyes full of sadness.

"We should not rely on the Germanians for this either," Armand cut in, grim-faced. "Albion was one thing, but Gallia is quite another. Even together, we would be hard-pressed to succeed."

"There is also the matter of the Emperors…condition," Mazarin added, his eyes weary and fearful. "We can still get no word as to his health, and he is being seen in public less and less. As for the magnates, they have little reason to get involved themselves."

So perhaps he was dying. Perhaps Germania was on the brink of chaos. If that happened, there was no hope.

"If we are alone, then alone we must be," Karin spoke up. "Your majesty, please allow me to survey the defences before the end of the day. I promise you that all will be ready."

"Thank you, your grace." Henrietta nodded in acknowledgement. For the rest of us, we must make what preparations we can, and assemble what forces and allies we can. If all else fails, we may be forced to depend on the power of our Founder Brimir."

She saw the looks they were giving her. They knew what she meant.

"Louise, forgive me." Her hands tightened on her sceptre. "But you're all I have."

(X)

The Enchanted Fairies Tavern

"Ahhhhh!"

Suleiman relaxed in his seat, feeling very warm and satisfied.

It had been some time since he had eaten half so well. The food wasn't quite up to what Kirche's father had provided, but it was still excellent. As was the wine.

"Are you full, Lei?" asked Tiffania, beaming at him from across the small table.

"Quite full, Miss Tiffania," replied Suleiman, remembering himself. Tiffania looked happy too, and he was glad of it. She had been worried about him, when she suggested that they go out together. And now her worries looked to be all gone.

And they had barely had one bottle of wine between them. Suleiman was of a mind to change that.

He looked around the taproom. It was quite large, with a wide bar along one wall, a stage taking up another wall, and a wide space filled with round tables of varying sizes. Their own table was set into an alcove, one of several lining one of the walls, with a good view of the stage. The tables were almost all full, the guests mostly but not entirely male, eating and drinking alone or in small groups. There was much chatter and laughter, the sounds of a happy establishment.

"It's quite good here," he said, turning his attentions back to Tiffania. "It has a good atmosphere."

"I thought so too," Tiffania said, glancing around in turn. She paused, then looked away, blushing as she smiled. Suleiman followed her glance, and saw a young man and woman of about their own age sitting at the next table along. They were holding hands, and having what looked like a very intimate tete-a-tete.

Suleiman snapped his head away, his own cheeks reddening in turn. Tiffania let out a giggle, and it was all Suleiman could do not to laugh in turn.

The clientele at the larger tables were of a quite different type. They were mostly men, most of them sturdy-looking, though of some means; perhaps shopkeepers or successful artisans. There were some other types too, men and a handful of women, who had the look of soldiers about them. Suleiman suspected that they were mercenaries, heading into Tristainia in search of employment.

Regardless, they were all in good humour; tucking into the food and drink the waitresses brought them with some gusto, and laughing all the while.

The waitresses, Suleiman suspected, were likely the cause of much of their good spirits. They were all quite young, maybe a few years older than himself and Tiffania, and they were all beautiful; their beauty only enhanced by their skimpy, brightly-coloured dresses, and the frilly white headbands that held back their hair.

They were also, he could not help but notice, quite top-heavy. Certainly the clientele could not help but notice either; if the wandering eyes were any indication. That said, the waitresses seemed in good spirits themselves, and he had not seen any one of them be grabbed or fondled. Perhaps they were more civilized than some of them might look; or else there was some other deterrent he had not yet seen.

He felt cold. Those dresses were so short, the necklines so…

"Ah, mademoiselle et monsieur!"

The call shocked him out of the darkness just as it was beginning to appear. Suleiman looked up, and gulped as he saw what was approaching him.

It was a very tall, very muscular man with a narrow black moustache…and red-painted lips. He wore a very tight purple tank-top, and tight black shorts. In the corner of his eye, Suleiman saw some of the customers shiver at the sight of him; answering his previous question.

"Mademoiselle et monsieur, I am the proprietor, Scarron!" proclaimed the effete titan. "I trust that the cuisine was to your complete satisfaction?"

He had quite a thick accent, which reminded Suleiman of southern Gallia.

"Oh, uh, yes, it was!" replied Suleiman, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. This man was quite unsettling, and he could see in the corner of his eye that Tiffania felt the same way. "The food was excellent, thank you, patron."

"Ah, young sir!" declared Scarron, having what looked like a brief attack of apoplexy. "You must please call me, mi mademoiselle!"

It was all Suleiman could do not to gape like a goldfish. He wasn't the sort to pass judgement, but this was…

"Excuse us for disturbing you!"

Mercifully, a young woman stepped around the titan, a smile on her face. Suleiman blinked in mild surprise, for he could have sworn he had seen her before. She had very long black hair and dark eyes; and although she was well-built enough to stand among the waitresses, she wore a more conventional white and green dress.
"I am Jessica Scarron, and I'm in charge of the staff," the woman introduced herself. "This is terribly rude of us, but would it be possible for us to have a little talk?"

Suleiman was confused. What could the problem be?

"If you're worried about the bill, I have money to pay it," he said, holding up one of his Romalian coins.

"Non non non!" Scarron interjected, stepping forward and clasping an enormous hand around Suleiman's own, hiding the coin from sight. "Monsieur, you must not flash such things even in a place like this, n'est pas? It might be a temptation too far, non?"

"It's not the bill," insisted Jessica, her smile looking a tad forced. "We need to ask you a small favour."

"Ah oui, it is true!" Scarron cut in. "We must beg a kindness, monsieur et mademoiselle. With your permission?"

"Oh, of course!"

Scarron made to grab the nearest seat to Suleiman, but Jessica darted in and took it first. Clearly she was used to her boss and his…predilections.

"Anyway," Jessica said, leaning in close as Scarron took the other seat. "Firstly, cards on the table. Are you two Suleiman and Tiffania from the magic academy?"

Suleiman was taken aback. How could she know that? Had their reputations spread that far already?

He glanced nervously at Tiffania, who looked as unsettled as he felt. Her ears were still hidden, shielded by Siesta's hair braid. But what if…?

"It's all right," Jessica insisted, smiling. "I know because my cousin Siesta told me all about you two."

"Your cousin?" Suleiman asked, bewildered.

"Oh!" Tiffania clapped her hands in delight. "I should have known! You look like sisters!"

"Oui oui!" added Scarron cheerfully. "My little daughter Jessica, and my precious niece Siesta! Have you ever seen such a pretty pair?"

It was all Suleiman could do not to gape. This man was Jessica's father? How was it possible?

"Anyway," Jessica went on. "She tells me that Suleiman is a fine musician, with that down there." She pointed at his sitar, which was standing propped against this seat. "And Tiffania is a wonderful singer, and a fine hand with a harp too."

"Oh!" Tiffania blushed and looked away. "I'm…I'm not all that good…"

"I only bring this up because we're in need of a favour."

Jessica sighed, and Scarron looked nervous.

"We've had the place redone, as you can see." She gestured around, and Suleiman noticed how new the wall panelling and the floor looked, not to mention the alcoves and tables. "So to cover the costs, we've expanded our repertoire."

"My special fairies, and amateur dramatics!" proclaimed Scarron proudly. "And now, music and dance!"

"We had a famous young musician lined up to play tonight," Jessica went on. "Only, he's gotten himself thrown in the Conciergerie for public immorality, and now we've got nobody to perform."

"Disaster! Despair!" wailed Scarron, gesticulating like some parody of a bad actor. "Public humiliation!"

"So here's the deal," Jessica continued, ignoring her father's conniption. "Would you please, please, perform for us tonight?"

Suleiman's mind went blank. Perform? Right now? Both of them?

"If you agree, we'll waive your bill," pleaded Jessica. "Tonight, you eat and drink on the house."

"I'll do it."

Suleiman stared at Tiffania in surprise. She was smiling.

"I don't mind doing it to help someone," she said. "Lei, will you play too?"

Suleiman felt himself nodding in agreement. It was all so sudden, but he couldn't refuse, not when Tiffania wanted to do it.

Besides, he had played in far worse places across Gallia and Romalia during his journey.

With Majid…

"Tres bien!" cheered Scarron. "Now do come this way, si vous plait! Come come come!"

Suleiman followed on as Tiffania and Jessica followed a skipping Scarron through the taproom and into a rear room.

The room was full of boxes, many of them open to reveal what looked like stage props and scenery. There was even a door to Suleiman's left, marked STAGE DOOR.

"Mes enfants, this is our little backstage area!" explained Scarron, with obvious enthusiasm. "Use this to prepare for your performance. The walls are very thick, so they won't overhear."

"We'll be back in just a minute, once everything's ready!" added Jessica. "And thank you so much for this."

Jessica and her father left the room, leaving them alone.

"Lei…" Tiffania blushed and started to fidget.

"Miss Tiffannia?"

"Lei…I didn't want to say no…but I don't know what I'm doing."

Suleiman sighed.

"Well, I've done this plenty of times," he said, setting down his sitar. "With a crowd like this, we should do something cheery, something they can clap along to."

"You think so?" asked Tiffania, looking wide-eyed at him.

"Yes," Suleiman replied, unpacking the sitar and giving it a quick look-over. "It's all to do with the crowd, and the mood it's in. They're in a cheery mood out there, so we should do something high-spirited and happy to match."

"I see!" Tiffania beamed, then faltered. "It's just that…I'm not sure how."

"I'll play, if you'll sing, Miss Tiffania," mused Suleiman, finishing his checks. "Since we've got a moment, we can practice a little."

"All right then." That smile again. "Do you have some songs in mind?"

"Well…"

Suleiman thought for a moment, thinking back to all the bars and taverns and drinking pits he had performed in. He had picked up quite a few songs in those places; songs of all kinds, for every mood and situation.

"Perhaps…a sailor's hornpipe."

(X)

"Why are we here again?"

Saito was not in the best of moods. He was glad to be out of the castle, out amid the familiar bustle of the city. But it wasn't doing all that much for his feelings.

She hadn't exploded him. She couldn't even be bothered to explode him.

"Because, my dear lieutenant and brother knight," declared Guiche, flourish his rose. "We, of the newly-restored Ondine Knights, are taking you away from that hive of stuffiness and intrigue known as the palace, and out here for some good, wholesome, manly entertainment!"

"You've been moping around ever since last night," Malicorne cut in. "Just because Louise won't talk to you."

That much was true, he couldn't deny it. He couldn't get so much as a word out of her. On the rare occasions when he had been able to see her, she just gave him the cold shoulder.

She hadn't done that in months. Not since they had headed off to Albion to find Tiffania, and she had made him run after the carriage.

"Won't talk to me, won't look at me, won't even explode me," he grumbled. "Seriously, what did I do to make her so mad at me?"

Then he paused, as he saw the looks his fellow Ondines were giving him.

"What?" he demanded, irritably.

"Saito…" Gimli said, sadly. "Sometimes…it really does look like you enjoy being exploded by Louise."

"No I…I mean!" babbled Saito, caught off-guard. "It's not like I…!"

But wasn't it? Why else was it getting on his nerves so much?

"I understand, Saito!" proclaimed Malicorne, clutching his arms. "I love it when women hit me! I love it when they kick me and stamp on me, calling me a beast and a pervert!"

He clutched at himself, wobbling and giggling with delight.

"It's definitely not like that!" snapped Saito. The thought of actually enjoying being hurt, of being like Malicorne, was more than he could take.

Besides, what if Louise were to find out? Who knew what she might come up with?

"It's the dear anguish of rejection," declared Guiche, flourishing his rose again. "When the fair maiden is cold, and the young lover's heart aches with longing. But beneath the icy façade the maiden's heart beats with yearning, ready to throw aside the mask of coldness and embrace her beloved once more!"

Silence. A piece of tumbleweed blew past.

"He means she's playing hard-to-get," explained Reynald. "She's gonna be like that until you apologise properly."

"But I did!" insisted Saito. "I was practically following her on my knees! What more does it take?"

"You really got on her nerves this time," Baldwin mused. "You must've done something pretty awful."

"Like you know anything about women," Gimli cut in, smirking. Baldwin shot him a dirty look.

"What was that about making her call you husband?" wondered Reynald aloud. The mood suddenly changed.

"Oh no, you didn't do that, did you?" asked Malicorne, looking worried.

"What?" Saito was confused. "Look, I just got a bit squiffy, that's all. I just thought, well, once she got used to life without servants and all that, she wouldn't mind just being my little wife and all. And I just started calling her that, and things got kind of nice, and then Duchess whats-her-face came swooping in."

Then he saw the looks they were all giving him.

"So, she didn't actually call you husband?" asked Reynald.

"No!' Saito was getting upset. "What's this about?"

"Oh, that's a relief!" declared Malicorne. "Talk about dodging a bullet!"

"You're too good a fellow to do a thing like that," Guiche cut in.

"Do what?" demanded Saito.

"It's a canon law thing," Baldwin said. "If you and Louise called each other husband and wife, and spent one night together, then that technically counts as marriage."

Saito's mouth hit the floor.

"Marriage?" he exclaimed. "Seriously?"

"She probably thinks you were doing it just to get her into bed," Gimli cut in. "There are guys who do that, apparently."

"What?" Saito was appalled. "Why would I wanna do that?"

"Even Guiche hasn't done that!" added Malicorne, earning a glare.

"Anyway, she'll take a little while to simmer down," Reynald said. "You might as well enjoy yourself in the meantime."

"Yes away!" It was Guiche, again. "Away to manly pleasure, and gay frivolity! Set your mind at ease, Saito!"

"Besides," Baldwin cut in. "We can't let Suleiman have all the fun with Tiffania!"

"Tiffa!" wailed Malicorne, his good humour vanishing at the mention. "Why does he get to go out with Tiffa and not me?"

"Got over Irukuku quickly, didn't you," Baldwin cut in with a leer, earning a snigger from Gimli.

"How was I supposed to know Irukuku was a dragon!" Malicorne whined. "If I can't get with a beautiful maiden like her how can I ever get married?"

"Have heart my friend!" Guiche beamed. "For there is always a destined one for all in this world! Even for one as rotund as you!"

"If you cut back on the cakes a bit!" Gimli jibed playfully.

"I'm a gourmand, thank you!" retorted Malicorne. "Besides, I like being soft!"

"But do the ladies like it?" Baldwin wondered aloud.

"Speaking of food, I'm getting hungry," Reynald cut in. "Where's this tavern you heard about, Gimli?"

"Just down here!" Gimli called back. "I found it the last time I was here, about a month ago! It's got food, women, and entertainment too!"

"Now, you did check that, didn't you?" asked Malicorne. "That they're actual women this time?"

"That was a misunderstanding!" snapped Gimli, as the others burst out laughing. "They could've fooled anyone!"

Saito was barely paying much attention, as he strolled along. Yes, it was tough with Louise being the way she was, and with all the trouble Tabitha and Henrietta were having. But just wandering along like this, with all the others…it felt good, somehow. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in quite a while, not since he was a young boy. It felt…comfortable.

They had reached one of the city's boulevards. The pavement was crowded, with all attention focussed on the street.

Saito stared as a column of cavalry came trotting along the street. They wore red uniforms and wide black hats, and Saito could see muskets holstered in their saddles.

"Mott's dragoons," Guiche mused. Saito looked, and saw that it was indeed Count Mott riding at their head. In place of his usual outfit, with the wide ruff Saito was sure was a century out of fashion, Mott was clad in a close-fitting red doublet and breeches. These, along with his boots and hat, were clearly of better quality than those of his men; though they were well-dressed compared to many soldiers Saito had seen. Behind Mott came his mage-officers, all as well-dressed as he was, and the colour party, its banners still wrapped in tight bags on their poles.

Saito thought of waving at Count Mott, but decided against it. They weren't exactly enemies, but their last meeting had not been all that pleasant either. Instead he merely watched as the dragoons trotted past, faces sober, heading for the palace.

They might be needed, before long. They might have to ride out, and do battle with the soldiers of Gallia, sent against Tristain by a mad King who cared nothing for them, and would not bat an eyelid if every single one of them died in agony.

And Saito had seen such things. He had seen them in Albion, back when Louise had been so desperate to go to war, and Saito had resented her for it. He hadn't understood that Louise didn't love violence, didn't thirst for glory. He hadn't understood, until it was almost too late, how much she yearned to prove that she wasn't useless, and to be there for Henrietta when she needed her.

And by the time he had, there was no time for anything but a glass of drugged wine, and to see Louise carried safely to the last ship. Then off on his way, to face an army of seventy thousand.

Louise…

"Easy partner," said Derflinger, popping up from his scabbard. "Don't let it get you down."

"How did you know?" Saito asked.

"Your shoulder blades tense when you're thinking," replied the sword. "I know my partner's cues. And that wasn't the only one."

Saito sighed, and let out a chuckle.

"It's just down here," Gimli called out, leading the way down the street. The dragoons had passed, the spectacle over. Saito followed on, looking at the street around him. The shops were starting to look familiar.

"And down here!" They turned down a side street. This one was quite wide too, with lots of taverns, bars, clubs, and similar. This was the nicer end of town, so the taverns and bars were of relatively high quality; the sorts of places even a noble might condescend to visit. The sun was just about setting, yet the street already rang with music and laughter.

Saito knew this street. He hadn't been there in a while, but he knew it, he was sure.

"It's just here!" proclaimed Gimli. He led them towards one of the taverns. There was the sound of clapping, of music, and a voice that sounded familiar.

Oh, a sailor's life is a life for me,
How I love to sail
On the bounding sea
And I never never ever
Do a thing about the weather
For the weather never ever
Does a thing for me!

"Lead on, noble Gimli!" proclaimed Guiche. Gimli did so, stepped through the doorway into the tavern.

Wait, this was…

But Saito had no time to say anything, as his comrades pushed him through the door.

Yes, it was indeed. There was no missing the layout of the taproom, or the uniforms the girls were wearing. This was indeed the Enchanted Fairies Inn.

But that was as nothing compared to what Saito saw on the stage.

It was Tiffania. She was skipping and bouncing, while behind her sat Suleiman, playing his sitar with a big grin on his face. The crowd laughed and hallooed, clapping along with the music as Tiffania began another verse.

Oh, a sailor's life is a life for me,
How I love to sail
On the bounding sea
If you want to sail
A ship like mine
And be a sailor all the time
Then learn to do
The Sailor's Hornpipe
Just like me!

"Ahh…" Saito breathed, as the crowd applauded, roaring its approval. Tiffania beamed as she curtseyed, making her bosom bounce yet again.

Saito knew he was drooling. He didn't much care.

"Tiffa…" he gurgled.

"Oh no you don't!"

The next thing Saito knew, he was flat on the floor; with Malicorne's bulk crushing him.

"Gaahh!" he gasped. "What're you doing?"

"You have Louise!" barked Malicorne. "Leave something for the rest of us!"

"I can't breathe!"

"Tres bien!"

All of a sudden, the crushing weight was gone. Saito looked up, and saw Paul Scarron crushing Malicorne in a bear hug.

"Ah, so soft!" cooed Scarron. "So squishy!"

Malicorne looked as if he was hang-gliding over hell. Baldwin and the de Kassel twins were doubled-over laughing. Most of the customers were laughing too.

Never, in all the time Saito had been in Halkeginia, had he ever thought he would be glad of Paul Scarron. But that vision was just priceless.

"Well if it isn't Saito!'

Saito looked, and it was indeed Jessica Scarron standing there, smiling her usual smile.
"Jessica!" Saito clambered to his feet, his heart leaping at the sight of an old friend. "Long time no see!"

"First things first!" Jessica turned to face the customers. "Our delightful performers are just taking a little break. In the meantime, it's happy hour!"

The customers cheered, and the waitresses swept into action, hurrying out to take their orders.

"Now, Saito, what brings you here?" Jessica asked cheerfully. "And where's Louise? It's strange not seeing you together!"

Then she faltered, as she saw Saito's face fall.

"Dear patroness!" interjected Guiche. "Their relationship is, as we say among the noblesse, so far on the rocks its halfway to Varangia!" He laughed at his own joke. "Thus, we have come to show our friend a good time!"

"He means we need a table, if you've got one," Saito cut in, looking around at the very busy taproom.

"We always keep a table for old friends," replied Jessica, smiling and gesturing towards an empty table just by the stage.

"Call me mi mademoiselle!" squawked Scarron, as he continued to glomp Malicorne.

"Help!" wailed Malicorne, amid hoots of laughter from the customers.

Saito took a seat at the table, his friends doing likewise; the waitresses drawing out their seats and offering to take their orders. They were clearly enjoying the experience, and Saito didn't blame them. Who wouldn't want to be served by such beautiful girls, in those skimpy, brightly-coloured dresses.

Like the one Louise had worn, when last they were there.

Louise…

"Saito!" Guiche called out, as the waitresses hurried away with the orders. "I didn't know you knew this place!"

"When were you going to tell us?" demanded Malicorne, having been released from Scarron's embrace and slumped into a chair. "Keeping a place like this all to yourself! You've got Louise!"

"Saito and Louise have helped us out a couple of times," Jessica explained proudly. "They're friends of ours."

"Helped?" Gimli gaped. "Does that mean…Louise...?"

"Oh yes!" Jessica beamed. "A little white one! She's a terrible waitress, but a great bouncer!"

Saito sighed as the boys imagined Louise in that little white waitress uniform. There was no way he was ever going to get her to wear that one again.

"Ah…but Montmorency…" murmured Guiche, drooling.

"Hello everyone!" It was Tiffania and Suleiman, coming to join them. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"We're just getting out for a bit. Come and sit down."

Saito gestured at two conveniently empty seats. He felt much better for seeing the two of them, especially Tiffania. Her shirt was open at the top, so he could see down her…

"Uh, anyway," he said, forcing himself not to look. "What brings you two out here?"

"We just wanted to get out of the palace for a while," Suleiman said, setting down his sitar. "Miss Siesta recommended this place, so we came to see what it was like."

"Siesta, huh?" That made sense. Siesta was Jessica's cousin, after all. Though that just made Saito wonder just how on earth either of them could be related to a man like Scarron.

"And, well," Tiffania spoke up. "Miss Jessica said she'd waive our bill if we performed. There was supposed to be a performer, but he's in somewhere called the Conciergerie, and he can't perform tonight."

"Public immorality," Jessica cut in. "And before you ask, I don't know and I don't want to know. Anyway, Tiffa and Lei have stepped up like champions!"

The Ondines all started clapping. Tiffania and Suleiman both blushed.

"Well, Lei was wonderful, but I wasn't that good," insisted Tiffania, awkwardly. "I'm just not sure about all this dancing. It's not what I'm used to."

Saito felt something stir inside him. A smile slowly spread over his face, as glorious visions formed in his mind's eye.

"Partner…" warned Derflinger. "I know that cue too. Don't do it."

"I can help with that!" he declared, smiling too much.

"Oh, will you?" Tiffania was delighted. "Thank you!"

"This is not gonna end well," grumbled Derflinger.

(X)

"You know Kirche, when you told us you were going to take us on a girls night out, I was expecting more than just us," commented Montmorency, glancing up at her taller compatriot.

"Well, what can you do?" Kirche mused, hand sbehind her head. "Alice was nowhere to be found, and Tabitha's keeping an eye on her mother; when she's not glaring towards Gallia, that is. Can you blame her?"

"I suppose…"

"And Lei and Tiffa are already out and about enjoying themselves," Kirche went on. "So that really just leaves us."

"I hope this venue you mentioned is as good as you say, Siesta," said Montmorency, turning her attention to the maid. "Since Kirche has us traipsing around the streets instead of staying in the palace."

"I assure you, the food and entertainment are of the highest quality!" declared Siesta, beaming. "My uncle owns it, and my cousin works there."

"And I we needed to get out of that palace anyway!" Kirche cut in cheerfully. "So stuffy in there, and even worse with all the war preparations. No fun at all!"

Louise sighed. She had to admit, she hadn't much fancied hanging around the palace either. Henrietta had no orders for her, and her parents were themselves busy with the war preparations. And as for Saito…

Damn him! What was he thinking, fantasizing about his master like that? And in her wedding dress of all things? Was that really what he thought about? And why did make her feel all…warm…and fuzzy?

And making her act all demure and weak in front of everyone! Including her own parents! And the Queen!

And what was her mother thinking? Even suggesting that she should marry that…that…?

"And what's that face for?" asked Kirche, leaning in towards her. "Still angry with Saito are we? So angry you couldn't even blast him?"

"None of your business!" retorted Louise. Montmorency giggled behind her hand.

"Well then, you should confide in us, your sisters-in-arms" Kirche said, draping an arm around Louise. "After all we've been through, I think we're entitled to help."

"You really should, Miss Valliere," Siesta cut in. "After all, you'll get wrinkles if you're angry all the time. And your hair will turn grey."

"She's right you know," added Montmorency, smirking.

"You're one to talk!" snapped Louise, rounding on Montmorency. "The way you treat Guiche when he annoys you!"

"Well yes, it's Guiche." Montmorency said with a deadpan expression. "If he had half of Saito's common sense, we would probably be engaged by now…"

Siesta and Kirche started giggling. Louise's mouth almost hit the floor.

"Y…You want Guiche to be like that dog?" she exclaimed.

"Well, he's got his redeeming qualities," mused Montmorency. "In fact, if you combined the two of them into one person, it could work quite well."

"Interesting notion," agreed Kirche. "I'm not sure how, though."

"You can keep the both of them!" barked Louise. "Honestly, Montmorency! Why do you keep forgiving him all the time!"

"Who said I'd forgiven him?" retorted Montmorency, crossing her arms. "He's going to have improve himself if he wants any attention from me."

"You always forgive him," insisted Louise. "You always take him back. All he has to do is moon around like some lovesick troubadour and you always give in. Every single time!"

"She's got you there," said Kirche. "Why don't you both just admit it? You're in love. It's obvious!"

"I am not in love!" shrieked Louise, stopping suddenly as Montmorency clammed up, blushing hotly. "Since when have I ever been in love with that dog?"

"Since forever?" retorted Kirche, smirking that superior smirk that had always made her want to kill something. "Come now Louise, picking a fight over your non-existent wedding dress."

"The presumption!" Louise snapped, her face the colour of Kirche's hair. "Going on about what dress I would wear! What does a man know about wedding dresses?"

"Really, big sleeves, ruffles, bows, long veil?" Kirche snorted. "Fairly basic, wouldn't you say? And you were putting him on the spot."

"Frankly, I'd be more worried if he did know anything about it," Montmorency cut in.

"My point is, Louise, you really need to stop kicking off at him over the smallest things," Kirche went on. "You need to relax, and let life wash over you a little more."

"Gah! I know!" Louise stamped her foot, pulling at her hair in sheer frustration. "He just…he makes me…!"

She trailed off. She wanted to say it, but words just wouldn't come. How could she make these idiots understand?

"He makes me…say things!" she said eventually. "And…feel things! And…want things! He had me acting like some…some…damsel in distress!"

"Like I said, it's love," said Kirche, Montmorency nodding in agreement.

"And he has the gall to look at other girls!" Louise went on.

"You might as well complain about the sun rising," replied Kirche.

"And I just get so angry and…! And…!"

She trailed off again. Angry. She was always angry. That anger had been with her since she was a child. The anger that welled up every time someone slighted her, or looked down on her, or did something that irritated her. The anger of one who could never, ever make anyone take her seriously, ever.

"I am a noble!" she snapped. "I am her Majesty's court lady, and a knight! And I just got my title back! I have to maintain my dignity!"

"And there's your problem," insisted Kirche. "You're always like this. Always so stuck up. Always acting like you're in control. You need to give it up, and relax once in a while. If you try to keep it up when you don't need to, you'll be apt to snap at any time. Even the Queen needs rest, don't you agree?"

She winked a wink that had lured countless young men into iniquity. Louise groused at the sight of it, irritated at her taking this all so lightly. How like Kirche to answer her anguish with trite axioms!

But for all that…

"I suppose…" she said, with a sigh.

"Good!" Kirche beamed. "Now let's be on our way! Siesta, how much further?"

"Just along here, Miss Zerbst."

"Excellent, time for some commoner cuisine!" declared Kirche, as they continued along the street.

"You like it?" asked Montmorency, eyebrow quirking.

"My father always taught me to like the simpler things in life," replied Kirche with a grin. "And there's a certain novelty to how these cooks go about their food."

Louise was not much surprised. Kirche's father seemed like the kind of fellow to enjoy slumming it with the commoners every now and again. Maybe he had gotten used to camp food in his warlike youth. He wouldn't have been the first.

"And here we are!" declared Siesta. Louise looked up, drawn from her reverie, and froze.

The Enchanted Fairies.

Of all the places for that idiot maid to bring them, of all the taverns in the entire city, she just had to bring them there! Of all places!

"Who's that singing?" asked Montmorency, looking quizzically through the open doorway. "It sounds like Tiffania."

"All the more reason to go in!" declared Kirche. "Come along, little Louise!"

"Wait!" pleaded Louise, as they pushed her inside. No, not this place! What if someone mentioned…!

Then she saw.

It was indeed Tiffania. Tiffania Westwood, her top-heavy body somehow squeezed into a green Enchanted Fairies waitress uniform, complete with frilly white headband. She was on a stage, shimmying from left to right, with her hands up around her chin. Her…boulders were bouncing around, so hard they looked like they might escape at any moment.

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat! Nya nya!

Only then did Louise notice the cat ears, and the cat tail.

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat!

"Hallelujah!" yelled a jubilant Malicorne, who was for some reason on the stage beside Tiffania, wearing similar cat ears and tail, and performing much the same dance. There were even whiskers drawn on his face.

"Well now…" Kirche mused.

Suleiman was sitting behind them, fingers flying over the strings of his sitar. With him was Gimli on a set of drums, and Guiche banging a tambourine, and dancing with some enthusiasm.

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat!

The audience clapped and cheered, or bellowed with laughter. The waitresses were clapping along too, some of them in fits of giggles.

"That…fool…" Montmorency hissed. But Louise's eyes were on the one just in front, waving his arms in some parody of a maestro conducting at the opera; the biggest, stupidest, most irritating grin on his face.

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be… a… cat!

The bizarre troupe made their final flourish, and the whole tavern erupted in wild applause.

"Brilliant!" yelled Saito to his performers. "That was brilliant! Just perfect Tiffa!"

"Marvellous! Marvellous!" proclaimed Guiche, bowing with a flourish. "That was aaaaargghhh!"

His words became a cry of dread, as he saw Montmorency. Kirche was giggling uncontrollably.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the…!"

Then it was Saito's turn to freeze as he turned to call out to the audience, and met Louise's eyes. Behind him, the entire ensemble had fallen into stunned, terrified silence.

"Oh, Louise!" called out Tiffania, the only one not to have read the mood. "We were just having fun up here! Saito taught us this new dance!"

A new…dance…

"Oh?" Louise heard herself say. "A new dance? What an…expressive dance it was. How very inventive of you, Saito."

"Uh…Louise…" Saito gulped.

"We've got another one after this," Tiffania went on, clueless. "Saito called it the Bear Necessities."

The limit. The limit.

"Bare…necessities…"

Louise could feel it. The old anger, the fury, rising within her. White-hot, driving away all doubt and worry. She knew it wrecked the place, but by the Gods it felt good while it lasted.

"Bear, Louise," pleaded Saito pathetically. "A big old bear, you know, that does it in the woods! It's a pun!"

"I was just going to forgive you, Saito…" Louise curled her hand around her wand, gripping it tight. "I was going to overlook your presumption. But what do I find? I find you here, goofing around with these idiots, and teaching Tiffa to corrupt public morals."

She drew her wand. It was already glowing, as her fury poured into it.

"Take cover!" yelled Malicorne, diving under the nearest table.

"Dog!" she shrieked, her fury boiling over. "Lecherous beast! Water flea!"

(X)

"And this is the new mortar cannon, my lady!"

Karin de la Valliere suppressed a sigh as she took in the sight. The top of the Tour du Bois, one of Tristainia's ten towers, was much like the five she had already inspected. The floor was wide and tolerably clean, with a single enormous mortar-cannon set onto a pivot, allowing it to be easily pushed around the rim of the tower, and fire in any direction. Depending on the length of the fuse, the shells would either plunge into oncoming troops before exploding, or explode in mid-air; to tear flying monsters and their riders from the sky, or punch through the lower hull of an airship that got too close.

The shells themselves were in a neat pile in the allotted place, all of them looking distinctly shiny and clean. Nearby stood the crew; a bunch of middle-aged men in ill-fitting green uniforms that did their physiques no favours, all trying their best to look manly and soldierly. No doubt militia duty was a nice change from their usual jobs, and perhaps their wives. The regiments they could leave to the young men.

"I trust all is satisfactory?" asked the Mayor's lieutenant, a rat-faced little man with a pathetic, obsequious smile. To have the tower under his jurisdiction inspected by the Duchess de la Valliere must have been the greatest honour of his life. If he knew anything about her, and he probably did, it was also the greatest terror.

But as irritating as he was, there was nothing obviously wrong with the tower, besides a shortage of powder and shot for the cannons on the level below, and that technically wasn't his fault.

A great crack rang out across the city. The mayor's lieutenant let out an eep, and the gunners began falling all-over eachother in a race to man their gun; a gun they had likely never seen until it arrived earlier that day.

"What is it?" screeched the lieutenant, whose name Karin had not bothered to learn. Karin did not move or flinch. She knew that sound too well.

"Young love," she said, plainly. Yes, she had heard Louise's explosions often enough to learn the sound, and what its variations meant. Her youngest daughter was clearly in a thoroughly foul mood.

She allowed herself to smirk. Young Saito was getting a taste of what married life had in store for him. If he was still on the same continent in a month, it might be worthwhile to start planning the wedding.

(X)

The Enchanted Fairies Inn

"Insolent dog! This is your fault!"

"How is it my fault?"

Tifffania sighed.

The mess wrought on the Enchanted Fairies had been largely cleared up. Some of the customers had left, but a fair few had stayed; continuing to enjoy the food and drink, and the attentions of the waitresses. But with the stage in chaos and the instruments largely destroyed, with the thankful exception of Suleiman's sitar, the evening's performance was on hold; at least for the moment.

"You dressed up Tiffania in that outfit!" snapped Louise, gripping her broom with white knuckled-hands. "And your taught her to dance lewd dances!"

"That outfit?" retorted Saito, as he swept what remained of the dust and debris into a pile in one corner. "Like the one you're wearing right now?"

Louise was indeed wearing an Enchanted Fairies uniform, though hers was in white as opposed to Tiffania's green. From what Jessica had said, she had worn it there before; while carrying out undercover missions for the Queen.

"It's your fault I'm wearing it!" Louise barked back. "Because of your lust, your master is toiling in this costume!"

"Oh, I don't know," mused Kirche, from the centre of the room. "I think this works quite well for me."

"Well in your case, it would," retorted Montmorency sourly.

The two of them were also wearing Enchanted Fairies uniforms; Kirche in black, and Montmorency in pink. They too were involved in the cleanup, though unlike Louise and Saito they didn't have to use their hands. Montmorency was controlling a large puddle of water with her wand, sending it flowing and glooping around the floor like a pool of mercury, while Kirche was manipulating a series of mops and scrubbing brushes with her own magic. The customers seemed content to watch the spectacle, seemingly fascinated by the magic.

And Kirche, though unlike Montmorency and Louise she seemed to enjoy it.

Tiffania sighed again. She had been looking for something to do, wondering if she could help, but everything seemed in order. Jessica had all but insisted that she not work, assuring her that what happened wasn't her fault. There was little to do downstairs except watch her friends bicker, and the Ondines leer at them.

Except for Guiche, who was currently tied to a chair and blindfolded. Montmorency had refused to come down until this was done.

She decided to go and find Suleiman. He had seemed lonely earlier, but she hadn't seem much of him since Louise had turned up and wrecked the place. There was no sign of him downstairs.

Tiffania headed through the back door, and up the stairs. She found herself in a corridor, with all the doors closed except for one. Hopeful, she headed down the corridor, and peeked round the open door.

It was a storeroom, and at the opposite end was Suleiman. He was kneeling on the floor, hands down by his sides, staring up at the window. The fading sunlight shone on his face, and Tiffania could hear him speaking.

The sun falls, and the moons rise
The day is ended, and the night begun
The world is born, and the world is ended
You alone are eternal

She stood and listened, remembering that first morning after she had summoned him, when she had seen him make his morning prayer outside the academy. Was this the equivalent?

"Lei?" she called out, stepping towards him as he stood up.

"Oh, Miss Tiffania." Suleiman turned towards her and smiled awkwardly. "I…I just felt a little overwhelmed. The door was open, so I didn't think anyone would mind me staying her for a while."

"It's okay." Tiffania stepped up alongside him, and looked out of the window.

There was a fine view of the southern half of the city, and the lands beyond it. The sun was falling, dappling the buildings and the hills in soft, red light.

"It's such a nice view," she said, taking it all in.

"It is," agreed Suleiman. "It's strange, but I feel better for looking at it. It reminds me a little of home."

"It does?"

"Yes." Suleiman smiled wistfully. "Cyrasalem is surrounded by mountains, the ones we call Zagros. Sometimes we would go out onto the plains, and see the sun setting in the west. The light on the mountain peaks was like this."

He was smiling, but Tiffania sensed a terrible weight upon his soul. A loneliness, and something else too.

Was it shame?

"Do you miss your home, Lei?"

"Yes, I do." Suleiman sighed. "But I can't go back there, not now."

Tiffania's heart ached. He had never told her much about his homeland, or why he and his mysterious companion had left it. She could only sense that something had gone terribly wrong, that he was running from something that terrified and shamed him. If only he would tell her what it was.

"I would love to see it with you, one day," she said, and meant it.

"I would love that more than anything, Miss Tiffania."

Then her heart fluttered, as she felt his fingers cautiously touching hers. She opened her hand, letting them slip inside, and then gently closed around them.

"Lei…" She paused, trying to find the right words, trying to describe the strange weight pressing in upon her heart. "Lei…you can tell me what it is. Please tell me what it is."

Suleiman's hand tensed. She squeezed back. His smile was gone, his eyes full of pain. Tiffania wondered for a moment if she had gone too far, if she had asked too much.

"Miss Tiffania, if I told you, you would despise me," he said, his tone heavy with sorrow. "I have been so weak, and so naïve."

"No, never," insisted Tiffania, squeezing his hand again. She meant what she said, but she found herself wondering whatever could torment him so. "I would never do that."

"If I were not so weak, I would not be here," he went on. "But…if I had not come here, I would not have met you, or Mister Saito, or Miss Louise, or anyone."

He sighed a world-weary sigh.

"Miss Tiffania…for a time, I thought being bound to you was a punishment, a trial forced upon me by Cyras. But Miss Tiffania, that cannot be true! To be with one such as you, that cannot be a curse!"

Tiffania's heart began to pound. What did he mean? What was he trying to tell her?

"Miss Tiffania…" Suleiman gulped, turning to face her. "I miss my homeland, and I think I always will. But even if I could go back there, and undo my mistakes, it could not comfort me. Not without you."

"Lei…"

For what seemed like an eternity, neither said a word.

"Lei, I…"

A bell tolled, not far away. The ringing was so close, so loud, that it made Tiffania jump. Suleiman did the same.

"I…uhm…" Tiffania paused, uncertain, the strange moment gone. "It's so loud."

And then another bell began to ring. And another. And another.

"Miss Tiffania, what's that over there?"

Tiffania followed his pointed figure, to the pink-hued clouds over the near-distant hills.

And the tiny shapes emerging from them.

(X)

"And there we are," declared Eleanore, gesturing out of the window to her right. "The great city of Tristainia, capital of our kingdom of Tristain."

Majid looking where she was pointing. The country road over which their carriage bumped and clattered curved away to his left, until it reached the white walls of a city. Majid could make out the city buildings, and a bluff upon which stood an elegant castle; its walls gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

It wasn't a particularly impressive city; any more than any of the others he had seen in Halkeginia. But Eleanore was clearly proud of it, so he would have to keep his opinion to himself.

"A fine city," he said, and it wasn't technically a lie; for as unimpressive as it might be, there was nothing obviously wrong with it. "I confess, Miss Eleanore, I would be glad to see our journey's end."

"You're not the only one," replied Eleanore. "I shall have a word with my colleagues about this. We need to petition her Majesty about that plan to pave the roads."

"That would be most helpful, my lady."

Majid turned to the other window. The sky in the rest was reddening, as the sun began to set. They would be inside the walls well before nightfall. A good thing.

Then he saw something. He blinked, and again, but it was still there. A small shape, in the southern sky.

"My lady, if you please, what is that?" he asked, gesturing towards it. Eleanore turned to look, fixing her eyes upon it.

"A dragon rider," she said. "One of our dragon knights, back from patrol."

Majid looked again. The shape was drawing closer, and he could make out the wings and long serpentine body; a small human shape perched atop its back.

"I see you are right, my lady," he agreed. "Forgive me. I have not seen many dragons in my time."

"There are none in your homeland?"

"Not in Arysia, my lady. Though there are many manticores and griffons."

"I see." Eleanore's eyes flashed with interest. "Do they nest in your homeland at all?"

"Indeed, my lady. In the Zagros mountains, though some way from Cyrasalem."

"Indeed."

Majid looked again at the dragon. He could see it clearly now, the wings beating in long, hard beats. It jinked left and right as it moved through the air, forced along by its beating wings.

"What's the matter?" asked Eleanore. "Why are you staring like that?"

"That dragon knight is flying hard, my lady," Majid replied. "He seems to be in a hurry."

Eleanore turned in her seat to look again, her brow furrowing.

"Yes, you're right," she agreed. "What could he be…?"

She fell silent, and Majid could see why. For out of the clouds emerged more shapes. More shapes with beating wings, swarming out of the clouds like hornets rising from their nest.

"Griffons," growled Eleanore. "And dragons too."

"Who are they?" Majid asked, a cold knife twisting in his heart.

"It must be the Gallians!" snarled Eleanore. Behind them, Majid could hear the sound of church bells ringing. The city must have seen the danger.

"What can we do?" he asked, grabbing for his weapons.

"Hope we reach the city in time!" replied Eleanore, pulling out her wand.

The carriage was moving at a fair speed. But the flying beasts were drawing closer, ever closer. Majid stared out of the window, eyes fixed on the dragon as it beat its wings all the harder, trying to get away. But the dragons and griffons were drawing closer, and Majid could see fireballs and bolts of lightning.

His heart clenched as the dragon bucked hard, and the shape of a man fell away from it. Dragon and rider fell, their assailants flying past, heedless.

Some of them were turning their way.

"My lady!"

"I see them!" Eleanore reached up, and banged on the ceiling. "You up there! All speed if you want to live!"

The coachman needed no persuading, as the carriage accelerated. The enemies were coming closer, a half-dozen griffons turning towards them. Majid saw their wings, their bodies; remembering the sight of a hawk on the wing, ready to swoop upon its prey.

"They're coming!" he yelled, grabbing Eleanore and pushing her down. Their came a crash of splintering wood, and the top of the carriage was torn away above them. Majid looked up, and saw the griffons peeling away, coming around to attack again. In front of him the coachman was sitting stock-still, hands gripping the reins, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"A little warning next time, monsieur?" asked Eleanore, regarding him as if he were a troublesome schoolboy.

Majid straightened up, grabbing his bow and drawing out an arrow. He fixed his eyes on the foremost griffon, as it continued its circle, gaining height for another swoop.

"That will not hurt them, monsieur!" called out Eleanore, likewise standing up and brandishing her wand.

And she was right. Even a fine bow like his, made by a master bowyer in Antyak, fit even for the Sultan's guards, would not much bother a full-grown griffon.

"I aim not for the griffon, my lady!"

He drew a bead on his target, the young man seated on the griffon's shoulders. The man's eyes were fixed upon him, his glowing sword rising to point at him, lightning crackling.

He loosed. The arrow flew, and the man's eyes bulged as it slid neatly through his throat. He toppled over, his griffon flapping away.

"Well shot, monsieur!" declared Eleanore, with surprisingly little hesitation. "But be wary! They are coming!"

They were coming. The others turned harder, dropping into the attack. Majid drew a bead on one and loosed, but the griffon rolled in mid-air, the arrow bouncing off his helmet. The others unleashed their spells, the fireballs and lightning bolts slamming into a mound of earth that erupted in front of them.

As they whooshed overhead, Majid glanced at Eleanore. Her wand was glowing, and she was glaring at the griffons overhead, her lips enunciating harsh, alien syllables.

A fireball, as big as a buffalo, leapt from her wand, racing up towards the griffons. The griffons scattered to avoid it, their formation thrown into chaos. Majid saw his chance, and loosed another arrow, sending another knight tumbling to the ground. Eleanore added a lightning bolt, downing a third and sending its scorched mount flapping for open sky, screeching amid a cloud of blackened feathers.

Bu three more remained. As Majid nocked another arrow, they came around again, this time dropping low before they came on; changing their tactics. Majid crouched, looking for a mark. But the griffons were bobbing up and down, just enough to throw off his aim.

"Above, monsieur!"

Eleanore cast again. The road behind them erupted, a lump of earth flying up in front of the three griffons. The two on the flanks jinked left and right, while the one in the middle leapt up, wings pounding hard.

Majid understood, and as the griffon reached its apogee, he loosed. The knight fell backwards, and flopped onto the road.

A loud crack rang through his ears. A puff of smoke bullowed overhead, and another. The griffons peeled away, and Majid looked around, wondering where the attack had come from.

Then he saw the walls, not far away now. Smoke puffed from the top of one of the towers, and a moment later there was another explosion. He could see the black barrels of cannons reaching out of the battlements, and men hurrying behind them. The ringing of bells had become a cacophony.

He looked back, back at the southern sky, from whence the griffons and dragons had come.

He stared, awestruck, at the shapes emerging from the clouds. Ships, like the great ships he had seen at Toulon all those weeks ago; wings reaching out from their lower hulls. One ship, then two, then three, then four. A dozen, then two dozen, then four dozen. Dozens of ships, sliding gracefully from the clouds, their sails gleaming white, banners flying from their masts. Dragons and griffons circled around and among them, dozens or hundreds.

Never, never, had he seen such a sight. It was worth having lived this long, in spite of everything, to have seen it.

Except it was coming for this city. It was coming for him.

In silence, staring up at the oncoming fleet, Majid prayed that his young master was not there. That he would not get caught up in this battle.

There was nothing else he could hope for.

(X)

Finally got this done, after a very long delay. I can only apologise for this. Things have been difficult this past year.

 

[Soberan 123]

A new update, man every time I think this story is dead there is one, not that I am complaining.

It was the way they had done it. The way they had chivvied and shooed him, as if he were just a troublesome cat, or a lowly flunky. They had probably meant no harm or disrespect, but it had hurt him somehow; more than it should have done. It was a reminder that he had no place there, no standing, except as Tiffania's familiar. She was the Queen's cousin, and doubtless was going to be treated as such; dressed in fine clothes and jewels, and announced as Princess Tiffania of Albion.

Click to shrink...

If Albion follow the same fate as in cannon than Suleiman have no fear of Tiffania being declared the new ruler of the country since it will end up gutted apart in three one for Triston and Germania with the third part being with a rump state left in place ruled by a Tristan noble rather than come in public and accept a half-elf as a queen with a entire country under her command.

 

[Juubi-K]

Sorry about that. Zaru and I have had a lot to deal with over the past few months. Hopefully I can pick up the pace a bit, and now that we're safely free of canon, it should come more easily.

 

[Zaru]

A new update, man every time I think this story is dead there is one, not that I am complaining.



If Albion follow the same fate as in cannon than Suleiman have no fear of Tiffania being declared the new ruler of the country since it will end up gutted apart in three one for Triston and Germania with the third part being with a rump state left in place ruled by a Tristan noble rather than come in public and accept a half-elf as a queen with a entire country under her command.

Click to shrink...

We have our own plans for Albion, in time. But that's not important right now.

What's important is that Joseph is launching an invasion on the capital city en masse.

Next chapter is gonna be fun.

 

[Juubi-K]

A quick update. This story is still alive, but has been delayed by other matters; one of the Hero of the New World (see below). I apologise for this, and hope to have the new chapter posted soon.

 

[Juubi-K]

Chapter Twenty
​

Enchanted Fairies Tavern, Tristainia, 12th Day of Ansuz

"What is that?" Suleiman asked, eyes wide with shock.

Across the city, the bells were ringing in frantic cacophony. He could hear cries of fear from the streets outside, and from the tavern below.

And in the near-distance, he could see them. The tiny shapes of dragons and griffons, and the much larger shapes that could only be airships.

"I don't know," replied Tiffania, looking frightened. "Is it the Gallians?"

"Lei! Tiffa!"

The door burst open, and Saito dashed inside, followed by Louise.

"Saito, what's going on?" Tiffania asked. Louise pushed past her, and stared out of the window.

"It's them!" she cried, eyes wide with terror. "It's Joseph and the Gallian fleet!"

"You're sure?" Suleiman asked, his blood running cold.

"It must be! Who else could it be!?"

Suleiman looked again. There were dozens of ships, and many times that number of dragons and griffons. He couldn't make out their flags at so long a distance; but Louise was right, it was unlikely to be anyone else.

"Come on!" Saito grabbed Louise by the hand and pulled her out of the room. Suleiman and Tiffania followed on, hurrying along the corridor and down the stairs.

Down in the tavern, most of the customers had already fled. The Ondines were untying Guiche; except for Reynald, who was looking out of one of the windows. Scarron, Jessica, and Siesta were standing nearby, looking nervous, while the waitresses were tidying up the tavern; their faces masks of forced calm.

"What's happening up there!?" Malicorne asked.

"Ships and dragons!" replied Saito. "Dozens of ships! Big ones!"

"It's Gallia," said Gimli, ashen-faced. "They've come after all."

"He doesn't waste time, that one," declared Kirche, striding out of the door leading to the back room; dressed once again in her academy uniform. "Nor does he do things by halves."

"Then what do we do?" asked Baldwin.

"I say we get back to the palace!" Montmorency strode out after Kirche, also back in her uniform. "It's the safest place, and we can get orders from the Queen!"

"Yes, we must protect the Queen!" proclaimed Guiche, leaping onto the chair from which he had just been untied. "She may be in danger!"

"Don't be stupid! She has her guards and plenty of troops!" snapped Louise.

"But Montmorency's right, it's the safest place," Saito cut in. "We should protect the civilians while they head up there!"

"Yes…indeed!" declared Guiche, recovering quickly.

"It's not fair!" grumbled Malicorne. "And tonight was going so well!"

"Get your act together!" retorted Gimli, elbowing him in the gut. "Saito's right! We have a…!"

He paused, as a great black shadow flashed over the street outside.

"Dragon rider!" called Reynald from the window. "They're already here!"

"Then let's go!" Saito turned to Scarron and Jessica. "Siesta, Mister Scarron, Jessica, come with us!"

"Non, mon ami," Scarron replied. He was shaking with fear. "This is my precious tavern, and these are my special fairies!"

"We'll come once we've locked the place up!" added Jessica, putting an arm around Siesta's shoulder. "You go on!"

Saito looked pained, but then nodded.

"All right. Come on Louise!"

"Not yet!" snapped Louise. "I have to change!"

There was an awkward pause.

"What!? There's no time!" protested Saito. "We need to go, now!"

"No! I can't go outside dressed like this!" shrieked Louise.

"Come on!" Saito grabbed Louise by the arm and dragged her, screaming struggling, out into the street. The others piled out behind them, drawing wands and looking around for danger. Suleiman and Tiffania did likewise. There was nothing else they could do.

The street outside was a scene of pandemonium. People hurried past, some alone, some in groups. Some had all they owned on their backs, while others dragged wailing children. Along the street, servants, householders, and shopkeepers were hastily closing shutters and locking doors.

They hurried on through the throng, buffeted by the crowds, until they reached an open square with a raised dais and a fountain in the centre. They clambered up around the fountain, as the crowds flowed around them, heading north towards the palace.

Suleiman looked around. The square was at a meeting of two streets and a boulevard, running from north to south through the city. He could see everything much more clearly, and he wished that he couldn't.

Above, the ships were still coming, plunging on through the clouds of smoke thrown up from the walls. Some were shot through; their hulls holed, their sails and rigging in tatters. Some were even on fire. But still they came on, through the smoky sky. Their underside gun ports were open, raining fire onto the helpless city below. All around them, dragons and griffons circled and dived, snarling and cawing. Below, smoke billowed up from burning buildings, and cries of terror and agony rent the air.

"Is…this hell?" he heard himself ask. He was sure that it was. The hell that was war, the hell he had fled his homeland to escape.

"It was like this in Albion," said Guiche, staring at the hellscape with blank eyes. "I saw things like this."

"But this is our city!" snapped Louise. She leapt up onto the fountain side, wand in hand. "We have to defend it! How can we call ourselves nobles if we don't?"

"But how do we fight this?" protested Gimli, pointing at the nightmare surrounding them.

"Well…we've got wands, haven't we!?" retorted Louise, holding up her wand for emphasis. "We can…!"

Her words became a shriek as a shadow passed over them. It was a dragon, coming around in an arc nearby. In the corner of his eye, Suleiman saw a flash. He looked, and saw a church that made up one corner of the square. It had a tall, ornately-decorated tower, and Suleiman could see a robed figure at the top, levelling a staff at the dragon. Was that the priest?

Lightning leapt from the staff, narrowly missing the dragon. The dragon's rider turned, and levelled his wand at the tower. Suleiman cried out as a fireball leapt from its tip, and slammed into the tower. The priest vanished, and the flames plunged down the tower. The church windows lit up, and blew out; showering the passing refugees in broken glass and molten metal. The crowd surged away, the people yelling and struggling. A horse pulling a cart let out a shriek and broke away, charging away up the street, scattering all its path. The cart fell apart, its riders falling onto the cobbles in front of the burning church.

And then a long, terrible groan. Suleiman stared in heart-clenching horror, as the tower began to lean forward. Smoking bricks fell away as it leant further and further, toppling down into the square. Suleiman heard a wail, and he saw a young girl lying there, clutching a stuffed rabbit, wailing piteously.

"Nooooo!" he heard himself cry, as he thrust out his hands; willing them to reach out and save her.

And there were hands there. The silver hands of his avatar, leaping forward and cupping together over the girl. The tower came down, disintegrating in a shower of stone and dust as it hit the silver hands and arms. The dust washed over him, making him choke, roaring in his ears like thunder.

And then it was gone. Suleiman drew back his avatar's hands, and the girl was still there, unharmed. She had stopped wailing, instead looking around in bewilderment, wondering what had saved her. An instant later, a man scooped her up and carried her away, hurrying after the others.

"Lei! You saved her!" cried Tiffania, rushing to his side. Suleiman turned to look at his companions, blinking away the dust that had covered his face. They were looking at him in amazement.

"I'm starting to like that power of yours, Lei!" declared Kirche with a grin.

Suleiman didn't know what to say. He didn't know what had just happened. His avatar had never come out unbidden, not like that. But he had just willed it, and it had come.

What did this mean?

"Look over there!" cried Montmorency. They all looked, and saw one of the enemy ships. It was coming in close, heading straight for the palace. Suleiman could see the figures swarming on its decks; warriors, no doubt, ready to swarm onto the palace's battlements.

He wanted to do something. He wanted to reach up and strike that ship with his avatar's hands. But it was too far away! There was nothing he could do!

Then the battlements erupted in smoke, followed by a roar of gunfire. The fusillade tore into the ship, ripping through sails and rigging, and plunging into the hull. The ship lurched, and one of the ventral wings came away, cables flapping and cracking. The ship heeled over onto its side with a groan, and then began to fall, plunging straight down towards the city.

"Explosion!" Louise shrieked. The deadly light leapt from her wand, and struck the ship. For an instant the light engulfed it, and then it was gone; the light erupting in a flash, and a terrible roar that tore at Suleiman's ears.

"And nicely done Louise!" Kirche cut in. "But that's not all!"

Suleiman could see what she meant. More and more ships were coming, to their left and right, and down the boulevard to the south. Some stayed in the air, laying fire on the city; while others were descending, dropping down as low as they could. Suleiman could see figures leaping from the gunwhales; mage-officers in their uniforms, knights in armour, and battle mages in their flapping robes, levitating down to the ground. Soldiers and sailors followed too; dropping down on ropes, or levitated by the mages.

"We're surrounded," breathed Reynald.

"We need to go!" insisted Simon de Kassel. "They'll come at us from three sides! We have to go, now!"

"We can't go!" shouted Louise. She was clearly tired after such a powerful blast, but her eyes were bright. "We're nobles! Who will protect these people if not us!?"

"Louise is right!" proclaimed Guiche, striding out in front of them. "We are her Majesty's own Ondine knights! We earned our name in Albion! When Tabitha was taken from us, we gave our all to save her! Now enemies are upon us, in our own fair homeland!"

He paused, flourishing his wand.

"The enemy is strong, and we are but few! But I would rather die here with all of you, fighting for our people, than live hundred years as a lonely coward!"

There was a long, very awkward pause.

"Guiche, please stop trying to be manly," said Montmorency, her cheeks reddening. "It greatly disturbs me."

"Well, I don't see anyone running," interjected Saito, looking from one to the other. "We have to hold this spot, so these people can get through."

"That's as good a plan as any," said Kirche. "Right everyone! Use that rubble to block the streets, but leave a gap in the middle until the enemy gets here!"

"Hey, who put you in charge?" demanded Baldwin. "Captain, your orders?"

All eyes fell on Guiche, who was still in his pose from before.

"Sorry, did you say something?" he asked, snapping out of it.

"Forget it, just block the streets!" ordered Saito, rolling his eyes. "And put out that fire!"

The Ondines got to work, using their magic to move the rubble into barricades, while Montmorency drew water from the fountain and sprayed it into the burning church, dousing the flames.

Suleiman turned to Tiffania.

"Miss Tiffania…"

"Lei…I don't want to fight," she said, smiling a sad smile. "But I don't want to run, either. If I can do anything to help here, then I want to stay."

Yes, she would. He knew that she would. That was the kind of person she was. That was the person she had become, since first he had met her. The journey into Gallia had changed them all, as journeys invariably did.

In her case, at least, it was for the better. And Suleiman hoped it had done the same for him.

"If you're staying, Miss Tiffania, then I'm staying too," he replied, and meant every word. He had a purpose now, a reason to fight, and to live. If he could protect Tiffania, then his life had not been in vain.

Tiffania nodded, and his heart felt stronger.

"They're coming! From the south!"

Suleiman looked down the south-facing boulevard. The flood of refugees had slowed to a trickle, the last stragglers hurrying through the gap in the middle of the crude barricade the Ondine Knights were raising.

And beyond, he could see them. The mages and knights, striding along the boulevard towards him. And behind them, a crude phalanx of soldiers and sailors. There had to be dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

"Get ready!" yelled Saito. Baldwin and the de Kassel twins dashed up to the barricade, crouching behind it. As the last stragglers hurried through, Guiche flicked his wand, his Earth magic sending more rubble tumbling into the gap, blocking it up.

"Lei, stay here with Tiffa and Louise," Saito ordered. "We need you in reserve in case things get scary. Your avatar's strong, but it wears you out."

Suleiman nodded, and stepped back to the fountain.

And the enemy came on.

(X)

The Royal Palace

Henrietta stared over the battlements, her face a mask of calm.

It had happened. It was happening right now. The Gallians had come, and her city was burning.

"They're charging right at our guns!" gasped Cardinal Mazarin. "They must be insane!"

Henrietta was not inclined to disagree. There were dozens of Gallian ships in the air; some drifting over the city, some still approaching. All of the ones over the city had clearly been damaged, with hulls and sails shot through, and rigging hanging loose. Others were on fire. But even as the tower and wall guns blazed, they just kept coming.

"He must have run right over our fortresses," commented Armand de Gramont, the Lord Marshal. "An all-or-nothing attack."

"Madness…" gasped Centurion de la Valliere, gazing over the city, his eyes falling on the fires, and the rising columns of smoke. "What does he mean by this?"

"To burn the world."

All eyes fell on Tabitha, otherwise known as Charlotte d'Orleans. The blue-haired girl stared out at the battle, her eyes haunted. Next to her stood Maxwell Grey, looking at her with obvious worry.

"That is who he is," she said. "That is the Mad King."

Henrietta looked again over her nobles and attendants. She could see the fear in her eyes, the mounting despair. How were they supposed to defend their country, their homes, their lands, against a man like Joseph? How did one fight a mind so warped, so utterly lost, as that?

"He may burn all the world!" she declared. "But not this kingdom, not while I stand! Where is Admiral de Montmorency?"

"Word has already been sent," the cardinal replied. "If he is as ready as he claims, his ships will be here in a matter of hours."

"Hours!?" barked de Gramont. "By then this city will be in ruins!"

"There's nothing to be done," insisted Henrietta, before an argument could break out. "We can only defend this city."

"Your majesty, with your permission," Karin de la Valliere cut in. "I must join the Manticore Knights."

"Go with the Founder, Madame la Duchesse," replied Henrietta. "Let the maelstrom blow once again."

Karin doffed her hat and bowed like a man. For a few moments, her and Centurion's eyes met, and Henrietta wondered what was passing between them. They had never been the most lovey-dovey of couples, even when they were younger.

"Now, Lord Marshal." Henrietta turned her attention back to de Gramont, and Karin strode off. "The enemy will surely land in the outer city. You must deploy your troops."

"I cannot, my Queen," replied de Gramont, grim-faced. "The streets are blocked."

He pointed down over the battlements, and Henrietta looked. Down there, she could see the Saint Ciel boulevard, and Saint Ciel bridge over the river. The bridge was clogged with refugees, piling in from the surrounding streets. Across the bridge, they were packed in at the foot of the plateau, on which her palace stood.

Her stomach clenched. There were caverns under the plateau, expanded and improved over thousands of years. But they were now the city's magazine, packed with ammunition and food, enough to let the city withstand a siege. If there was any room down there, it was filling up fast. But why weren't they moving past the plateau? To the north?

Then she saw.

"Mayor!" she barked, rounding on the very pale and frightened-looking mayor. "Why are the streets down there blocked? The people can't get past!"
The mayor hurried to the battlement, and looked down. There he could see as she could, the streets leading into the wealthier neighbourhoods. The streets were blocked, and manned by the residents' hired watchmen; not doubt to protect their employers' homes from looting.

"It was not my doing!" he pleaded. "They must have done it themselves!"

"Lord Marshal!" snapped Henrietta, rounding on de Gramont. "Go down with the mayor and unblock those streets. Send the people through to the north, and move out your troops as soon as you are able. Count Mott, assist the Lord Marshal! Agnes, take your musketeers and go to Louise's assistance!"

"But your majesty…!" babbled the mayor. Then he saw the look on her face, and fell silent. No doubt he was worried what the city's wealthier residents would say at the riff-raff swarming through their streets. But there was nothing to be done for it.

"Chamberlain!" she ordered, as Agnes, de Gramont, and Mott strode off with the quivering mayor in tow. "Let as many people into the palace as is safe."

Chamberlain la Porte bowed, though she could tell he was dreading the thought of all those people swarming through the palace, getting mud on the floors and their sticky fingers over everything. She watched for a moment as he strode off, then turned her attention back to the battle.

With a crack, another Gallian ship exploded, burning wreckage plummeting to the ground. A chorus of roars and caws drew her attention to the right, where the Manitcore knights were taking off; joined by the Griffon and Dragon knights from their own aeries, and the Luftpanzer Ritter. All across the smoky sky, Gallian dragon knights banked and rolled, aiming themselves at the winged phalanx rising to challenge them.

Henrietta clenched her teeth. Her knights were in tight formation, with Karin clearly visible at the head. But they were still slow, wings beating hard to get them aloft. The Gallians circling around them were already aloft, and flying at speed.

There was nothing she could do. The Gallians had come on hard and fast, heedless of losses, and now they had the high ground. Her knights could either risk a takeoff, or spend the battle cowering on the ground. That, their pride as knights would never allow, though it might be their doom.

Her hands tightened on her sceptre, as she fixed her eyes on her knights; the Gallians circling ever faster, ever closer. If they were about to die, the least she could do was watch.

Faster. Closer.

And then she saw it. The Gallians were changing course, some of them turning tighter and tighter, others flapping their wings harder and harder, trying to centre on her knights. But they couldn't do it!

She saw Karin thrust her wand forward. A volley of spells leapt forth, plunging into the Gallians right in front of them. Most missed, but Henrietta saw other hit, dragons screaming as they were burned and blasted and buffeted, knights falling from their saddles and plunging to the ground.

And they were through, the wedge spreading and fanning out into the sky.

They had made it.

"My lords and ladies," she declared, turning to face her courtiers. "We have not lost yet!"

She could see the hope on their faces, in their eyes. She could only hope the rest of the city's defenders had seen it too.

"There!"

It was Tabitha, pointing over the battlements. Henrietta looked, following her line of sight down to Saint Ciel boulevard.

It was filling with soldiers. Dark phalanxes, moving slowly but surely down the boulevard towards Saint Ciel's fountain.

And Louise.

"I will go," said Tabitha. Before Henrietta could object, Tabitha stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. A warbling cry rang out, and the courtiers gasped in surprise as the dragon Sylphid emerged from behind the keep, sweeping around in a tight arc. Tabitha vaulted the battlement, and Henrietta cried out as she fell.

And landed on the blue dragon's back.

Henrietta watched, as Sylphid banked right, winging her way towards St Ciel's fountain; Tabitha a tiny shape on her back, cape billowing in the wind.

And behind the battlement from which she had leapt stood Maxwell Grey, looking after her with longing, lonely eyes.

Henrietta stepped beside him, and gently squeezed his shoulder.

(X)

Agnes de Milan strode along the corridor, her boots ringing on the floor.

There wasn't much time. Count Mott and the Lord Marshal were getting their own troops organised, and the mayor was giving himself a hernia worrying about what the upper city's residents would say to a horde of desperate refugees swarming through their neighbourhood. She had to get to the Musketeers' barracks, and get them ready to move out. Time was of the essence.

Ahead of her was a familiar cross-corridor, leading to the barracks. She reached it, and rounded the corner…

…and froze.

"Mademoiselle…"

Him. Standing right there in front of her, looking slightly flustered, as he always did. That same blue robe, that same staff, that same bald head, those same glasses.

Those same old, tired, sad eyes.

"Mademoiselle…" said Jean Colbert again, awkwardly. "I…"

Why did he have to be alive? Why did she have to go through all this again? Would she never be free of him?

Of the hate that had kept her alive for more than half her life?

"The Gallian air fleet is attacking," she said sternly. "I go to join the battle. You should stay here, where it's safe."

She knew she should just walk on past him, get on with her mission, forget he was even there. But something would not let her. Something stayed her feet, and kept her there, staring at him.

"I can't do that," replied Colbert. "I can't find Miss Valliere or her companions anywhere."

"They're down in the city," she replied. "They are fighting, and I must go to them."

There was that look again. The same look he had worn that night at the academy, the night when Menvil and his mercenaries had taken the female students hostage, and threatened to burn them alive. The look of a man whose past had come back to haunt him.

"Then I will go with you," he said, mastering himself.

"I thought you didn't care for fighting," retorted Agnes.

"You know me better than that, mademoiselle," Colbert went on, suddenly stern. "And even if they were not my students, I owe them too much to forsake them."

"Your life, you mean?"

She couldn't stop herself. She knew she was wasting time, and asking for trouble just by talking to him. But she had to know.

Colbert sighed, and deflated. He looked old and sad, like his eyes.

"Miss Tabitha used a sleeping spell to place me in a trance," he said. "A deep enough trance to fool a cursory examination. This bought her time to explain her intentions to the headmaster, and to Miss Zerbst. They arranged my escape, and Miss Zerbst brought me to her homeland, where her father set me to building the Ostland. I suppose there are worse ways to be reborn."

Agnes' fists clenched. She had been tricked after all. Tricked by the rightful Queen of Gallia. It was like something out of a comic opera.

"Mademoiselle…" Colbert sighed. "If you want justice, let us take this matter before the Queen, later. But my students are in danger, and there is nothing I can do but go to them."

Agnes stared at him. There was no deception in those eyes, no insincerity. He was what he was, what he had always been. The man who had burned her hometown to the ground, and then saved her life.

The man who had been tricked into burning down her home. The man who had innocently obeyed the orders of a Royal minister, and destroyed everyone she had ever known. The man who had realised his mistake only too late, and carried the shame of it ever since.

The man she hated…because hatred had kept her alive for more than half her life.

The man she hated…but could not bring herself to kill.

"Professor…"

"Mademoiselle?"

"You asked me once. What would I do when my revenge was complete? You did not much like my answer."

"I did not, mademoiselle."

Indeed he had not. Carrying on like the worried teacher. Asking if there was someone she liked, going on about having her whole life ahead of her. What did he know?

What had she known?

"Well, here is another answer," she said, looking him in the eye. "I will serve her Majesty. Until she releases me, or death takes me, or the world ends. She is worth serving. And she is worth dying for."

Colbert sighed again. And then, to her surprise, he smiled.

"That is a life worth living, mademoiselle."

Agnes regarded him a moment longer.

"Come then. We are short on time."

(X)

Saint Ciel's Fountain

Suleiman gritted his teeth.

His hand ached, as it gripped the cutlass he had snatched up from the ground. The cuts on his arms and chest stung, setting his teeth on edge. His muscles ached, from a battle that felt like it had lasted forever.

But it wasn't over.

Another wave was clambering over the barricade, or what was left of it. Soldiers in green, and sailors in blue, accompanied every now and again by mage-officers with glowing wand-swords. Suleiman could see men with muskets creeping into the ruined buildings nearby, ready to give covering fire.

"Watch the ruins!" yelled Kirche, thrusting out her wand and sending a fireball into one of the buildings. Flames gushed from the windows and the broken walls, and Suleiman could hear men screaming, and the crackle of musket cartridges cooking off.

But he had no time to dwell on the horror. A man was coming at him, a scar-faced sailor clad in blue rags, charging with cutlass brandished high. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes wide, staring, devoid of thought.

Suleiman brought up his own cutlass. His arm shuddered as the blades connected, the impact ringing in his ears. The man roared like a wild beast, and swung his cutlass again and again. Suleiman fell back before the onslaught, struggling to block the man's blows.

He looked into the man's eyes, trying to find some spark of reason, of humanity. But there was nothing there. There was only madness, and blind terror. Like his fellows, he had been herded into the jaws of hell, and his mind was gone.

He had no choice.

Suleiman darted right, so fast that the sailor toppled forward. Suleiman brought up his knee into the man's stomach, then grasped his hands around the hilt of his cutlass and slammed it down on the sailor's head. The man's scream became a grunt, and he toppled over, slumping onto the debris-strewn street.

Suleiman stared down at him. He didn't want to kill. He wasn't used to killing. He had never needed to before. But now…

"Look out!"

Suleiman spun round. More and more enemies were scrambling over and around the half-ruined barricade. One of them was a green-clad soldier, charging at him with a spear. He began to move, to raise his cutlass, but it was already too late! The spear was coming at him, aimed for his stomach.

A white light flashed past his ear, and hit the soldier head on. The soldier faltered, and Suleiman darted aside, as the man staggered to a halt.

"Whuh?" He looked around, bewildered. "Where am I?"

Suleiman looked back. He saw Tiffania standing there, wand outstretched, looking sheepish.

"Be quiet and go to sleep!" shouted Montmorency, aiming her wand at the stricken soldier. A spell leapt out and struck the man, toppling him to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" whimpered Tiffania. "It's the only spell I know!"

"It's fine!" insisted Montmorency. "Just stay focussed and…!"

What remained of the barricade erupted in a shower of dust and stone chips. A monstrous shape, vaguely human, but with a featureless dome instead of a head, burst through the gap. The dust faded, revealing an enormous mud golem.

"Someone stop that thing!" yelled Kirche, from behind a slab of masonry; musket balls bouncing off it.

"I'm busy!" shouted Guiche. He was trying to manage a dozen of his Valkyrie golems, all of them struggling to fight off the attackers.

A flurry of Wind Bolts thudded into the golem's muddy form. Suleiman looked, and saw Baldwin and the De Kassel twins with their wands outstretched, the tips glowing as they frantically mouthed more spells. Suleiman cried out as a pair of soldiers dashed through the gap behind the golem and ran straight towards them, swords raised.

"Look out!" Saito darted through the trio and engaged the pair, Derflinger flashing as he blocked and parried, all around him, countless soldiers had been defeated, sent through windows and walls as he was in the thrall of battle.

"Get back here, idiot!" snapped Montmorency. Suleiman looked round again, and saw her pulling a bewildered Tiffania behind the fountain, or what was left of it. Reynald and Gimli were squatting behind it, launching spells at the nearby buildings, and ducking as Gallian musketeers fired back. Louise was there too, glaring over the cracked and blasted marble.

Suleiman hurried to join them, crouching down beside Tiffania. In front of him, he could see more and more soldiers and sailors scrambling over the ruined barricade, or through the gap made by the golem. The golem was turning left, wading towards Baldwin and the de Kassel twins, shrugging off their spells. Nearby, Saito had downed his attackers, but more and more were coming. To the right, Malicorne was trying to fight off two spear-wielding soldiers, while Kirche was launching more fireballs at musketeer-infested buildings.

He shivered. They were being overwhelmed.

"There's too many of them!" he cried, turning to Louise, Tiffania, and Montmorency.

"Yes, we noticed!" retorted Louise peevishly. She glowered at him with angry eyes, but Suleiman could see the weary heaving of her shoulders, and the black bags under her eyes. She had blasted three falling ships to save the city, and was drained almost to her limit.

"I'm sorry," whimpered Tiffania again. She looked utterly miserable. "I can't do anything. I only know the one spell."

"Don't worry about it!" snapped Louise. "Help will come soon! We have to destroy that wretched thing!"

Suleiman looked back along the boulevard, straining his eyes for some sign of help on the way. But all he could see was smoke and rubble, and the distant shapes of fleeing people. Up in the sky, dragons, griffons, and manticores circled and dived, spells flashing between them, heedless of the battle below.

They were on their own.

"Hold still," Montmorency ordered, stepping around him. She aimed her wand at the cuts on his arms, and Suleiman felt his skin itch as her magic repaired it.

"Louise, can you stop that golem?" he asked.

"Probably," Louise replied. "But that'll do no good. The Earth mage who summoned it will just renew it."

"Will he be far?" Suleiman looked over the fountain again. The golem was smashing at the barricade with its fat arms, ignoring the fusillade of spells blasting at its back.

"Not far," Montmorency cut in. "He'll have to stay close."

"Lei, what about your power, your avatar?" Louise suddenly asked. "If we attack together, we can stop them."

"No!" pleaded Tiffania. "He's used it enough already! He's tired!"

"You mean the invisible thing?" Kirche called out. "If he can, he should! It's that or we die!"

"We don't have a choice!" insisted Louise. "Lei, you grab that thing and hold it still. I'll blast the mage when he appears!"

Suleiman looked from the hard-eyed, weary Louise, to the worried-looking Tiffania. His heart ached, but he knew what he had to do.

"Please don't worry, Miss Tiffania," he said. "I must do this."

"Well do it quickly!" cut in Montmorency. "I think that's him now!"

A green-robed battle mage was stalking through the gap in the barricade. With him were two mage-officers, clad in green coats and wearing black hats, wand-swords at the ready.

Suleiman took a deep breath, and stood up. His avatar arose, his weary body protesting at the effort, the silver arms reaching out. Suleiman reached, and clamped two hands around the golem. The golem stiffened, and then struggled, forcing itself against constraints it could not see. The battle mage saw what was happened, and aimed his staff at the golem, the tip glowing as he shouted orders. Suleiman felt his whole body ache, as the golem strained against his power.

One of the mage-officers saw him, and shouted a warning; just as Louise stood up, wand glowing bright.

"Explosion!"

At that very moment, the mage-officer threw up his wand, a lightning bolt flashing from the tip. Even as Louise screamed out her spell, the blast hit the fountain, blowing it apart. Suleiman was flung away, debris clattering down all around him. As he fell, he heard another blast; the familiar shriek-crack of Louise's signature spell; and a wind of dust came billowing over him.

He shook his head, and forced himself to rise. He looked around, and his heart leapt as he saw the golem slumped against what remained of the left barricade. There was no sign of the battle-mage. But now he needed to….

A roar filled his ears. Suleiman snapped his head round, and saw one of the mage-officers hurling himself at him, glowing wand-sword brandished high. Suleiman cried out, and thrust up his cutlass, barely catching the blow. His whole body shook, and flecks of metal flew from the already notched blade. The mage-officer hissed, and dragged his blade aside with a snarled spell. The wind blast hit Suleiman full in the chest and flung him back against the fountain's plinth. His back erupted in pain, his head ringing from the impact.

The mage-officer advanced on him, eyes bright with hate. Behind him, more and more soldiers were clambering over the short, blasted berm that had once been the barricade. Suleiman gritted his teeth, and forced himself to sit up, willing his legs to move, to lift him up. He could not remember when he last felt such pain. The mage-officer aimed his wand, opening his mouth to cast.

Then his snarled spell became a wet cough. Suleiman stared, stunned, as an arrow materialised in the mage-officer's throat. The officer staggered back, clutching his impaled throat, blood gushing between his fingers. He thrust out his wand-sword, forcing his lips into the words of a spell, but the weapon would not obey him.

An explosion flashed in the corner of Suleiman's eye. He looked, and gaped as he saw what was coming. It was a carriage, charging at full-tilt out of the side street to the left, with two figures clinging on for dear life. One wheel hit a boulder, and the carriage flipped over, the horses breaking free and charging straight through the oncoming soldiers. The two figures leapt clear, one hitting the ground and rolling, the other rising into the air in a glow of magic.

Suleiman stared up in amazement, as the figure levitated through the air, and descended in front of the fountain. It was a young woman, a few years older than himself, wearing a white blouse and long blue skirt, long blonde hair billowing in the wind. In her hand was a glowing wand.

"Sister Eleanore!" Suleiman looked, and saw Louise behind the plinth, staring in mingled terror and awe as the young woman landed.

"Well…" she said, looking over the burned and cratered street, and the Gallian soldiers, with the eyes of an unimpressed schoolteacher. "What a mess we have here."

Her wand snapped up, her lips flickering. The gust of air blasted down the street, throwing the Gallians off their feet. Her wand snapped left, sending a gout of flame into one of the buildings. The building shuddered, burning bodies flying from the windows. A mage-officer snapped up his wand-sword, but Eleanore brought round her wand in a single smooth movement, a crescent of rock erupting from the cratered street to block his fireball.

But more soldiers were coming, charging towards the fountain; brandishing swords and levelling pistols. The Ondine Knights leapt to oppose them, firing off wind bolts and fireballs. Suleiman pulled himself to his feet, lifting his cutlass in an aching hand, as the enemy reached the plinth.

Then the one in front staggered, as something flashed across his throat; tearing it open in a fountain of blood. As he fell, the one behind him fell back also, a gleaming metal ring protruding from his chest.

A chakram.

Suleiman stared. A chakram? In Tristain?

A man leapt over the plinth, and ran at the advancing soldiers. The soldiers were already turning to face, brandishing their weapons. But the man was too fast, leaping at the nearest soldier and slashing across his chest. The soldier fell, but the man was already moving, his gleaming scimitar taking another soldier in the throat.

Suleiman's heart froze, as he saw the man more clearly. That narrow, bronze-skinned face. That long black hair, tied with a simple ring. His clothes, the blue tunic, baggy white trousers and tall boots, so much like his own.

"Majid?" he whispered. He could not believe it. He dared not believe it.

A volley of spells thundered into the oncoming soldiers; knocking them down and throwing them off their feet. Those remaining slowed, faltered, and then began to run.

"Stand!" screamed a mage-officer, lashing out with lightning bolts. "Fight, you cowards! Stand and ughhh!"

A very large lump of ice and snow crashed down on his head, knocking him prone. Overhead, Sylphid swooped low and came about, Tabitha still sitting on her back. The Ondines whooped and cheered, and Tabitha raised her wand in salute.

But Suleiman did not cheer. He could only scream.

"Majid!"

The man paused, and turned to face him. The mask of violence vanished as if it had never been, the eyes widening as they saw him, and knew him.

"Young master?"

It was Majid. His father's loyal Silahtar, his faithful protector, his wise mentor, and for so many years his only friend. Majid, who had accompanied him on their flight from Arysia. Majid who had guarded him while he slept, and shielded him from all dangers.

Majid, whom he had left behind, to begin this wondrous adventure.

"Majid!"

Tears of joy and shame ran down his face, as he all but leapt over the rubble. Majid caught him, wrapping his strong arms around him, in a way he had not done for many years.

"Young master!" Majid sobbed, hugging him back. "Young master! I thought I'd lost you!"

"Majid, I'm sorry!" Suleiman wailed. "I left you behind! I'm sorry!"

And he was sorry. More sorry than he had ever been. More sorry even than for any time he had ever failed. Even when he had failed his father, and himself.

"Uh…"

The sound drew Suleiman back. He looked up, and saw the others gathered around, staring at them in mild astonishment. Majid saw them too, and let out a yelp as he broke away, trying to compose himself. Suleiman felt his cheeks redden, in spite of everything.

"Lei?" asked Saito awkwardly. His clothes were torn and filthy, and he had taken many cuts and burns. "Is this Majid?"

"Oh, yes!" Suleiman declared, mastering himself. "Everyone, this is my companion Majid, whom I told you about. Majid, these are my friends."

He glanced at Majid, and then faltered; as he saw the dark suspicion in his old friend's eyes. They were aimed at his chest, and the silver runes that marked them.

Suleiman bit his lip. He wasn't ready for this.

"Friends?" Majid said, glowering, turning back towards the academy students. "Which one of your friends is responsible for this? Which one of you tore my young master from me, and bound him by magic?"

The air turned very cold.

"That would be me," said Tiffania, stepping around the others to stand in front. "I am responsible."

Suleiman could tell she was afraid, but there was something else in her eyes too, something stronger than fear or shame.

"So…" Majid growled, glaring at her. "I have you to thank for all this, do I?" His hand went to his sheathed scimitar, and Suleiman's eyes widened.

"Hey!" Saito glowered, and readied Derflinger. "What're you trying to do!?"

"Majid, please!" pleaded Suleiman, stepping between them. "Miss Tiffania is good and kind! She didn't intend this to happen!"

"Oh didn't she?" growled Majid. Suleiman could not remember seeing him so angry. "You make a slave of my young master with your vile magic, and you didn't intend it?"

"How dare you!?" erupted Louise. "How dare you insult our Founder Brimir's magic!?"

"I dare anything!" roared Majid, rounding on her. "I am…!"

"Monsieur!"

Eleanore materialized behind him, and whapped him on the back of the head, so hard that he staggered.

"Monsieur, I wonder if you have heard a word I said during our journey?" Eleanore asked, in the tone of an exasperated schoolteacher dealing with a particularly slow and stupid pupil. "Did I not explain the ancient Void magic of our Founder Brimir? Was it too much for your simple mind to comprehend?"

"Eleanor…!" spluttered Majid, his deadly aura gone. "She-"

"I shall say so again, and simply," Eleanore went on, interrupting him. "This girl called upon the Founder to summon her familiar, and the Founder answered her prayer? Do we understand this simple concept?" She turned towards Suleiman. "You are Suleiman yes? Majid's ward?"

"I am." Lei replied, looking at her hard eyes.

"Did you wander to the summoning portal on your own accord?"

"I…" Suleiman took a deep breath. "I…was inebriated at the time, yes."

He nodded awkwardly. He had been utterly plastered that night, but he could never forget it. Not the portal, nor falling into Tiffania's…

Yeah…

"And he was drunk." Majid growled, glaring back at Tiffania, who flinched. "His judgement was compromised!"

"We will discuss this later!" snapped Eleanore, making him flinch. "In the meantime, there is something far more important!" Eleanore strode up to Louise. "Louise, what is that you are wearing?"

Louise let out a yelp, and clamped her arms over her chest; trying in vain to hide the Enchanted Fairies waitress uniform. A ripple of fear ran through the group.

"Uh…Eleanore…" whimpered Louise. She looked almost as terrified as the day her mother had shown up.

"What have you been doing, Louise!?" bellowed Eleanore, grabbing Louise by the cheek and squeezing it hard. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous costume!?"

"Shishter Eleanorrrrrrrrrrre!" wailed Louise, her voice distorted by the pinching.

"Why are you dressed as an Enchanted Fairies waitress!?" Eleanore went on, glaring down at her sister. "What have you been up to, you little brat!?"

"Hey, wait just a minute!" interjected Saito. "How d'you know about the Enchanted Fairies?"

Eleanore let go of Louise, so suddenly that she fell over, and rounded on Saito.

"Monsieur d'Hiraga!" she intoned, glaring down at him. "You call yourself my sister's protector, yet I find her dressed in this shameful costume! What excuse can you offer!?"

Suleiman glanced at Majid. He stood there, shoulders hunched, glaring with angry eyes on Tiffania. The blonde elf looked down at the ground, eyes full of shame.

"That will do, Eleanore!"

All looked up as a great black and gold manticore swooped down and landed nearby. Suleiman immediately recognized Karin de la Valliere, as did Louise.

"Lady mother!" Eleanore called up. "How goes the battle!?"

"Well, from the looks of it!" Karin called back. "Their fleet is all but shattered, and their troops are scattered around the city! Agnes de Milan is on her way here with reinforcements!"

She looked down at Saito.

"It seems my future son-in-law did well holding this part of the city!" she declared, a small smile on her face.

"Son-in-law?!" Eleanore squawked, her glasses almost falling off. "Mother!? What does this mean!?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," replied Karin, still smiling. "Saito is proving a fine husband or Louise."

"Husband!?" Eleanore looked at Saito, with a look like she was being forced to kiss a pig. Louise let out a long, world-weary sigh.

Meanwhile, the Ondine knights broke out in smiles and sighs of relief. Kirche let out a huzzah, and Baldwin hugged Simon de Kassel. Suleiman looked around at them all, seeing their relief, their joy their pride. He felt so glad to be there, to be among them, to be alive.

Then he looked out over the city. His rising joy faded in an instant, as he saw the billowing clouds of smoke, and the distant flickering flames. All around, he could hear the distant thunder of cannon fire, and the shriek of dragons.

The battle might be over. Tristain might well have won. But the city of Tristainia had been destroyed.

He looked down, too tired to watch any more. He was tired of the fighting, tired of the destruction, of the pointless cruelty of it all. He just wanted to sleep, and to do something peaceful and fun, with Miss Tiffania, and everyone.

And Majid.

His eyes fell on a puddle of water; a crater in which the ruined fountain's water had gathered. He saw his face in it; and he barely recognised it. Had he ever looked so tired, so drained, so sad?

Then the water rippled.

Suleiman stared at it, surprised out of his dark reverie. What could make it ripple like that? Was it about to rain?

Then it rippled again. Suleiman held out his hand, waving it around, but he couldn't feel any raindrops. Where was it coming from?

Then another ripple. And another. And another.

"Young master?" It was Majid, stepping up beside him. "What's the matter?"

"This puddle…" Suleiman looked around. He saw another puddle, and it too was rippling. And another puddle, and another.

"Hey, what's up?" asked a beaming Saito, stepping over to join them.

"The puddles," Suleiman said, pointing at them. "They're all rippling, but it isn't raining."

"Reallly?" Saito glanced at the nearest puddle, and faltered as he saw it ripple. "That's weird."

"Wait…" Tiffania cut in, cupping her hand to one of her long ears. "Listen."

The plaza fell silent, as they all listened. Suleiman pulled away his headband, and strained his ears, listening.

"Wow…like Jurassic Park…" murmured Saito.

"Jurassic Park?" Eleanore asked with a raised eyebrow.

Then he heard it. A rumble, like a roll of thunder, hidden until a moment ago by the distant gunfire. He looked down, and as the rumble came again, he saw the puddle ripple.

Again. And again. And again.

"There!" cried Montmorency, pointing down the boulevard, her pale face ashen. Suleiman looked, and his stomach twisted as he saw.

Something was emerging from the smoke. An enormous shape, ten times the height of a man or thereabouts. It looked like a man, but with a round dome in place of a head. It was clad in armour, that groaned and clunked as it moved. It strode slowly along the street, advancing a street-length with every stride, coming ever closer.

"Zaku?" babbled Saito.

"It's a golem!" gasped Guiche. "I've never seen one that big! Even my brother can't make them that big!"

A fireball flashed past them, and slammed into the golem. Suleiman looked back, and saw Karin aiming her wand at the oncoming golem, her eyes fixed on it. She launched another fireball, and another, the flames washing over the gleaming armour.

"Mother!" cried Louise, staring in horror. The others were afraid too, staring at the monstrosity with fearful eyes. A monstrosity even Karin de la Valliere could not damage. Suleiman stared too. He could feel the cold chains again, closing around his heart.

Then he saw, as another of Karin's fireballs struck. The spell flashed as it struck the golem, the gleam spreading out over the armour.

No, not the armour. The gleam didn't follow the contours of the armour. Rather it washed over like the ripples on the puddles. Not on the armour, but in front of it.

"Everyone!" he cried, as he remembered. "There's a spell on it! Bidashal's Counter!"

Yes. That was it, he was sure. He had seen that same spell, when he had fought Bidashal. He must have cast it upon this golem, back when he was in Joseph's service.

Or was it more recent? Had he returned to his master?

"What the hell is a Bidalshal?!" Gimli called out.

"The Elf Lei fought in Alhambra, remember!" Kirche barked. She levelled her wand, and launched a fireball of her own; to no effect. "

Spirit magic?!" groaned Malicorne. "Come onnnnn!"

"I'll stop it!" snapped Louise, stepping forward, wand at the ready.

"Charlotte!"

All froze, as a booming voice thundered over the city.

"Charlotte! Oh Charlotte!"

Then Suleiman had something else to stare at, as another shape emerged from the smoke. This time it was an airship, but not like anything Suleiman had seen. It was enormous, half or twice as long again as the others he had seen. It's flanks were painted gold and blue, and banners and streamers fluttered from its masts.

"What is it?" gasped Saito.

"Couronne" breathed Karin. "The Gallian Royal flagship."

"Charlotte!" boomed the magic-amplified voice from the deck. "It is I, your beloved uncle!"

Suleiman strained his eyes, and saw the shape near the prow of the ship. It was a tall, broad-shouldered man, clad in white, with blue hair and a short blue beard.

Joseph. The mad king.

Sylphid swooped overhead, flapping hard to gain height. Suleiman looked up at the dragon as it passed, and saw Tabitha staring hard at the ship, at the figure near the prow.

He had never seen her eyes so hard.

"You left this behind, my beloved niece!" Joseph held up something long and thin. Suleiman's heart clenched, as he recognized her staff; the one she had carried at the academy before she was kidnapped.

Joseph drew back his arm, and threw the staff into the air. Suleiman watched as it swung end-over-end through the air. As it flew, Joseph pulled out a wand, and aimed.

"Explosion!"

A flash of light, and the staff was gone, blasted into nothing.

"Wait!" Saito cried. "Tabitha!"

Sylphid shrieked as she banked hard towards the Couronne. Tabitha thrust out her wand, and a flurry of icicles flew at Joseph, a rictus of rage on her expression. Joseph laughed, and thrust out his wand; and the same white flash blew the icicles apart. Sylphid flew on over the deck, and Suleiman cried out as gargoyles leapt up, grabbing the blue dragon and holding on. Sylphid shrieked as she flapped and struggled, but the weight was too much, and she crashed down onto the deck.

"Tabitha!" yelled Saito, his eyes wide with horror and fury. "We have to help her!"

Suleiman looked up at the ship, and down the boulevard towards the massive golem.

"I'll stop it!" he cried. "Go help her!"

Saito nodded grimly. Behind him, Karin's manticore knelt down.

"Come!" Karin called. "I'll take you!"

"I'm coming too!" Louise cut in, clambering onto the manticore's back just behind Saito. The manticore flapped onto its wings, and rose into the sky, flying away towards the ship.

"Come on, come on!" snarled Kirche, glaring down at her wand. Her body glowed, and she rose into the air. But the glow flickered, and she landed, staggering until Montmorency caught her.

"Stop it!" the blonde snapped. "You're too tired! We all are!"

"She's my friend!" wailed Kirche, staring with anguished eyes at the ship. "I can't abandon her!"

"You haven't!"

Suleiman drew a breath, and strode down the boulevard, staring hard at the golem. That ship was too far up for his avatar to reach. But this thing was not.

He stopped, and planted his feet. The golem strode on, heedless.

He clapped his hands together in prayer, and his body flared with white fire as he heard Tiffania gasp.

"Hundred Palms Guanyin!"

(X)

Airship Couronne

Joseph smirked, as Shefield's gargoyles pinned the struggling dragon to the deck. Two more had managed to disarm Charlotte, and were holding her on her knees, awaiting his order.

He had given her a chance to live; to live as a drugged lunatic like her mother. But she had scorned his mercy, and there could be only one response.

"Be patient, Charles," he thought. "Your daughter will be with you soon, and your wife too."
Yes, his brother had everything. Looks, brains, talent, a beautiful wife and daughter. And what did he have?

A heart incapable of remorse, even after all that he had done.

He sighed. He would let Charlotte stew a little longer. Time to check on his ultimate creation.

He looked down over the gunwale. The Jormungand, a golem like no other, was striding down the Saint Ciel boulevard. Spells flickered, blasting and battering at the golem's defences. All to no avail.

Joseph's smirk widened. Yes, Bidalshal had done a good job with that one. A shame he had to go and disappear like that.

Not that it mattered. The Jormungand would show its true power soon enough, and the whole world would know the name of Joseph de Gallia. Perhaps he would spare Charlotte just long enough to see it.

Then he paused, as he saw something. A white light, just in front of the golem; a little way from the famous Saint Ciel fountain, or what was left o it. It was bright, and strangely piercing, and growing ever bigger and brighter.

Joseph watched, amazed, as something emerged from the light. A vaguely human shape, with many, many arms.

"Ho?" he oiled, cocking an eyebrow as Sheffield hurried to his side. "Is that...?"

"It can't be..." Sheffield gasped. Joseph glanced at her, and was surprised to see the shock on his violet-haired familiar's face. "How...why is it here?"

"You know it?" he asked.

"It belongs to Arysia, my homeland," Sheffield breathed, eyes fixed on it. "It is a magic like no other."
She gritted her teeth, and Joseph's heart skipped a beat. He knew of this magic, if only from the old stories; the old crusader's tales.

"The Magic that resides in the body of one person, once per generation, born in that land," he mused. "A child of that land's patron god. The East's answer to the West's Void, which even the Church fears."

"Avatar..." breathed Sheffield. Joseph stared down, as the spindly arms reached out towards his golem; the immovable object rising to challenge the irresistible force.

So this was the Avatar. This was what Sotomayor and his Scarlet Tower were so bent on finding. This was what Bidalshal had warned him against, and which Charlotte had narrowly failed to capture.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "The day has gotten a little more interesting!"

(X)

 

[Soberan 123]

"Friends?" Majid said, glowering, turning back towards the academy students. "Which one of your friends is responsible for this? Which one of you tore my young master from me, and bound him by magic?"

The air turned very cold.

"That would be me," said Tiffania, stepping around the others to stand in front. "I am responsible."

Suleiman could tell she was afraid, but there was something else in her eyes too, something stronger than fear or shame.

"So…" Majid growled, glaring at her. "I have you to thank for all this, do I?" His hand went to his sheathed scimitar, and Suleiman's eyes widened.

"Hey!" Saito glowered, and readied Derflinger. "What're you trying to do!?"

"Majid, please!" pleaded Suleiman, stepping between them. "Miss Tiffania is good and kind! She didn't intend this to happen!"

"Oh didn't she?" growled Majid. Suleiman could not remember seeing him so angry. "You make a slave of my young master with your vile magic, and you didn't intend it?"

"How dare you!?" erupted Louise. "How dare you insult our Founder Brimir's magic!?"

"I dare anything!" roared Majid, rounding on her. "I am…!"

"Monsieur!"

Eleanore materialized behind him, and whapped him on the back of the head, so hard that he staggered.

Click to shrink...

I don't blame Majid here, he is under stress for several days and a warzone hardly makes a good place for him to be understanding.

"Monsieur, I wonder if you have heard a word I said during our journey?" Eleanore asked, in the tone of an exasperated schoolteacher dealing with a particularly slow and stupid pupil. "Did I not explain the ancient Void magic of our Founder Brimir? Was it too much for your simple mind to comprehend?"

"Eleanor…!" spluttered Majid, his deadly aura gone. "She-"

"I shall say so again, and simply," Eleanore went on, interrupting him. "This girl called upon the Founder to summon her familiar, and the Founder answered her prayer? Do we understand this simple concept?"

Click to shrink...

I getting sick that humans characters keep acting superior to Suleiman and Majid. I understand that both humans and elves have bad blood between both and religion matters only complicate the things.

It sounds like Arysia prophetess was killed by Brimir and it looks like that detail was erased from Halkegenia's version of the bible along with any mention of a country of half-elves.

Maybe when the feeling of human racial superiority and "purity" given risen they decided to censor anything about a civilization of half-elves. Elves are enemies and bearing children with them is blasphemy, so the church says.

 

[Zaru]

I don't blame Majid here, he is under stress for several days and a warzone hardly makes a good place for him to be understanding.

Click to shrink...

Weeks or so. The poor guy lost his master and friend for a while and has to traverse all of fantasy France into fantasy Belgium to find him!

I don't blame Majid here, he is under stress for several days and a warzone hardly makes a good place for him to be understanding.



I getting sick that humans characters keep acting superior to Suleiman and Majid. I understand that both humans and elves have bad blood between both and religion matters only complicate the things.

It sounds like Arysia prophetess was killed by Brimir and it looks like that detail was erased from Halkegenia's version of the bible along with any mention of a country of half-elves.

Maybe when the feeling of human racial superiority and "purity" given risen they decided to censor anything about a civilization of half-elves. Elves are enemies and bearing children with them is blasphemy, so the church says.

Click to shrink...

Oh trust me you'll see more on this front. Mainly with Arysia and Halkiginia relations. Or lack thereof. The humans in Halk really are self thinking superior in that sense. Bad blood between the two races only made things worse

 

[Juubi-K]

I don't blame Majid here, he is under stress for several days and a warzone hardly makes a good place for him to be understanding.



I getting sick that humans characters keep acting superior to Suleiman and Majid. I understand that both humans and elves have bad blood between both and religion matters only complicate the things.

It sounds like Arysia prophetess was killed by Brimir and it looks like that detail was erased from Halkegenia's version of the bible along with any mention of a country of half-elves.

Maybe when the feeling of human racial superiority and "purity" given risen they decided to censor anything about a civilization of half-elves. Elves are enemies and bearing children with them is blasphemy, so the church says.

Click to shrink...

In this case, it's really just Eleanore trying to defuse the situation; in her own overbearing way. Note the way she treats Louise, both here and in the canon material.

 

[Zaru]

In this case, it's really just Eleanore trying to defuse the situation; in her own overbearing way. Note the way she treats Louise, both here and in the canon material.

Click to shrink...

And it's more like "look I get you're worried regarding your Master but 1. We are in a war zone and 2. He got summoned by Brimir. He's a familiar. Tough shit. Cry. Mald. Seethe. Cope. We got other matters to deal with" basically.

 

[Juubi-K]

Just a quick note to assure readers that this fic is not dead; just delayed. I've been kept busy with IRL issues, and helping Zaru with Heroes of the New World. Recommended for My Hero Academia and One Piece fans; specifically fans of Izuku and Yamato.

The next chapter is underway, and will hopefully be ready soon.