Triggerhappy
Stick with Trigger and You'll Make it Through
- Location
- SoCal
Yuuki Asuna, Asuna the Flash, Commander of the Knights of Blood, regarded the youth opposite her with matter of fact suspicion. Having rinsed his hair of ink and scrubbed his face clean, she could almost believe the story that he was of Royal blood. Wales Tudor, the Crown Prince of Albion.
Even as she looked him over, the Prince studied her in turn. She mused at the absurdity of the coincidence, but Asuna found that she was fast growing to accept the absurd. But most important in Asuna's eyes had been the discovery made by Kino.
They were not alone in this world.
They weren't the only people transported to this world, there were others like them, perhaps even the entire world of ALfheim. Maybe even . . .
"All of the sentries are stationed," Arguile reported.
In the dim early morning light, beneath the thick forest canopy, the survivors rested beneath blankets and bed rolls. It was dangerous to remain in one place for long, but even more so to travel in broad daylight.
Following behind Arguile were Nishida and Baku, the unofficial spokesmen for the non-combat members of their group, as well as two others, a powerful looking man in high grade armor called Ivan, and a taller, thinner man named Shio.
"Good," Asuna said. "And you made sure the sentries have clear instructions to stay hidden from the air?" The last thing they needed was to be revealed by their own effort to keep watch.
"Yes, Asuna-sama," Arguile replied dutifully.
"Should we wake them?" the Knight nodded to Asuna's side where Kino lay curled up in Caramella's arms beneath beneath a coarse tarp. In sleep, they both looked so much younger. They were young.
"They're both exhausted." Asuna shook her head. It had been a tortuous night on the march to put more distance between themselves and the city. The two had been awake longer than anyone but herself and Arguile. "Let them rest."
Asuna turned her attention back to the Prince. She had already apologized. It had not, she reflected, been the best first impression. Surprisingly, Wales had begged pardon for his own 'indiscretion'. Asuna had simply decided to consider the matter settled.
"This is Arguile, my second in command." The Knight gave a respectful nod to the Prince. "The two next to him are Nishida-san and Baku-san. The men standing behind them are Ivan and Shio, leaders of two of our combat squads."
Wales rose to his feet and gave a formal half bow. "It is my great honor to meet all of you. Though it is belated, in the name of the Royal House of Air, I welcome you to Albion. I only wish I could receive you in happier times."
"Which is the problem," Asuna said. "We need to get our people off of Albion."
"I cannot fault you," the Prince admitted with a tired grin. "I suppose that Albionian hospitality has declined. Insofar as achieving your goal, I may be of some service."
"You have a ship," Asuna said.
"The Eagle," the Prince offered. "If any vessel can slip through Reconquista's patrols, she would be the one. Unfortunately, I've missed my retrieval window. But we have contingencies for that."
The Prince began to sketch out a rough map of Albion in the damp earth at his feet. "We'll need to make our way to Queenswall. From there I can send a signal my ship to rendezvous along the coast."
"Forgive me for asking," Nishida said, "but if it's an airship, what prevents it from simply overflying the Island?"
"Nothing save the Rebel patrols. The Eagle is a fine ship, but she's only survived this long on cunning and the skills of our navigators. And as she is our last ship, my crew have been ordered to take no risks, even for me. Now. We should be able to reach Queenswall tomorrow if we again travel through the night. From there, two nights march would bring us to the rendezvous."
"Splitting up would let the civilians make better time," Asuna said, studying Wales' crude map, "But I'd rather not risk it."
Arguile nodded. "We don't know the lay of the land and we can't afford to lose the civilians and their escorts. Baku-san, do you think the others can keep up this pace?"
The Army player rubbed at the bridge of his nose as if adjusting absent glasses. "I think so. We've been holding up well over the last few days."
Asuna laced her fingers beneath her chin. "What would be best is if we could split off during the day while the main group rests."
"We?" Wales asked with a quirk of his brow.
"Mmm." Asuna nodded as she stared at the map, "The roads are dangerous, you'll need an escort. I'll go."
"Asuna-sama!" Arguile protested. "Surely, a less . . . conspicuous person would be better suited. I should go."
"Denied," Asuna said immediately. "I don't intend to enter the town, and we'll be taking the back roads, so it will be easy to avoid patrols." She brushed her cloak. "And if something does happen, I have the best chance of escaping."
Arguile could offer no counter to this. The man took a breath and released it. "Very well, Asuna-sama. I want you to know that I protest this decision."
"I hardly need an escort from you, Lady Asuna," the Prince replied with a hint of mirth, which was wiped from his face as Asuna gave him a half hooded glare.
"Maybe, but your safety is essential. I don't suppose your crew will be happy to help us if you get yourself killed jumping off cliffs or fighting with dragons." The Prince, displaying a suitably royal sense of diplomacy, realized he was beaten and conceded the point with a nod. "That leaves only payment."
"Indeed. There is a price on my offer of safe passage," Wales admitted apologetically. "I must receive something in return for the risk to my crew and ship. Every day the Eagle is not on patrol is a day that the rebels may act unopposed."
"And just what . . ." Arguile breathed slowly " . . . do you propose?"
Wales looked first to Arguile and then to Asuna. "I would like to hire your services on behalf of the Royalists."
Asuna had expected this. "I'm sorry, but this isn't our war. And I won't endanger the lives of our people by fighting in it."
"I understand." Wales sounded reluctant. "Despite what my dear cousin might think, truly our cause is already lost. I do not ask that you fight with us to the end, only that you help us bloody Cromwell's nose one last time."
"You make it sound so easy." She cast her gaze aside. Participating in Albion's civil war would mean exposing the Knights of Blood and the civilians to danger and more killing. Asuna's hands balled into fists.
Wales closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I apologize, Lady Asuna, I have overstepped. I can offer you safe passage to Newcastle for now. That will at least give you safe haven for a time. But to reach the Continent I will need something to show for it."
The others silently awaited her decision. "I understand. We accept your offer." It wasn't what the Prince had asked for, but he seemed satisfied. Asuna stood slowly. "You should all get some rest. We're going to have another long night ahead of us."
A few of their group were still awake or just beginning to fall asleep as she slipped by until confronted by the mammoth bulk of Kimura, who was in the process of deflating himself into a shallow depression to rest.
"Asuna-sama," Kimura said, tentacle rising to tip the banded hat that Maki had made him to serve as pockets.
"Kimura-san," Asuna said guardedly. While no one particularly cared for him, Asuna least of all, a truce of sorts had developed between the players and their former jailer.
"If you two are looking for someplace quiet, I think there's still room under the tarp."
"Us two?" Turning, she spied a shadow that wasn't just a shadow. She had been followed. "Prince Wales?" Asuna's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I wished to apologize again for my conduct," Wales said, standing straight.
"Like I said, I overreacted. I should be the one apologizing," Asuna answered mechanically. Right now, she simply wanted to sleep. There were still so many difficult decision to make. If she could only close her eyes for a little while . . .
"No," the Prince insisted. "I offered offense after you saved my life. My honor demands that I make it right."
Asuna shrugged. "Then take us to the Continent."
Wales smiled, "I confess that is too steep a price, even for the honor of a prince. It is simply that when I saw you in flight, I believe I saw what Emily saw in you."
"That wasn't flying," Asuna said bitterly. "I just know how to fall." She glanced over her shoulder where her pale wings hung hidden beneath her cloak.
"They trouble you," Wales observed.
Asuna almost laughed. After realizing that this world was reality, that this body was flesh and blood, she had wanted to claw her skin off to be rid of the marks left by Sugou. She didn't feel like herself, more like a living doll.
"They're more than just trouble. I've thought of cutting them off."
The Prince's eyes widened.
"I can't even fly with them, so what good are they?"
"I see," Wales said. "Or rather, I do not. Is there nothing I can do to make amends?"
Even now, she knew very little of the Prince as a person, only that Millia had vouched for him and that he had risked his life to save a stranger.
"Prince," Asuna spoke up suddenly, softly.
"Yes?"
"In our country, we are taught that war is a terrible thing. One of the very worst things that people can do to each other."
The Prince grew stiff. "That is true."
"How do you bear it?" Asuna asked. "The killing?"
Wales' eyes widened again and then his face gained a degree of hardness. "Taking a life should never be an enjoyable thing. There should be no pleasure in it. But there should also be no hesitation or regret in protecting others and upholding what you stand for."
"It isn't right," she said softly.
"It isn't," Wales agreed. "In more ways than one. But because of it, I am still alive. So again, I thank you. Not for killing, but for saving my life."
Asuna mulled over the Prince's words. "You're welcome."
Wales smiled again. "I hope my words have helped. Though I confess I am still curious about you."
Asuna frowned.
"About your people," Wales clarified. "I know that you are not Elves. And you insist that you are not truly Faeries. The truth will not change our bargain, so please tell me, who are you?"
If Wales had asked any other way, or at any other time, Asuna would have simply bid him good night. She knew he would respect her wishes if she declined; maybe that was why she answered.
"I don't even know how to begin. We tried to explain it all to Millia-san, but I don't think she really believed us. You can't understand." Asuna shook her head. "No, it's not that. You'll think I'm saying one thing when I mean another."
"It must be quite a story," Wales observed.
"I suppose." Asuna meditated on those words. "Prince Wales, would you like to hear a bedtime story?"
An amused expression crossed his face. "A Faerie's Faerie Tale? That would be a novelty."
Asuna gestured for him to take a seat, noting that Kimura had lifted an eye curiously. The Prince seemed totally unfazed by him. If he could accept Faeries, then what was a talking slug?
As Wales looked on in anticipation, Asuna composed herself, finding a seat before beginning.
"Once upon a time, in a land very far away, there lived a young noble girl. The girl was raised to be elegant and refined, a credit to her mother and father." Asuna spoke. As each line ended, the next began without thought or hesitation.
"One day, the girl's brother was called away, leaving behind an invitation to a grand masquerade to be held by the greatest magician in all of the lands, to be held in his home, a great flying castle of stone and iron known as Aincrad . . ."
Her story took a long time to tell, but at the same time, it seemed short. She told the Prince of the great floating castle whose floors were each unto a county, stacked one atop another. She told him of how the girl took up the sword in defiance. She told him about the war waged against monsters and battles with powerful lieutenant beasts.
And she told him about the boy that the girl had met and shared many adventures with, the Black Swordsman who slew the magician and saved them all.
If it had been a Faerie Tale, that would have been the end. But life was not that simple. Asuna went on, telling Wales of how the girl was freed from the castle only to be trapped by the magician's apprentice, coveting his former master's achievements. She explained how the apprentice had shrouded his victims in the form of Faeries and how, when all seemed lost, they had escaped and found themselves impossibly in Albion.
Prince Wales remained silent. She would hardly blame him if he simply dismissed her tale.
"You're right. It is difficult to explain. But your words ring with truth. I have but one question. This Swordsman. You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Asuna warmed faintly. "Was it that obvious?"
Wales shook his head. "He must be a unique man to hold your affections."
Unique? Maybe. Kirito was many things, none of them special alone. Asuna only knew that if he was in this world, he would be searching as desperately for her as she was for him.
By now, the sun had fully risen and light was slanting down through the trees. Asuna felt her weariness, held at bay as she told her story, return with a vengeance.
"I've kept you long enough," Wales said. Asuna finally noticed signs of fatigue in the Prince's own mien. "Good night, Lady Asuna, or rather good day."
Asuna nodded. "Good day to you too, Prince Wales."
Wales Tudor, Prince of Albion and last Admiral of the Royal Fleet, when there had been a Royal Fleet to command, trudged doggedly up the hill overlooking Queenswall. At the summit stood a low shack built into the side of a decrepit stone tower.
It looked to be nothing but ruins of a bygone era. In fact, it was a Royal Messaging Station. One of many commissioned in the days of Wales' grandfather.
This particular station had seen better days. Still, even in the midst of war, especially in the midst of war, there was a premium placed on communications. Thus, with each captured city and town, the message stations had been usurped by the Rebels.
What Reconquista did not realize was that they had not expunged all Royalist sympathies from their prize. The number of safe stations was few, they had to be used sparingly, but from Queenswall Wales could get word to his ship without rousing suspicion.
Wales knocked heavily on the shack's door before turning to wait for his companion.
With her hempen cloak pulled close, from a distance the Lady Asuna looked innocuous enough. Hopefully she would not have need to withstand closer scrutiny.
"Are you sure we can find help here?" The Faerie girl appeared doubtful. "This place looks abandoned."
"The Rebels can be thanked for that. The postmen chafe as much under their rule as anyone."
The station door cracked ajar. A pair of dark gray eyes peeked out. Then loudly, "By order of the Good Lord Cromwell this message station is closed to the public."
"And yet the birds still fly free, like all true sons of Albion," Wales recited, watching the eyes widen.
"Until they are returned to the bosom of their mother isle?" The query was spoken with mixed caution and excitement.
"To lay before her white cliffs everlasting."
The door swung open. An elderly man dressed meticulously in postal uniform ushered them quickly inside and into a small office seeming as well kept as its occupant. Behind a polished desk stood a bank of slotted cubbyholes half filled with waiting post.
The old man mumbled something under his breath before circling back around and taking a seat at the desk. "Welcome to Royal Messaging Station Number One Hundred and Fifty-Seven. God save the King!" It was said like he had waited the entire war for this moment.
Wales recovered his senses. "We need to send a message. To Skiesedge."
"Station Eight-Nine it is then," the man said. "Not supposing you have the letter with you?"
Wales raised his hands pleadingly. Though the Lady Asuna's Knights had scavenged some stationary, they had lacked the thin paper used for carrier letters.
"Stationary is right over there. A half pence a sheet, ink and pen are complimentary. I tell you what, those Rebel hoodlums come in and just use the stuff. Haven't got any respect for the establishment, I tell you what!"
Wales gave the man a pained smile and turned to the offered writing desk, taking three sheets and laying them out side by side. He duplicated his message three times, each under a different alias and code. If they were by chance intercepted, they would simply be assumed to be contraband.
Wales handed them to the Postman. "I'd like you to send them by three different birds."
"Right you are sir," the old man said with delight. He worked with shaky hands, quickly rolling each letter until it was thinner than a cigarette, before sliding them into brass cylinders sealed with wax. "Well then, come on. Don't you want to see them off?"
Much like the shack, the aviary was better kept on the inside. The birds in their clean cages cooed softly to one another as if commenting on the new arrivals.
"Station Eight Nine, Station Eight Nine . . . Here we are!" The Postman opened one of the cages and gently extracted a medium, gray feathered bird, carefully affixing the first cylinder to its leg and taking it to a small window for release. This was followed by two more before the man wiped his hands on his trousers, smiling happily.
"And that'll be all of it. No need to worry. They're the fastest birds in the Isle. Your letters will arrive by nightfall."
"Excellent," Wales said. "Thank you for your service."
Wales was about to turn to depart when something struck him. "Beg pardon, how much was the postage?"
The Postman shook his head vigorously. "Why you should know sir, official messages are carried free."
"I see." Reaching into his pocket, Wales removed a small purse.
The Postman frowned. "I said the message was sent for free, didn't I?"
Extracting three half pence, Wales took the man's hand and placed them in his palm. "Yes, but you still charge for the stationary." Wales smiled kindly. "We must show respect for the establishment."
The old man looked down and then back up to Wales. "Right you are sir. B-by the way. They've been saying all sorts of . . . of slanderous things down in the town . . . Say the Royalists are almost wiped out. Ah, begging your pardon, but does the Prince Valiant still live?"
"Yes," Wales said gently, "the Prince still lives."
"Good, good." The man nodded his head slowly. "We haven't lost as long as that boy's alive. That's what you gotta keep telling yourself lad! Things can still go back one day." There was something unspeakably sad about the way he spoke, something once proud rendered pitiful.
Standing straight, Wales gave the man a military salute. "God save the King." Wales glimpsed the Lady Asuna silently mirroring his gesture.
"God save the King," the old man said. "And God save the Prince."
Though the closed shack retained no trace of what had transpired within, thoughts of the encounter lingered as they departed.
"That was easier than expected," the Lady Asuna observed.
"You say that as if you were expecting a fight."
"I'm not used to these things being so simple," the girl said. "It's almost boring really."
Wales quirked an eyebrow. "You've most certainly lived in interesting times."
He still didn't know what to make of it. The story she had told was too incredible to believe. Just what had this girl experienced? Just what had she witnessed to make her the person she was now?
His comment was almost enough to draw a smile from Lady Asuna's lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"To have lived through them and survived, it may well be . . . "
A shrill scream carried faintly on the wind set both youths suddenly alert.
"It came from the town," Wales said, already turning to follow the road away from Queenswall. They could ill afford trouble. "Lady Asuna?"
"We should go see," the Faerie said without a moment's hesitation.
Wales grimaced. "We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves."
The cry came again, it had never stopped. The girl glared at him. "These are your people, aren't they?"
"I am aware of their plight." Wales clenched his jaw. "Discretion has been a hard fought virtue."
"Well then, haven't you ever heard of princes helping their people while in disguise?"
Wales sucked in a breath before setting after the girl. He doubted Sir Arguile would think too kindly of him if he allowed her to come to harm.
The noise was coming from an open market, a seasonal affair where farmers bought and traded for the planting season. A crowd blocked the roadway, too thick to see past, but the foot of the hill formed a shoulder allowing Wales and the Lady Asuna to see above the gathered townspeople.
With a small spell cast beneath his cloak, Wales was able to make the sound carry from the scene unfolding below.
"Order! Order you rabble!"
A mage in the uniform of a Rebel officer was busily dragging a woman about by her hair. At his side, a second mage and about a dozen foot soldiers looked on. Sloppy, coming so near a crowd with so few men. The risk of a hidden assailant or the mob surging was simply too great.
"I, SAID, ORDER!" The man nearly ruptured, yanking hard on the woman's hair. She let out another pained cry. "By order of the Good Lord Cromwell you are commanded to submit for inspection! All contraband will be confiscated! Any information leading to the arrest of a Royalist will be rewarded! Any attempt to conceal Royalist sympathies will be punished!"
From somewhere in the crowd, a stone was thrown, not very well, and not very hard. The mage holding the woman barely noticed as it struck his leg. He cast his eyes to the townspeople. A little commoner girl with features matching those of the woman stood her ground, trembling while clutching another stone in her palm.
"Attacking your betters?" the mage asked, looking to her companions. "I see this town has been without discipline for too long." The mage leveled his wand and suddenly the child was falling upwards, shrieking in terror.
A commoner, better dressed than most, stepped forward. "Please sir, she's just a child!"
There were bound to be a handful of mages in the crowd, though unwilling to expose themselves in defense of the child or her mother. As he watched, Wales saw faces turning away in shame.
The Rebel flicked his wand leisurely, each bounce taking the girl higher as she screamed. "You're right of course," he said, yanking again at his captive's hair. "It's a mother's duty to keep her children in line. Though, as they say, it takes a village to raise a child. So I suppose you all owe recompense."
The spokesman swallowed slowly. "N-name your price."
"I think a fine should do," the mage said, glancing to his fellows who nodded in agreement. "Yes, a fine. Of course, it will have to levied on you whole lot. Interfering in an investigation is inexcusable."
At Wales' side the Lady Asuna trembled. In any other girl he would think it fear, but from the look in her eyes, and the stance she had taken, he could describe it only as rage.
"Still yourself," Wales advised softly.
"A fine? More like theft!" The shouting redoubled.
"That's right, I've heard of this! They're using Reconquista's name to line their own pockets!"
"They probably aren't even soldiers!"
The crowd was growing restless. The words were too well coordinated and much too close to the mark. Some fool was trying to whip them up into a frenzy.
"Order I say, in the name of the Good Lord Cromwell!" the mage spluttered, lifting the girl higher into the sky. Fear more than the actual power of the mages kept the crowd back, but a crowd could be fickle and irrational, easily led by anyone who knew what levers to pull.
"Please, everyone remain calm!" the spokesman said, but nobody was listening to him. "Sir, just put the girl down. I'll pay your fine from my own pocket!"
"You don't have the money, Samson," another of the townspeople, a man dressed in the working clothes of a blacksmith, said. "I've seen your purse these last few months. They're stealing bread from the mouths of our children!"
"Back, back all of you!" The mage released the woman and retreated behind his soldiers.
"Horace! Catch the girl!" the blacksmith shouted as he drew his wand. A petty mage. The situation was rapidly growing out of hand.
"Lady Asuna, we need to leave now." But she was immovable, as if cast from bronze.
Suddenly, another stone was thrown from the crowd, faster, and much harder than the first. The mage holding the girl swept his wand down reflexively and deflected the missile. The girl's screams renewed as she plummeted from the sky. The blacksmith raised his wand to catch her. The crowd charged. And the second mage took action.
A tongue of flame licked from the tip of his wand, sweeping across the mob. The unlucky smith, no real fighter, was dazzled by fire and bludgeoned by wind.
"Wales!" Asuna's voice reached him.
The Prince reached out and cast Levitation, reversing the girl's fall. Wild eyed, the fire mage caught sight of his next target, standing on the shoulder of the roadway wielding a wand. Wales saw the man's arm extend, he saw the chant passing his lips. There was no time to do anything but guard as the flames rushed in.
Asuna willed her body forward. She was past Wales and halfway to the market in the blink of an eye. Then she was vaulting the low stone wall that sided the shoulder of the roadway, sweeping around the crowd.
The girl reached the apex of her arc. Asuna felt her sense of self expanding, stretching from her back, alive and hot like electrical wire. She wasn't fast enough, she wasn't going to make it.
And so she jumped, and so the girl fell, and so Asuna flew.
For an instant the wings on her back were not lifeless things. They were a part of her, and though she didn't understand how to use them, it didn't matter. She only needed to go forward, fast.
Fifteen meters from the ground, at the edge of her wing-boosted leap, Asuna grabbed the child and held her close. She felt her wings stretching out, catching the air. Then she hit the ground, legs folding and body hunching forward to absorb the impact and convert it into a forward roll, shielding the girl. They came tumbling to a halt in a cloud of dust.
For a brief moment there was silence. The girl clung to her in terror, tears running down her face, hands clutching white knuckled at Asuna's blouse. Slowly, she looked up, her grip loosening and her mouth falling open.
"Are you okay?" Asuna asked.
The girl nodded slowly as big, dark, innocent eyes filled with wonder. "A-are you a Faerie?"
Asuna's heart skipped a beat. Nobody could have missed the wings that glowed faintly as they stretched from her back, folded like a dragonfly at rest. The crowd was silent, stunned. Even the mages had stopped mid duel, waiting to see what she would do. She simply smiled.
"Un," Asuna nodded, letting go and standing slowly. "Now wait here."
They had come to a stop just a few paces from the mage who had started this all. He stood slack jawed as Asuna approached. The Maeve's face became a mask, cold and emotionless. That seemed to make the man remember himself.
Too slow.
Asuna sidestepped a wind blast and was then on top of him.
The rapier's first thrust sliced clean along the inside of the forearm on the wand hand side. The man let out a shriek as his hand fell uselessly open. The next strike was along his opposite flank, then again along the opposite shoulder, left upper arm, right forearm, right upper arm. It was like a dance, each thrust eating away at him as he screamed in pain.
He collapsed in a twitching heap before Asuna, who regarded her work clinically. She hadn't really done that much damage. Her aim had been to hurt and humiliate, not kill, and in that she had succeeded magnificently.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The mage wept as he tried to crawl away. Asuna struck one more time, just grazing his cheek, and watched with some distaste as a stain spread across the front of his trousers. She stamped on the man's fallen wand, cracking it in two, then took a half step back, eyes flicking to the commoner soldiers leveling their weapons. Six found the courage to charge.
She rushed forward to meet them. The men faltered, not knowing how to respond to a winged waif of a girl who was unafraid to charge them. Her rapier licked out, catching the first man in the hand, causing him to lose his grip on his weapon. The next man received a strike to the inside of his upper arm.
She danced in and out, threading between the soldiers. No sooner had she disabled one than she was behind him and on to the next. It didn't seem fair. This was no place for 'fairness'.
The fourth man managed to swing his halberd, aiming a bone shattering blow. Rather than twist away, the swordswoman brought her rapier up, sliding it along the halberd's shaft and diverting the swing as she stepped close, before countering with a thrust under the arm.
Having had time to see and grow horrified, the last two men stumbled back behind the remainder of their line, readying crossbows and taking aim, when a gust of wind swept over them and laid the whole group flat. Wales had made short work of the fire mage, and had come to her aid.
And then it was over, but for the cries of pain and pleas for mercy, and the uncertain murmuring of the mob making sense of what they had witnessed.
"Sophie!" The woman from before broke from the crowd to snatch up her daughter. She looked up to Asuna and the approaching Wales, her eyes resting for a moment on Asuna's ears and then her wings. Asuna bit her lip. They'd have to break through and make it back into the forest. "T-Thank you. Thank you!"
Applause and whistles of admiration rose from the crowd. Asuna blinked, startled.
"We need to leave now." Wales touched her on the shoulder, voice soft but carrying a hint of urgency. Nobody paid much mind to the Prince, they were much too enamored with Asuna.
"If you want be going, then take flight now." The Blacksmith who had been the first to try and save the child limped forward, nursing his brow. "Which way would you like us to tell'm you flew?"
Wales paused. "Say that we went north."
"They'll believe that, sure enough," the blacksmith agreed, taking another look at Asuna. "Doubt they'll believe Medb has returned to her Isle though."
Asuna wasn't pleased by the words, but somehow they stung less at that moment. From the corner of her eye she noticed the crowd closing in on the soldiers. "What will you do with them?"
The smith chuckled evilly. "They threatened a townswoman and her daughter. Even Reconquista will want no trouble with that. We've ways of making examples of men like them. Mark my words."
"Two mages seriously injured, their supporting foot soldiers found hung upside down, bound, gagged and beaten to a pulp. No reported casualties. Quite peculiar, if I may say so, Sir."
Sir Terrance Dunwell, former knight in service of the Royal House of Albion, and now serving at the Good Lord Cromwell's pleasure, listened as Sir Wells offered his report.
"Multiple minor lacerations and contusions across the arms and face of one mage. Burns and blunt force trauma to the other. Both men were also . . . tarred and feathered."
"They still do that here?"
"It's a minor miracle they weren't lynched," Sir Wells observed. "Their commander wants punitive measures to be leveled against those responsible."
"On what grounds?" Sir Dunwell asked.
"Apparently, 'interfering with the lawful duties' of his men."
"What he means is extortion and highway robbery." Truly, he had no time for these matters. "Tell the good Garrison Captain that Lord Cromwell will not look favorably on him harassing the people of Queenswall."
"As you wish, Sir." Wells bowed his head.
"Now, on to our mission here," the senior knight said, gesturing to the site of the incident.
The disturbance, a thoroughly forgettable thing in its own right, had come to his attention due to the accompanying reports that the town of Queenswall was abuzz with the involvement of a 'Faerie'.
Accounts said that it had been a beautiful young woman wielding a silver white sword, borne aloft by gossamer wings. Rumors had already spread that what they had witnessed had been a daughter of Medb. Already it was making the townspeople less than cooperative.
Sir Dunwell paused in thought.
His original mission in York had been to investigate rumors of Royalist sympathizers. Someone was feeding information allowing the Royalists to seize shipments with dismaying reliability.
Dunwell suspected there was only one ship. Most of the rest of the Royal Fleet was accounted for, either captured or destroyed. And if it was just one ship, it would have to be a particular ship captained by a particular young man.
At York, a youth of the Prince's age and build had been seen aiding the Elf in escaping. That youth had certainly been no commoner sellsword.
Dunwell frowned. It was a satisfying narrative of course. Prince Wales was known to travel in disguise, but he could not fathom what the heir to Albion's throne would be doing so far inland. Had he separated, or been separated, from his ship? In either case, his intention might have been to enlist aid.
"The prevailing report is that the two assailants departed north in the direction of the front lines. They may plan to break through and make for Newcastle," Sir Wells said.
"Indeed," Dunwell responded, still distracted. But that didn't make any sense. The front lines were closing in on Newcastle with every passing day. No doubt the townspeople were attempting to protect their benefactors, some misguided gratitude at play.
The dissenters had claimed that the duo were traveling east. But to where?
"We should send a message to the front lines in any case," Dunwell decided, and then paused as he eyes fell upon the message tower at the top of the hill. "Sir Wells . . . come with me."
The knight followed closely behind his commander as they hiked up the hill. Sir Wells hammered solidly on the door to the Royal Message Station. A few moments later, a gray haired commoner peeked his head out.
"Good day to you sir," the man said. "God save the Good Lord Cromwell. How may I be of service?"
Dunwell spared the man barely a glance as he pushed the door open and swept inside. The birds in their cages hooted in fright. Half the coops were empty and thoroughly scrubbed down. His eyes came to rest on three cages, all listed Eighty Nine. Feathers and feed bore testimony that the birds had been released not long ago.
"Sir Dunwell?" Sir Wells asked.
"A message drop," Dunwell softly replied. "They sent a message from here to Station Eighty Nine."
"I'll send a dragon immediately," Sir Wells said.
"No. They'll have been received by now. But I suspect I know the contents."
Sweeping back into the post room Dunwell continued past the sputtering postman to stand before a map of Albion that had been nailed to one of the walls. The Isle was peppered with numbers. Eighty Nine was some distance to the south of York along the edge of the Isle to the south-east. Dunwell grabbed a piece of pencil and began drawing a series of short concentric arcs centered on Queenswall and expanding eastward.
"Hey, what you are you . . . ?!" Sir Wells clamped a hand down on the shoulder of the elderly postman.
Finally, Dunwell's markings reached the coast. They would follow the roadways to make good time . . . There were only a handful of places that would make for good rendezvous points along the curve of the coast. A ship would either have to risk overflying the Isle, or stay near one of several pockets where the turbulent air streams abated.
Satisfied, Dunwell strode over to a small writing desk. Taking two sheets of paper, he duplicated and signed his instructions on each. His eyes wandered to a small placard, and with barely a thought he placed two half-pence pieces in the collection tray.
"I have a priority dispatch to be delivered to York. I would like you to use two birds. I will of course see them off myself," Dunwell said, offering the sheets to the shaken postman.
The forest was as silent as a grave. That was fitting, Caramella thought as she walked over beside Prince Wales and Arguile. The late afternoon sun was setting over the crest of the trees, it wouldn't be long before they could start moving again.
But before that, there was still some unfinished business that needed to be seen to. Caramella gave the man a glance. He was a murderer and very likely a rapist. What was more, he was now more of a liability than an asset.
She almost wished she'd finished the job that first night, she could have excused herself for acting in the heat of battle. As a former member of the Aincrad Liberation Army she had resigned herself to the fact that she might one day have to kill an orange or red player. But the very nature of Aincrad guaranteed that if she did, it would be an act of self defense.
And so, Caramella had been almost grateful when the matter had come to the attention of Prince Wales. The youth, no, the kid, he was younger than her, had listened calmly as Arguile retold the events of their arrival in Albion.
"He assaulted a woman, a noble woman, with intent to force himself upon her and then murder her," Wales recited. "Why have you not put him to death?" The Prince's voice was tinged not just with anger but disbelief.
"Look. It's not that simple," Caramella had offered.
"Another of your customs?" Wales had asked.
"In a manner of speaking," Arguile sighed. "Passing judgment on the man is easy, actually going through with it is . . . More difficult."
Finally, with a level of insight that had surprised Caramella, Wales spoke. "The Lady Asuna is no doubt conflicted in this matter."
Arguile nodded hesitantly, "It's my fault, I've allowed this to go on to spare her."
"You fear that she can't bring herself to do it?" Wales asked.
"I fear that she can."
The Prince's brows rose. "I see," he said simply. "This man has committed a grave crime. As an Admiral in service to the Crown, I am granted judicial powers in times of war. I would like you to remand the prisoner to my custody." There was a sort of cold kindness in the Prince's eyes.
With that, the matter was brought before Asuna. Their leader had grown very quiet. It was clear that she had been thinking about it as well, but had been able to distract herself with other things.
"Lady Asuna, that man is a criminal and a danger if he is released. I understand that you vowed not to harm him if he cooperated," Wales said, "but he has broken the laws of my Kingdom, and I have jurisdiction over this matter. I will not see him escape justice. Your vow and honor will be untarnished if I take this case into my own hands."
Asuna gave a small and tired nod. "This is your country, so I don't have any right to argue about your laws . . . though I should be there to see this through."
"No. You shouldn't." Arguile had placed a hand on Asuna's shoulder. The girl breathed in slowly, looking up at the Knight. "Please do not argue, Asuna-sama. Grant me this much."
It had been clear that Asuna wanted badly to protest, but for once she did not. "Very well. Prince Wales," Asuna said, "I'll leave this matter in your hands."
And so it was that the two members of Asuna's troop plus a prince and a prisoner found themselves in a small clearing out beyond the perimeter marked by the sentries.
"This is far enough," Arguile decided.
Taking hold of the prisoner's bound hands, the Knight yanked off the man's blindfold and pulled the gag from his mouth. The mercenary didn't look much better now than the day Caramella had pummeled him. The bruising had turned to welts, hidden beneath a slowly thickening beard. Nobody had been willing to trust him with as much as a butter knife.
The man struggled against his bonds. "I've been cooperatin' 'aven't I?"
"You have," Arguile agreed coldly. The look in his eyes was one of utter loathing. "As a matter of fact, I'd say you've more than earned your freedom." With that, the Knight pushed the man toward the waiting Prince Wales. "So go ahead. Though I believe this man might have business with you."
"An' who the 'ell are you?" the man croaked.
"I am Wales Tudor, Crown Prince of Albion. By my authority as an Admiral in service of the Crown, I hereby sentence you for the high crimes of murder, assault of a noblewoman, and attempted murder of the same."
"What are you on about?" the mercenary spluttered, looking back at Arguile in disbelief. "What is he on about?" From her vantage point leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed, Caramella watched the scene unfold. The least she could do was not look away.
The Prince continued calmly as if the outburst hadn't happened. "The woman you were witnessed taking liberties with was the third daughter of the Count of Windsor."
The condemned man's lips moved, eyes flicking about for a way to escape, and then he started to snicker. "Oy, I see 'ow it is!" The man's shoulders sank in resignation. "Well then, go ahead boy, 'ave your justice!" Caramella had to give the bastard credit, he wasn't groveling for his life.
Wales lifted his wand and then paused. "I will give you a moment to make your peace with God and Founder."
The mercenary barked a short laugh. "I part'd company with the Founder a long time ago. Jus' tell me one thing . . . You're really the Prince Valiant?"
Wales nodded slowly. The condemned man laughed again, hoarsely. "Aye, princes and Faeries." The man's breath eased. "Alright lad. At least I go by the hands of royalty." He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Arguile placed his hands on the man's shoulders and forced him to kneel.
Wales regarded the mercenary for moment longer, and then with a flick of his wrist drove an air needle through the man's temple. One second there was a man kneeling there, the next it was just a corpse hitting the ground, eyes sightless, blood rushing from the nose. The Prince gave the the body one last look, prodding a limp shoulder with the tip of his cane. Satisfied, he turned, giving and receiving a small nod from Arguile, before making his way back towards camp.
Caramella and Arguile remained silent for a while, both staring at the body. She realized suddenly that they'd never bothered to get the man's name. Maybe Asuna knew it, but if she did, she hadn't shared it with anyone.
"Glad that it's dealt with?" Caramella asked, coming to stand at Arguile's side.
The Knight continued to stare at the body. "Relieved, I suppose."
"Does it . . . bother you?" she asked awkwardly.
"Not as much as it should," Arguile admitted. "What is this place doing to us?"
Caramella didn't answer. "Should we we bury him?"
"No, the forest will deal with him soon enough. . . . You're right, I'm glad it's dealt with. And I'm thankful she didn't have to see this."
Caramella looked up at the Knight. He was a bit of an uptight asshole, but underneath that there was a decent person. "Hey, 'Guile?"
"Hm?"
"Why do you worry so much about her?"
He closed his eyes. "I worry about everyone," the Knight replied matter of factly.
"Well, yeah," Caramella admitted, the front liner was tireless. The only person who worked harder was Asuna herself. "But I mean, you seem to have a special interest in Asuna-sama."
"Of course I do," the man agreed, frowning. His face was very good at that. "We were in the same guild. Though I was never close to her. She had Hea . . . the Commander, and her own trusted friends to confide in. Moreover, she is our leader. Her wellbeing is essential."
Caramella's eyelids drooped suspiciously. "It's more than that . . . " then she asked, cautiously enunciating each word. "You don't, have a thing for her, do you?"
The question received an almost immediate rise and a deadly glare.
"Just checking. I worry about her too after all, and not just because she's our leader. She's . . ."
"She's someones little girl," Arguile said softly.
"Y-yeah," Caramella agreed, that fit almost perfectly. She wasn't the best judge of appearances, but Asuna was too darn young to have done the things she'd done and seen the things she'd seen.
The Knight breathed slowly and looked up through the trees. "We're supposed to be the adults. Children are supposed to rely on us. But in Aincrad we were all just swept up in Asuna-sama's wake. We're still relying on her."
The former Army player tried to think of something to say. Hearing the big man admitting weakness wasn't something she'd ever thought she'd be around for. Finally, she settled for cuffing him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you're pretty useless. Do what you can, we'll try to pick up the slack."
Arguile turned and began the hike back to camp. Caramella was about to follow him when something struck her. Fishing around in a pouch on her belt she retrieved a silver mark. She placed the coin in the man's cooling hand and shut his eyes. "Even a bastard needs to the pay the ferryman, right?"
By the time they got back people were already stirring, getting ready for what would hopefully be their last night on the march. Caramella noticed a couple of survivors carefully lacing their boots, an almost lost art in Aincrad. There had been some painful blisters in the re-learning.
Wales had already returned to Asuna's side, furiously sketching something in the earth at their feet. If anything more had been said about the prisoner and what had just transpired, neither the Prince nor Asuna gave any sign.
"The Eagle will be waiting for us here. It's a dead zone in the drafts that occur around the edge of the Isle. My crew will stand by for my signal, and then rush in to retrieve us. It would be best that I be at the head of the group when that happens." The Prince smiled ironically. "To avoid misunderstandings you see."
"Having the troop well organized tonight is essential," Asuna said. "We can't afford to take too much time."
"I'll see that everyone is in their traveling groups and inform the squads," Arguile responded.
Final preparations were made. A sort of routine had developed over the past days to keep the column in good order. The civilians had been organized into eleven groups of around twenty apiece. Each was assigned a leader, who reported to Nishida, who in turn reported to Asuna.
The eighty odd combat players had been reformed along the lines of a raid party. Squads B, C, D, and E were responsible for column escort. F and G traveled on point. H and I squads fanned out behind the troop to catch any stragglers, and J brought up the rear. Lastly, A squad remained as a mobile detachment.
The night was clear, but both moons were barely slivers in the sky. Wales told them that it was a good sign. There would be enough light to see airborne patrols, but it would be difficult to be seen in turn.
They parted company with the road as it curved south, continuing east back into forest, climbing one last ridge that brought the coast into view. The land formed a shallow half bowl descending towards a portion of the cliff face that had fractured long ago.
Caramella looked to Kino. "Hey, you finally get to be up on one of those airships."
The knife user nodded with embarrassment. "They're pretty cool looking right? . . . What kind of ship is the Eagle anyway?"
"She's a frigate," Wales said, seemingly pleased to describe his ship. "In times of war she acts as a scout and commerce raider detached from the fleet. My crew and I have been able to use her to curtail the Rebel efforts to supply their front line forces, and in doing so, resupply our own stronghold at Newcastle."
"It sounds like you've become pirates yourselves," Asuna observed.
"We are pirates, Lady Asuna," Wales admitted. "Though, we prefer to consider ourselves privateers."
Nishida was about to say something else when he was cut off by a shriek and a sudden pop and flash of light in the sky. All eyes turned skyward as another jet of flame erupted upwards, before blossoming into a brilliant red flower.
'Fireworks?' Caramella thought, but already her heart was racing, instincts making sense of the signs and responding faster than her conscious mind. She heard whistles coming from the direction of the forest and sudden shouts.
"Flares!" Wales growled, eyes slowly widening. "Lady Asuna, we must move now! This is an ambush!"
On nights like this, Sir Dunwell could almost forget himself. The pale cliffs were peaceful. The only sounds were the rush of high winds and the gentle creaking of the Hawken's buffeted hull. At his side, the dragon Scirroco chirped softly.
"We haven't had the time lately to enjoy this view, have we?"
"Speaking to your dragon again?" Sir Wells asked as he came to stand beside his superior.
"An old habit," Dunwell replied.
"The men seem to think you're married more to your drake than any woman," Sir Wells replied, then cringed at the look given by his superior. "My apologies, Sir."
"Perhaps I can only accept a partner who meets my unreasonable standards," Dunwell snorted. Scirocco gave a satisfied croon.
"Then if you don't mind my asking, the rumors of a mistress?"
"Quite baseless." Dunwell waved a hand. "Where would I find the time?"
"Very good Sir," Sir Wells nodded. "The Raptor should be in position by now. There is little to do but wait."
The use of the bays and coves as safe landing points was a natural decision. It was what Dunwell himself would have done. But that still left the question of which one. He'd been able to narrow it down to two. One nearer to York but with calmer winds better suited handling a ship, the other further south and more secluded, but demanding a more treacherous approach.
Dunwell had sent the Raptor and half his forces to watch the northern approach, while taking the more southern bay for himself.
There was, of course, the possibility that their prey would use neither port. They would know in a day or two if this was a wasted venture. If that was the case, then so be it. The men and material had been doing little good stewing in York.
Along the coast, so small it could almost be missed, a red light blossomed for a moment. A signal flare, an invention used by commoner soldiers. The Knight Captain gave a satisfied grunt. So his suspicions had been correct.
"It seems that luck is with us. Sir Wells. Make ready the men." He turned back to his familiar. "Shall we go?"
The dragon bowed her great head and stooped her shoulders for him to take the saddle. In one fluid motion, Scirroco dove over the side of the Hawken, her wings catching the wind. Five more drakes followed. The endless mists beneath Scirroco were soon replaced by the close rushing trees of Albion's shores.
Another flare rocketed into the sky, and then another.
Scattered trees obscured Dunwell's view, but by straining his eyes the Captain thought he could see movement. Then, a gout of flame cast illumination through trees, and he cursed. They had expected and prepared for a handful of fugitives, but before the light from the flames faded he was able to count dozens.
The fighting was fast devolving into chaos. At least a hundred heads running for the coast, while the ambush force was in disarray fighting . . . something. As Dunwell watched, a solitary warrior wielding a sword and shield charged against a fire mage. The mage swept forth a great fan of fire, only to be thwarted by the warrior's speed. Jumping up onto a tree stump and them vaulting over the flame, crashing down atop the luckless mage.
All across the forest the scene repeated itself. The apparitions moved swiftly in small groups, gathering together for attacks before scattering and falling back. Here a block of musketeers was shattered, on the flank a group of mages was pressed back, but before reinforcements could arrive the attackers would always retreat.
It was a delaying action.
"Sir Wells," he threw his voice to his second in command, "Do not let them make it to the coast." He recalled again the Dragon Knights who had been killed, and the leaping ability he had witnessed in York. "Stay high and drive the flames."
Trusting Scirroco to keep an eye out for threats, Dunwell set to directing the battle, using his cane to throw commands to the men. With some coordination between the commoner formations and scattered mages restored, the ambush force was once again able to advance.
In response to the sudden change in tempo, the behavior of the fighters also changed. A small group struck out. At their lead was . . . Dunwell blinked. It was a girl, a girl with wings? Long slender wings, gossamer white, spread from her back.
She danced between the spells of two of the mages, delivering a rain of thrusts faster than the eye could see. The first mage fell, but even before he had struck ground the girl sank to her knees to evade the second.
The arrival of their champion seemed to give the beleaguered fighters new strength. Sweeping south he found himself above another group of hard pressed soldiers beating back a concerted attack. The fighting was becoming too intertwined to do anything more from the air
No, coordinating from above could only do so much good.
"Keep guard," Dunwell said as he undid his restraints and slipped from the neck of his familiar. The ground was racing towards him as he began to incant, gathering the air around him and spinning it faster and faster until it reached a single point.
"Caramella!"
The cry from Kino was the only thing that saved her. If she hadn't jumped back at that instant, she would have been pulped instantly. Not that it helped much. When she opened her eyes she found herself on her back a good ten meters from where she had started. This was getting old.
A lone mage stood at ground zero. He didn't look much different from the others, better dressed perhaps. The only things that really distinguished him were age and posture. The other mages seemed on edge, the former SAO players had forced them out of their comfort zone by pushing them into a close range fight. But this guy had charged right in.
"Is he a Dragon Knight?" the man to Caramella's left, a heavy shield user named Clive, asked.
She nodded slowly. "I'm getting a bad vibe off of him."
They were in a bad position to deal with an unknown, Arguile had broken off to lead the rearguard, and they'd been separated from Asuna. Caramella wasn't even sure where they were relative to everyone else.
"Let's hit him like the ones earlier," Clive called. "Keep coordinated and we can take him."
"R-right," Caramella gritted out. The three Faeries split up, Kino racing to the side while Caramella followed behind Clive. Clive would get her close, then she would rush in using her speed. If an opportunity presented itself, Kino would move to distract or neutralize the mage from the side.
That was the way it was supposed to work. Clive struck out with his spear, putting all of his inhuman speed and strength into the thrust. The mage brought his cane-wand up, wielding it like a fencer's foil, and suddenly Clive was out of position.
The big man brought his shield up just in time as tip of the cane connected. He was sent flying back, barely missing Caramella who found herself too close to retreat.
So, she attacked. Her first sword strike was deflected by the mage's cane, the same went for the second. She was faster than this jerk, so how the hell was he doing it? Her sword wasn't connecting with the cane, it was stopping a finger's width from the shaft.
'Hax!'
And then he was pushing her back, thrusting with the cane like it was a sword. The man's tempo sped up, a thrust got between her shield and sword guard, grazing her cheek.
Caramella ducked down behind her shield and pushed off into a tackle. At the last moment he shielded himself behind a curtain of wind. With nothing but a gesture from his wand, the spiraling wall of air blossomed outwards.
Caramella felt the shield straps wrenching free, throwing her out of position. The mage kicked the earth at his feet, a mixture of gravel and coarse sand. He trailed his cane through the dust, pulling the debris close around the shaft of the cane. A special technique?
This time he swung like he was handling a meat cleaver. The edge of her sword burst in a shower of sparks. Caramella pulled back reflexively, probably the only thing that saved her life. When she opened her eyes, her sword ended in a jagged red glow above the hilt.
She shivered . . . 'No way. No freaking way!'
She looked up at the mage intent on delivering the final blow. At the last instant the man switched his attention to Caramella's left, the shroud of sand around his cane vanishing as an air shield defected a throwing knife.
Kino was on him in a heartbeat. The mage danced back, weaving between blows. Then he was countering again. A quick burst caught Kino in the stomach, throwing him bodily through the air.
The mage ducked to the side, then pivoted on the balls of his feet as a third assailant came crashing down on him, garbed in brilliant red and white. Arguile roared as he forced the mage back.
"Caramella, take Kino and go! Caramella?!"
Caramella was frozen by what she was witnessing. This was how a top tier front liner fought. Relentless attack and defense, no fear, just initiative and reaction. The mage had more raw power, but up close he had to fight like a swordsman. That didn't mean Arguile was having it entirely his way, the mage seemed to have a bottomless supply of dirty tricks.
Arguile broke off for an instant, diving to the side as a wind whip tore through the air and splintered a tree at his back. "Caramella! If we don't get back now, they're leaving us behind!"
"Hgn," Kino, doubled over in pain, pulled at Caramella's wrist, breaking her trance.
"Go!" Arguile roared. The Knight dug the tip of his two-handed sword into the earth and swung, throwing up a cloud of dust before using his speed to sweep around the now enshrouded mage.
At the edge of her hearing, Caramella could just make out a faint high pitched clicking coming from within the cloud, it nagged at her memory, like the sounds made by dolphins . . . or bats?
The cloud began to collapse in on itself, on the mage, on a single point at the end of his cane. Arguile was suddenly caught exposed in mid thrust. The mage moved calmly to the side and touched the end of his cane to the Knight's torso. The point burst, it blossomed outwards, into Arguile, and through him.
There was so much blood.
Arguile's sword flew from his hands. The mage stepped back, letting him drop to the ground, a fist sized hole punched through his chest.
Caramella tried to will herself to move, but, but she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't work. It was like her Nerve Gear was busted, she couldn't move this useless body. Why couldn't she move?
"Caramella!" Kino screamed, and she moved, diving to grab Arguile's discarded sword. She locked blades with the mage, screaming in rage and hurt. Then the man was falling back, no, she had been scooped from her feet and thrown over Clive's shoulder as they fled.
"Damnit, put me down! Put me down damn it! You jerks! Kino, please, tell him to let me down, Kino, please, please, we can't leave him! We can't just leave him back there! Please!" And then she couldn't see anything past the watery film of her own tears.
The seamstress Maki cried out in pain. She hadn't been hit, but she had tripped. Slender pink tendrils wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the air and depositing her atop the back of a giant slug beside the fisherman Nishida and two injured front liners.
"Giddyup Kimura-san!" Nishida cried.
"I am not an equine!" the slug replied indignantly.
A pair of spearmen attempted to attack the unwieldy Kimura and the easy looking targets on his back, only to discover just how strong and dexterous a slime type mob's tentacles could be. Pink tendrils grabbed hold of them, crushing ribs and windpipes without Kimura ever slowing.
Asuna tried not to look too long at Kimura's handiwork. At her back the sleek bulk of their rescue clung to the cliff face. Wales had been quite surprised to find the Eagle had already arrived. The Prince had been angered that his men had disobeyed his orders, but Asuna wasn't going to complain about their lack of discipline.
"Two sixty-six, sixty-eight, two seventy!" Asuna counted off heads as Kimura arrived. "Where are the rest?"
"Asuna-san!" Nishida leaped down from the back of the slug. "The rear civilian groups took casualties, and so did their guards!"
"I know that!" Asuna shook her head. "But it can't have been that many!"
The time since the ambush began seemed to be a blur of fighting and running. It could have been anything from five minutes to five hours. "Some of them must still be out there!"
"Lady Asuna! We must go now! We've sighted another frigate!" Prince Wales shouted down from the deck as his bewildered crew helped the survivors aboard.
Asuna desperately scanned the treeline, spotting three more forms bursting from the forest. Focusing on them, her vision closed in. Caramella, Kino, and Clive. A brief flush of relief raced through her.
Another form appeared behind them. At first she thought it must be another front liner, no normal human could move that fast. But the figure wasn't running so much as bounding in brief bursts of speed, and the cane clutched in his hand was proof that he was a mage.
Wales spotted the approaching mage at the same time, and was determined to hold him at bay. "Batteries, prepare to fire!"
"No, you'll hit the others!" Pulling loose from Nishida, Asuna broke into a sprint to meet the mage. The man saw her; crashing to a halt he crouched down and lashed out with a wind whip, first low, then striking high. The smoke from the fires gave Asuna enough warning to dodge.
Changing tack, the mage grabbed at the soil and threw it up in a cloud before driving it forward, a blast of sand and grit that grazed at her shoulder and cheek.
Then she was within striking distance. The man didn't survive so much by evading as propelling himself backwards in bursts of wind, staying just out of reach. He couldn't match Asuna's reflexes, but in terms of linear speed he was almost her equal.
A wind whip lashed out, bringing a burning tree down between them.
"Lady Asuna!" Wales' voice thundered in her skull. She gave the mage one last look and then bolted back towards the Eagle. The ship was already pulling loose from the dock. "Jump!" Wales shouted. And so she did, throwing herself across the gap. "Now, all batteries fire!"
Asuna slammed her hands over her ears as the broadside erupted. She'd thought sailing ship cannons were supposed to fire big iron balls, but the Eagle's guns fired whole clouds of smaller shot. Trees were splintered and men torn to shreds.
"Reload!" the Prince commanded.
From the corner of her eye Asuna caught a dark shape rising from the burning forest. It let out a long cry and then angled off, unwilling to approach the Eagle.
"All hands, cast off, half sail! Make ready for full sail as soon as we've passed the turbulence!" As the Prince gave his orders, his men struggled past the refugees left on deck, climbing out onto the wing-sails to extend masts and tie down lines. "Lady Asuna, if you please," Wales invited. Looking about in confusion Asuna obeyed, climbing the stairs to where Wales stood.
"You said there's a frigate after us?" Asuna asked.
"Indeed," Wales replied gravely. "A look at her rigging leads me to believe it's the Hawken or one of her sister ships. They're of an older line than the Eagle. We'll have no trouble evading her once we're clear of this cove."
"And until then?" Asuna asked.
"Pray that the winds favor us." The Prince glared at an elderly white haired man at his side. "Which reminds me, Maison, I believe I instructed you to await my signal."
"Indeed you did, your Highness." The man adjusted his glasses.
"I'm glad you came," Asuna said, looking down on the deck.
They might all be dead now if the crew hadn't taken the initiative to save their Captain. If there had been any delay, that other frigate could just as easily have done to the forest what the Eagle had done with its batteries.
"Thank you, Maison-san."
The elderly man gave a small bow, "Of course, my Lady Asuna. It is my pleasure to be of service. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lieutenant Lawrence Maison, Executive Officer of the Eagle."
"I do believe you mean my butler," Wales countered.
"Butler, Executive Officer, and whatever else is needed of me," the man replied.
The Prince nodded in acceptance. "Lady Asuna, please feel free to see to your people. Once we are safely beneath the mists we can speak more."
Wales had deferred to her on land, so it was only right that she obey him in the skies.
One of the crew showed her the way below deck, watching her with barely concealed wonder. Her wings had apparently convinced the crew, even more than their own Prince's claims, that the mysterious troop was benevolent. If it made their journey easier, then Asuna could accept it.
The lower decks of the Eagle were packed with the survivors, taking up what little space wasn't filled with the ship's supplies. She found Nishida wandering about the hold. The elderly man gave her a tired smile.
"I have some good news, Asuna-san. We miscounted. Two hundred and eighty."
'Seven more safe,' Asuna thought. "That's . . . wonderful news." It was, but it shouldn't be. "Thank you, Nishida-san."
Asuna wandered deeper into the hold. People looked at her as she moved. She paused, speaking with them, consoling them. And then she reached two figures huddled up near the bow.
"Caramella-san, Kino-san, I'm glad you're both safe," Asuna said, and put on her kindest smile.
She became worried when Kino didn't meet her gaze, and then moreso when Caramella wouldn't look up. "What's wrong?" she asked. Of course, everything was wrong. They'd lost people . . . people . . . One person hadn't been at her side when she'd spoken with Wales. She'd thought maybe he'd be below decks . . .
Caramella looked up, her expression broken. A two-handed sword was cradled in her arms. Asuna felt something break inside herself.
"I . . . I . . ." Caramella hiccuped. She didn't get beyond that before Asuna was hugging the older woman tightly. The Army fighter shook like a leaf.
"He's gone . . ." Kino whispered. "He's really gone . . ." and so Asuna pulled Kino into her embrace as well, holding both tightly as they let out their grief.
The others around them watched, but remained silent. Tonight, there would be time enough for all of them to shed tears.
William Thorn, First Mate of the clipper ship Sabrina, out of port at last after three days under lockdown in York, leaned down and rapped gently on the wine casks lining the ship's hold. At least they'd found something to turn a profit. Though prying the casks from the hands of the trading house had been bloody murder.
Windsor vintage was highly sought after by the up and coming nobility of Germania, who would follow any trend if it was considered the fashionable thing to do. A bunch of tasteless backstabbers the lot of them. At least, that's what his father would say, and why Thorn the elder would have no problem ratcheting up the price three or four fold.
Whistling to himself, William tapped lightly on the lid of each cask until he found one that sounded hollow. Taking a crowbar he managed to wedge the lid off despite the protest of the wood. The strong scent of wine spilled from the inside, along with a brown haired young woman. Squinting in the dim light of the hold, Emily looked up groggily.
"The inspectors have been seen off. We've been released into open air."
"Oh . . . good," she said, shaking her head. "I think I might have gotten drunk on the wine fumes." She squinted. "They never mention that in novels."
"Oy, watch it there. You 'aven't got your air legs yet." And, he realized, she may well be a little drunk. "You know, we could have just dressed you as one'o the crew. They wouldn't be looking for a gel 'mongst this sorry lot, and I can promise no man on this ship would do you any harm."
"No, no, quite alright, it was no trouble, besides, this was my idea," Emily said, blinking away stars that only she could see. "Now then, I need to see the Captain." She set off with a slight stagger, only to have William turn her around carefully so she was facing the stairs up onto the deck.
Captain Thorn was busy shouting a mixture of orders and threats at his crew. "Lady Windsor!" he chuckled as he saw her. "I'm glad you could see fit to join us. I'm happy to say more spacious accommodation has opened up since you booked your flight."
"Yes, well, thank you for taking this risk on my behalf," Emily said.
"I owed your Prince, and I fear there's little time left for me to make good on my debts. We're heading for Germania, and I can let you off there. It's a rough country, but not so savage as people say. If you survived in Albion at a time like this, you'll be able to make a life for yourself there." The Captain grinned. "Supposing you ain't afraid of a little hard work."
"No, I'm not afraid of labor." Emily's face pinched up in irritation. "But I have one request."
"If it's to marry my son, I'm afraid I will never allow any maiden to make that mistake," Captain Thorn said with a grin. Thorn the younger gave Emily an exaggerated, crestfallen look.
"Captain!" Emily said hotly.
"Alright! Alright!" the man said. "Speak your piece, girl."
"I would like you to take me to Tristain."
Captain Thorn frowned. "Aye, it's a fine Kindgom and all, but I'm afraid we're set to overfly the ocean into Germania on these winds."
"Please, Captain," Emily pleaded. "What you said, about the Faeries. I need to get there and speak to them."
"Why in such a hurry? The White Isle will be there in a few days," Captain Thorn said.
"Yes, but Miss Asuna and her cohort may not!" The landless Countess placed a hand to her chest. "The least I can do is speak to her kin." Emily looked up, "You say you owe Prince Wales a great debt. Please consider fulfilling that debt in my name. And if that is not enough," Emily pulled out a ring she wore upon a chain about her neck. "I know it's not worth much of itself, but it is the ring worn by the head of the Windsor family. With this, you will be able to collect the bounty on my father's life."
Captain Thorn looked down at the girl, face growing stern. "Oy, put that away girl!"
"But . . . " Emily protested.
"I said put it away! That's all you have of your Da' isn't it?" Sighing slowly, Thorn the elder ran a hand over his face. "Right, right. Alright you lot! Set course forty degrees off of north."
"Da'?" Thorn the younger asked.
"If we're going to make Tristain and still keep our schedule, we'll have to hit the trade winds just so. Now stop making yourself useless lad!"
"You mean it?" Disbelief blossomed into joy upon Emily's face. "Thank you Captain Thorn!" She stood up on her tip toes and gently pecked the man on the cheek.
The Captain blinked owlishly. Thorn the younger chuckled. Of course that is how it would go. As his Mam had always told him, Da' was a sucker for a pretty face.
Calls rang out across the deck of the clipper as the Sabrina, fastest ship in all of Albion, changed course, continuing on its flight over a sea of clouds amidst the morning light.
Even as she looked him over, the Prince studied her in turn. She mused at the absurdity of the coincidence, but Asuna found that she was fast growing to accept the absurd. But most important in Asuna's eyes had been the discovery made by Kino.
They were not alone in this world.
They weren't the only people transported to this world, there were others like them, perhaps even the entire world of ALfheim. Maybe even . . .
"All of the sentries are stationed," Arguile reported.
In the dim early morning light, beneath the thick forest canopy, the survivors rested beneath blankets and bed rolls. It was dangerous to remain in one place for long, but even more so to travel in broad daylight.
Following behind Arguile were Nishida and Baku, the unofficial spokesmen for the non-combat members of their group, as well as two others, a powerful looking man in high grade armor called Ivan, and a taller, thinner man named Shio.
"Good," Asuna said. "And you made sure the sentries have clear instructions to stay hidden from the air?" The last thing they needed was to be revealed by their own effort to keep watch.
"Yes, Asuna-sama," Arguile replied dutifully.
"Should we wake them?" the Knight nodded to Asuna's side where Kino lay curled up in Caramella's arms beneath beneath a coarse tarp. In sleep, they both looked so much younger. They were young.
"They're both exhausted." Asuna shook her head. It had been a tortuous night on the march to put more distance between themselves and the city. The two had been awake longer than anyone but herself and Arguile. "Let them rest."
Asuna turned her attention back to the Prince. She had already apologized. It had not, she reflected, been the best first impression. Surprisingly, Wales had begged pardon for his own 'indiscretion'. Asuna had simply decided to consider the matter settled.
"This is Arguile, my second in command." The Knight gave a respectful nod to the Prince. "The two next to him are Nishida-san and Baku-san. The men standing behind them are Ivan and Shio, leaders of two of our combat squads."
Wales rose to his feet and gave a formal half bow. "It is my great honor to meet all of you. Though it is belated, in the name of the Royal House of Air, I welcome you to Albion. I only wish I could receive you in happier times."
"Which is the problem," Asuna said. "We need to get our people off of Albion."
"I cannot fault you," the Prince admitted with a tired grin. "I suppose that Albionian hospitality has declined. Insofar as achieving your goal, I may be of some service."
"You have a ship," Asuna said.
"The Eagle," the Prince offered. "If any vessel can slip through Reconquista's patrols, she would be the one. Unfortunately, I've missed my retrieval window. But we have contingencies for that."
The Prince began to sketch out a rough map of Albion in the damp earth at his feet. "We'll need to make our way to Queenswall. From there I can send a signal my ship to rendezvous along the coast."
"Forgive me for asking," Nishida said, "but if it's an airship, what prevents it from simply overflying the Island?"
"Nothing save the Rebel patrols. The Eagle is a fine ship, but she's only survived this long on cunning and the skills of our navigators. And as she is our last ship, my crew have been ordered to take no risks, even for me. Now. We should be able to reach Queenswall tomorrow if we again travel through the night. From there, two nights march would bring us to the rendezvous."
"Splitting up would let the civilians make better time," Asuna said, studying Wales' crude map, "But I'd rather not risk it."
Arguile nodded. "We don't know the lay of the land and we can't afford to lose the civilians and their escorts. Baku-san, do you think the others can keep up this pace?"
The Army player rubbed at the bridge of his nose as if adjusting absent glasses. "I think so. We've been holding up well over the last few days."
Asuna laced her fingers beneath her chin. "What would be best is if we could split off during the day while the main group rests."
"We?" Wales asked with a quirk of his brow.
"Mmm." Asuna nodded as she stared at the map, "The roads are dangerous, you'll need an escort. I'll go."
"Asuna-sama!" Arguile protested. "Surely, a less . . . conspicuous person would be better suited. I should go."
"Denied," Asuna said immediately. "I don't intend to enter the town, and we'll be taking the back roads, so it will be easy to avoid patrols." She brushed her cloak. "And if something does happen, I have the best chance of escaping."
Arguile could offer no counter to this. The man took a breath and released it. "Very well, Asuna-sama. I want you to know that I protest this decision."
"I hardly need an escort from you, Lady Asuna," the Prince replied with a hint of mirth, which was wiped from his face as Asuna gave him a half hooded glare.
"Maybe, but your safety is essential. I don't suppose your crew will be happy to help us if you get yourself killed jumping off cliffs or fighting with dragons." The Prince, displaying a suitably royal sense of diplomacy, realized he was beaten and conceded the point with a nod. "That leaves only payment."
"Indeed. There is a price on my offer of safe passage," Wales admitted apologetically. "I must receive something in return for the risk to my crew and ship. Every day the Eagle is not on patrol is a day that the rebels may act unopposed."
"And just what . . ." Arguile breathed slowly " . . . do you propose?"
Wales looked first to Arguile and then to Asuna. "I would like to hire your services on behalf of the Royalists."
Asuna had expected this. "I'm sorry, but this isn't our war. And I won't endanger the lives of our people by fighting in it."
"I understand." Wales sounded reluctant. "Despite what my dear cousin might think, truly our cause is already lost. I do not ask that you fight with us to the end, only that you help us bloody Cromwell's nose one last time."
"You make it sound so easy." She cast her gaze aside. Participating in Albion's civil war would mean exposing the Knights of Blood and the civilians to danger and more killing. Asuna's hands balled into fists.
Wales closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I apologize, Lady Asuna, I have overstepped. I can offer you safe passage to Newcastle for now. That will at least give you safe haven for a time. But to reach the Continent I will need something to show for it."
The others silently awaited her decision. "I understand. We accept your offer." It wasn't what the Prince had asked for, but he seemed satisfied. Asuna stood slowly. "You should all get some rest. We're going to have another long night ahead of us."
A few of their group were still awake or just beginning to fall asleep as she slipped by until confronted by the mammoth bulk of Kimura, who was in the process of deflating himself into a shallow depression to rest.
"Asuna-sama," Kimura said, tentacle rising to tip the banded hat that Maki had made him to serve as pockets.
"Kimura-san," Asuna said guardedly. While no one particularly cared for him, Asuna least of all, a truce of sorts had developed between the players and their former jailer.
"If you two are looking for someplace quiet, I think there's still room under the tarp."
"Us two?" Turning, she spied a shadow that wasn't just a shadow. She had been followed. "Prince Wales?" Asuna's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I wished to apologize again for my conduct," Wales said, standing straight.
"Like I said, I overreacted. I should be the one apologizing," Asuna answered mechanically. Right now, she simply wanted to sleep. There were still so many difficult decision to make. If she could only close her eyes for a little while . . .
"No," the Prince insisted. "I offered offense after you saved my life. My honor demands that I make it right."
Asuna shrugged. "Then take us to the Continent."
Wales smiled, "I confess that is too steep a price, even for the honor of a prince. It is simply that when I saw you in flight, I believe I saw what Emily saw in you."
"That wasn't flying," Asuna said bitterly. "I just know how to fall." She glanced over her shoulder where her pale wings hung hidden beneath her cloak.
"They trouble you," Wales observed.
Asuna almost laughed. After realizing that this world was reality, that this body was flesh and blood, she had wanted to claw her skin off to be rid of the marks left by Sugou. She didn't feel like herself, more like a living doll.
"They're more than just trouble. I've thought of cutting them off."
The Prince's eyes widened.
"I can't even fly with them, so what good are they?"
"I see," Wales said. "Or rather, I do not. Is there nothing I can do to make amends?"
Even now, she knew very little of the Prince as a person, only that Millia had vouched for him and that he had risked his life to save a stranger.
"Prince," Asuna spoke up suddenly, softly.
"Yes?"
"In our country, we are taught that war is a terrible thing. One of the very worst things that people can do to each other."
The Prince grew stiff. "That is true."
"How do you bear it?" Asuna asked. "The killing?"
Wales' eyes widened again and then his face gained a degree of hardness. "Taking a life should never be an enjoyable thing. There should be no pleasure in it. But there should also be no hesitation or regret in protecting others and upholding what you stand for."
"It isn't right," she said softly.
"It isn't," Wales agreed. "In more ways than one. But because of it, I am still alive. So again, I thank you. Not for killing, but for saving my life."
Asuna mulled over the Prince's words. "You're welcome."
Wales smiled again. "I hope my words have helped. Though I confess I am still curious about you."
Asuna frowned.
"About your people," Wales clarified. "I know that you are not Elves. And you insist that you are not truly Faeries. The truth will not change our bargain, so please tell me, who are you?"
If Wales had asked any other way, or at any other time, Asuna would have simply bid him good night. She knew he would respect her wishes if she declined; maybe that was why she answered.
"I don't even know how to begin. We tried to explain it all to Millia-san, but I don't think she really believed us. You can't understand." Asuna shook her head. "No, it's not that. You'll think I'm saying one thing when I mean another."
"It must be quite a story," Wales observed.
"I suppose." Asuna meditated on those words. "Prince Wales, would you like to hear a bedtime story?"
An amused expression crossed his face. "A Faerie's Faerie Tale? That would be a novelty."
Asuna gestured for him to take a seat, noting that Kimura had lifted an eye curiously. The Prince seemed totally unfazed by him. If he could accept Faeries, then what was a talking slug?
As Wales looked on in anticipation, Asuna composed herself, finding a seat before beginning.
"Once upon a time, in a land very far away, there lived a young noble girl. The girl was raised to be elegant and refined, a credit to her mother and father." Asuna spoke. As each line ended, the next began without thought or hesitation.
"One day, the girl's brother was called away, leaving behind an invitation to a grand masquerade to be held by the greatest magician in all of the lands, to be held in his home, a great flying castle of stone and iron known as Aincrad . . ."
Her story took a long time to tell, but at the same time, it seemed short. She told the Prince of the great floating castle whose floors were each unto a county, stacked one atop another. She told him of how the girl took up the sword in defiance. She told him about the war waged against monsters and battles with powerful lieutenant beasts.
And she told him about the boy that the girl had met and shared many adventures with, the Black Swordsman who slew the magician and saved them all.
If it had been a Faerie Tale, that would have been the end. But life was not that simple. Asuna went on, telling Wales of how the girl was freed from the castle only to be trapped by the magician's apprentice, coveting his former master's achievements. She explained how the apprentice had shrouded his victims in the form of Faeries and how, when all seemed lost, they had escaped and found themselves impossibly in Albion.
Prince Wales remained silent. She would hardly blame him if he simply dismissed her tale.
"You're right. It is difficult to explain. But your words ring with truth. I have but one question. This Swordsman. You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Asuna warmed faintly. "Was it that obvious?"
Wales shook his head. "He must be a unique man to hold your affections."
Unique? Maybe. Kirito was many things, none of them special alone. Asuna only knew that if he was in this world, he would be searching as desperately for her as she was for him.
By now, the sun had fully risen and light was slanting down through the trees. Asuna felt her weariness, held at bay as she told her story, return with a vengeance.
"I've kept you long enough," Wales said. Asuna finally noticed signs of fatigue in the Prince's own mien. "Good night, Lady Asuna, or rather good day."
Asuna nodded. "Good day to you too, Prince Wales."
Wales Tudor, Prince of Albion and last Admiral of the Royal Fleet, when there had been a Royal Fleet to command, trudged doggedly up the hill overlooking Queenswall. At the summit stood a low shack built into the side of a decrepit stone tower.
It looked to be nothing but ruins of a bygone era. In fact, it was a Royal Messaging Station. One of many commissioned in the days of Wales' grandfather.
This particular station had seen better days. Still, even in the midst of war, especially in the midst of war, there was a premium placed on communications. Thus, with each captured city and town, the message stations had been usurped by the Rebels.
What Reconquista did not realize was that they had not expunged all Royalist sympathies from their prize. The number of safe stations was few, they had to be used sparingly, but from Queenswall Wales could get word to his ship without rousing suspicion.
Wales knocked heavily on the shack's door before turning to wait for his companion.
With her hempen cloak pulled close, from a distance the Lady Asuna looked innocuous enough. Hopefully she would not have need to withstand closer scrutiny.
"Are you sure we can find help here?" The Faerie girl appeared doubtful. "This place looks abandoned."
"The Rebels can be thanked for that. The postmen chafe as much under their rule as anyone."
The station door cracked ajar. A pair of dark gray eyes peeked out. Then loudly, "By order of the Good Lord Cromwell this message station is closed to the public."
"And yet the birds still fly free, like all true sons of Albion," Wales recited, watching the eyes widen.
"Until they are returned to the bosom of their mother isle?" The query was spoken with mixed caution and excitement.
"To lay before her white cliffs everlasting."
The door swung open. An elderly man dressed meticulously in postal uniform ushered them quickly inside and into a small office seeming as well kept as its occupant. Behind a polished desk stood a bank of slotted cubbyholes half filled with waiting post.
The old man mumbled something under his breath before circling back around and taking a seat at the desk. "Welcome to Royal Messaging Station Number One Hundred and Fifty-Seven. God save the King!" It was said like he had waited the entire war for this moment.
Wales recovered his senses. "We need to send a message. To Skiesedge."
"Station Eight-Nine it is then," the man said. "Not supposing you have the letter with you?"
Wales raised his hands pleadingly. Though the Lady Asuna's Knights had scavenged some stationary, they had lacked the thin paper used for carrier letters.
"Stationary is right over there. A half pence a sheet, ink and pen are complimentary. I tell you what, those Rebel hoodlums come in and just use the stuff. Haven't got any respect for the establishment, I tell you what!"
Wales gave the man a pained smile and turned to the offered writing desk, taking three sheets and laying them out side by side. He duplicated his message three times, each under a different alias and code. If they were by chance intercepted, they would simply be assumed to be contraband.
Wales handed them to the Postman. "I'd like you to send them by three different birds."
"Right you are sir," the old man said with delight. He worked with shaky hands, quickly rolling each letter until it was thinner than a cigarette, before sliding them into brass cylinders sealed with wax. "Well then, come on. Don't you want to see them off?"
Much like the shack, the aviary was better kept on the inside. The birds in their clean cages cooed softly to one another as if commenting on the new arrivals.
"Station Eight Nine, Station Eight Nine . . . Here we are!" The Postman opened one of the cages and gently extracted a medium, gray feathered bird, carefully affixing the first cylinder to its leg and taking it to a small window for release. This was followed by two more before the man wiped his hands on his trousers, smiling happily.
"And that'll be all of it. No need to worry. They're the fastest birds in the Isle. Your letters will arrive by nightfall."
"Excellent," Wales said. "Thank you for your service."
Wales was about to turn to depart when something struck him. "Beg pardon, how much was the postage?"
The Postman shook his head vigorously. "Why you should know sir, official messages are carried free."
"I see." Reaching into his pocket, Wales removed a small purse.
The Postman frowned. "I said the message was sent for free, didn't I?"
Extracting three half pence, Wales took the man's hand and placed them in his palm. "Yes, but you still charge for the stationary." Wales smiled kindly. "We must show respect for the establishment."
The old man looked down and then back up to Wales. "Right you are sir. B-by the way. They've been saying all sorts of . . . of slanderous things down in the town . . . Say the Royalists are almost wiped out. Ah, begging your pardon, but does the Prince Valiant still live?"
"Yes," Wales said gently, "the Prince still lives."
"Good, good." The man nodded his head slowly. "We haven't lost as long as that boy's alive. That's what you gotta keep telling yourself lad! Things can still go back one day." There was something unspeakably sad about the way he spoke, something once proud rendered pitiful.
Standing straight, Wales gave the man a military salute. "God save the King." Wales glimpsed the Lady Asuna silently mirroring his gesture.
"God save the King," the old man said. "And God save the Prince."
Though the closed shack retained no trace of what had transpired within, thoughts of the encounter lingered as they departed.
"That was easier than expected," the Lady Asuna observed.
"You say that as if you were expecting a fight."
"I'm not used to these things being so simple," the girl said. "It's almost boring really."
Wales quirked an eyebrow. "You've most certainly lived in interesting times."
He still didn't know what to make of it. The story she had told was too incredible to believe. Just what had this girl experienced? Just what had she witnessed to make her the person she was now?
His comment was almost enough to draw a smile from Lady Asuna's lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"To have lived through them and survived, it may well be . . . "
A shrill scream carried faintly on the wind set both youths suddenly alert.
"It came from the town," Wales said, already turning to follow the road away from Queenswall. They could ill afford trouble. "Lady Asuna?"
"We should go see," the Faerie said without a moment's hesitation.
Wales grimaced. "We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves."
The cry came again, it had never stopped. The girl glared at him. "These are your people, aren't they?"
"I am aware of their plight." Wales clenched his jaw. "Discretion has been a hard fought virtue."
"Well then, haven't you ever heard of princes helping their people while in disguise?"
Wales sucked in a breath before setting after the girl. He doubted Sir Arguile would think too kindly of him if he allowed her to come to harm.
The noise was coming from an open market, a seasonal affair where farmers bought and traded for the planting season. A crowd blocked the roadway, too thick to see past, but the foot of the hill formed a shoulder allowing Wales and the Lady Asuna to see above the gathered townspeople.
With a small spell cast beneath his cloak, Wales was able to make the sound carry from the scene unfolding below.
"Order! Order you rabble!"
A mage in the uniform of a Rebel officer was busily dragging a woman about by her hair. At his side, a second mage and about a dozen foot soldiers looked on. Sloppy, coming so near a crowd with so few men. The risk of a hidden assailant or the mob surging was simply too great.
"I, SAID, ORDER!" The man nearly ruptured, yanking hard on the woman's hair. She let out another pained cry. "By order of the Good Lord Cromwell you are commanded to submit for inspection! All contraband will be confiscated! Any information leading to the arrest of a Royalist will be rewarded! Any attempt to conceal Royalist sympathies will be punished!"
From somewhere in the crowd, a stone was thrown, not very well, and not very hard. The mage holding the woman barely noticed as it struck his leg. He cast his eyes to the townspeople. A little commoner girl with features matching those of the woman stood her ground, trembling while clutching another stone in her palm.
"Attacking your betters?" the mage asked, looking to her companions. "I see this town has been without discipline for too long." The mage leveled his wand and suddenly the child was falling upwards, shrieking in terror.
A commoner, better dressed than most, stepped forward. "Please sir, she's just a child!"
There were bound to be a handful of mages in the crowd, though unwilling to expose themselves in defense of the child or her mother. As he watched, Wales saw faces turning away in shame.
The Rebel flicked his wand leisurely, each bounce taking the girl higher as she screamed. "You're right of course," he said, yanking again at his captive's hair. "It's a mother's duty to keep her children in line. Though, as they say, it takes a village to raise a child. So I suppose you all owe recompense."
The spokesman swallowed slowly. "N-name your price."
"I think a fine should do," the mage said, glancing to his fellows who nodded in agreement. "Yes, a fine. Of course, it will have to levied on you whole lot. Interfering in an investigation is inexcusable."
At Wales' side the Lady Asuna trembled. In any other girl he would think it fear, but from the look in her eyes, and the stance she had taken, he could describe it only as rage.
"Still yourself," Wales advised softly.
"A fine? More like theft!" The shouting redoubled.
"That's right, I've heard of this! They're using Reconquista's name to line their own pockets!"
"They probably aren't even soldiers!"
The crowd was growing restless. The words were too well coordinated and much too close to the mark. Some fool was trying to whip them up into a frenzy.
"Order I say, in the name of the Good Lord Cromwell!" the mage spluttered, lifting the girl higher into the sky. Fear more than the actual power of the mages kept the crowd back, but a crowd could be fickle and irrational, easily led by anyone who knew what levers to pull.
"Please, everyone remain calm!" the spokesman said, but nobody was listening to him. "Sir, just put the girl down. I'll pay your fine from my own pocket!"
"You don't have the money, Samson," another of the townspeople, a man dressed in the working clothes of a blacksmith, said. "I've seen your purse these last few months. They're stealing bread from the mouths of our children!"
"Back, back all of you!" The mage released the woman and retreated behind his soldiers.
"Horace! Catch the girl!" the blacksmith shouted as he drew his wand. A petty mage. The situation was rapidly growing out of hand.
"Lady Asuna, we need to leave now." But she was immovable, as if cast from bronze.
Suddenly, another stone was thrown from the crowd, faster, and much harder than the first. The mage holding the girl swept his wand down reflexively and deflected the missile. The girl's screams renewed as she plummeted from the sky. The blacksmith raised his wand to catch her. The crowd charged. And the second mage took action.
A tongue of flame licked from the tip of his wand, sweeping across the mob. The unlucky smith, no real fighter, was dazzled by fire and bludgeoned by wind.
"Wales!" Asuna's voice reached him.
The Prince reached out and cast Levitation, reversing the girl's fall. Wild eyed, the fire mage caught sight of his next target, standing on the shoulder of the roadway wielding a wand. Wales saw the man's arm extend, he saw the chant passing his lips. There was no time to do anything but guard as the flames rushed in.
Asuna willed her body forward. She was past Wales and halfway to the market in the blink of an eye. Then she was vaulting the low stone wall that sided the shoulder of the roadway, sweeping around the crowd.
The girl reached the apex of her arc. Asuna felt her sense of self expanding, stretching from her back, alive and hot like electrical wire. She wasn't fast enough, she wasn't going to make it.
And so she jumped, and so the girl fell, and so Asuna flew.
For an instant the wings on her back were not lifeless things. They were a part of her, and though she didn't understand how to use them, it didn't matter. She only needed to go forward, fast.
Fifteen meters from the ground, at the edge of her wing-boosted leap, Asuna grabbed the child and held her close. She felt her wings stretching out, catching the air. Then she hit the ground, legs folding and body hunching forward to absorb the impact and convert it into a forward roll, shielding the girl. They came tumbling to a halt in a cloud of dust.
For a brief moment there was silence. The girl clung to her in terror, tears running down her face, hands clutching white knuckled at Asuna's blouse. Slowly, she looked up, her grip loosening and her mouth falling open.
"Are you okay?" Asuna asked.
The girl nodded slowly as big, dark, innocent eyes filled with wonder. "A-are you a Faerie?"
Asuna's heart skipped a beat. Nobody could have missed the wings that glowed faintly as they stretched from her back, folded like a dragonfly at rest. The crowd was silent, stunned. Even the mages had stopped mid duel, waiting to see what she would do. She simply smiled.
"Un," Asuna nodded, letting go and standing slowly. "Now wait here."
They had come to a stop just a few paces from the mage who had started this all. He stood slack jawed as Asuna approached. The Maeve's face became a mask, cold and emotionless. That seemed to make the man remember himself.
Too slow.
Asuna sidestepped a wind blast and was then on top of him.
The rapier's first thrust sliced clean along the inside of the forearm on the wand hand side. The man let out a shriek as his hand fell uselessly open. The next strike was along his opposite flank, then again along the opposite shoulder, left upper arm, right forearm, right upper arm. It was like a dance, each thrust eating away at him as he screamed in pain.
He collapsed in a twitching heap before Asuna, who regarded her work clinically. She hadn't really done that much damage. Her aim had been to hurt and humiliate, not kill, and in that she had succeeded magnificently.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The mage wept as he tried to crawl away. Asuna struck one more time, just grazing his cheek, and watched with some distaste as a stain spread across the front of his trousers. She stamped on the man's fallen wand, cracking it in two, then took a half step back, eyes flicking to the commoner soldiers leveling their weapons. Six found the courage to charge.
She rushed forward to meet them. The men faltered, not knowing how to respond to a winged waif of a girl who was unafraid to charge them. Her rapier licked out, catching the first man in the hand, causing him to lose his grip on his weapon. The next man received a strike to the inside of his upper arm.
She danced in and out, threading between the soldiers. No sooner had she disabled one than she was behind him and on to the next. It didn't seem fair. This was no place for 'fairness'.
The fourth man managed to swing his halberd, aiming a bone shattering blow. Rather than twist away, the swordswoman brought her rapier up, sliding it along the halberd's shaft and diverting the swing as she stepped close, before countering with a thrust under the arm.
Having had time to see and grow horrified, the last two men stumbled back behind the remainder of their line, readying crossbows and taking aim, when a gust of wind swept over them and laid the whole group flat. Wales had made short work of the fire mage, and had come to her aid.
And then it was over, but for the cries of pain and pleas for mercy, and the uncertain murmuring of the mob making sense of what they had witnessed.
"Sophie!" The woman from before broke from the crowd to snatch up her daughter. She looked up to Asuna and the approaching Wales, her eyes resting for a moment on Asuna's ears and then her wings. Asuna bit her lip. They'd have to break through and make it back into the forest. "T-Thank you. Thank you!"
Applause and whistles of admiration rose from the crowd. Asuna blinked, startled.
"We need to leave now." Wales touched her on the shoulder, voice soft but carrying a hint of urgency. Nobody paid much mind to the Prince, they were much too enamored with Asuna.
"If you want be going, then take flight now." The Blacksmith who had been the first to try and save the child limped forward, nursing his brow. "Which way would you like us to tell'm you flew?"
Wales paused. "Say that we went north."
"They'll believe that, sure enough," the blacksmith agreed, taking another look at Asuna. "Doubt they'll believe Medb has returned to her Isle though."
Asuna wasn't pleased by the words, but somehow they stung less at that moment. From the corner of her eye she noticed the crowd closing in on the soldiers. "What will you do with them?"
The smith chuckled evilly. "They threatened a townswoman and her daughter. Even Reconquista will want no trouble with that. We've ways of making examples of men like them. Mark my words."
"Two mages seriously injured, their supporting foot soldiers found hung upside down, bound, gagged and beaten to a pulp. No reported casualties. Quite peculiar, if I may say so, Sir."
Sir Terrance Dunwell, former knight in service of the Royal House of Albion, and now serving at the Good Lord Cromwell's pleasure, listened as Sir Wells offered his report.
"Multiple minor lacerations and contusions across the arms and face of one mage. Burns and blunt force trauma to the other. Both men were also . . . tarred and feathered."
"They still do that here?"
"It's a minor miracle they weren't lynched," Sir Wells observed. "Their commander wants punitive measures to be leveled against those responsible."
"On what grounds?" Sir Dunwell asked.
"Apparently, 'interfering with the lawful duties' of his men."
"What he means is extortion and highway robbery." Truly, he had no time for these matters. "Tell the good Garrison Captain that Lord Cromwell will not look favorably on him harassing the people of Queenswall."
"As you wish, Sir." Wells bowed his head.
"Now, on to our mission here," the senior knight said, gesturing to the site of the incident.
The disturbance, a thoroughly forgettable thing in its own right, had come to his attention due to the accompanying reports that the town of Queenswall was abuzz with the involvement of a 'Faerie'.
Accounts said that it had been a beautiful young woman wielding a silver white sword, borne aloft by gossamer wings. Rumors had already spread that what they had witnessed had been a daughter of Medb. Already it was making the townspeople less than cooperative.
Sir Dunwell paused in thought.
His original mission in York had been to investigate rumors of Royalist sympathizers. Someone was feeding information allowing the Royalists to seize shipments with dismaying reliability.
Dunwell suspected there was only one ship. Most of the rest of the Royal Fleet was accounted for, either captured or destroyed. And if it was just one ship, it would have to be a particular ship captained by a particular young man.
At York, a youth of the Prince's age and build had been seen aiding the Elf in escaping. That youth had certainly been no commoner sellsword.
Dunwell frowned. It was a satisfying narrative of course. Prince Wales was known to travel in disguise, but he could not fathom what the heir to Albion's throne would be doing so far inland. Had he separated, or been separated, from his ship? In either case, his intention might have been to enlist aid.
"The prevailing report is that the two assailants departed north in the direction of the front lines. They may plan to break through and make for Newcastle," Sir Wells said.
"Indeed," Dunwell responded, still distracted. But that didn't make any sense. The front lines were closing in on Newcastle with every passing day. No doubt the townspeople were attempting to protect their benefactors, some misguided gratitude at play.
The dissenters had claimed that the duo were traveling east. But to where?
"We should send a message to the front lines in any case," Dunwell decided, and then paused as he eyes fell upon the message tower at the top of the hill. "Sir Wells . . . come with me."
The knight followed closely behind his commander as they hiked up the hill. Sir Wells hammered solidly on the door to the Royal Message Station. A few moments later, a gray haired commoner peeked his head out.
"Good day to you sir," the man said. "God save the Good Lord Cromwell. How may I be of service?"
Dunwell spared the man barely a glance as he pushed the door open and swept inside. The birds in their cages hooted in fright. Half the coops were empty and thoroughly scrubbed down. His eyes came to rest on three cages, all listed Eighty Nine. Feathers and feed bore testimony that the birds had been released not long ago.
"Sir Dunwell?" Sir Wells asked.
"A message drop," Dunwell softly replied. "They sent a message from here to Station Eighty Nine."
"I'll send a dragon immediately," Sir Wells said.
"No. They'll have been received by now. But I suspect I know the contents."
Sweeping back into the post room Dunwell continued past the sputtering postman to stand before a map of Albion that had been nailed to one of the walls. The Isle was peppered with numbers. Eighty Nine was some distance to the south of York along the edge of the Isle to the south-east. Dunwell grabbed a piece of pencil and began drawing a series of short concentric arcs centered on Queenswall and expanding eastward.
"Hey, what you are you . . . ?!" Sir Wells clamped a hand down on the shoulder of the elderly postman.
Finally, Dunwell's markings reached the coast. They would follow the roadways to make good time . . . There were only a handful of places that would make for good rendezvous points along the curve of the coast. A ship would either have to risk overflying the Isle, or stay near one of several pockets where the turbulent air streams abated.
Satisfied, Dunwell strode over to a small writing desk. Taking two sheets of paper, he duplicated and signed his instructions on each. His eyes wandered to a small placard, and with barely a thought he placed two half-pence pieces in the collection tray.
"I have a priority dispatch to be delivered to York. I would like you to use two birds. I will of course see them off myself," Dunwell said, offering the sheets to the shaken postman.
The forest was as silent as a grave. That was fitting, Caramella thought as she walked over beside Prince Wales and Arguile. The late afternoon sun was setting over the crest of the trees, it wouldn't be long before they could start moving again.
But before that, there was still some unfinished business that needed to be seen to. Caramella gave the man a glance. He was a murderer and very likely a rapist. What was more, he was now more of a liability than an asset.
She almost wished she'd finished the job that first night, she could have excused herself for acting in the heat of battle. As a former member of the Aincrad Liberation Army she had resigned herself to the fact that she might one day have to kill an orange or red player. But the very nature of Aincrad guaranteed that if she did, it would be an act of self defense.
And so, Caramella had been almost grateful when the matter had come to the attention of Prince Wales. The youth, no, the kid, he was younger than her, had listened calmly as Arguile retold the events of their arrival in Albion.
"He assaulted a woman, a noble woman, with intent to force himself upon her and then murder her," Wales recited. "Why have you not put him to death?" The Prince's voice was tinged not just with anger but disbelief.
"Look. It's not that simple," Caramella had offered.
"Another of your customs?" Wales had asked.
"In a manner of speaking," Arguile sighed. "Passing judgment on the man is easy, actually going through with it is . . . More difficult."
Finally, with a level of insight that had surprised Caramella, Wales spoke. "The Lady Asuna is no doubt conflicted in this matter."
Arguile nodded hesitantly, "It's my fault, I've allowed this to go on to spare her."
"You fear that she can't bring herself to do it?" Wales asked.
"I fear that she can."
The Prince's brows rose. "I see," he said simply. "This man has committed a grave crime. As an Admiral in service to the Crown, I am granted judicial powers in times of war. I would like you to remand the prisoner to my custody." There was a sort of cold kindness in the Prince's eyes.
With that, the matter was brought before Asuna. Their leader had grown very quiet. It was clear that she had been thinking about it as well, but had been able to distract herself with other things.
"Lady Asuna, that man is a criminal and a danger if he is released. I understand that you vowed not to harm him if he cooperated," Wales said, "but he has broken the laws of my Kingdom, and I have jurisdiction over this matter. I will not see him escape justice. Your vow and honor will be untarnished if I take this case into my own hands."
Asuna gave a small and tired nod. "This is your country, so I don't have any right to argue about your laws . . . though I should be there to see this through."
"No. You shouldn't." Arguile had placed a hand on Asuna's shoulder. The girl breathed in slowly, looking up at the Knight. "Please do not argue, Asuna-sama. Grant me this much."
It had been clear that Asuna wanted badly to protest, but for once she did not. "Very well. Prince Wales," Asuna said, "I'll leave this matter in your hands."
And so it was that the two members of Asuna's troop plus a prince and a prisoner found themselves in a small clearing out beyond the perimeter marked by the sentries.
"This is far enough," Arguile decided.
Taking hold of the prisoner's bound hands, the Knight yanked off the man's blindfold and pulled the gag from his mouth. The mercenary didn't look much better now than the day Caramella had pummeled him. The bruising had turned to welts, hidden beneath a slowly thickening beard. Nobody had been willing to trust him with as much as a butter knife.
The man struggled against his bonds. "I've been cooperatin' 'aven't I?"
"You have," Arguile agreed coldly. The look in his eyes was one of utter loathing. "As a matter of fact, I'd say you've more than earned your freedom." With that, the Knight pushed the man toward the waiting Prince Wales. "So go ahead. Though I believe this man might have business with you."
"An' who the 'ell are you?" the man croaked.
"I am Wales Tudor, Crown Prince of Albion. By my authority as an Admiral in service of the Crown, I hereby sentence you for the high crimes of murder, assault of a noblewoman, and attempted murder of the same."
"What are you on about?" the mercenary spluttered, looking back at Arguile in disbelief. "What is he on about?" From her vantage point leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed, Caramella watched the scene unfold. The least she could do was not look away.
The Prince continued calmly as if the outburst hadn't happened. "The woman you were witnessed taking liberties with was the third daughter of the Count of Windsor."
The condemned man's lips moved, eyes flicking about for a way to escape, and then he started to snicker. "Oy, I see 'ow it is!" The man's shoulders sank in resignation. "Well then, go ahead boy, 'ave your justice!" Caramella had to give the bastard credit, he wasn't groveling for his life.
Wales lifted his wand and then paused. "I will give you a moment to make your peace with God and Founder."
The mercenary barked a short laugh. "I part'd company with the Founder a long time ago. Jus' tell me one thing . . . You're really the Prince Valiant?"
Wales nodded slowly. The condemned man laughed again, hoarsely. "Aye, princes and Faeries." The man's breath eased. "Alright lad. At least I go by the hands of royalty." He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Arguile placed his hands on the man's shoulders and forced him to kneel.
Wales regarded the mercenary for moment longer, and then with a flick of his wrist drove an air needle through the man's temple. One second there was a man kneeling there, the next it was just a corpse hitting the ground, eyes sightless, blood rushing from the nose. The Prince gave the the body one last look, prodding a limp shoulder with the tip of his cane. Satisfied, he turned, giving and receiving a small nod from Arguile, before making his way back towards camp.
Caramella and Arguile remained silent for a while, both staring at the body. She realized suddenly that they'd never bothered to get the man's name. Maybe Asuna knew it, but if she did, she hadn't shared it with anyone.
"Glad that it's dealt with?" Caramella asked, coming to stand at Arguile's side.
The Knight continued to stare at the body. "Relieved, I suppose."
"Does it . . . bother you?" she asked awkwardly.
"Not as much as it should," Arguile admitted. "What is this place doing to us?"
Caramella didn't answer. "Should we we bury him?"
"No, the forest will deal with him soon enough. . . . You're right, I'm glad it's dealt with. And I'm thankful she didn't have to see this."
Caramella looked up at the Knight. He was a bit of an uptight asshole, but underneath that there was a decent person. "Hey, 'Guile?"
"Hm?"
"Why do you worry so much about her?"
He closed his eyes. "I worry about everyone," the Knight replied matter of factly.
"Well, yeah," Caramella admitted, the front liner was tireless. The only person who worked harder was Asuna herself. "But I mean, you seem to have a special interest in Asuna-sama."
"Of course I do," the man agreed, frowning. His face was very good at that. "We were in the same guild. Though I was never close to her. She had Hea . . . the Commander, and her own trusted friends to confide in. Moreover, she is our leader. Her wellbeing is essential."
Caramella's eyelids drooped suspiciously. "It's more than that . . . " then she asked, cautiously enunciating each word. "You don't, have a thing for her, do you?"
The question received an almost immediate rise and a deadly glare.
"Just checking. I worry about her too after all, and not just because she's our leader. She's . . ."
"She's someones little girl," Arguile said softly.
"Y-yeah," Caramella agreed, that fit almost perfectly. She wasn't the best judge of appearances, but Asuna was too darn young to have done the things she'd done and seen the things she'd seen.
The Knight breathed slowly and looked up through the trees. "We're supposed to be the adults. Children are supposed to rely on us. But in Aincrad we were all just swept up in Asuna-sama's wake. We're still relying on her."
The former Army player tried to think of something to say. Hearing the big man admitting weakness wasn't something she'd ever thought she'd be around for. Finally, she settled for cuffing him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you're pretty useless. Do what you can, we'll try to pick up the slack."
Arguile turned and began the hike back to camp. Caramella was about to follow him when something struck her. Fishing around in a pouch on her belt she retrieved a silver mark. She placed the coin in the man's cooling hand and shut his eyes. "Even a bastard needs to the pay the ferryman, right?"
By the time they got back people were already stirring, getting ready for what would hopefully be their last night on the march. Caramella noticed a couple of survivors carefully lacing their boots, an almost lost art in Aincrad. There had been some painful blisters in the re-learning.
Wales had already returned to Asuna's side, furiously sketching something in the earth at their feet. If anything more had been said about the prisoner and what had just transpired, neither the Prince nor Asuna gave any sign.
"The Eagle will be waiting for us here. It's a dead zone in the drafts that occur around the edge of the Isle. My crew will stand by for my signal, and then rush in to retrieve us. It would be best that I be at the head of the group when that happens." The Prince smiled ironically. "To avoid misunderstandings you see."
"Having the troop well organized tonight is essential," Asuna said. "We can't afford to take too much time."
"I'll see that everyone is in their traveling groups and inform the squads," Arguile responded.
Final preparations were made. A sort of routine had developed over the past days to keep the column in good order. The civilians had been organized into eleven groups of around twenty apiece. Each was assigned a leader, who reported to Nishida, who in turn reported to Asuna.
The eighty odd combat players had been reformed along the lines of a raid party. Squads B, C, D, and E were responsible for column escort. F and G traveled on point. H and I squads fanned out behind the troop to catch any stragglers, and J brought up the rear. Lastly, A squad remained as a mobile detachment.
The night was clear, but both moons were barely slivers in the sky. Wales told them that it was a good sign. There would be enough light to see airborne patrols, but it would be difficult to be seen in turn.
They parted company with the road as it curved south, continuing east back into forest, climbing one last ridge that brought the coast into view. The land formed a shallow half bowl descending towards a portion of the cliff face that had fractured long ago.
Caramella looked to Kino. "Hey, you finally get to be up on one of those airships."
The knife user nodded with embarrassment. "They're pretty cool looking right? . . . What kind of ship is the Eagle anyway?"
"She's a frigate," Wales said, seemingly pleased to describe his ship. "In times of war she acts as a scout and commerce raider detached from the fleet. My crew and I have been able to use her to curtail the Rebel efforts to supply their front line forces, and in doing so, resupply our own stronghold at Newcastle."
"It sounds like you've become pirates yourselves," Asuna observed.
"We are pirates, Lady Asuna," Wales admitted. "Though, we prefer to consider ourselves privateers."
Nishida was about to say something else when he was cut off by a shriek and a sudden pop and flash of light in the sky. All eyes turned skyward as another jet of flame erupted upwards, before blossoming into a brilliant red flower.
'Fireworks?' Caramella thought, but already her heart was racing, instincts making sense of the signs and responding faster than her conscious mind. She heard whistles coming from the direction of the forest and sudden shouts.
"Flares!" Wales growled, eyes slowly widening. "Lady Asuna, we must move now! This is an ambush!"
On nights like this, Sir Dunwell could almost forget himself. The pale cliffs were peaceful. The only sounds were the rush of high winds and the gentle creaking of the Hawken's buffeted hull. At his side, the dragon Scirroco chirped softly.
"We haven't had the time lately to enjoy this view, have we?"
"Speaking to your dragon again?" Sir Wells asked as he came to stand beside his superior.
"An old habit," Dunwell replied.
"The men seem to think you're married more to your drake than any woman," Sir Wells replied, then cringed at the look given by his superior. "My apologies, Sir."
"Perhaps I can only accept a partner who meets my unreasonable standards," Dunwell snorted. Scirocco gave a satisfied croon.
"Then if you don't mind my asking, the rumors of a mistress?"
"Quite baseless." Dunwell waved a hand. "Where would I find the time?"
"Very good Sir," Sir Wells nodded. "The Raptor should be in position by now. There is little to do but wait."
The use of the bays and coves as safe landing points was a natural decision. It was what Dunwell himself would have done. But that still left the question of which one. He'd been able to narrow it down to two. One nearer to York but with calmer winds better suited handling a ship, the other further south and more secluded, but demanding a more treacherous approach.
Dunwell had sent the Raptor and half his forces to watch the northern approach, while taking the more southern bay for himself.
There was, of course, the possibility that their prey would use neither port. They would know in a day or two if this was a wasted venture. If that was the case, then so be it. The men and material had been doing little good stewing in York.
Along the coast, so small it could almost be missed, a red light blossomed for a moment. A signal flare, an invention used by commoner soldiers. The Knight Captain gave a satisfied grunt. So his suspicions had been correct.
"It seems that luck is with us. Sir Wells. Make ready the men." He turned back to his familiar. "Shall we go?"
The dragon bowed her great head and stooped her shoulders for him to take the saddle. In one fluid motion, Scirroco dove over the side of the Hawken, her wings catching the wind. Five more drakes followed. The endless mists beneath Scirroco were soon replaced by the close rushing trees of Albion's shores.
Another flare rocketed into the sky, and then another.
Scattered trees obscured Dunwell's view, but by straining his eyes the Captain thought he could see movement. Then, a gout of flame cast illumination through trees, and he cursed. They had expected and prepared for a handful of fugitives, but before the light from the flames faded he was able to count dozens.
The fighting was fast devolving into chaos. At least a hundred heads running for the coast, while the ambush force was in disarray fighting . . . something. As Dunwell watched, a solitary warrior wielding a sword and shield charged against a fire mage. The mage swept forth a great fan of fire, only to be thwarted by the warrior's speed. Jumping up onto a tree stump and them vaulting over the flame, crashing down atop the luckless mage.
All across the forest the scene repeated itself. The apparitions moved swiftly in small groups, gathering together for attacks before scattering and falling back. Here a block of musketeers was shattered, on the flank a group of mages was pressed back, but before reinforcements could arrive the attackers would always retreat.
It was a delaying action.
"Sir Wells," he threw his voice to his second in command, "Do not let them make it to the coast." He recalled again the Dragon Knights who had been killed, and the leaping ability he had witnessed in York. "Stay high and drive the flames."
Trusting Scirroco to keep an eye out for threats, Dunwell set to directing the battle, using his cane to throw commands to the men. With some coordination between the commoner formations and scattered mages restored, the ambush force was once again able to advance.
In response to the sudden change in tempo, the behavior of the fighters also changed. A small group struck out. At their lead was . . . Dunwell blinked. It was a girl, a girl with wings? Long slender wings, gossamer white, spread from her back.
She danced between the spells of two of the mages, delivering a rain of thrusts faster than the eye could see. The first mage fell, but even before he had struck ground the girl sank to her knees to evade the second.
The arrival of their champion seemed to give the beleaguered fighters new strength. Sweeping south he found himself above another group of hard pressed soldiers beating back a concerted attack. The fighting was becoming too intertwined to do anything more from the air
No, coordinating from above could only do so much good.
"Keep guard," Dunwell said as he undid his restraints and slipped from the neck of his familiar. The ground was racing towards him as he began to incant, gathering the air around him and spinning it faster and faster until it reached a single point.
"Caramella!"
The cry from Kino was the only thing that saved her. If she hadn't jumped back at that instant, she would have been pulped instantly. Not that it helped much. When she opened her eyes she found herself on her back a good ten meters from where she had started. This was getting old.
A lone mage stood at ground zero. He didn't look much different from the others, better dressed perhaps. The only things that really distinguished him were age and posture. The other mages seemed on edge, the former SAO players had forced them out of their comfort zone by pushing them into a close range fight. But this guy had charged right in.
"Is he a Dragon Knight?" the man to Caramella's left, a heavy shield user named Clive, asked.
She nodded slowly. "I'm getting a bad vibe off of him."
They were in a bad position to deal with an unknown, Arguile had broken off to lead the rearguard, and they'd been separated from Asuna. Caramella wasn't even sure where they were relative to everyone else.
"Let's hit him like the ones earlier," Clive called. "Keep coordinated and we can take him."
"R-right," Caramella gritted out. The three Faeries split up, Kino racing to the side while Caramella followed behind Clive. Clive would get her close, then she would rush in using her speed. If an opportunity presented itself, Kino would move to distract or neutralize the mage from the side.
That was the way it was supposed to work. Clive struck out with his spear, putting all of his inhuman speed and strength into the thrust. The mage brought his cane-wand up, wielding it like a fencer's foil, and suddenly Clive was out of position.
The big man brought his shield up just in time as tip of the cane connected. He was sent flying back, barely missing Caramella who found herself too close to retreat.
So, she attacked. Her first sword strike was deflected by the mage's cane, the same went for the second. She was faster than this jerk, so how the hell was he doing it? Her sword wasn't connecting with the cane, it was stopping a finger's width from the shaft.
'Hax!'
And then he was pushing her back, thrusting with the cane like it was a sword. The man's tempo sped up, a thrust got between her shield and sword guard, grazing her cheek.
Caramella ducked down behind her shield and pushed off into a tackle. At the last moment he shielded himself behind a curtain of wind. With nothing but a gesture from his wand, the spiraling wall of air blossomed outwards.
Caramella felt the shield straps wrenching free, throwing her out of position. The mage kicked the earth at his feet, a mixture of gravel and coarse sand. He trailed his cane through the dust, pulling the debris close around the shaft of the cane. A special technique?
This time he swung like he was handling a meat cleaver. The edge of her sword burst in a shower of sparks. Caramella pulled back reflexively, probably the only thing that saved her life. When she opened her eyes, her sword ended in a jagged red glow above the hilt.
She shivered . . . 'No way. No freaking way!'
She looked up at the mage intent on delivering the final blow. At the last instant the man switched his attention to Caramella's left, the shroud of sand around his cane vanishing as an air shield defected a throwing knife.
Kino was on him in a heartbeat. The mage danced back, weaving between blows. Then he was countering again. A quick burst caught Kino in the stomach, throwing him bodily through the air.
The mage ducked to the side, then pivoted on the balls of his feet as a third assailant came crashing down on him, garbed in brilliant red and white. Arguile roared as he forced the mage back.
"Caramella, take Kino and go! Caramella?!"
Caramella was frozen by what she was witnessing. This was how a top tier front liner fought. Relentless attack and defense, no fear, just initiative and reaction. The mage had more raw power, but up close he had to fight like a swordsman. That didn't mean Arguile was having it entirely his way, the mage seemed to have a bottomless supply of dirty tricks.
Arguile broke off for an instant, diving to the side as a wind whip tore through the air and splintered a tree at his back. "Caramella! If we don't get back now, they're leaving us behind!"
"Hgn," Kino, doubled over in pain, pulled at Caramella's wrist, breaking her trance.
"Go!" Arguile roared. The Knight dug the tip of his two-handed sword into the earth and swung, throwing up a cloud of dust before using his speed to sweep around the now enshrouded mage.
At the edge of her hearing, Caramella could just make out a faint high pitched clicking coming from within the cloud, it nagged at her memory, like the sounds made by dolphins . . . or bats?
The cloud began to collapse in on itself, on the mage, on a single point at the end of his cane. Arguile was suddenly caught exposed in mid thrust. The mage moved calmly to the side and touched the end of his cane to the Knight's torso. The point burst, it blossomed outwards, into Arguile, and through him.
There was so much blood.
Arguile's sword flew from his hands. The mage stepped back, letting him drop to the ground, a fist sized hole punched through his chest.
Caramella tried to will herself to move, but, but she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't work. It was like her Nerve Gear was busted, she couldn't move this useless body. Why couldn't she move?
"Caramella!" Kino screamed, and she moved, diving to grab Arguile's discarded sword. She locked blades with the mage, screaming in rage and hurt. Then the man was falling back, no, she had been scooped from her feet and thrown over Clive's shoulder as they fled.
"Damnit, put me down! Put me down damn it! You jerks! Kino, please, tell him to let me down, Kino, please, please, we can't leave him! We can't just leave him back there! Please!" And then she couldn't see anything past the watery film of her own tears.
The seamstress Maki cried out in pain. She hadn't been hit, but she had tripped. Slender pink tendrils wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the air and depositing her atop the back of a giant slug beside the fisherman Nishida and two injured front liners.
"Giddyup Kimura-san!" Nishida cried.
"I am not an equine!" the slug replied indignantly.
A pair of spearmen attempted to attack the unwieldy Kimura and the easy looking targets on his back, only to discover just how strong and dexterous a slime type mob's tentacles could be. Pink tendrils grabbed hold of them, crushing ribs and windpipes without Kimura ever slowing.
Asuna tried not to look too long at Kimura's handiwork. At her back the sleek bulk of their rescue clung to the cliff face. Wales had been quite surprised to find the Eagle had already arrived. The Prince had been angered that his men had disobeyed his orders, but Asuna wasn't going to complain about their lack of discipline.
"Two sixty-six, sixty-eight, two seventy!" Asuna counted off heads as Kimura arrived. "Where are the rest?"
"Asuna-san!" Nishida leaped down from the back of the slug. "The rear civilian groups took casualties, and so did their guards!"
"I know that!" Asuna shook her head. "But it can't have been that many!"
The time since the ambush began seemed to be a blur of fighting and running. It could have been anything from five minutes to five hours. "Some of them must still be out there!"
"Lady Asuna! We must go now! We've sighted another frigate!" Prince Wales shouted down from the deck as his bewildered crew helped the survivors aboard.
Asuna desperately scanned the treeline, spotting three more forms bursting from the forest. Focusing on them, her vision closed in. Caramella, Kino, and Clive. A brief flush of relief raced through her.
Another form appeared behind them. At first she thought it must be another front liner, no normal human could move that fast. But the figure wasn't running so much as bounding in brief bursts of speed, and the cane clutched in his hand was proof that he was a mage.
Wales spotted the approaching mage at the same time, and was determined to hold him at bay. "Batteries, prepare to fire!"
"No, you'll hit the others!" Pulling loose from Nishida, Asuna broke into a sprint to meet the mage. The man saw her; crashing to a halt he crouched down and lashed out with a wind whip, first low, then striking high. The smoke from the fires gave Asuna enough warning to dodge.
Changing tack, the mage grabbed at the soil and threw it up in a cloud before driving it forward, a blast of sand and grit that grazed at her shoulder and cheek.
Then she was within striking distance. The man didn't survive so much by evading as propelling himself backwards in bursts of wind, staying just out of reach. He couldn't match Asuna's reflexes, but in terms of linear speed he was almost her equal.
A wind whip lashed out, bringing a burning tree down between them.
"Lady Asuna!" Wales' voice thundered in her skull. She gave the mage one last look and then bolted back towards the Eagle. The ship was already pulling loose from the dock. "Jump!" Wales shouted. And so she did, throwing herself across the gap. "Now, all batteries fire!"
Asuna slammed her hands over her ears as the broadside erupted. She'd thought sailing ship cannons were supposed to fire big iron balls, but the Eagle's guns fired whole clouds of smaller shot. Trees were splintered and men torn to shreds.
"Reload!" the Prince commanded.
From the corner of her eye Asuna caught a dark shape rising from the burning forest. It let out a long cry and then angled off, unwilling to approach the Eagle.
"All hands, cast off, half sail! Make ready for full sail as soon as we've passed the turbulence!" As the Prince gave his orders, his men struggled past the refugees left on deck, climbing out onto the wing-sails to extend masts and tie down lines. "Lady Asuna, if you please," Wales invited. Looking about in confusion Asuna obeyed, climbing the stairs to where Wales stood.
"You said there's a frigate after us?" Asuna asked.
"Indeed," Wales replied gravely. "A look at her rigging leads me to believe it's the Hawken or one of her sister ships. They're of an older line than the Eagle. We'll have no trouble evading her once we're clear of this cove."
"And until then?" Asuna asked.
"Pray that the winds favor us." The Prince glared at an elderly white haired man at his side. "Which reminds me, Maison, I believe I instructed you to await my signal."
"Indeed you did, your Highness." The man adjusted his glasses.
"I'm glad you came," Asuna said, looking down on the deck.
They might all be dead now if the crew hadn't taken the initiative to save their Captain. If there had been any delay, that other frigate could just as easily have done to the forest what the Eagle had done with its batteries.
"Thank you, Maison-san."
The elderly man gave a small bow, "Of course, my Lady Asuna. It is my pleasure to be of service. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lieutenant Lawrence Maison, Executive Officer of the Eagle."
"I do believe you mean my butler," Wales countered.
"Butler, Executive Officer, and whatever else is needed of me," the man replied.
The Prince nodded in acceptance. "Lady Asuna, please feel free to see to your people. Once we are safely beneath the mists we can speak more."
Wales had deferred to her on land, so it was only right that she obey him in the skies.
One of the crew showed her the way below deck, watching her with barely concealed wonder. Her wings had apparently convinced the crew, even more than their own Prince's claims, that the mysterious troop was benevolent. If it made their journey easier, then Asuna could accept it.
The lower decks of the Eagle were packed with the survivors, taking up what little space wasn't filled with the ship's supplies. She found Nishida wandering about the hold. The elderly man gave her a tired smile.
"I have some good news, Asuna-san. We miscounted. Two hundred and eighty."
'Seven more safe,' Asuna thought. "That's . . . wonderful news." It was, but it shouldn't be. "Thank you, Nishida-san."
Asuna wandered deeper into the hold. People looked at her as she moved. She paused, speaking with them, consoling them. And then she reached two figures huddled up near the bow.
"Caramella-san, Kino-san, I'm glad you're both safe," Asuna said, and put on her kindest smile.
She became worried when Kino didn't meet her gaze, and then moreso when Caramella wouldn't look up. "What's wrong?" she asked. Of course, everything was wrong. They'd lost people . . . people . . . One person hadn't been at her side when she'd spoken with Wales. She'd thought maybe he'd be below decks . . .
Caramella looked up, her expression broken. A two-handed sword was cradled in her arms. Asuna felt something break inside herself.
"I . . . I . . ." Caramella hiccuped. She didn't get beyond that before Asuna was hugging the older woman tightly. The Army fighter shook like a leaf.
"He's gone . . ." Kino whispered. "He's really gone . . ." and so Asuna pulled Kino into her embrace as well, holding both tightly as they let out their grief.
The others around them watched, but remained silent. Tonight, there would be time enough for all of them to shed tears.
William Thorn, First Mate of the clipper ship Sabrina, out of port at last after three days under lockdown in York, leaned down and rapped gently on the wine casks lining the ship's hold. At least they'd found something to turn a profit. Though prying the casks from the hands of the trading house had been bloody murder.
Windsor vintage was highly sought after by the up and coming nobility of Germania, who would follow any trend if it was considered the fashionable thing to do. A bunch of tasteless backstabbers the lot of them. At least, that's what his father would say, and why Thorn the elder would have no problem ratcheting up the price three or four fold.
Whistling to himself, William tapped lightly on the lid of each cask until he found one that sounded hollow. Taking a crowbar he managed to wedge the lid off despite the protest of the wood. The strong scent of wine spilled from the inside, along with a brown haired young woman. Squinting in the dim light of the hold, Emily looked up groggily.
"The inspectors have been seen off. We've been released into open air."
"Oh . . . good," she said, shaking her head. "I think I might have gotten drunk on the wine fumes." She squinted. "They never mention that in novels."
"Oy, watch it there. You 'aven't got your air legs yet." And, he realized, she may well be a little drunk. "You know, we could have just dressed you as one'o the crew. They wouldn't be looking for a gel 'mongst this sorry lot, and I can promise no man on this ship would do you any harm."
"No, no, quite alright, it was no trouble, besides, this was my idea," Emily said, blinking away stars that only she could see. "Now then, I need to see the Captain." She set off with a slight stagger, only to have William turn her around carefully so she was facing the stairs up onto the deck.
Captain Thorn was busy shouting a mixture of orders and threats at his crew. "Lady Windsor!" he chuckled as he saw her. "I'm glad you could see fit to join us. I'm happy to say more spacious accommodation has opened up since you booked your flight."
"Yes, well, thank you for taking this risk on my behalf," Emily said.
"I owed your Prince, and I fear there's little time left for me to make good on my debts. We're heading for Germania, and I can let you off there. It's a rough country, but not so savage as people say. If you survived in Albion at a time like this, you'll be able to make a life for yourself there." The Captain grinned. "Supposing you ain't afraid of a little hard work."
"No, I'm not afraid of labor." Emily's face pinched up in irritation. "But I have one request."
"If it's to marry my son, I'm afraid I will never allow any maiden to make that mistake," Captain Thorn said with a grin. Thorn the younger gave Emily an exaggerated, crestfallen look.
"Captain!" Emily said hotly.
"Alright! Alright!" the man said. "Speak your piece, girl."
"I would like you to take me to Tristain."
Captain Thorn frowned. "Aye, it's a fine Kindgom and all, but I'm afraid we're set to overfly the ocean into Germania on these winds."
"Please, Captain," Emily pleaded. "What you said, about the Faeries. I need to get there and speak to them."
"Why in such a hurry? The White Isle will be there in a few days," Captain Thorn said.
"Yes, but Miss Asuna and her cohort may not!" The landless Countess placed a hand to her chest. "The least I can do is speak to her kin." Emily looked up, "You say you owe Prince Wales a great debt. Please consider fulfilling that debt in my name. And if that is not enough," Emily pulled out a ring she wore upon a chain about her neck. "I know it's not worth much of itself, but it is the ring worn by the head of the Windsor family. With this, you will be able to collect the bounty on my father's life."
Captain Thorn looked down at the girl, face growing stern. "Oy, put that away girl!"
"But . . . " Emily protested.
"I said put it away! That's all you have of your Da' isn't it?" Sighing slowly, Thorn the elder ran a hand over his face. "Right, right. Alright you lot! Set course forty degrees off of north."
"Da'?" Thorn the younger asked.
"If we're going to make Tristain and still keep our schedule, we'll have to hit the trade winds just so. Now stop making yourself useless lad!"
"You mean it?" Disbelief blossomed into joy upon Emily's face. "Thank you Captain Thorn!" She stood up on her tip toes and gently pecked the man on the cheek.
The Captain blinked owlishly. Thorn the younger chuckled. Of course that is how it would go. As his Mam had always told him, Da' was a sucker for a pretty face.
Calls rang out across the deck of the clipper as the Sabrina, fastest ship in all of Albion, changed course, continuing on its flight over a sea of clouds amidst the morning light.
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