3-Apr-2002
Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.
Chapter Fourteen - Rites of Passage (cont)
Part 33
When they got to the city, Dilandau could see the Asturian airship moored at the side of the main fortress. There was a token guard near it, of two men, but to all outwards appearances everything was quiet and normal.
Dilandau narrowed his eyes at the sight and let a small smirk surface. /Seems like my..... brother...is playing nice./ he thought, a bit wryly, still finding it impossible to consider the blond Asturian kin. /As long as he stays out of my way this time./
The Captain set the machine down a slight distance away from the anchored ship, before throwing off the shielding cloak. After his impromptu decision not to cloak returning to the Zaibach capitol after recovering the Alseides from Basram, further stealth within the city was pointless.
The appearance of the Alseides was noted, and a young guard came running out to meet the Captain, as Van jumped down from his perch.
Climbing out and down form the machine himself, Dilandau drew up fully, facing the guard. "My Alseides will need immediate repairs on the leg and left arm," he informed the young man at attention. His red eyes flickered away once, giving both the Crusade II and Van the briefest of glances.
The young soldier saluted in acknowledgement. "Yes, Captain," he said. "And the General requires your presence in the Receiving Hall, sir, there's a delegation from Asturia and... Fanelia here," he added quickly, stumbling only slightly over the message, as he glanced from Dilandau to Van and back.
The albino glanced back at the airship pointedly before fixing the man a keen look of irritation. "I can see that," he snapped, pushing past the soldier. By now Adelphos would have certainly received reports of their arrival.
The young soldier bobbed a bow quickly, his face reddening. Van watched the exchange with a slight, inward smile, as he followed the Captain.
The guards outside of the Receiving Hall were not the usual two who watched over Adelphos' entrance way, but a younger pair standing at almost rigid attention, nervous over what was obviously a new assignment. Dilandau hardly spared either a glance.
One of the two jumped forward to open the doors for the Captain and the king, clearing the way hastily.
"Captain Albatou and King... King Van..." he announced quickly.
"Yes, we're well aware of our names," Dilandau mumbled, below the point of audibility. Stepping into the room almost in time with the boy at his side, he scanned the interior quickly.
The Receiving Hall was a large, grand hall, designed to hold large numbers of people, and Dilandau could easily remember it full to the bursting. Now, however, instead of being hung with elegant banners, and filled with light, it was a vast cavern, the walls bare, the lights confined to the central area.
In place of the dais where Dornkirk had, long before the young Captain could remember, appeared to the people of Zaibach, before he had confined himself to the Fate Machine, there was now a large heavy table, and a brace of ornate chairs, likely from some other area of the fortress. The table was bare except for a small tray at one end that held a decanter and several metal goblets.
To one side of the table, two of the large chairs were occupied by Adelphos and another man, with a third standing, not for lack of seating. Both the guests were dressed in the attire of Heavenly Knights, and the Captain easily recognized the seated man as Allen Schezar.
"There you are, Captain," Adelphos growled, somehow managing to give the title the inflection to make it sound as if he were saying 'boy' instead.
"General," Dilandau replied in the same tones as their first meeting in Van's presence. He scanned the two guest quickly, eyes lingering a bit too long on Allen. Without waiting for the command, the Captain pulled out a chair farthest from the Heavenly Knight and took the seat.
Adelphos' deeply sunken eyes flickered from the young Captain to Schezar and back, his expression one of habitual grimness, but a slight spark showing to the two who'd just entered, perhaps due to their recent familiarity, that he was interested in this meeting.
Van acknowledged Adelphos with an incline of the head, and then met Allen's eyes.
"Good to see you, Van," the blond swordsman said in a moderate tone. "I see Zaibach has been treating you well enough." There were other things in the blue eyes, things Van acknowledged silently, but the knight's ability to be casual in spite of the undertones of the meeting brought forth Van's somewhat surprised respect.
"They have," he answered. He then met the eyes of the second knight. "Kaerin."
The young Knight, who'd been content to watch the proceedings quietly, took a half step forward, giving as dignified a gesture as he could manage in the limited space he'd given himself between the wall and table. "Lord Van," he replied, pleasantly but without inflection. The young Knight looked for a split second as if to continue, but seemed to change his mind, straightening and returning to a loose attention.
Van met Kaerin's gaze steadily. He turned to Dilandau. "This is Kaerin Tomant," he said, by way of a brief introduction, watching the albino.
The Captain's eyes darted up from the table top and towards the young Knight, studying the boy with uncomfortable intensity. The last name was too similar to be a coincidence. The boy was similar in the set of the jaw and cheekbones, even if the hair and eyes were slightly off. The blue of the uniform helped. "From Arine in Asturia?"
Kaerin nodded. "Originally, sir." The Third's Knight's entire tone and set had transformed into something far more suited to addressing royalty than the cooler tones used with Van. The Knight looked from the two, one seated and the other standing so close. Kaerin didn't let his confusion show on the surface.
Dilandau nodded, showing little surprise at the Knight's answer. The Captain covered the growing intense discomfort with the meeting with a forced casualness. His eyes locked with the intense gaze of the General. "You requested my presence," he said, his tone smooth.
Adelphos made a guttural sound that could have been masked amusement or disapproval. "Aye I did. The knights have offered their assistance to us. I told them we have a certain internal matter to be dealt with. However the good gentlemen are... concerned. They've asked to stay, in the unlikely event that we want their help. I told them you have the matter in hand, correct, Captain?"
The Captain cross his arms over his chest. The only sign of his displeasure over the implications of the question was a slightest tightening of the jaw. "Absolutely," he replied, a swift grin lighting up the former mask.
"Very reassuring," Allen remarked. "But you don't mind if we stay, General?"
The General's face tightened in a travesty of a slight smile. Under the terms of Zaibach's surrender, he couldn't prevent them from staying had he wished to, and they all knew it. "By all means," he growled, one hand tapping on a sheathed dagger at his waist. "Zaibach would be honored to have you as guests."
Allen smiled. He met the General's look and there was almost the feeling that the swordsman had a touch of admiration for the grizzled warrior. "I'll make sure your graciousness is well noted," he replied smoothly.
The Captain regarded Allen narrowly. "Such manners," Dilandau said, smiling darkly. "How is King Aston these days?" The voice it was spoken in could have very easily been casual.
"His health is good, Captain," Allen returned, unable to stop himself from searching those garnet eyes for some signs of blue. "As your appears to be. It must be quite an asset to Zaibach to have your skills again at its disposal."
"Must be," Dilandau replied easily. "It seems Asturia has taken the same advantage, or are you still... protecting the outskirts?" Dilandau leaned back in his chair, propped up against the armrest easily.
Allen smiled. "When the occasion calls for it, which it rarely does these days. I'm here at the behest of Fanelia," he added lightly. Allen had had time to get used to the idea that he'd be met with Dilandau, rather than his sweet Serena, but he found the reality a bit jarring, evoking a sense that he'd returned to the time of the Fate Wars. He kept it under control and out of view.
"How fortunate for them."
Van's mouth quirked in a sudden flash of odd humor. He covered it as best he could. "Indeed it is," he said quietly.
Kaerin watched the pale captain flash the king at his side a sour look, but do nothing further. The situation seemed completely unlike anything he would have come to expect. Shaking his head just lightly he turned his gaze away from the odd pair at the farther end of the table.
"Schezar, you have guest privileges," Adelphos said, after watching the exchanges. "Captain, they're to be treated as official observers. Check the new regs if you need that clarified."
"Understood," Dilandau replied, a bit icily. The force of the statement, however was not directed at the General, but in the direction of the swordsman.
Allen grimaced slightly. "Thank you, General," he said. "And whatever has been the case with other visitors, my crew will be disciplined guests, taking no advantage. I'll make certain of it." He stood. "Captain Albatou, I request the honor of your company at the evening meal."
"Of course," the albino replied levelly. "As it does not interfere with my other duties."
Allen bowed in acknowledgement.
"Very well, Captain," the General said, avoiding a verbal dismissal in front of the Asturians. "Carry on."
The Captain nodded. The swift action of pushing back his chair covering the brief half smile of acknowledgement. He nodded once perfunctorily towards the silent, younger Knight before turning sharply for the door, the footsteps echoing with an aggression that had been absent in the man's entrance to the room.
Van nodded very briefly to Adelphos and then Allen, and followed, without appearing hurried, yet managing to stay not more than a step behind the taller DragonSlayer captain.
Outside, Dilandau slowed his pace when out of earshot of the younger guards. "That.... was most particularly annoying," he growled. "I can see why Adelphos is so pissed off about the politics."
Van tilted his head slightly, a small smile on his face for no better reason than an appreciation of Dilandau's annoyance. It faded quickly. He shrugged. Politics was never his strong suit, something he preferred to leave to others. "I wasn't present when the terms of the surrender were drawn," he remarked. "Though I was given a copy of them and told my agreement was a formality."
The first statement had earned a smirk from the Captain. "Would it have made a difference anyway?"
Van shook his head. "No."
"Didn't think so." Dilandau stopped entirely. "Dinner is going to be trying," he said with some uncharacteristic resignation.
Van tilted his head. "Did you recognize something about Kaerin?"
The other paused for a long moment. Garnet eyes were studying Van's. "Tomant is the last name of one of my men," he said at last.
Van nodded. "His brother. It's on his behalf I've been summoned to Freid."
"That affair again." Dilandau said. He brows were drawn, but voice held the same forced casualness of the previous meeting.
Van shrugged. "Not an hour ago you attempted to tear me a new one for omitting information. I thought I would let you know."
Dilandau nodded, giving Van a sharp look. "I do," he said. Leaning back against the wall behind him, he said. "So Schezar is here on your behalf?"
"On Fanelia's," Van answered, meeting Dilandau's eyes. "And on his own, I suspect. When we left, it was to retrieve the Alseides and to bring a report to Adelphos. I'd not realized there might be more to do. We were to return with the Crusade."
"I would rather not leave this unfinished." There was another flash of annoyance, but it didn't seem directed at Van. "Return on the Crusade? Now there's a novelty. To where this time?"
"Fanelia. And we won't leave it unfinished," Van said firmly.
The pale boy regarded Van a moment before nodding. "Half an hour before a formal meal," he said, mostly to himself. There was little chance even if he offered Van the opportunity to do as he wanted that the boy would take it. The idea had a sour taste in his mind anyway. He'd growth accustomed to the presence if nothing else. Without another word, he resumed his walk, intending to return to his designated room. He would at least look presentable.
Van kept pace, but when they arrived at the door of the Captain's quarters, he stopped, looking troubled, though he hid it somewhat behind obscuring dark hair.
"I... if you'd as soon be rid of me for a while, I can make myself scarce. Meet at dinner..."
Dilandau had turned the second after Van had hesitated, somehow the lack of the familiar presence alerting him as quickly as much as his constant accompaniment had bothered him at first. The phrasing of the words had closed off his expression again. "You're free to do what you want," he replied a little curtly.
"I know that," Van said. "But it.. I thought... I realized that you aren't, with me on your heels. I don't... want to tie you."
"At my heels, you were annoying," Dilandau said deliberately. "But you haven't walked behind me since Basram." At that he turned back to step within his quarters.
Van hesitated another moment and then stepped into the room. He located a chair and flung himself into it, focusing on his gloved hands.
Dilandau marked Van's movements with an odd satisfaction, before sitting heavily on the hard mattress of the bed, removing the overcoat and boots to clean them of the dust, sand and scuffs that had been accumulated during the brief stay in the desert. As the overcoat came off and settled across the boy's lap, the last remnants of a glow faded from the pendant's surface, so dimly it could have been imagined.
Van found his eyes drawn to the movements of the Captain's actions, almost soothing in their simplicity. The idea of leaving him caused a deep disquiet but at the same time, he was starting to fear that he might somehow find himself doing what Allen had done with Serena. There were still many things that confused him about what was happening between himself and the other boy, most of which amounted to his own feelings and reactions, but a new growing fear was of finding himself relegated to annoying and inconsequential. It shouldn't have mattered, perhaps, but nothing that had happened since meeting Serena fell into the realm of comprehensible.
Dilandau had fallen into his own musings, despite the effort of using a simple task to filter out everything. Up close and focused on each task, everything seemed, to a degree simple, if the reality of the moment was taken as simply that. A step back though, he was in the room with the man he'd been trained his entire life to kill, and getting prepared to have a meal with the Knight who constantly got in the way of that goal, and the brother of one of his most loyal Dragonslayers. A distant sound met his ears as he shook off the concept, one he was surprised to realized was his own laughter.
The laugh cause a brief slight shiver, perhaps from a memory, perhaps from something else, but Van was unaware that the corner of his own mouth tugged slightly in answer.
"It doesn't make much sense, does it?" he said softly.
The other looked up, startled for a brief moment. "No," he replied, simply accepting along with everything else that Van understood the thoughts he had. "I'm half tempted to convince myself I'm still dreaming. Would be much simpler."
Van closed his eyes. "My dream was the last year. It's as if it never happened."
Dilandau smirked in reply, his curved bangs falling in front of his eyes as he looked back down to the smooth back of the overcoat, now clean of imperfections. "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to verifying that for you. I'm still not sure that year happened myself."
Van watched the other boy. "Maybe it didn't," he said quietly. As if my peace were only possible with you sleeping, he thought silently.
"Maybe." Dilandau set aside the garment in favor of one of the tall armored boots. The material was tougher and required less care. "Now the trick would be to convince everyone else of this."
Van made a small noise, half humor, half unsettled. He closed his eyes again and rubbed them absently.
Both boots were taken care of in short order and replaced. The room had no mirrors, but the Captain seemed content to arrange himself without them, only the smallest of scowls crossing his face as his fingers brushed past the simple, single scar marring his face.
He gave the impression of gathering himself up as one would for a battle before glancing at Van. "Coming as well?"
Van opened his eyes and took a breath, getting to his feet. He ran a hand absently through thick, dark hair, not ordering it in any particular way. The young king's startling beauty clearly owed nothing to his own attention.
Foruma look down at the other three sorcerers. The indignity of it had to be born. They stood in a weathered alley, far within the industrial slums of the city. The manors and high estates ringed the fortress were nthing like the squat overcrowded buildings that crouched around them, smelling vaguely of old sweat and animal urine. The latter was likely more from the squatters that had vacated the alley at the four's arrival. What seemed even worse to his mind was they couldn't even wear their robes for fear of being hunted down.
The sweeping and enshrouding black cloaks of the sorcerers were not just a status symbol but a social tool. If they had any want for anything in the past, while wearing the covetted robes of a high wizard, a mere pointed glance would be enough to aquire it.
Foruma hardly recognized the others, standing in the drab cloudy greys and murky blues of the middleclass dress. It would have to do for now. They now had the motivation, a back to the wall as it were, perhaps...
"I know that look." Paruchi's voice was sibulent. The type that always seems pleasant enough at first but nibbled at the ear until it became annoying to listen to. The man in question, a foot shorter than Foruma, tilted his head up to regard Foruma with narrowed eyes. "It was the same look you got when you suggested putting the Fortune's backlash onto Folken. And look where that got us. Whatever it is, forget it."
Foruma didn't wince, but his cold stare heated to something of a glower. It was a good plan when he had thought of it. Folken was along the road of a traitor. They had all seen the signs of it. In fact, they had nudged him subtly along. The four were sensitive to the turnings of Fate, even perhaps in tune with the powerspot itself, as shattered as the Zaibach one was. There had been a shift, a gaining of backward momentum that started as soon as they had to divert some of their control to return Number 64's form and sanity.
In the scheme of things, it was merely an instant of lax control, but that was all it took. The backlash was beginning. The four had combined their powers and redirected the ill Fate and set their own mortality solely upon the winged shoulders of thier rival, the former Strategos, Folken.
But instead of fighting it, as they had expected, he accepted it serenely, taking it eagerly to him. It gave him the motivation to ruin them all.
"You might find this worth your while," Foruma replied, a thin lipped smile pulling across his teeth. "We need to complete Locious' work."
The void in the conversation was filled by distant machinery and hushed voices. Foruma could distinctly feel three pairs of eyes on him. They thought he was crazy. His smile only widened.
"What else can we do. This turn of events can only be of a backlash, and it is far bigger than the one our rival faced. All of us are aware how far back this righting of Fate stems and we stand in its path."
"But to take the power spot?" Garufu's mild voice put in. The heavy lidded sorcerer had an incredulous tone to his voice that belayed his placid appearance. "Dornkirk..."
"... was too conservative." Foruma snapped. "He had the leisure of taking the subtle road. He could build for decades and did. We, however, are being face with our own mortality, whether by sword or Fate. We have the option of avoiding both."
"And how do you plan to do *that?*" Paruchi sneered slightly. "If you would care to recall, we are a little deprived of equipment."
"Equipment wont be necessary. The very land itself will be our weapon." Foruma's dark eyes glittered. "We have already demonstrated in the retaking of the DragonSlayer Captain that the Call works. We will simply need to apply it elsewhere."
Kuaru had maintained his silence at this point. He was the youngest of the sorcerers and leaned against the cracked wall. He seemed more at ease in his new clothes than the others, and had remained unobtrusive through the whole conversation. "I'm out. It won't work. It might stop the backlash if it worked. Maybe if we had a few years to plan. Maybe if we had all of our equipment, notes and aids working on this. But we have none of this. Not even the banished one's notes."
"Then what?" Foruma asked, drawing upright. His already impressive height increased by an inch or two. "Our skin marks us as much as our robes did. It is only a matter of time here, and it will be hundreds of times more viscious in any other country. Can you see it in your minds? The witch hunt that would occur. Adelphos need only hint to an ambassador that we may be in their country.... And there happens to be an Asturian airship moored in plain sight of the fortress. Can you smell the smoke as it burns your throat, the fire as it licks at your feet, sending that last jolt of pain through your legs as your flesh and nerves flake away. There is no place on this continent that will not lash you to a stake on sight."
The cadence of the tall wizard's voice had painted an all to clear picture in the minds of those listening. It was impossible for the nearly translucent skin of the men to get any paler, but the stricken expressions were evident.
Sorcerers by nature had become competive, cunning, self serving, viscious, and above all survival oriented. These men were the keenest of all these traits to have lived through the wars aftermath and retained power.
"The Dragon has not been sighted in returning. Shall we make travel arrangements while things remain as close to safe?"
There was no answer, but he didn't expect there to be one. Foruma gave a taut smile before turning and walking to the streets beyond the alley, knowing without looking back or even listening that the other three were following him. In this game, silence was as good as a hearty conscent.
Kaerin stood barely within the doorway of the dining area that had been set aside, careful to be neither hear nor there, but not underfoot of those in charge of arranging the places. The meeting had ended quickly afterwards, Allen took his leave soon after the king and Dilandau had left, and Kaerin had played a shadow to the First Knight, not wishing to remain under the observant stare of the General for longer than necessary.
He knew that his silence had been marked by the crew and most certainly by Allen, but he had a hard time bringing himself to pay it much mind. Even with the knowledge that Allen had given him that the woman called Serena was also Dilandau, he wasn't expecting to see the Captain in honesty, and even if he did, he expected him to look more... more like the Schezar sibling.
He'd heard enough about Dilandau, Chesta in the later years would almost always dedicate nearly a page to the Captain in his words of what had gone on in his life, but neither that nor the stories of the violent and unpredictable elite of Zaibach matched the man he saw across from the table. Something had changed, he hazarded.
Then there was a matter of Dilandau, while recognizing Allen... the distance between them, and the barely perceivable stiffness behind the casualness in the blond Knight. Even he'd only seen it because of how close he'd been. He glanced around the room, noting that it had cleared, the timeclock announced the arriving hour.
Allen had taken the interval to return to the Crusade. He acknowledged the crew and filled Gaddes in quickly, then closed the door of his small private cabin and sat for a while, with his head in his hands, trying to sort his thoughts and feelings. He certainly hadn't been able to detect any trace of his sister in those cool garnet eyes, any more than he'd ever suspected that they were one person. But there were things nagging at him, and something nudging him like a distant and mostly forgotten memory. He couldn't drag it into the forefront of his thoughts yet, but just as equally, it would not quite leave him alone.
During the past year, he'd been able to convince himself that Dilandau was some aberration, some sorcerer's creation imposed on his sister's mind and body. But facing him now with full knowledge, there was something about that hypothesis that would not cooperate. He was fully the young, arrogant officer Allen had known from before, and just as fully, there was a sense of familiarity that seemed too tenuous to grab hold of, yet was too stubborn to disperse. And it wasn't a sense of Serena, that was what was most puzzling. The closest thing Allen could compare it to was the sense of almost angry, almost intimidating emotion that he'd felt for a great deal of his life when thinking of his father. It made no sense. Serena reminded him so strongly of his mother. And while some might argue she had her father's adventurous nature, he'd never gotten much of a sense of the man from her. Why was it nagging at him now?
Noticing the time, he came to his feet, quickly running a comb through his hair and then leaving the ship to attend the formal dinner.
Allen had managed to arrive before Dilandau and Van, a good handful a minutes before schedule. Kaerin had detached himself from his spot, reclined in the corner, and had greeted the other Knight formally.
"Shouldn't be long," Kaerin said, almost absently.
Allen nodded. He glanced at the young knight. "An educational trip this, if nothing else," he murmured quietly.
The brown haired Knight looked at Allen, a little wide eyed before nodding. "This is actually my first time here. It's an odd feeling, to know a place without knowing it," he said, drifting towards the table and finding a spot in the middle and again near the wall, but not taking the chair for himself yet.
Allen walked with Kaerin. "I imagine," he said. "Almost as odd as knowing a person without knowing them."
Kaerin shook his head, almost with he same absentmindedness. His thoughts were still only half there. "Perhaps, but not as uncommon. People can go through their entire lives without knowing a single person."
Allen suppressed a sigh. "Yes... that I understand. It's the feeling of knowing the same person twice over, and not the same..."
Kaerin seemed to sober a bit at the words. In some way they matched with his own observations without directly connecting. It wasn't however a topic he was comfortable yet asking about. Instead, he pulled out the chair in front of him and settled into it. "Did you know Gaddes refuses to play with anyone else's cards?" he said offhandedly. "They aren't marked, I checked. Not even when he got half tipsy trying to get me drunk could I figure out why. Little things I guess."
Allen chuckled. "Just because he doesn't mark his deck, doesn't mean he hasn't encountered the practice. Hence the rule."
Kaerin nodded slightly, the vaguest touch of a smile turning up his lips. "Makes sense. I'd almost half expect it with some of them."
"Rogues they may be, in some senses of the word. Loyal to a fault, as well," Allen replied, taking his seat. "There's more than one code of honor."
Kaerin frowned slightly, a gloved finger tracing the edges of a ceramic plate. "We all choose our own," he replied.
"Very true."
The double doors to the room opened again moments before the clock struck the hour. The two boys entered just as the final places were being set. Dilandau glanced from face to face briefly before taking his own spot, this time directly across from the First Knight without the benefit of preamble.
The seating placed Van across from Kaerin. As dishes were brought to the table, an officer presented the General's regrets at not being able to join them, due to pressing matters.
Allen acknowledged the message, unsurprised.
A light smirk at the news twisted the Dragonslayer's face as he waved off the officer in a casual dismissal. He had no expectations of the General's presence, but he suspected it was more than likely Adelphos had more than one way of following whatever events happened.
Allen watched the young Captain, accepting his plate from the servant. He waited until everyone had been served before making his first, and possibly last, attempt at conversation for the evening.
"Captain, I would appreciate a tour of the wizard's area," he said with forced casualness.
Dilandau stared at the other man evenly for a moment. "The area that once was theirs is no longer in service. You may, if you wish, but I doubt there will be much to see." The concept of denying the sorcerer's existence, as was the official policy had occurred but been quickly discarded as useless.
"I want to see it," Allen said. "I want to see where it was done."
Van looked up at Allen with a flash of something, masked too quickly to detect as more than a sense of disturbance.
Garnet eyes darkened in their hue a moment before the Captain gave every appearance of a casual shrug. "At your leisure."
Allen nodded, watching the albino closely. "After dinner then?"
Dilandau mentally approximated how much could have been done and cleaned in that time and gave Allen a snake-like smile. "I wouldn't eat much then, Sir Schezar."
Allen raised and eyebrow. "I see," he said calmly. "I particularly want to see where the... the fate redirections were done."
The albino looked at the swordsman flatly, his expression slipping in a flash. "Any particular reason why?"
"I've said. I want to see where it was done. Where my sister was taken."
Van stared at his plate with a frozen expression and then pushed it away. He got up from the table silently and walked over to one of the high, narrow slitted windows, as if trying to escape from the conversation and its overtones.
The Captain's eyes never left Allen's. "So a matter of importance," he said. "Why wait then?" Dilandau still effected an easy, almost pleasant tone, but when he stood, the chair skittered back more than a foot. "I'm to be as accommodating as possible, after all."
Allen looked up just as blandly. "Fine, then accommodate me by letting me eat my dinner."
The smile returned again. "Of course. There are levels of importance," he said. "Forgive me for not recognizing that."
"I'm relieved that you don't find the request too unsettling," Allen remarked, continuing to watch the pale boy intently.
"I don't see why I should," he said, retrieving his chair. "After all, it is your business, not mine."
"I'd have thought it was very much your business," Allen said. "Are we carrying on some polite charade that what happened to my sister has nothing to do with you?"
The other boy sat again, folding his hands into a bridge and propping his chin onto it. "I didn't know this was polite." He smirked at that, then looked back up at Allen. "But really, what's the charade? How do you know there's really a distinction?" he asked.
"I must rely upon you to tell me what distinctions exist," Allen said quietly.
"And if I told you there was none? Or that she was gone?"
Allen's mouth tightened briefly. "I wouldn't take it well. Is she?"
"No, but I'll keep it in mind," Dilandau replied in a light tone, almost as if it were a reassurance.
Allen took a breath and then nodded. "Tell me what you found in Basram?"
Dilandau's eyes flashed a moment at being ordered. "A hostile presence and a flammable country. It worked well together."
Allen raised an eyebrow. "Why were you there?"
"I was ordered to be there." Dilandau said, before relenting slightly. The target was eliminated after all. "A renegade from our own country was there."
Both eyebrows went up. "I see."
The swordsman fell to silence and continued eating with a reasonable appetite.
Dilandau watched Allen for a long moment, not particularly caring to touch his own meal. He reasoned that there were no other viable distractions anyway, Van was immediately out of the line of sight and the young Knight was studiously trying to look elsewhere. He smirked a bit at that, in a way there was a resemblance in the attitude.
"I wouldn't have expected to see you with the power of an ambassador, even after the war," Dilandau said casually. "I take it the good king has finally chosen to ignore those vicious rumors."
Allen tilted his head and regarded the Captain. "It would seem so," he said after a moment, with every appearance of serenity.
"Mmm," Dilandau replied, humor coloring the simple sound, though the red eyes were still hard. "Must have been a lovely way to spend ten years."
"It certainly had its moments," Allen remarked, affecting unconcern.
The cool facade finally cracked for the briefest instant, showing a flash of rage beginning to boarder on hatred. It was gone and hidden as the black and red glove curled around a neglected goblet of vino and raised it. The Captain seemed to fall into a silence again, not looking at the swordsman in front of him.
Allen saw the rage, and noted it, unsure of anything that was taking place, only knowing he was going to learn something out of this meeting if nothing else.
Van returned from the window and sat, slouching back in the seat. He ignored his food and picked up his own goblet, touching it ever so briefly to Dilandau's before taking a respectable draft.
Dilandau started for a brief moment, giving Van something of a wide eyed look at the gesture before laughing. "A good idea," he murmured, before taking nearly half of his own in one motion.
Van answered with a second drink, catching up. He looked across the table and with an odd lack of inflection said distinctly, "Allen, sometimes you are a real prick."
Schezar snorted, choking slightly but managing to finish the bite of food.
Kaerin had gone wide eyed at the pronouncement, before ducking his head to hide whatever expression crossed his face, though one hand with napkin had found his mouth with convenient timing. The captain however was not so discreet, sniggering as he relaxed a bit in his chair, the subtle change imperceptible to anyone other than the boy at his side.
Allen wiped his mouth neatly, his glance circling the table. "Thank you, Van, you seem to have picked up on a common feeling."
The king finished the contents of his goblet and nodded graciously.
The younger Knight looked up, speaking for the first time since the meal began. "If I may," he said, addressing the other Knight quietly. "If I may take leave after dinner? I regret not being able to follow, but there is something I need to take care of while I'm here."
"Of course, you don't need my permission," Allen said quickly. "I'm not *that* much of a prick," he added with a wry twist.
"I never thought you were," the Knight replied smoothly, expressionless in face and tone, but his eyes still held the faintest glimpse of a rare humor.
Allen rolled his eyes ever so slightly and shrugged. "Consider yourself free to do as you wish, as long as it doesn't provoke a diplomatic incident," he added.
The knight nodded and stood, pushing back a nearly empty plate. He spent most of the almost-argument concentrating on the meal. "I have if nothing else still a slight sense of diplomacy," Kaerin replied, standing up without disturbing the chair.
Van watched the exchange, his cheeks very slightly flushed from the alcohol.
"Two parts in one," he said suddenly, then covered his mouth.
Kaerin pausing looking back in confusion, thinking it was he who was being addressed. It took a glimpse at the Captain's expressive face for the implications of the sentence to sink in. He bowed quickly to the table and departed quickly.
Dilandau had looked at Van, eyes half lidded a moment, before he shrugged and finished off his own glass.
Van's eyes followed Kaerin. He *had* been addressing the young knight, well not exactly addressing, more letting a thought slip out that was provoked by the man's presence. It wouldn't stay quite clear though. Absently he brushed fingers over where the pendant would have been if he'd been wearing it, unconscious of the gesture.
Outside the unguarded room, Kaerin fought off a chill as he made his way towards his original destination. Something had clicked, not quite making sense, but in a way that he knew fit. "Two parts in one," he repeated under his breath, turning down a corridor he only knew from the vaguest of descriptions, towards what was once the Dragonslayers quarters. "And you're the third."
Van stood up suddenly, looking at Allen. "Forget it," he said abruptly. "There's nothing to see. I've been in there. Leave it alone."
Allen stood in reflex, frowning at the young man. He recognized a fey mood when he saw one, particularly in this young man so prone to them once upon a time. "Van..."
"Leave it," the king said again. He looked down at Dilandau with an expression trying to mask some emotion. Then he reached out and snagged the bottle from which they had been served, and moved off from the table towards the exit.
Dilandau's eye tracked Van's passage, marking the direction carefully. He returned his attention to Allen briefly, his head tilted slightly and eyebrow raised. "Your choice," he remarked.
Allen looked down at the words and frowned. He was silent for a moment. Then inclined his head in the briefest of bows. "Another time perhaps, Captain. My apologies. If you'll excuse me," he said.
The pale boy said nothing in response, merely stood as well and took a step backwards.
Allen studied the other for a moment longer and then turned to leave, mentally shaking his head over the entire meal. It was the energy between Van and the other boy that disconcerted him the most. What... where... Allen anticipated a night spent playing chess with himself as opposed to sleeping.
THE END OF PART 33!