London Header [https://i.imgur.com/jzF4Hgo.png]
Episode 9
----------------------------------------
Pierre stirred in his bed as he slept, not the restless movement of a nightmare but the simple shifting of someone deep in a dream.
"Your Highness! Thank goodness, you must stop them quickly - It is improper!" Whined the shrill voice of a small man with a poor complexion and a ferreted face.
The woman he so fervently addressed was none other than her Highness, first Saint of the One Church and the greatest Empress of all Bhaile - The Lady Aardig.
She stood intimidatingly atop a slight incline with people going out of their way to give her a wide berth and bow incessantly when required to walk past her - She ignored them all. Beneath her, at the bottom of the slope, was a field of sand used for the outdoor training of guardsmen and the like.
She was an exceptionally imposing figure to behold: a pair of platform boots elevated her stature, a suit of heavy silver plate armour embroidered with gold and crimson adorned her torso, an emerald-green kilt at her waist and a fluttering red cape fixed to her mantle. Her hair was a startling shock of white cut short and braided neatly, and her expression was near blank - Two staring scarlet eyes, a dainty nose and a mouth that looked to be little more than a thin straight line.
She looked down at the small man who had spoken to her;
"I must do what now?"
The tiny man looked fit to faint at the realisation of what his words had been. He flustered in a cross of bowing and spluttering, "Ah-no, no, ah- I mean, that is to say. They must! Yes they, not you of course, my lady, I meant they must stop, ha-ha...."
Aardig's expression remained entirely level, although internally, she marked the man for further observation. Few of her servants were brave enough to speak so openly to her - This man might yet have a promising future.
She turned her attention back to the training ground below at the sight which had ruffled the attendant. Two men stood there, one with sword drawn who periodically charged at the other - Who himself simply stepped to the side or pirouetted away with vigour.
A crowd had formed to watch the strange confrontation. Aardig's stony expression, with its fixed points that would have given challenge to the visage of a statue: finally broke as the faintest of smiles graced her lips, the smallest curving at the edges of her mouth; "Let them do as they will. After all, is not the best way for men to settle a debate through strife, no?"
Gem Havler - Vice Commander of the Royal Knights of the realm - Effortlessly jerked away from the passing stroke of the enemy blade. Across his rough, stubble-lined face spread a wolfish grin. It was a face that seemed more fitting for someone in their late thirties rather than a man in his twenties.
"Ha ha, that's the best you can do, boy!" He laughed triumphantly.
'The Boy' was none other than the new Captain of the Guard. A young lad barely out of his youth with well-combed golden hair and a clean-shaven face. All complemented by his silver and white uniform and far too ornate sword. It didn't take much for the onlooking crowd to disconcert the cause of the argument: there was always bureaucratic rivalry between the Royal Knights and Castle Guard, both directly under the command of the Empress, both charged with her safety and both vying to pull rank over the other.
The young man's face had become puffed and sweaty - "You fiend Sir! You fiend! You will refer to me by my title, you cur!!" He bellowed before charging at Gem once more with his sword held overhead. In turn leaving himself wide open.
Gem laughed again before finally drawing forth his blade (a far sharper and more practical-looking weapon), easily parrying the incoming attack. He struck back the younger man's blow with such force that the Guard Captain began to stumble backwards - Gem however, stove forward. He wound up his off-hand and sent it straight in for a right hook to the young Captain's face - A cheer rose from the crowd.
The Captain clutched at where the blow had landed, a faint trace of blood dripping from his now busted lip.
"Yo-you scoundrel! What sort of a move was that!" He demanded indignantly.
Gem laughed again, "You think you can protect our lady with that attitude? Think every would-be assassin will ask your permission nicely before poisoning her wine or throwing a dagger towards her late at night, hmmmm-m?!"
The Captain swung wildly in Gem's direction to little avail. The Vice-Commander of the Royal Knights simply ducked under the blade, flipped his own into a backwards grip and then rammed the butt of his sword into the blond-haired youth's solar plexus.
The young man gasped painedly from the winding as his sword arm fell limply to one side - However, before Gem could make another move, the boy finally struck back. Despite his winding, with all his strength, the boy rammed his free elbow into Gem's crouched back, and jumped away to recover.
Gem half fell forward, catching himself just short of a meeting with the floor beneath. He stood back up with a grin while rubbing his back playfully, "Ha! So there is some fight in you then boy!?"
"You shall not call me 'boy', you mongrel commoner!" There was a booing from the crowd at this comment.
The Captain reddened hearing this, "Silence all of you! I am the son of Ivernia's highest ranking Duke, damn it, you will address me with the respect that requires you blasted commoners!"
Gem's expression lost its joviality at this last comment. The boy Captain drew up his stance, sword gripped tightly in both hands, his lip still drooling blood and one eye beginning to swell from Gem's earlier assault. He charged forward with all his might toward the knight, kicking up sand as he went - But the older man had lost interest in the duel at the mention of noble entitlement.
In a single flush movement, almost too fast for the eye to see, the sword master Gem Havler easily stepped aside the incoming strike - Before, in a move much like the one just used against him moments earlier - He rammed his own elbow down with almighty pressure against the Captain's passing body.
The blond boy crumpled to the floor, his face buried in the dirt. A raucous cheer arose from the now four score or more gathered in the crowd.
Gem stared down at the now thoroughly defeated Captain of the guard; "It is you boy, who should watch his mouth. You speak now as an emissary of our lady, and you shall do so with respect and decorum for all her people! A ruler is only as strong as they who follow them. You would do well to remember that."
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Another cheer of public appreciation followed this comment. Gem turned to address the crowd of watching servants and lesser guards, thanking them and then bowing like a showman.
A trio of similarly white and silver-dressed guardsmen made their way through the crowd, two going to aid their fallen leader, the third approaching Gem.
"My Lord Havler, the generals and admirals have all at last arrived: the meeting is to be held now - Your and the Captain's presence are requested."
The guardsman said with a sidelong look at his splayed-out superior officer and then one to the space behind Gem. Gem followed his gaze to where he met her eyes: at once his expression changed back to the one of utmost merriment as his wolfish grin returned in force.
He bowed again, this time, especially for her. Of course, he had known she was there all along. He could... sense her in a manner of speaking, but still he could not help but smile at the sight of her.
"Very good, 'bout time we went on a hunt for that blasted cannon eh? Last place on the continent that has yet to accept the divinely ordained rulership of our great lady. You are dismissed soldier, see what you can do to bring the Cap' back around in time for the briefing."
Gem instructed the messenger before jogging lightly away in Lady Aardig's direction. He quickly made his way up the hill to her side, "And how are you this fine day, Princess?"
"P-p-p--Princess!! You dare call her Highness p-Princess!" Shrieked the attendant who still stood by her side. Gem offered the short man a raised eyebrow in response, "Heh, she'll always be the Princess in my eyes," he laughed causally. The attendant looked as though he might faint on the spot.
Aardig smiled. A very quiet affair but unmistakably on her usually expressionless face.
"That was quite the mean thing you did to the young Captain, old friend." She said in what might just have been a joking tone.
"We all need to be taught a lesson sometimes," Gem said back a little sheepishly.
"Then perhaps you and I should go a few rounds then, Sir Havler?" Aardig added slyly.
Gem's face flushed, "Ah-ha, well now that really wouldn't be proper... Anyhow, the meeting! Yes, we must head there post-haste! On that subject, how do you plan to handle things?" He whispered the following words in a fashion that the attendant could not hear.
"There is no way an army can take that blasted weapon without great bloodshed."
The great weapon of the Eastern Alliance. A group of four countries - The last four anywhere on the Central and Southern continents who still held out against Aardig's empire now that Ivernia had willingly joined up following 'The Battle of Last Bridge' just months ago.
Their conquest of the Alliance should have been a trivial matter - Until the day came when they had eviscerated an entire forward army with a blinding white, searing pillar of light from the sky, a city's diameter in scope - That had left nothing of the army behind but a crater in the ground. Since then, the Alliance had rallied its remaining forces - Upwards of seventy-thousand according to some estimates. To one spot, the great city of the 'Ancients', a place of sacred temples of unknown purpose, left abandoned for centuries.
The ancients were a race of people who had simply vanished thousands of years ago without a trace. It was apparent then what the source of the enemy’s great weapon must have been, something left behind by a culture long gone.
The question now facing Aardig's empire was how to force a way through the last enemy army that would oppose her rule and avoid being blasted by the reality-breaking secret weapon in the process.
Aardig's response to Gem's question was to allow her smile to grow ever so slightly broader. It filled Gem's heart with glee to see. Ever since she had begun her conquest of the world, she had begun to more frequently rely on her extraordinary magi powers - In turn, she had seemingly grown ever more distant, more reserved, as though the cost for using her abilities was her personality - Her identity itself.
But at least around him, she would still smile and even crack the odd sly remark; "An army could not get through, perhaps - But a strike team? Led by a certain saint, her knightly bodyguard and their golem - Well, maybe they could, no?"
Gem's face broke into a wild grin of its own: it had been too long since they went on an adventure.
"Ha-ha, well then, Milady - Allow this humble 'knightly bodyguard' to escort you to the meeting, will you not? We have some convincing to do if we are to pull this one off!"
Gem laughed as he offered her his elbow to lean upon on their way back to Aardig's palace, where a dozen marshals of her various armies and fleets awaited her every command.
****
Pierre lazily opened his eyes.
'Another dream,' he contemplated. Ever since the night he'd had the false nightmare, wherein Aardig had died on the battlefield, his dreams now seemed to move in a pattern.
Every second night, he would have a nightmare, which always ended in either Aardig or Maka (or, on one confusing occasion, both), leaving him in some fashion before he would awaken with a start. On the nights in between, he would have dreams like today's, peaceful memories of a time and a life long since passed.
He had begun to wonder if his acknowledgement of this pattern was, in itself, the very thing causing the strange occurrence - 'Dreams are a tricky thing to manage and interpret' - He mused quietly to himself.
He reached for his bedside notepad, now filled with a week’s worth of detailed recollections. As he flipped through the pages, a selection of words was circled on each one:
‘Aardig had short white hair, an expressionless face, an almost masculine body type and deep crimson eyes.’
He dejectedly laid down the notebook, not bothering to write today's dream down. Once again, the details had been the same. Even in nightmares, the Aardig of his memories, with her subdued personality and expressionless face - Differed significantly from the fun, bubbly and caring girl who now lived in his house.
He stared longingly up at the ceiling: he had fully accepted that Maka was a good thing for his life and a person he wanted more than anyone else to be around all the time; "--But still, there's just something not right here. Just who or what are you, Maka Umit?"
The calendar next to his bed read February 13th, he always changed it just before bed - Therefore, today was the last day before Valentine's Day. Pierre sighed and threw back the covers. He had things to finish planning for tomorrow and had no time to lay about contemplating frivolous dreams.
----------------------------------------