The Faithful and the Brave Part 10
The road back to Lionel Castle was a two days' walk out of Warjilis, but they were just as accustomed to traveling by foot as they were by chocobo and made good time. By mid-afternoon, they were poised to enter Bariaus Valley. From here, they could not identify the spot on the hills surrounding the valley where they had made their camp with Princess Relena and her bodyguard. The valley was generous in both its acreage and its fertility, and along with the industry of Goug and the trade of Warjilis, it made Lionel a duchy even more wealthy than Lesalia, seat of the royal capital. Being also the region of St. Ajora's miracles as well as his execution at the hands of the now defunct Holy Ydoran Empire, the Church had settled down in a fortuitously prosperous region indeed.
"So.... I think I've been pretty patient." Duo looked over to Trowa for confirmation.
"'Patient' is a relative term with you." Trowa strayed just a little bit from them to examine a berry bush for a moment, but decided to leave it be. Judging from the tracks around it, a small family of civets frequented it, and they likely needed the berries more than he did. The woods off the main road were sparse, though not so thin that there was no advantage in walking within their cover when they could.
"I'll take that as a yes. So I was thinking..." He next looked expectantly over at the others, who did not seem to take the hint. "Maybe it's time you told us a little bit more about this Zechs guy. I mean, it was kinda your own business before, so I left you alone this past week. You obviously weren't all that interested in talking about it. But now that the guy's shown up again waving around threats at us..."
"It was a warning," Heero muttered, defensively if Duo did say so himself.
"A warning's just a threat without the 'or else'. If he's gonna be getting all up in our business, I just think Trowa n' me have a right to know who this guy is. What we can expect out of him." After a brief silence, he huffed impatiently. "Come on, you don't need to spill all the sordid details, if you don't want. But at least..." He did want all the sordid details, actually, but he wracked his brain for something appropriately business-like, through which he could pry the door open. "This guy's a knight, yeah? Any magic skills?"
Wufei answered with a soft, derisive sound, though he didn't follow up with words for a few moments, as if he hadn't meant to respond at all but just couldn't help himself. "He never had any patience for magic."
"Okay, so.... I assume he and Heero were on the same track at the Academy?" He left that out there for a couple of seconds, and assumed the lack of contradiction to be confirmation. "Who was better?"
Duo looked expectantly at the others, but Wufei glanced over to Heero and Quatre issued an unhelpful little shrug.
Heero's lips were pursed in a faintly irritated, faintly thoughtful way, but Duo just kept on staring at him until he answered. "Difficult to say." He shook his head at Duo's disapproving expression. "That is... We seemed about even, but... only he knows if he ever held back." He ended the explanation with a nearly silent exhalation of frustration.
"Why would he hold back?"
Quatre stepped up for this one. "The answer... is not simple."
Duo made a disdainful sound. "It's a noble thing, is it? Figures. What, Heero was higher ranked than he was?"
The mage frowned thoughtfully, then nodded slowly. "It's more complicated than that. Zechs was... being groomed to be Heero's aide-de-camp. His second. His right-hand man."
"That guy? I don't know him, of course, but he sure didn't strike me as someone who'd be interested in being anyone's second." It only struck Duo as an afterthought that apparently Heero had been important enough to rate a future aide-de-camp. He filed that bit of information away to mull over later.
"Well, he's..." Not very promising, if even Quatre was having a hard time finding a kind word or two. "...Different now."
Wufei shook his head in disagreement. "He had a chip on his shoulder even before, Quatre."
"And not at all unjustified, as it would turn out." His attention was strayed over to Heero, who walked just far enough ahead to excuse himself from the conversation. Trowa bridged the gap in between.
This time, Wufei nodded slightly in concession. "Be that as it may... Zechs respected Heero. I believe that was enough for him. Heero's never been one for mindless sycophants, anyway."
"Okay," Duo said slowly, once it seemed that the subject was reaching the end of its lifespan. He drew the word out to extend things as best he could while considering what else he might say to extract more information. "So we can expect a fighter, about as good as Heero is..."
"My vote's with Heero," Wufei murmured, softly enough to fall beneath Heero's notice.
"Oh?" Duo let the word fall with mere idle curiosity.
"From what I recall... Heero was the more skilled of the two. It was simply that... he, Heero, was too... kind. In practice matches, he didn't always press his advantage. It didn't matter to him, whether or not he won. Prestige meant little to him. But... this is not the Academy, and these are not practice matches."
"Ah." Duo could believe that. Perhaps not entirely the 'kind' part, but the 'prestige' part seemed likely, and the 'skilled' part seemed certain. Heero didn't have the flashy moves that some of Odin's other fighters had, to say nothing of Odin's own Dark Sword skills, but Duo would take Heero over the rest of them any day. Well, for a good number of reasons, perhaps, but in this case, because Heero had proven himself to be solid, reliable, and adaptable, while some of their colleagues often seemed to have weaknesses commensurate with their strengths. Despite his noble blood, Heero was no whiny, pampered brat, and even the flashiest moves barely fazed him. He just got down to business and kept on going until it was done.
Unfortunately, Heero's pragmatic determination functioned just as well off the field as on. Duo dangled a little more bait in front of the others, but Heero himself wouldn't be biting.
~*~
Noin opened the door and bowed. "Your Grace."
Cardinal Tsuberov swept into the room, two of his personal guard following behind. The liveried knights took up position on either side of the door.
Princess Relena approached him and dipped her head in respect. "Cardinal Tsuberov."
The older man smiled genially at her. "I hope Your Highness is faring well today."
"The hospitality Your Grace has extended to us has been unfailing and most kind." Her eyes acknowledged and thanked Noin as the Holy Knight returned to her post against the wall at Relena's back. "There is something you wished to discuss?"
They seated themselves at the table with all the necessary niceties before Tsuberov began. "Yes, well now. I'd like to discuss the small matter of your future, Your Highness. It has been the Church's privilege to help one of its daughters in her time of need, but I'm afraid it is not possible for you to shelter here forever. The world outside these walls churns ever onward, and one must be careful lest one be ground beneath its wheels."
The words of advice ended far more violently than Relena had expected. It threw her off track for a moment, but she gathered herself soon enough. "Of course, Your Grace. I would not wish the Church drawn into the middle of a political battle for my sake. I am very grateful for the asylum you have offered me, but I must consider my next steps. The situation grows ever more fragile, and I fear that, on our present course, the only way through it will be through tragedy."
"I'm pleased to hear that Your Highness has been thinking upon the matter. Your concern for your people bodes well for our future. Should you become queen, I would be confident that Ivalice is in good hands."
"I have been thinking lately..." Relena restrained herself from smoothing down her dress in a nervous gesture. "If perhaps the best solution might not be for me to renounce my claim to the throne."
"Renounce?" Tsuberov echoed, avuncularly puzzled.
"Yes. Were I to renounce my claim, there would be no need for the civil discord which currently plagues Ivalice. Princess Mariemaia has no shortage of supporters and advisers to help her be a good queen."
"Renounce.... No, my dear Princess Relena. That simply won't do."
She looked up from the lace doily decorating the tabletop's center. "...Your Grace?"
Tsuberov's pleasant expression was still in place. "No, you stupid little girl, that simply won't do at all. We'll have you returned to Weyridge soon, and you will take up your role as contender to the throne."
Behind her, she heard Noin shift warily. It was not her place to protest on her lady's behalf, but clearly she was not pleased with what she heard, and it reassured Relena even while it worried her. "Cardinal Tsuberov, I--"
"I understand. You're nervous. It's a heavy burden to bear on your young, inexperienced shoulders. You think you have a solution, but you are mistaken. You think you will stop a civil war from happening, but you will not."
There was a brisk rap upon the door before it opened. One of Tsuberov's guards opened it, showing two more of his personal guard standing watch outside, and two additional guests, who entered without ceremony.
Relena's stifled gasp manifested only as a sharp intake of breath. An older man entered, armored and accoutred as a member of the Knights Templar, the militant order within the Church of Glabados. He was followed by none other than Sir Zechs, still without insignia but clearly deferring to his companion. The familiar knight glanced briefly at the princess and her bodyguard before staring forward with the same blankly neutral expression of all knights on guard.
"Is everything in order, Tsuberov?" the Templar asked brusquely.
The Cardinal chuckled softly to himself. "I was just informing the princess of her return to her supporters' side."
"Your Grace," Relena spoke up, resolutely, but quickly before she could waver. "I fear I must refuse your kind offer --"
"Silence, little girl." His eyes narrowed, and lost their benevolence immediately. "Can you imagine, Dermail... She thought perhaps she might renounce her claim on the throne, and spare her people from violence."
Sir Dermail raised a thick eyebrow before allowing a corner of his mouth to curl upward in a smirk. "Ah, I see. How noble her intentions. But you should listen to your elders, girl. And your Church fathers. We want the same thing you do, after all. Simply play your part, and all of Ivalice shall soon be united in peace and prosperity."
"The Church has sided with Duke Weyridge, then?" Relena asked, trying to focus on puzzling out her situation rather than being consumed by her apprehension.
"Weyridge, Barton... No, the Church has not chosen a side in their squabble. Nevertheless, it is necessary that you join with Weyridge and your supporters, and thus it shall be done."
She swallowed nervously. "I... see. In that case, I... shall do as you advise and seek out Duke Weyridge. Sir Noin and I shall set out tomorrow --"
"We will provide you with an escort, of course," Dermail inserted amiably. "For your own safety."
"Sir Noin has performed admirably as my guard and --"
"For your own safety," he repeated firmly.
She took a slow breath, regrouped. "Sir Templar, if you wish to see me worthy of the throne, then I must insist --"
"Insist? Worthy of the throne?" Dermail laughed thinly. "We put the throne within your reach, girl. We made you a princess, and you would do well not to forget it."
"You... made?" Though she truly did not want to know the answer, she could not help herself from asking the inevitable question. "What do you mean?"
Tsuberov's chuckle was more sinister than the last. "She doesn't know, 'Sir Templar'."
"She doesn't know," Dermail echoed with malicious wonder. "It's a pity you aren't a real princess, you know. You make a fine one."
"What are...?" Relena shook her head impatiently, refusing with all her might to let these men shake her. "I am Relena Peacecraft, and I am --"
"You are a nobody," the Templar informed her smugly. "A foundling. A convenient body to fill a void. The true Princess Relena died as an infant. However, we found it convenient for there to be a Princess Relena, heir-designate to the throne, someone to counter Barton's ambitions. And so we found a child to replace her. It was a surprise when Leia managed to produce an heir of her own."
"'Her own', as you say," Tsuberov mentioned. "If the rumors are to be believed, hers and not the king's."
"Ah, quite right, Tsuberov. It would be no surprise at all, should those rumors be proven true. All the same... Princess Mariemaia only makes our Princess Relena an even more important piece on the board. So just continue as you are, 'Princess'. You're doing an excellent job so far. Don't fail us now."
The Cardinal got up from his seat, nodded leisurely in her direction, and moved to the door with the Templar.
With a vicious glare at their backs, Noin stepped forward the two steps necessary to lay a gentle hand upon her charge's shoulder. "Your Highness? Lady Relena?" she tried again after receiving no response.
Relena drew in a long shaky breath before looking up at her.
Zechs paced the proper distance behind his two superiors, but paused as he heard the women stir behind him. Allowing the others to exit the room, Zechs turned back and walked over to hold out a hand. "Sir Noin. Your sword, milady."
Her hand had slipped from Relena's shoulder to the hilt at her hip at Zechs' approach, and it tightened now into a white-knuckled grip. Her eyes darted to the door, which had not yet closed. One of the Cardinal's guards waited there still for the final member of the group to exit before he locked the door behind them. She could take this man, but for what gain? Nevertheless, she would not surrender her sword lightly. Her weapon was attuned to her, a part of her, to channel the power of her Holy Sword skills.
"Best you cooperate," Zechs advised patiently. "The advantage is not yours."
"I could tell the world," Relena said softly, half to herself. "I could them what they said, and there could be no dispute between a legitimate heir and a... a fake."
Zechs looked at her with pitying eyes. "As you heard, there are rumors that this is already a dispute between a legitimate heir and a fake, and yet the dispute wages on. Two fakes will change nothing. It will make no difference, Your Highness. This conflict will continue, with or without you. Weyridge and his allies need you, if they are to counter Barton's claim to the throne. They will say your story is a lie, that you were forced if you renounce. You could kill yourself in an attempt to remove yourself from the equation entirely, and they will lay the blame of your death at the feet of the Bartons and attack their legitimacy that way. One way or another, they will have you. Best you cooperate, and exercise some control over your fate."
"You were in league with them all along," Noin accused, needing to do something to banish this unfamiliar feeling of helplessness that welled up within her. "Why?"
"I truly believe that this is the only way to bring peace to our land. I do what I must. Now please, milady knight. Relinquish your sword to me, and I swear I will keep Lady Relena safe in your stead."
The promise surprised her, and she was inclined to believe not a word of it, and yet... she had no choice but to do as she was bidden.
~*~
"I have been thinking about our course of action when we arrive in Lionel... It is not clear to me," Heero admitted ruefully. They would arrive at the gates of the city by sundown, still many hours from now though the road was an easy one.
Quatre smiled. "Well, it was my idea to return to Lionel, so allow me to take responsibility for it. I, too, have been considering what we ought to do. We have only suspicions of the Cardinal's wrongdoings, and to act with boldness, we would require solid evidence at the very least."
"We assume they know of our intentions, and will thus be alert for our actions. That alone would require us to be less than straightforward with our approach."
"True. We should draw no attention to ourselves as we enter the city, but I do not believe there to be any need for us to be entirely covert." Their entire trip thus far had been passed in such a manner. They had been discreet about their plans, and once out of Bariaus Valley had occasionally split their party of five into one of two and three. The current grouping brought Quatre together with Heero and Duo. "We should save that for our entrance into the castle."
"And once within its walls?
"I think we should speak to Princess Relena or Sir Noin and let them know what we have found, that they may be in danger."
Heero frowned faintly as he considered it. Alas, that they had no target against whom they might direct an attack. He was no fan of such unknowns. "Do you think we will need to spirit them out of the castle?"
"It's possible, if they've learned something in our absence. But doing so without sufficient cause would only raise alarm."
"Do we all five need to go in?" Duo asked, already reviewing the mental maps he'd drawn up while in the castle.
"You're right, Duo. Not ideal for skulking about. You should go in, and take...?"
"Heero," Duo answered promptly.
Quatre's eyes flickered over to Heero and back. "Why?"
"Aside from my usual desire to wrangle some quality alone-time with him? 'Cuz the princess seemed to take a shine to him, and the knight seemed to think he was all worthy of her knightly respect and stuff. I think they'd trust his warnings a lot more than they'd trust mine."
He suppressed any outward sign of amusement over Heero's carefully neutral expression, one that slid into place only after a twitch of mild startle, and nodded instead in acceptance of Duo's reasoning. "Alright, you'll go in, and take Heero with you. The rest of us will be nearby in case you need us."
Duo hmmmed thoughtfully. "I gotta confirm something with Trowa. Gonna join up with 'em."
Quatre made a sound of acknowledgment as Duo walked off in the direction of the others, and noticed he wasn't the only one watching Duo's retreat. Once Duo was far enough away, Quatre turned to his companion and studied the slightly pensive look he found there. He smiled with some small amount of humor, though he tempered it with sympathy. "Surprised you?"
Heero blinked and focused his attention on his friend, though it took him several long seconds to figure out what Quatre was referring to, and several more lengthy seconds to determine the answer to the question. "It's... been a while."
"Did you forget?"
"No... I don't suppose I did. One tends not to forget first impressions."
Quatre chuckled. "That's right. Duo propositioned you within minutes of being introduced, as I recall. It seems you made quite the first impression on him."
"It was hardly on account of my charm and wit."
"A welcome change from the usual sort only after your family name, wouldn't you say?"
"It's been a while since I've seen that as well," he answered wryly. Welcome or not, it was indeed a change, and a slightly confusing one at that. He expected the interest would have died off by now. "Why do you suppose he's kept it up?"
"To remind you of your standing invitation, no doubt."
There was a brief pause before Heero threw a mild glare in his direction. "That was not what I meant."
"I know," Quatre answered gaily, but offered no more than that.
TBC...
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