Chapter Text
Blood Pleadge Castle, Shin Makoku
"Stop destroying my family!" Wolfram screeched, and lashed a hand out at Stoffel.
But the punch never connected – not with Stoffel.
Conrart paced quickly down the palace hallway, knowing that Gwendal was waiting for him. And not just his older brother – a number of head figures among the Shin Makoku elite would be in the prince regent's office as well, waiting to plan their next move. Celi's second son sighed unhappily, not looking forward to the meeting at all.
He threw a furtive glance out the window – it was a beautiful day outside. In the distance he could see the winding streets of the Capitol, no doubt bustling with activity, the commoners busy with their daily lives and ignorant of the drama that now plagued Conrart's life.
It had been two long weeks since Wolfram accidentally slapped Yuuri's left cheek, but both young men were still feeling the sting.
Worse things had happened in the history of Shin Makoku, but the incident with Wolfram was by far the biggest scandal that had occurred that evening. Still, Conrart was somewhat relieved that as it was, the damage could be contained - he knew it could have been so much worse. It was Stoffel they had been dealing with, after all.
After the incident, both young mazoku had been removed from the party, Celi opting to accompany her youngest son. Yuuri had been tended to by Gisela, though the cut below his eye hadn't been serious. Celi had taken Wolfram to her chambers, to blow off steam and reflect on his actions.
And what actions they were…had almost been, Conrart corrected.
If the Bielfelt Heir had struck the Spitzweg Head, a number of things would have followed. Firstly, it would have been perceived as an act of aggression towards the Spitzweg house as a whole, and the Bielfelt family would have had to take several steps to repair the damaged relationship – probably involving a lot of treasure and political favors. On a more intimate level, Wolfram would have become indebted to Stoffel, as demanded by polite society. Knowing Stoffel, the Spitzweg head would have used the indentured Wolfram to influence Gwendal, and maybe even Celi. Who knows how the Bielfelt house would have reacted to such a thing – Waltorona was a proud man who did not bow his head easily.
But none of this would come to pass, for it was Yuuri who had come to bear the brunt of Wolfram's fury. Since Yuuri was officially a servant of the Great Sage, and was several social ranks below Wolfram himself, the matter was not as scandalous as it could have been and thus became an issue between the Temple and the Royal family. Murata had been lenient with his dealing of Wolfram, simply asking that Wolfram pay retribution for the slight against Yuuri by helping him at the temple for a while.
This had worked out in Wolfram's favor, however – it allowed the young Prince to lie-low out of sight of the public eye, and to give him a few days to cool off. He was usually hot-tempered and stubborn, but his actions had taken a turn for the impulsive ever since Conrart had returned.
Conrart pondered if Yuuri knew what he had done by intercepting Wolfram's blow, or if it had been pure protective instinct driving the young teen. Either way, Yuuri had saved them all – saved Wolfram from Stoffel's power grab, rescued Gwendal from a blow to his political influence, and in a way had even protected Celi. These were all things Conrart and the rest of the Council knew. In the past two weeks the nobles in Gwendal's inner circle had all experienced a shift in perception when it came to the wild teen, from one of wariness to one of respect and (in Gwendal's case) grudging gratitude.
To witness his family beginning to see what Conrart himself saw in Yuuri made his chest clench warmly with pride. So much of Yuuri had changed since coming to the Capitol, but the young man was still perceptive, empathetic, and courageous when it counted most.
He had also been missing for the past two weeks.
Well, not missing. Conrart knew the young mazoku was currently hiding out at the Temple of Shinou, as was Wolfram (since Gwendal had directed both of them to stay out of sight). The absence of Yuuri from the castle was hard for Celi's middle son to bear, however.
God, Conrart missed Yuuri. The ex-soldier craved the way the teen looked at him, eyes accepting and unafraid. His skin craved the comforting touches of the double-black, and he recalled the way gentle fingers had traced his scars so long ago in the Dragon Wood…the light brush of a hand against his own. Yuuri's mere presence was comforting and warm, like a gentle summer rain.
You're just waxing poetic, aren't you? Yozak's voice teased from the back of Conrart's mind.
So what?
Conrart had finally arrived at his destination, reaching out a hand and knocking on Gwendal's door. He didn't wait for permission to enter, merely pushing against the heavy wooden thing and encroaching upon the rest of the group that had already assembled.
Gwendal, Gunter, and the Great Sage were already waiting for him.
"About time you showed up." Gwendal quipped, though his voice held no malice – probably attributed to the fact that he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"My apologies for the delay." Conrart responded sincerely.
"This is all of us?" Murata asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.
"Yes," Gwendal replied tiredly, "Since Mother has departed already, and we've confined the two hot heads to the Temple for now…"
"You can hardly blame Wolfram," Conrart interjected, "If I had been the one to run into Stoffel and heard him speak in such a fashion…"
Conrart wouldn't finish the sentence, but his brother and former mentor could fill in the blanks: Conrart would have done much worse than punch the man.
"He will be present in Court events from now on, Brother, since Mother is no longer able to serve as the Spitzweg house representative." Gwendal groused, "You will have to see him at some point. And you will behave yourself when that time comes to pass. Wolfram has already gotten himself into enough of a mess as it is, causing a scene like that."
"Can you believe some of these ridiculous rumors?!" Gunter huffed angrily, "That Wolfram and Yuuri are now engaged…"
"Slapping someone as a proposal?" Murata frowned as he said it, wrinkling his nose, "Now that's an archaic Court tradition, and that's coming from me."
Gunter nodded vigorously in agreement, obviously upset.
"Who could have witnessed that scene and thought there was any romantic intent behind it?" The Von Christ head blubbered, looking like he was on the edge of tears.
Conrart was inclined to agree with the man, his throat clenching a little with disgust at the idea of Yuuri engaged to his brother of all people. He would have to thank his Mother for not immediately jumping at the idea – Conrart knew that if there was anything Celi enjoyed more than a party, it was a wedding. For now there was still deniable plausibility – the Royal Family could refute such rumors once the scandal died down.
"That is neither here nor there," Gwendal responded, leaning back in his seat, "Because neither of them will be in the Capitol for much longer.
What!
"What?" Conrart echoed his thoughts dumbly, too startled to give a more intelligent reply.
Murata frowned, concerned, "I know the ball didn't exactly turn out as planned, Your Majesty, but to banish them from the Capitol as a punishment is a little…"
"It is not a punishment." Gwendal cut him off, reaching a hand out to Gunter.
Gunter reached inside his robes and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment with a wax seal. The seal was broken, but seeing Gwendal's unsurprised reaction, it was apparent that he had already read the missive. Conrart shifted in his seat, suddenly nervous.
"A report from Yozak," Gwendal said by way of explanation, before continuing, "I received this last night – its contents are most troubling."
"It appears that Big Cimarron possesses a Forbidden Box." Gunter said faintly, handing the missive to Gwendal.
Conrart's mind was immediately racing in alarm. Murata, on the other hand, seemed thoughtful, if unperturbed. Upon seeing the Sage's reaction, Gwendal raised a speculative eyebrow.
"This does not alarm you, Your Eminence?" The prince regent rumbled suspiciously.
"…It is certainly concerning, Your Majesty." Murata replied cautiously, "But no, not surprising. It is common knowledge that Shinou entrusted the Forbidden Boxes to his four followers after sealing what was left of the Originators within them. Is it so hard to believe that after four thousand years, an ancestor of one of the followers wound up in what is now Big Cimarron?"
This made Gwendal pause, and slowly the look of suspicion disappeared from his face.
"It is possible." Conrart's elder brother acquiesced, "But not exactly comforting."
After a moment of tense silence, Gwendal spoke again.
"This explains Big Cimarron's recent acts of aggression towards Shin Makoku. Our relationship with them has always been strained – if they thought Yuuri was a secret weapon we just recently revealed, they would feel threatened into brandishing their own."
Suddenly, something clicked in his mind.
"They're bringing out this Box as a second resort," Conrart snarled, furious, "After killing Yuuri didn't work."
All of a sudden the answer to many of his questions fell into place. The ill-equipped poachers attacking the red dragon so long ago hadn't been poachers at all, merely mercenaries in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had come equipped with weapons to defend against swords, not dragons.
"You think we did not expect you?" The armored man spoke proudly, "That we did not know that Shin Makoku would send their best swordsman to protect the little secret that you hide within these woods?"
The soldiers being chased by the golden dragon in the valley, too. They had been out of place – and they had zeroed in on the double-black the moment he had appeared. One of the mercenaries had slipped behind a distracted Yuuri, cracking the teen's head open against the ground with glee. Conrart still had nightmares about that morning, the blood all over the ground, his hands.
"I got him, boys!" The mercenary bellowed, answered by several jubilant cries from the armored soldiers battling Conrad's rescuers behind him.
Murata and Gunter both looked troubled, Gunter clearly remembering their battle in the Valley as well.
"The question is," Murata murmured darkly, "How did they know about Yuuri before we did?"
No one had any answers for the Sage, which disturbed Conrart even more deeply.
"With this information in mind," Gwendal stipulated, breaking the silence, "I have decided to send Yuuri and Wolfram on a secret mission to retrieve the sword Morgif, and to locate the remaining Forbidden Boxes."
"I'm going with them!" Conrart said with a start, jumping to his feet. He'd be damned if he was going to let Yuuri and his brother get that close to enemy territory without him—
"Yes." Gwendal replied simply.
Conrart blanched somewhat, not excepting immediate compliance.
"Van Dar Via Island, where we suspect the sword to be located, is across the sea." Gwendal continued, the smallest smile teasing his lips at Conrart's reaction, "We have no official means of protecting Yuuri or Wolfram, since an official voyage so close to the Cimarrons would be a diplomatic nightmare and is consequentially out of the question. Therefore, you three will take on secret identities and infiltrate a human vessel. You will keep an eye on both of them. Yozak will arrange your means of return after you have retrieved Morgif."
The Great Sage stepped forward, frowning.
"Let us be frank, Your Majesty." Murata admonished, "Yuuri is no spy. Even disguised, he would stick out like a sore thumb. There are better means of retrieving the sword. And surely, you do not intend to keep the weapon's presence a secret once it is in your grasp. Surely its retrieval would only escalate tension?"
Throughout his speech, Murata advanced upon Gwendal's desk until the Sage's body was pressed against the wooden edge, leaving the very irritated Sage looming over the seated Prince Regent, who met Murata's gaze with an even stare.
"What is your true aim?" Murata questioned lightly, his voice laced with warning.
A small, triumphant smile slid onto Gwendal's lips.
"I can understand why one such as you wouldn't understand the significance of the sword," Gwendal practically chuckled, "seeing as how you have been out of the loop, so to speak, for such a long time."
Murata's face darkened dangerously and Gunter sputtered, jumping in before any real conflict could erupt between them.
"The last master of Morgif was the nineteenth Maoh, His Majesty Basilio von Rochefort, otherwise known as the 'King of Brutality'." Gunter interjected, "As his nickname suggests, he was quite…over exuberant in his use of the sword. He made quite the name for himself, and for Morgif."
"There is a legend which suggests that anyone who attempted to touch his sword was attacked by a magic force." Gwendal mused, "Apparently, only the Maoh could wield it."
Understanding dawned on Murata's face and he backed away, suddenly looking thoughtful.
"So you see," Gwendal continued, "It is Yuuri, and Yuuri alone, who can retrieve Morgif - if he truly is to be the next Maoh."
"It is a test." The Sage stated calmly, eyes narrowing at Gwendal.
"One that will buy him much approval, should he pass." Gunter explained, smiling slightly. "If he wields the sword - whether or not the legend is true - the people will have no choice but to accept him and unite behind him."
"And the Boxes?" Murata pressed.
"The boy has a talent for sniffing them out, as he proved when he first arrived here." Gwendal shrugged, looking unfazed by Murata's more-intense-than-usual persona. "I will have my hands full wrestling away the Box from Big Cimarron's clutches, and it's about time the double-black earned his keep."
Conrart frowned at his brother, disapproving of Gwendal's callous regard of Yuuri. But Murata did not immediately disagree, instead looking disquieted.
"The Boxes are leaking, Your Majesty." The Sage murmured, the anger leaving him in a swift moment. Instead, he just looked haunted. "You understand what this means, don't you?"
The prince regent made no movement, merely watching Murata with an eyebrow raised questioningly.
"The evil within the Boxes is the magical embodiment of every negative emotion." Murata urged, "Bloodlust, hatred, despair, fear. It taints everything it touches. And Yuuri possesses the ability to draw upon nearly limitless amounts of maryoku from the natural elements around him. By sending him defenseless into the sphere of a leaking Box, he will inevitably draw that darkness into himself, like a sponge. He will be poisoning himself, Your Majesty."
Conrart's chest went taught, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes shot to his brother, searching for any sign that the man was rethinking him plan. Any sign of remorse, regret, or concern. He found none.
"But you do not disagree with my decision." Gwendal stated, leaning back in his chair.
Murata seemed to look past Gwendal, out of the window over the man's shoulder. His glasses glinted, hiding his expression save for an unhappy frown.
"You are correct when you say that Yuuri has a talent for finding Boxes." Murata replied morosely. "And he does have some relative…resistance to their influence. He is, perhaps, the only one who can find the remaining two."
Gwendal nodded firmly, as if implying these were his thoughts exactly. "I understand this is a dangerous mission," the man said, the smugness in his voice replaced with an appeasing tone (for they all knew nothing could be done without the Sage's blessing), "which is why I will entrust his protection to my very own brothers. They are both capable men."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Murata's mouth. "More like you want to ship them off to get them out of your hair, eh?"
"That is not so." Gwendal rejected simply, but said nothing more.
Conrart felt his heart stutter. That was practically the nicest thing Gwendal had ever said about him.
Murata heaved a heavy sigh, looking suddenly as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Running his hand over his face, he glanced at Conrart and Gunter in turn, before returning his piercing black gaze to Gwendal.
"Is there anything else?"
"The official story will be that Wolfram, Conrad, and Yuuri are lying low at the Temple of Shinou." Gwendal answered lightly, as if he had nearly forgotten to mention. "I would entreat you to preserve this rumor."
"Very well." Murata answered, turning towards the door.
The Sage paused in front of Conrart, and the second prince felt suddenly a chill pass through him. He met Murata's gaze, doing so causing Conrart to feel the distinct impression that a weighty stone was on his chest.
"Take care of him." Murata said, the heaviness of his voice suggesting that he was not asking.
"Of course." Conrart replied firmly, which seemed to appease the Great Sage.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen," Murata called as he swept out of the room, "There is an ancient dead King who I have many questions for."
International Waters, South of Sonderguard
The Farwander Freya was Cecille von Spitzweg's personal vessel, being one of many luxuries she had allowed herself when she had once been the twenty-sixth Maoh of Shin Makoku. The ship was sleek, beautiful. Three sturdy masts hoisted deep red sails into the air, the wind filling the crimson fabric also tickling the delicate golden wind chimes that hung from various beams and ropes. Celi had always found comfort in music, a quality shared by many Spitzwegs. She had been taught the harp as a young girl, and Stoffel the violin. It was this love for the fine arts that had carried her through her adulthood, and had probably attributed to many of her eccentricities. Yes, the ship was an embodiment of everything Celi loved: whimsicality, adventurousness, and beauty.
The tinkling of the chimes and the luxurious red sails, however, could do little to sate Celi's boredom.
The former Queen lounged on her chaise, watching the quiet tumult of the sea from the comfort of her cabin. There was little else for her to do after a week at sea but to relax. She could hear the quiet shuffling of feet on the deck above her, knowing the crew of Mazoku she had hired were hard at work.
In two days' time they would be docked at Small Cimarron, where she would begin a slow diplomatic journey east across four human nations – all of whom were upholding a tentative peace with Shin Makoku. It would be dangerous, since mazoku and human relations had always been strained; but the former-queen firmly reminded herself that she was doing this for her family and for her country.
Celi looked down at the letters clutched loosely in her fingers as they were pulled by the wind. Her eyes traced the letters absentmindedly, already knowing the words they held.
Mother, the top letter read—
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to inform you that all is well in Shin Makoku. I know you must have been concerned, leaving me in such a state – but please put your worries to rest. My reputation bears no lasting damage, and I am in fact finding my time at the Great Sage's Temple relaxing. Well, as relaxing as it can be with this double-black baboon scaring the daylights out of me every time I turn a corner.
Celi smiled affectionately, tracing her fingertips delicately over the surface of the parchment. It had been such a long time since her son had sounded so lively. Was it Conrad that had sparked such a change in him, or possibly-
Honestly, I do not know what to think of Yuuri. He is crude and infuriating, but I cannot deny he has natural leadership qualities. I cannot see him in your former position, however. The boy has not a fraction of your elegance.
I hope your journey brings you to Small Cimarron safely. Please keep me updated on your travels.
All my Love,
Wolfram
Smiling broadly, Celi folded the letter and tucked it away in her breast pocket, deciding she would keep it close to her heart as she travelled. She loved all of her sons, but Wolfram always made her swell with maternal pride – he certainly resembled her most closely out of the three boys to be sure, both in his looks and his empathy.
Her grin faltered, however, as she glanced down to the second letter. It was from Stoffel. Against her will, her eyes began to read over the contents:
Cecille—
My Congratulations on your eminent diplomatic journey. Mother and Father would be proud of your accomplishments – I, too, am gaining a new respect for all that you have done at the Capitol as I once again take up the yoke of Spitzweg representative. Do not worry yourself as you travel, for I will keep a close eye on your sons so that they do not find themselves in any trouble—
Celi could read no further, tearing her eyes away with a distraught frown. Fury tugged at her belly. On the surface it appeared a normal letter, but Celi knew Stoffel. Reading the words, she could sense his condescendence, his gloating.
Coolly, she stood from her chaise and walked towards the balcony. She stepped onto the ledge, feeling the fresh sea wind pull at her golden hair. Taking a moment, she let the sounds and smells of the ocean calm her, but she did not take her eyes away from the paper clenched in her white-knuckled fist.
With great effort she drew upon her maryoku. She was no longer in demon territory, so summoning a small flame was currently the extent of her abilites – but she persisted. Fire licked at her fingers, and in a heartbeat the letter was up in flames. Though the wind carried away most of the burnt pieces of parchment, she did not let go until all that remained in her hand was a pile of ash. And even then, she opened her fingers and let all that remained of Stoffel's venomous words be eaten by the sea.
She did not linger on those thoughts or on the balcony, instead resolving that she would go above deck and check in with the crew. However, as she turned away from the ocean, there was a knock on her cabin door.
"Your Majesty," a male voice called from the other side of the door, "Reporting in."
Celi quickly pulled a finer robe over her casual garments, brow furrowing.
"Enter." She called, leaning against a bed post.
The ship's Captain and First Mate stepped into the room, flanked by two of Celi's own personal guards. A fifth man entered behind the group – he was Celi's escort, Fanbalen. All five men looked concerned.
"Your Majesty," The Captain began, "We've spotted some unusual activity to the east…"
"Unusual, Captain?" Celi quirked an eyebrow.
"It's a Pirate Ship, Cecille." Fanbalen interjected, correctly observing that Celi was not in the mood to dance around the issue until a euphemism could be presented. The Captain frowned unhappily, eyeing the former-Queen warily.
"Have they made a move towards us?" Celi asked, moving towards her desk. Quietly she seated herself, not taking her eyes off the Captain.
"Not yet, Your Majesty." The Captain explained, "Our ship flies the flag of Shin Makoku, no doubt uncommon in these parts. They probably don't know what to make of us."
"Even so, it's unusual that they wouldn't immediately take action," the First Mate rebutted, "Which is why this matter is somewhat urgent-"
The Captain glared sharply at his First Mate, apparently unhappy at the man speaking out of turn. The First Mate bit his tongue and fell silent. Celi did not have time for this.
"How so?" Celi urged, glancing between the two men perplexedly.
"They're hesitant because they're probably already near-full to capacity, and don't know if taking us on would be worth it." The First Mate explained bluntly.
"Near-full with what?"
"Treasure," Fanbalen cut in, "other loot, hostages."
"Hostages?" Celi repeated, frowning deeply.
"It's not unusual, Cecille," Fanbalen replied, "that prisoners are captured and held for ransom, or sold into the slave trade."
Celi sighed unhappily, weary with conflict, but mind already made up. She stood, steeling herself as she locked eyes with the Captain. She felt Wolfram's letter heavy against her chest, fueling her protective instincts and guiding her desire to do the right thing. Celi would watch from the sidelines no longer.
"We're going after them."
"Your Majesty?"
"Fetch my armor." Celi commanded her guardsmen, who promptly bowed and left the room.
"Your Majesty!" The Captain demanded attention, voice laced with mild panic, "This course of action is not wise—"
"This is my ship, Captain," Celi cut him off coolly, her irritation from Stoffel's letter feeding her anger, "and where I will, it will go. Should you have a problem with my orders, your First Mate seems equally capable of carrying them out. Shall I have him promoted?"
She turned sharply, paying the man no more attention. Already she was advancing to her dresser to fetch the clothes she would need to wear under her armor. Finding her heavy tunic with ease, Celi glanced at the doorway to see that all but Fanbalen had left the room.
Her escort was smirking, watching her with amusement written on his face.
"Damn, I love a woman who knows how to order me around." The man teased, eyes twinkling.
"Then you're in the right place, Fan-Fan," Celi quipped, already pulling off her robes, "Now be a dear and fetch my whip."
The ocean wind pulled excitedly at the red sails of the Farwander Freya, as if sensing the oncoming conflict. Celi stood stoically at the bow of the ship, counting down the minutes until they would make contact with the pirates. They had hesitated somewhat, when Celi had pointed her ship directly at them and ordered full-speed ahead. But it seems pirates where never ones to turn down a challenge, and they had quickly redirected their ship in response – both vessels were now headed for each other in a deadly game of chicken.
Celi's light armor was a deep crimson, hugging her figure tightly while being designed not to restrict her movement. She was not a swordfighter, after all – her father had never trained her how to use a blade. This was all well and good – she preferred a faster, more flexible weapon, with a farther reach. Her whip hung loosely against her hip, ready to be unraveled at a moment's notice.
"This will be a tricky battle." Fanbalen commented from Celi's side, now equally armored and armed, "We cannot fire upon their ship for fear of harming any hostages, and pulling alongside to board them would risk having our ship blown to kingdom come by their cannon balls. In a head-on confrontation, they would have the advantage."
"Then we don't battle." Celi said, turning to Fanbalen, "Fan-Fan, raise the white flag."
Fanbalen looked stricken for a moment, but his doubt passed quickly. Though the man hadn't known Celi for very long, he had come to trust the former-queen's instincts. He nodded, light curls bouncing in the wind, before turning to the Captain standing a few feet behind the pair and issuing Celi's orders.
"WHAT!" The Captain cried, and although Celi could not see his face, she could clearly imagine his distraught and panicked expression.
"Those are Her Majesty's orders." Fanbalen repeated sternly, a commanding edge to his voice, "For all of our sakes, you had batter comply."
For a few moments there was a tense silence, but finally the Captain seemed to give, and Celi listened quietly as her order was echoed and carried out. Then Fanbalen was once again at her side, a reassuring presence that had drawn Celi to him in the first place. The human lord grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips in a chaste kiss.
"I hope you know what you're doing." The man mumbled against her knuckles, so that she would be the only one to hear his troubles.
Celi smiled warmly at him, lifting her hand from his to caress his cheek.
"Compared to what I've endured, a few pirates are merely a trifle," Celi reassured, before lowering her voice to a whisper, "Besides, all men are the same."
Fanbalen raised an eyebrow curiously, but did not have time to respond before the Captain returned, face red and sweating profusely.
"The white flag has been raised, Your Majesty."
"Excellent." Celi beamed, clapping her hands together. "Now please, have our non-essential sailors assemble on the deck and put their weapons out of sight, but close-by. Should we resort to violence, they will need to be ready."
The Captain eyed Celi uncertainly. "Should we resort to violence? Are we not going to free the hostages?"
"No," Celi replied and turned to face the oncoming enemy vessel, smiling mischievously, "We're going to buy them."
It was another half an hour before the two ships were close enough that Celi could make out people on the opposite deck. The pirates had not raised a white flag in acceptance of Celi's offer of truce, but they had not opened their gunports either. Celi took this as a sign that the pirates were curious about the Shin Makoku ship, and would at least speak with them before escalating or disengaging the situation. Celi was fine with this. She could work with curiosity.
"Ho!" Fanbalen called when the ships passed within shouting distance, an assortment of pirates gathering to the side of the ship to his call, "We wish to parley!"
Celi, concealing herself behind her guards for now, watched the pirates carefully, assessing the situation before deciding how she would act. The pirates were all armed to the teeth, outwardly suspicious of Celi's crew, and seemingly waiting for an excuse to fire upon them all. An older man separated himself from the throng of pirates, and pulled himself on top of the fo'c'sle to distinguish himself. The man had a neatly trimmed beard and an eyepatch – Celi could have laughed at his stereotypical image of a pirate.
"I am Captain Boldst, and I accept your parley – for now." Boldst sneered, resting his hand lightly on his sword. Celi wondered at his arrogance. Was she supposed to feel threatened by his sword from so far away? "What do you want?"
Fanbalen donned the mask of a haughty diplomat, climbing a few feet up the ropes of the ratlines before giving a deep bow.
"Good sir, my name is Fanbalen de Fer of Small Cimarron, though currently acting as guide to the Mistress of this ship. We wish to discuss—"
"Mistress?" Boldst interrupted with a sneer, "Where is she, then? I don't speak with underlings."
Fanbalen gave a show of appearing indignant, but turned to the Shin Makoku crew and gestured for Celi to approach.
The crew parted before her, giving her freedom to walk to the starboard side of the ship with all the dignity she could muster. Her two guards hovered protectively at her sides, and Fanbalen bowed dramatically as she reached the ship's railing. Boldst and his crew ogled her with little discretion, and Celi barely contained a sly grin.
"Who are you, then?" Boldst snapped, eyes not leaving Celi's face.
"Hold your tongue!" Fanbalen growled, playing along perfectly. "You know not to whom you speak—"
"—Enough, Lord de Fer." Celi cut him off coolly with a raised hand. "This is not how we effectively negotiate business deals." Celi turned to Boldst, giving a modest nod of her head in greetings. "My name is Cecille von Spitzweg, Ambassador and—"
"Former Queen of Shin Makoku!" Fanbalen finished proudly, before being silenced by another faux-glare from Celi.
Boldst stared darkly at Celi, but his eyes were thoughtful. Celi would bet he had never met a real queen before, despite having ransomed off several nobles.
"A queen, eh?" Boldst growled, "And a demon one at that. Tell me, Yer Majesty, why I shouldn't blow you all out of the water and ransack you for everything yer worth?"
There were several sneers directed at Celi and her crew after the statement, accompanied by jeering laughs. Celi narrowed her eyes at the pirates, numbering about twenty that she could see.
In a swift movement, she had lifted a hand and stripped away her leather glove. In another heartbeat, she had ignited her fist with flames. The jeers stopped; in fact, all sounds from the pirates ceased altogether.
"You would be ashes before you could reach your canons." Celi purred, letting the fire lick her fingers for a few more moments before extinguishing it with a flick of her wrist. This was a bluff, of course. Celi could scarcely maintain a spark, let alone an inferno. But what these pirates didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Well, it would hurt them. But Celi would be fine.
"Demons can't use magic on human land." Boldst said in a remarkably grave voice, his face full of disbelief.
"Clearly, you are mistaken." Celi lied smoothly, wiggling her fingers, "And I would hardly call this 'land'." Not giving the man time to think about it too much, Celi continued, "In a few days' time, I will be making port at Small Cimarron. I am to be an Ambassador there – but they don't like us Mazoku in Small Cimarron very much. I feel I would receive a warmer welcome if I were to arrive with a retinue of 'rescued' hostages."
Boldst listened to her words, but his eyes were on Celi's hands. Clever man. The pirate Captain snarled, assuming a defensive position.
"So you expect me to just hand them over? How's a man supposed to make a living, then?"
Ah, so they did have hostages on board. Maybe not so clever.
Celi grinned, taking a sure step forward with arms spread entreatingly. Many pirates took a solid step back as she did so, telling her all she needed to know.
They were afraid of her.
She had won.
"I had hoped to make this a mutually beneficial affair, Captain Boldst. I have a trove of treasure on board my ship, intended to be used for diplomatic purposes. I'm sure you agree there could be no better use than this?" Celi batted her eyelashes enticingly, giving her best flirtatious grin. "Come, Captain. Name your price. I will double it."
Two hours later, an exuberant amount of gold had exchanged hands and the hostages had been ferried over to Celi's ship. The pirates refused to come within a boat's-length of Celi, and would only conduct business so long as she was below deck. Fan-Fan had put on an insulted front, but Celi - ever the ambassador - had graciously accepted the terms.
So Celi waited, and from her cabin listened silently to the quiet footsteps on the deck above her as they were boarded by over a dozen hostages. Fanbalen was no doubt settling in everyone excellently, so she took her time changing into a pair of extravagant robes before she departed her cabin.
The First Mate was waiting for her outside her rooms, and informed her that as soon as the last hostage had been put onto a ferry, the pirates had booked it towards the open sea. The man seemed somewhat disappointed that they had not dealt with the pirates in a more violent way.
"Sometimes the peaceful way is the better one." Celi had explained, before brushing past and up the stairs towards the poop deck.
Thirteen human men and women were seated upon cushions on the deck, having been wrapped in blankets and handed bread. One of the women clung to a child who appeared to be no older than fifteen – the only human of such age among the group. Overall the hostages were dressed in varying finery: Some of them wore hard leather tunics that had once been under armor, indicating them as guards. Most of the women wore dresses in the style of Svelera. The child – Celi could not distinguish their gender do to the grime covering their face and hair, was in a soot-covered tunic and breeches.
As Celi stepped forth from the lower decks, all eyes shot towards her. The Mazoku stood and bowed, while the humans watched her with a mixture of awe and fear.
"Welcome to the Farwander Freya," Celi welcomed warmly, "I am Cecille von Spitzweg, Ambassador of Shin Makoku. Your journey until now has been perilous, but fear not – you are safe now."
The humans did not look comforted. Many of the women tittered uneasily, while the guards tensed unconsciously. Celi sighed inwardly – Shin Makoku still had a bad reputation among human countries, it seemed.
"Shin Makoku?" The child echoed warily, eyes wide.
Celi focused on the child - it was a girl, Celi could see now. Under the grime, her curly hair and skin were both dark. Her wide, chocolate-brown eyes and delicate face were what gave her away, however.
"Indeed." Celi smiled gently, kneeling so that she was eye-level with the young girl, "You are from Svelera, correct?"
The woman holding the girl was frowning in fear, her arms wrapped tightly around her ward's waist. She looked nothing like the girl, her hair blonde and skin pale. Her voice shook as she answered "Yes, we hail from Svelera…"
"No—," The girl snapped in annoyance, leaning away from the woman that held her.
"No?" Celi paused, suddenly confused.
"Greta, please-," the woman begged.
"You would see me assassinated by the Small Cimarron Imperial Court," the girl accused the woman in an accented voiced as she stood and stepped away from the woman, "You Svelerans are no ally of mine."
Turning to a bewildered Celi, the girl angrily wiped at the grime on her face to no avail. But the determination in her eyes ignited something in Celi instantaneously.
"My name is Margareta du Izura, Princess of Zorashia." The girl said proudly, with an elegance that betrayed her station, "Today you have saved my life once already, Lady Spitzweg, but I must ask you to save it again."
Temple of Shinou, Shin Makoku
Ulrike raced through the temple, dread thundering in her ears. Deeper and deeper into the sanctum she ran, barely registering the alarmed shouts of her guards that had been following her since she had emerged in a panic from her chambers.
It cannot be, it CANNOT be…
At the bottom of a plunging flight of stairs deep in the bowels of the shrine, the heavy doors to Shinou's sanctum stood ajar. Ulrike's sense of foreboding spiked and she barreled through the doors, not caring that the guards that tailed her were technically not allowed to enter.
What she saw cut her breath short. The sanctum was in disarray, pieces of parchment scattered across the chamber. Alarmingly, the stone floor around the coffin containing Shinou's body was cracked and brittle. Traces of maryoku clung to the walls, and perhaps most concerning, smears of blood adorned the ground and walls of the large chamber.
"Your Eminence…?" Ulrike called out, but she knew she would get no answer. In despair, she sunk to the floor.
She didn't know how it had happened – one moment, a large power underneath the temple had flared, and just as suddenly vanished, along with the presence of one Murata Ken.
As she hit the floor, something crunched under her knee. Startled, Ulrike lifted her knee, and gasped at the sight of Murata's glasses in pieces on the stone.
Yes, one thing was certain. Something terrible had happened in this chamber. And now, the Great Sage was gone.