Genre: AU, fantasy/ fairy tale, action/adventure
Warnings : shounen ai, some (graphic) violence, a bit of sap, a bit of angst, fantasy clich?
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo
Word count : 110.183
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, Shotsu Agency. Fic written for entertainment purposes only. No money is made off of this.
Summary: Heero Yuy's life is turned upside down after a tragedy happens to his adoptive family and close friends, the Darlians. Together with the surviving daughter, Relena, he goes to travel in search of the mythical kingdom of Sanq, meeting new and mysterious friends and allies, and facing enemies along the way, in the hopes of bringing peace and freedom back into a world caught in the claws of a mighty usurper.
Author's notes: Feedback is greatly appreciated. Beta-ed by my wonderful pretty princess Ilene. Any mistake still left is mine only as I can't help tweaking and editing until the very last moment. Entry to the "Seven Deadly Sins" contest of Moments of Rapture.

Legends of the Five
by Daimeryan Rei

With an all-knowing smirk tugging at his lips, he looked down at the five people in front of him, four of them kneeled, faces pressed into the mud, hands outstretched as the supplicants they were. Only the man in the middle stood upright, his face a cracked mask of defeat. The Officials of Epyon country had lasted longer than he thought -- but not long enough for their reinforcements to arrive.

"Esshouin Khushrenada," the man spoke, his voice hoarse and broken. He snorted. Esshouin, yes, that was the perfect title for him; a title belonging to a man of power, a man of great virtue and strength. His smirk grew into a wide smile, but there was no warmth in it.

"Speak."

"Esshouin, spare our people," the man pleaded. It was hard to talk with loose, rattling teeth and dried-up blood caked around his swollen lips. It was a miracle the man could still see; the right half of his face was bruised, his cheekbone broken, both eyes black and blue. Not that Khushrenada cared. Every fight demanded casualties -- the man would live, be it not like he had imagined himself to live out his days.

"You have won, esshouin. We will acknowledge the rule of Treize Khushrenada over Epyon country, and..."

He fell silent when Khushrenada raised his hand, swallowing thickly. A messenger with the characteristic white scarf tied around his right arm, approached him carefully from behind, but his footsteps were clearly audible in the marshy grass. It had been raining for three days now, but it was of minor annoyance to Khushrenada -- victory was his, rain or not.

"Tell me."

The messenger didn't allow himself to catch his breath. "The capital city has fallen," he said, and ignored the pitiful moan from the captured Officials. "The resistance is broken, esshan-dar."

"Esshouin," Khushrenada corrected him. The messenger didn't skip a beat, sketching a bow and repeating the title reverently. Esshan-dar was too little of a title for him now; the world would learn about Treize Khushrenada and how he had risen to power -- and all and everyone would address him with his rightful title.

The Official wanted to talk again, but Khushrenada growled a "Silence!". He stared into the distance. The smoke was visible from this side of the hill; not even the rain would put out these fires anytime soon.

"Any other news?"

"We'll be sending out messengers soon, esshouin Khushrenada. The Treize Faction has already begun executing the rebels and confiscating their weapons."

"Please, no!" the Official cried. "Spare our people, we can give you anything you want!"

"I already have everything I want," Khushrenada answered dryly. "Your country, remember? You do not have power anymore, and your stubborn citizens will suffer and pay for their rebellious actions. Get them out of my sight."

"No, please no!" the Official repeated, shaking his head, even moving his feet as if he wanted to run after Khushrenada. His cries were smothered by soldiers who threw him on the ground, laughing and mocking him. The others started to cry out as well as the soldiers hauled them back to their feet harshly, punching anyone who wasn't fast enough. Bored, Khushrenada turned around and started walking down the hill. He was done here.

Halfway the hill an improvised camp had been set up: six tents in total, a makeshift stable for the horses and a shed for cooking utilities, provisions and other things that needed to be stored. He liked order and neatness in a camp. Outside of the largest tent stood a man in conspicuous red robes, standing out like a sore thumb in the marshy lands. The silver mask covering half his face was only one of his distinguishing features; the other one was his long platinum blond hair, held together with a black ribbon. A large fire burned in front of him, untouched by the rain.

"Merquise," he greeted him. He had told the mage to stay in his tent and rest up; he wasn't sure how long it would take for the man to regain his strength after the tiresome conquering of Oz country, and he needed him. Something moved in the shadows; Khushrenada didn't even reach for the hilt of his sword; he had already spotted Une. She would always be close by, wherever he went.

"Auda country has sent message of their total surrender." Merquise didn't waste time with addressing anyone properly. He was the only one to get away with it. "With your permission, Duke Dermail will act as your representative there."

Khushrenada made a dismissive gesture with his hand and stepped closer to the fire. It was pretty cold outside.

"Dermail can do what he wants."

He couldn't care less for Auda and its neighboring Iria country; that was no real victory. The two countries were as small as pebbles, and of no real importance. However, to encourage the Duke, he could send him the Officials of Epyon as new household staff. Not only would it be appreciated by his granddaughter Dorothy Catalonia, it would also serve as a reminder: everyone could fall, and the higher the rank, the harder the fall.

"Is there any news of Libra?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Merquise shook his head. "It's impossible for me to locate any of the gates, I'm afraid. The portals are closed. The last thing I heard was that their representative had left, he's gone for quite a while now."

"There must be someone else authorized to negotiate?" Khushrenada sounded impatient.

"No. Out of the question."

He arched a delicate eyebrow, but he didn't press it. Zechs Merquise had always been honest and didn't sugarcoat anything -- if he said no, it was no.

"Nataku country?"

"No survivors, as far as we can see." This time Une spoke up, her brown hair showing speckles of dark orange and cinnamon brown in the light of the fire.

"Stupid. Brave, but stupid."

Khushrenada snorted, warmed his hands a little at the fire and stepped past the both of them to enter his tent. Two servants, both high-ranked government officials in their previous lives, jumped up and hurried to hand him towels, meanwhile nervously babbling about the clean, dry clothes they had laid out for him and how the esshouin would be tired after such an exerting day on the battlefield... for now, he let them prattle on. As soon as they annoyed him, he would have them replaced.

Turning his head, he saw the map of the world, sprawled out on his writing table. Nataku, Oz and Epyon country had fallen. There was so much left to conquer, so much left to take...all to his glory, all for his victory. He wanted more, he wanted everyone to know his name, and he would shape this world to his own image and vision.

The next would be Romefeller -- the cities would burn, the lands would be plundered, and those who would oppose him... would die.

"Heeee~eeeerrroooo!"

There was only one girl who could make her voice carry this far; upon hearing his name, Heero looked up from the pile of wood he'd been chopping and saw Relena Darlian jogging towards him, a basket under her arm, frantically waving. Was it that late already? Squinting, he shielded his eyes from the sun burning high in the sky. He hadn't been keeping track of time, working in the shade as he had been doing since early this morning, piling up wood along the wall of the small shed. One could never start early enough with stocking up supplies for the winter.

"Heero, you silly -- have you been doing this all morning?" She was out of breath from running up the hill, carrying the heavy basket with her right arm, her other hand keeping the thick cloth covering it in place. Her eyes widened at seeing the amount of wood, though she shouldn't have been surprised, really -- she knew how much of a hard worker he was.

"I stand corrected -- have you been doing all of this?" She pointed at the amount of wood, stacked up against the wall. He put the axe away as he closed the door of the shed. He didn't have any trouble with the tool's excessive weight; he wasn't even breaking a sweat yet.

"Is it lunch time yet?" Heero asked, avoiding her question. Relena might sound a little berating at times, but the genuine and gentle care in her voice was unmistakable. The girl simply nodded and stretched her hand out to take Heero by the elbow. He showed her a small smile; he wasn't really a touchy-feely person, but he tolerated it from her. Besides, it was harmless, just a touch from someone he regarded as a good friend. How she regarded him, however, was something he had mixed feelings about.

She led him away from the shed to the other side of the hill. Smiling and giggling like only girls her age could do, she searched out a good spot to have lunch together, the large basket still dangling from her arm. He already had smelled the fresh baked bread and now that his nose had been tempted, he noticed how hungry he really was.

Relena sat down, using the piece of cloth as table linen, spreading it out over the grass. That reminded him that he needed to either cut it later or have the sheep graze here. Relena's father, esshan Darlian, appreciated his pastures to be neat and orderly, not a mess of weeds and high grass. Not that he ever complained or mentioned it to Heero; he made sure the man had nothing to complain about. Heero wouldn't do a thing to shame the family who had taken him in selflessly and had provided him with a place to stay, food to eat and a honest job to do. Romefeller country was beautiful, but it was harsh -- orphans like him could end up at the wrong side of the law sooner than they learned to run away from the local guards.

"You wouldn't have heard me calling you, so I had to yell," she apologized. "You're always so concentrated on your work, and if you break your concentration with certain tools..." She shivered, thinking about the hefty axe Heero had been wielding. That thing would cut as easily through bone and flesh as it did through wood.

Smiling up at him again, she started taking out bread, sausages, pickles, a hunk of cheese and some fresh fruit from the basket. Everything from their own lands, of course; as for many families in Romefeller country, agriculture was the main source of income as well as primary sustenance. Heero sat down as well, all but flopping into the high grass.

From this side of the hill, part of the natural border of Darlian's lands, they had a good view on the city in the distance. The capital was buzzing with life as usual; smoke from countless chimneys obscured the bright sky; bakers, smiths and homemakers doing their daily work; people crawling like ants through the streets, and it wasn't even market day.

Heero didn't want to set a foot in the overpopulated city ever again if he didn't have to. His memories of his early years on the streets, fighting for survival, were as fresh as if he'd experienced them yesterday. No one had the time or means to care for an orphan, and the Twelve knew how many there were. If it weren't for esshan-dar Noventa and his granddaughter Sylvia trying to help the socially weak, homeless or parentless children would die without anyone caring.

People of Romefeller country weren't ruthless or uninterested per se -- it was just that in big cities like these, not everyone could provide food or a bed for an extra person, and the orphanage had to do with leftovers and whatever donations people were willing to give. It wasn't exactly surprising that most orphans left the city sooner or later to find better ways to live their lives, if they weren't evicted for stealing or robbery. In Heero's case, he was saved from a life of crime at a rather young age by Darlian, something he was very grateful for.

It was hard to believe the latest rumors of war though, looking at the city like this; dirty, crowded, so much unlike the wide, open countryside. However, rumors of the expanding power of a certain Treize Khushrenada of the neighboring country of Oz had been growing like mad lately. Khushrenada ruled over a far better organized and larger army than Noventa, or anyone else in Romefeller country. This was a nation of peace, and the esshan-dar took great pride in his beliefs; he hadn't seen war for as long as he lived.

Heero took a piece of bread from Relena, thanking her. She looked lively and pretty, flicking one of her braids over her bare shoulder, joining the rest of her long, wheat-colored hair. Her light blue dress wasn't suitable for working on the lands, and he quickly reached the conclusion that she had put on the dress especially for him. It was flattering, really, but he didn't know what to say about it, so he didn't say anything at all. Instead, he bit into the still warm bread, his stomach demanding food. Chopping wood for hours on end would deplete anyone of his energy, but Heero felt as if he'd only been a light chore, like carving matches. Relena reached for the basket again, taking out a jug of water.

"It's not cool anymore," she pouted. "I think it absorbed the heat of the bread."

As she had brought two cups, she poured herself some water and tasted it. She shook her head, sending large strands of hair flying. "It's not as bad as I thought, but if you want me to, I can get some cool water...?"

"It's okay," Heero reassured her, not wanting her to jog all the way back to the farm, to the heavy, rusty pump and back again. A little sheepishly, she poured him a cup and handed it to him. It wasn't cool indeed, but not lukewarm either -- and he was rather thirsty, so he drank it even if it had been warm.

Relena nibbled on a pickle, keeping a napkin handy in case she spilled anything. She dabbed at her chin, giggling a little. She adored their little picnics and shot Heero a look from under her bangs, admiring his physique. Her father had never made it a secret that he had adopted the boy, so she knew from a very young age that he wasn't her brother. They didn't share any physical similarities to begin with. If anything, Darlian was sad that he couldn't help more children; Noventa was a good leader, but he couldn't solve the problems about the orphans, even though he was very concerned with it.

War or not, the man refused to open his eyes and was convinced that everyone upheld the same beliefs of peace he did. Darlian, who resided in the same government as an advisor while Noventa held the deciding voice in every matter, did follow the same beliefs, but with a more rational and realistic approach to it. He didn't close his eyes to the skirmishes, diseases, crime and slavery that occurred in any large city. The rules and laws of Romefeller country were few and simple; though the majority of the people did strive for peace, there were always people on the other side of society, abusing, corrupting, malfunctioning.

"Do you like it?"

Heero munched on his piece of bread. He had already eaten the sausage and the rest of the cheese and pickles. There was only some fruit left. He nodded.

"Thank you for bringing me lunch, Relena."

"No problem," she said and continued eating the pickle. She stole another glance at Heero, and noticed how he was looking at the city. There wasn't any longing in his eyes; she knew how the city had treated him and that he didn't want to return.

From here, up on the hill, under the free blue sky, the city looked far away, a problem that could never touch them.

She hesitated, wondering if she should ask him. Ask him why he was still here, working away his life on a simple farm. Her father had quite the status in the city, as he was a member of the local government and highly esteemed for all his work. The Darlian family was well represented in political history; it was just a matter of time before a Darlian would become an esshan-dar instead of an advisor. Relena's father was close to Noventa and Relena herself went to school with his granddaughter Sylvia before she left to spend her time with him, probably continuing her education with private tutors while she was being prepared to take over Noventa's leadership in the future.

Relena had quite the interest for politics herself, and loved the discussions with her father on the matter. As a strong advocate of peace herself, she was keeping a sharp eye on the growing rumors of upcoming war. Khushrenada had made clear that he wanted to add more countries to his empire, having already Epyon, Nataku and Oz completely under his control. It was even more frustrating that Noventa didn't agree with Darlian's suggested course of action. The elderly man had listened to the proposals of peaceful negotiations, but had immediately protested at the first plans of strengthening the army and bringing it up to par.

Everyone knew that without any defenses or an army to counterbalance Khushrenada's, Romefeller would fall like a ripe apple into the man's hands, should he really start up a war. Relena didn't know what had made the other countries surrender rather quickly -- news traveled slowly, and rumors were rumors -- but it might have something to do with the aggressor having an impressive army and a mage by his side.

The girl shook her head again. Magic was uncommon nowadays, and to use it as a matter of force, as a threat, was unheard of...! Darlian had tried to press Noventa into action, preparing peace talks and negotiations when a declaration of war should arrive, or at least beef up defenses, no matter how small...

...but generations of Darlian family involvement in politics came abruptly to an end when her father was send back to his farm, and the government was disbanded. Since then, the farm had served as a meeting point for everyone from the city or the neighborhood to voice their opinions or growing concerns. If anything, almost everyone wanted to avoid a full-fledged war, and with Noventa in power, no one was sure if that was possible.

Khushrenada would trample Romefeller country if the rumors of his army and his pet mage were true. People were getting nervous; what would happen in the worst case scenario? Dead, enslaved, forced to fight? Would the whole country be subjected to rules and laws that would make life a nightmare?

"You're so silent," Heero suddenly commented, interrupting her train of thought. She had finished her pickle and had been dabbing listlessly at her chin for a few minutes.

"I was just thinking about father," she said and smiled apologetically. Her mother would be appalled at her obvious lack of manners; any girl who couldn't upkeep a good conversation wouldn't be a good wife! Blushing, she smoothed out some folds in her dress and reached for an apple.

"He certainly feels disappointed," Heero commented. Darlian wasn't used to spending all his time on the farm. Daily business went smoothly enough, thanks to Heero's hard work and esshava Darlian's, Relena's mother, being in charge of the household and the distribution of the work.

The elderly man had spend more time in political affairs and advising in decisions concerning the whole country -- as small as it was -- instead of worrying about how the crops were doing this season. He trusted Heero to keep up with everything, and he had certainly proven to be worthy of that trust.

"I still can't believe how esshan-dar Noventa just...sent him home," Relena said, looking pensive. "My father is good at the work he does, and his advice has always been valued. What if that Khushrenada man stands in front of our borders? What if he doesn't want to listen to us?"

"Relena," Heero admonished her gently, "it's far too early to worry about that, if it's going to happen at all. Khushrenada will probably leave Romefeller as it is; we don't have anything to offer but vegetables and grains. The other countries were far more valuable in resources and riches than we are -- and people will certainly stand up against him, sooner or later."

"It's just not fair." Her fingers curled around a clump of grass, tugging at it. "We haven't done anything to invoke Khushrenada's...attention. Like you said, we're just a small country, nothing to offer but vegetables and grains. I don't understand why anyone would want to invade other countries and wage war in the first place. It's so sad, and so...unnecessary."

Heero chewed on the last piece of bread, enjoying the taste of the herbs. Basil and garlic, his favorite. Tilting his head a little, he chewed and swallowed before answering.

"You don't have to be afraid of an invasion, Relena," he said. "Our country might not offer much, but what we have is valuable enough for an army. Any invader wouldn't be stupid as to overrun us or destroy the lands -- burning and pillaging Romefeller country would mean cutting oneself off of years worth of food, and any army needs to eat."

A small smile graced her face. "You're so smart."

"It's survival instinct," he said, shrugging. Heero had learned fast enough on the streets that the first rule in surviving was to acquire food, followed by shelter. Without food, you'd simply die -- and without protection from the elements, you'd die too, and fast. He wondered for a brief moment why Relena was bringing up the war; if there was already one going on, Khushrenada would never be able to keep his grip on so many countries. He had heard the rumors too, especially about the mage -- who needed an army when he had a powerful mage on his side?

The girl simply nodded and stared at her apple before taking a gentle bite out of it.

"It still isn't fair," she repeated. "I thought that my father had earned the trust and faith of esshan-dar Noventa after so many years, and that he would listen to him."

"Your father holds quite the respect, yes," Heero agreed. "But who can look into one another's head? Who knows what the esshan-dar was thinking; maybe he's afraid of a man like Khushrenada and his mage, or maybe he thinks war won't come to his doorstep."

"What if my father's peace negotiations would fail?"

"Then there would be fighting," Heero dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, "and I doubt that's what he wants. Your father will try for peace talks first, but he realizes that without an army or at least some defense, we're just ready for the picking."

"No fighting," Relena pursed her lips in disgust, "no army, no war. People need to work together, not fight each other to the death. Weapons are the most evil invention of the world, and shouldn't be used!"

Like father, like daughter. Heero didn't comment, and finished his lunch by drinking some of the water, sipping from his cup. Relena held up the same beliefs as her father, maybe a little more to the extreme than he did -- where Darlian saw the necessity of defenses, Relena wanted every weapon, every piece of armament to disappear, to cease to exist.

He wasn't really sure if it was the right belief; Heero had seen the necessity of fighting when he was still wandering the streets like so many orphans. Every man for himself, and people would simply look at the man with the most weapons and power, and chose his side. That was the way it worked, and no one had any interest in working together, not even to keep up peace -- there would always be someone in power, demanding or claiming it either way...and no one liked to share power.

Darlian, together with Noventa, had worked hard to keep peace, to keep Romefeller country out of any dangerous situation. There had been wars before, but none of them had touched this land; every now and then someone would rise to power and fall again. Romefeller was one of the very few countries where the political situation was rather consistent; something several people had worked hard to achieve and maintain.

These rumors about Khushrenada, about this man expanding, annexing every country in this world's existence -- it was wrong. He might have a mage and an army, but he was still one man; Heero was pretty confident that he would be stopped sooner or later, and until there was no outright war here, it wasn't really any of his business.

"It's getting late," he said, and shifted in the grass, getting back up on his feet again. He had a list of chores and wanted to cross a few of them off. Now that he stocked enough chopped wood for the next few weeks, it was time to cut the grass and repair the gate in the southeast corner of the lands, then get some hay from the large attic in the shed to feed the horses...

Relena nodded, gathering the cups and folding up neatly the large piece of cloth, putting it back in the basket.

"Thank you, it was a nice lunch."

Her cheeks reddened just a little, and she worked faster to get everything in the basket, standing up hastily and busying herself with dusting off some grass leaves on her dress. Relena usually helped her mother out with the daily business on and around the farm, but she certainly didn't back out on physical chores either. Heero couldn't count the number of times he'd seen her completely dirty from cleaning out the pigs' troughs or working in the stables.

She loved working on the farm as much as discussing politics with her father, though her mother sometimes rolled her eyes and was more worried about her daughter's future husband and the number of grandchildren she was going to welcome in the family. Whenever the subject of marriage came up, Heero had noticed Relena quickly glancing at him every now and then, but it was out of the question that she would marry a servant. She was destined to marry an esshan herself, someone with a little more standing than a commoner, preferably with a farm or a mansion, at least lands of his own.

"Don't work too hard," she answered, adding a little giggle to it. The Darlians didn't have as many servants or laborers as their neighbors; Heero did the work for four, maybe five men. He didn't mind; anything was better than to roam around the streets of the city with nowhere to go. Relena held up her dress when she carefully walked down the hill, occasionally throwing a look over her shoulder, still smiling when she saw him, basket dangling from her arm. He refrained from waving at her, but waited until she disappeared from his sight before turning around and jogging towards the gate.

A few days later, Heero was send to the city, much to his dismay. No matter how self-sufficient the Darlian farm was, they didn't make their own tools and so he found himself searching for the smithy, glaring at everyone around him. Things certainly had changed since the last time he had been here.

He didn't recognize the armor of a few men parading through the city; their cuirass was dark green with dark yellow markings, a strange design of lines and stars. They weren't wearing helmets, but dark green caps on the back of their heads. That they were of some kind of militia faction was quite clear; every one of them was carrying a sword.

No one of the locals looked particularly very happy, expressing worried and disapproving frowns, especially aimed at the strange soldiers, or whatever they were. It surprised him that they were tolerated in the city; Noventa usually didn't allow public display of weapons. The men kept circling the city in groups of four, as if they were scouting the area, talking loudly and obnoxiously. Heero wondered what they were doing around here.

A young orphan ran into them, dropping a bunch of apples on the street. Immediately, the tallest of the men grabbed the kid at the scruff of his neck and lifted him up.

"You brat! Running and stealing, and soiling a captain of the Treize Faction!"

He shook the boy back and forth, the kid wailing apologies and flailing his arms. The other men just laughed a little, apparently in the mood for some fun. It was hot and dirty in the city, even at this early hour of the morning, and people were easily agitated. This was simply bullying, and Heero turned a little, keeping a sharp eye on the men and the kid. Treize Faction? Captain?

"Look, the kid was stealing apples." One of the soldiers picked them up from the road and showed the already rotten fruit. Heero gritted his teeth. There was market today, and the kid could just as easily have earned this fruit by helping build up the stalls. Even if he had stolen it, no one made a big deal out of rotten fruit being taken by an orphan -- and judging from his clothes and scrawny body, he was an orphan indeed.

"Stealing? Disobeying the law, mmm?" The officer, dirty blond hair plastered in sweaty bangs all over his face, showed a mean grin -- he had just found an easy, cheap way to entertain himself and his men.

The small kid protested, but couldn't do much while dangling in the air. His weight was insignificant to the well-fed, trained officer. He shook the young boy a few times more, obviously enjoying his squirming.

"What's the matter? Didn't your mother teach you some manners? Once we're in control here, we're going to send vermin and thieves like you to labor camps," he laughed in the kid's face, eliciting raw laughter from his company.

"Leave him alone," Heero spoke up. "He doesn't have a mother, and yours clearly failed when it came to teaching you manners, whoever you are."

The dark skinned man next to the officer frowned. "You don't speak to Captain Alex of the Treize Faction like that, commoner!"

"Easy, Muller," the officer answered, then looked at Heero. "At least this one here has the guts to speak up. What's your name and your occupation?"

"Both are none of your business. Let the kid go, and leave. You don't hold any authority here."

"Not yet, no," Alex said, smiling amusedly as he dropped the boy. Heero was too late to catch him and he fell to the ground, crying out loud. He was faster away than Heero could ask him if he was all right; and judging from the speed he was running with, no bones had been broken. He turned his head to face the captain, showing nothing but disdain.

The man wasn't impressed, but he suddenly said: "You look strong and you have quite the fierce character. Why don't you enlist? Our leader can use men like you, with loyalty and strong will. You'll be taught how to fight, and you'll get well paid for every battle you participate in."

"No, thank you," Heero answered dryly. "I don't intend to die very soon, and I don't like Khushrenada as an employer."

Alex barked a short laugh. "Suit yourself. Do think about it, however -- whatever you're doing now -- farm boy, apprentice, errand runner -- the Treize Faction is a good way to make money fast, see something of the world, and fight like real men do."

Heero wanted to give the man a snide remark, but the captain already turned around and made a gesture for his companions to follow him. The other man who was addressed as Muller shot him a death glare before walking away.

"Tsk," an elderly citizen spat. Heero hadn't even noticed the man coming to stand next to him. "I don't know what the good esshan-dar Noventa is thinking, but he never should have allowed those...deadbeats into the city. All they do is parade around and cause trouble!"

"Noventa has let them in?"

The man spat again. "The esshan-dar lost his reason, and him sending Darlian away to his farm was the stupidest thing he could do. These members of the Treize Faction or how they call themselves, are 'inspecting' the city. Only the Twelve know why! These men only know how to spend their gold, and they drink and harass hardworking citizens," he continued, and he looked about ready to throw up. "I'm telling you, they're going to brief everything to Khushrenada so he can involve us in a war, that's for sure!"

A woman passing by, carrying a large basket full of laundry shook her head, but she didn't disagree.

"I'm afraid he's going to take away my sons for his army, or that they're foolish enough to enlist themselves, completely driven mad with those talks of riches and victory! We can work as slaves, we can pay his taxes or whatever, but please don't let him take away my sons..."

"That mage of his, that Merquise guy, he can't magic his way out of a horse's stable," another passersby chimed in. "If he's really all that powerful, why doesn't he show it? Why does Khushrenada needs an all-powerful army when his mage can supposedly flatten everyone with just one spell?"

"They are testing young kids," another woman added to the conversation, speaking softly while she pulled up the hood of her cloak, as if she wanted to shield herself. "Anyone who just as shows the tiniest hint of magic is sent to Khushrenada's castle in Barge country. They say it's for training..."

"Training my nose," the first man spoke up again. "We're not going to hand him over our country if he shows up here! Noventa should put up a fight instead of talking!"

"A fight," the first woman with the laundry basket muttered, "how? We only have some guards in the city, and they can't even keep a mouse from nibbling on our grain supplies."

Heero didn't need much more to learn that there was growing dissatisfaction from the people, just like Relena had said, but he decided to keep his opinion to himself. After all, he was just a servant for the Darlians. Not many recognized him as such, though some people quickly ended their conversations as he went by. Darlian might not have any political power left, but people were careful, much more careful than Heero could remember. Apparently, speaking out loud one's mind was dangerous, or at least discouraged. He didn't like it. He felt like he was constantly being watched somehow, and even a few another Treize Faction members kept an eye on him. He doubted they knew who he was, but still...it made him feel uncomfortable.

The smithy wasn't that far; it was in the far east corner of the city, where all craftsmen resided. From here already, Heero could hear the buzz of people shouting orders, loading and unloading carts, a butcher sharpening his knives while two cows waited dully outside. Men and women worked themselves busily through the crowds, running errands, trading, fetching things. He was grateful that he didn't need to be here every day; Heero had only been for one hour in the city and he already felt like he was suffocating.

Just like the other major parts in town, houses and buildings were primarily plastered white, with here and there soft yellow or very light blue colors used for a personal touch. Red, dark blue or dark gray roof tiles added to the diversity of the houses. Heero blinked a few times; were there really kids running over the sloped roofs? They looked like they were having fun while they dodged clothesline after clothesline and climbed over small iron grates of even smaller balconies and bay windows, making the buildings their own personal playground.

A few women were busy sweeping the streets, occasionally cursing when carts with large wheels passed by, stirring up clouds of dust and sand all over again. It was a real pandemonium of barking dogs, chickens, ducks and even two sheep wandering around as if they owned the city; one woman tripped over a cat and fell, arms flailing to catch her fall. He closed his ears for a loud string of very colorful expletives, waiting for two men on horses to pass before continuing his way.

Heero located the smithy, using his elbows to make a path for himself; no one paid attention to him, and he received quite the pokes back for not moving fast enough out of the way. He had been to Howard only once before; the man was known for helping out the poorer of people. Darlian wasn't exactly poor, but Howard never made a big deal when someone was a payment behind or couldn't cough up the gold immediately. A strange fellow, Heero thought, so trusting of people. The first thing he had learned was never to trust anyone in his life and to act purely on his emotions, what his instincts told him. Besides the Darlians, who had proved to be a real family and friends to him, hardly anyone was worthy of his trust.

When entering the workshop, Howard wasn't in sight, and the fires weren't burning. A hammer rested on the anvil, together with a few pliers. The windbag was put next to the fireplace, and looked unused for the day. There was a strange silence permeating the place; an unnatural silence.

"Howard?"

No answer. Heero was dumbfounded. It didn't look like Howard had gone out for an errand, he could see from afar that no one had worked in the smithy today. Deserted, that was what it was -- had Howard fled from the city? Most smiths would rub their hands with the prospect of war; good money was to be made off of weapons. Howard was one of the very few, if not the only one, to make effective, inventive tools; not as blunt or easily broken or destroyed like the others.

Calling for the man again, Heero walked around restlessly. The whole place looked like it had been abandoned for quite a while now. Suddenly he looked up, his eyes catching sight of a completely filled weapon rack. He frowned, extending his hand and touching them, out of curiosity. The blades were quite sharp and he withdrew his finger, hissing. He had cut himself!

"Can I help you?"

The gruff voice behind him didn't sound like Howard, and Heero jumped; it didn't happen that often that people managed to sneak up on him. For a smith, Howard certainly didn't look like one. He was wiry and small, not buffed or extremely strong as his fellow craftsman. He was a stranger to his peers anyway because he often passed up good jobs to invent and work on tools. He was generally clever and nice; Heero hadn't seen the man without his smile and a laugh.

"Howard, I didn't know you made weapons," he said almost accusingly, avoiding the urge to stick his finger into his mouth.

The man tugged at his moustache, shoulders in a slump. His clothing was ridiculously colorful, especially for a smith. The combination of a bright yellow vest with a red shirt and flaming green pants was too much on the eyes of any human being. Howard looked pensive though, and not like the cheerful, good-spirited man he usually was.

"Ah, it's you, Heero," he said and nodded. He relaxed a little in his presence, but made a dismissive gesture at the swords.

"Bah. Old work. Khushrenada has inquired with every smith in town if he's interested in working on weapons. He even went as far as to offer ten gold pieces for each sword."

Heero whistled.

"Ten?"

That was a year's worth of salary to him, even more -- he barely got paid as it was, just a small allowance. He already had board and lodging, and esshava Darlian took care of his clothing; what more could he want? He hardly spent money on anything anyway.

"Believe me boy, there's going to be war sooner than anyone thinks," Howard whispered, and looked to the left and right as if making sure that no one was eavesdropping on him.

"Why?" Heero asked. "Khushrenada hasn't declared war on us yet."

The smith shook his head in annoyance.

"There's no stopping the man's lust for power. Epyon country was one of the first to fall, and Romefeller is simply the next, so he can cross over to Maganac country."

Heero snorted. Darlian had a map of the world hanging in the living room, and though Heero couldn't read, the man had pointed out several countries and their characteristics to him.

"Maganac country is a desert, he'll get sand in his boots."

"No no," Howard objected, "Sandy and inhospitable as it might be, Maganac holds the richest mines of the world. Copper, silver, gold...even platinum. I tell you, we're the next to fall, and we're not going to resist because Noventa is deluded into thinking that everything will be all right as long as there is peace...but this is an artificial peace, a thin layer of veneer, and it'll soon crack and break. People are already calling on the streets for Darlian's return, and you know how much support he can count on."

"If that's just as much support as the people showed him before," Heero snorted. "No one protested when he was sent home."

"Don't be silly, boy," Howard spoke sharply. "There are more interests at stake here than only Darlian's. Khushrenada has a mage and an army of at least ten thousand well-trained soldiers, fitted with the best of swords and weapons the finest smiths could make, and he's constantly seeking ways to expand that army. What would you do if you were confronted with such an overwhelming power?"

"Fight," Heero answered stubbornly, and Howard laughed brusquely.

"Not everyone might be as strong and brave as you are, son," the smith said. He sounded amused, not offended. "Politics are dirty business. You better stay far, far away from it and just work on your farm and pray that no war will ever tear this land apart. Because it's a good country, we can manage, and we don't need usurpers like Khushrenada."

Howard suddenly moved forward, moving the swords out of the way as if he was looking for something. He didn't cut himself at all.

"The anvil is cold," Heero finally commented. "I came here to pick up some tools, but it looks like..."

"Mm-hmm," the man muttered. "I'm no longer in the business. If there's one thing that I despise, it's being pressured into making weapons. The Treize Faction running around town is only the beginning, and I don't want Khushrenada or his mage himself on my doorstep to tell me what to do."

He suddenly pulled out a large wooden staff with a pointy...thing fixed to the head. Heero looked at it, wondering what Howard was talking about.

"So you really think war is coming, then?"

"Khushrenada wants Maganac country," the man answered, nodding. "We'll fall easily in his hands: no army, no defense, and a spineless esshan-dar that will believe anything that's being said to him as long as it contains the word 'peace'. Khushrenada will use our country as personal stock and supplier for his army, and he'll move right on, claiming those mines, enslaving the natives and forcing them to work for him. Only, Maganac country will fight back, for as long as it takes."

"Why are Khushrenada's men already in town?"

"Why? Because the man wants it, that's why. And unless there's someone willing to stand up against him, we're going to be crushed like a nut between Oz and Maganac, that's for sure. After we served our purpose as personal supplier, we'll be burned and pillaged and there will be nothing left of our nation. Here, take this."

Heero couldn't keep a surprised look from his face when the smith trusted the staff into his hands. It was long, reaching far above his head, and carved out of fine, supple wood, along with some strange markings on the bottom. The head was simple iron, shaped like a trident with exceedingly sharp blades.

"This is a sollevar," Howard said. "It's a nice weapon, and the only one I've ever been able to make, besides from those swords over here."

Heero moved it around. It felt extremely light despite the intricate, large iron head. He swung it a few times, and it already felt familiar in his hands -- which was strange, as he had never wielded a sword or any other weapon before. His fingers touched the long staff, tracing over the markings. He assumed they were words. Keeping it between his fingers, already attached to it, he looked up curiously at Howard.

"I want you to have it," the smith suddenly said, his voice sounding strange. "I don't have any use for it, and I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands."

Heero offered the weapon back to him. "I don't have any money to pay for it." Any handcrafted weapon like this would at least be a fifty gold pieces, and his small allowance wasn't going to cover that in years.

The man shook his head. "No, you don't have to pay for it."

"I can't accept it," Heero refused. It didn't feel right to accept this. He had lived his life without taking things from others, not without doing something for it in return, and this weapon was too valuable to even be a gift. A noble knight should wield this, not a farm boy. He didn't need a weapon in the first place, and what would the Darlians say when he came home with it?

"Take it," Howard said, all but commanding -- his voice made sure that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "This is your last chance to get it out of the city before anyone will notice it or confiscate it. There isn't much time. As soon as you're gone, I'll destroy the swords here. No one will say about Howard the smith that he contributed to the war."

"But if you give me this..." He was reluctant to accept, even though the weapon felt... comfortable in his hands, as if it had always belonged there. "If you give me this, and I'm going to fight with it one way or the other, you've contributed to the war after all."

The man chuckled, and he plucked at his moustache. "I would be contributing to another war if you wield this, Heero. A good war."

He gaped at him, starting to get convinced that the smith had lost his mind. With his fingers still around the shaft, he finally accepted it, but his voice was a little hesitant. A good war?

"Why are you giving me this, then?"

Howard had walked to the back of his workshop, searching for the tools Heero was supposed to be picking up. He looked over his shoulder every now and then, as if he was making sure that Heero still had the weapon.

"It'll become clear to you later, son. I want you to take it, and -- ah, here's a nice one."

He pulled out a large, sturdy shovel and a hoe from another rack, walked back to Heero and handed them to him.

"Darlian is a good man, and he deserves better than this. He and his daughter. This one is also free of charge."

"Why are you doing this? I have money for the tools," Heero said. Which craftsman gave his work away for free? Howard simply laughed.

"You will thank me sometime soon."

"I can thank you right now," Heero answered. He knew the smith to be a little eccentric, but this was really too much. Howard plucked at his moustache once again, a sad look crossing his face.

"I have one more thing to say to you, son, and then you should go. If..." He took a deep gasp of breath. "Find yourself a priest of Maxwell Church. He can help you. Now go...go!"

"What? I don't need a priest..." Heero was now really convinced that the man had lost it. What would he ever need a priest for? The smith started to shoo him out of his workshop.

"Go, just go!"

Heero had no choice but to leave. Right after he stepped over the threshold, the heavy wooden door closed behind him, missing his ankles by an inch. What was wrong with the man? He stared at the shovel, the hoe and the sollevar as if they were going to bite him. He would have to inspect them very, very closely before working with them.

It was already afternoon and time to go home -- he had no business left in the city and he wanted to get away. Passing a large square where usually the market was being held, he stopped by the immense fountain in the center to help himself to a small drink. It was a granite, octagonal fountain with crystal clear water; lots of people drank from it. The middle of the fountain, where the water was spraying from, was carved from an unknown type of stone, and consisted of five statues. The constant running of the water and time through the ages had worn the statues down, making it difficult to see what or who they exactly represented.

Everyone knew it was a reference to a vague legend, a monument to commemorate five special people, five 'warriors' who had made a pact in the name of their respective countries: Romefeller, Epyon, Oz, Nataku and Maganac. Those five had managed to shape their countries into one respectable union, fending off enemies, bring prosperity and wealth, and forming a very strong defensive relationship and the passageway to the mythical kingdom of Sanq.

This legend was told differently every time as there was no official source, and not many people believed in it. There were no written records of this Sanq kingdom save for some of the text carved in the statues, preaching about a true paradise of peace. Two of the five had been identified as mages, judging from the staffs they were carrying. The countries they were hailing from was simply assumed, as their names showed up first in history records.

As Heero never had been to school, he didn't know the details -- and he didn't care. The work at the farm was more important to him than just a legend that nobody even knew the right version of. He washed his hands in the fountain and was about to leave when three men casually sauntered across the square, talking to each other in hushed voices. Mages in training; they were easily recognized by their robes that fell to their ankles, enveloping them from head to toe.

They had some nerve, parading around here as if everything was all right and peachy. Despite Noventa's policy of peace and tolerance, not even he had been able to take away the reigning prejudice and fear for mages, for anyone who could wield magic. People didn't look kindly upon mages walking around without being adequately accompanied -- preferably by guards or soldiers. Yet, these three -- they were in training because they lacked their staff, every fully trained mage was obliged to carry one to identify him or herself -- acted as if they owned the city. Brawn or simply no brains?

Heero decided that it was wise to stay out of this, and hid the sollevar from view by putting the large blade of the shovel over it. He had the feeling the mages would question him about it if they saw it. Howard had acted very mysteriously about the weapon, and even more so, the man had behaved completely...strange, out of his mind. Maybe he could talk to Darlian about it.

He left the city through the main gate and though people looked a little strangely at him, he didn't encounter any trouble, nor did he see the captain of the Treize Faction again. No one said anything about his weapon as far as they were able to identify it, stuck between the shovel and the hoe, but he felt a strange gust of relief when he reached the Darlian farm lying between the hills.

Rumors of war grew rapidly stronger the next few days, the unspoken threat and fear present everywhere. Heero often found himself using his sollevar in mock-battle, practically enamored with the weapon. As long as nobody saw it, and certainly not Relena, he felt safe enough to wield it.

He had his own schedule to keep, and he made sure he finished his daily work before training with the weapon. It was amazing how light and familiar it felt despite its large iron head, and it became a irrefutable extension of his body. He felt strangely naked without the sollevar in his hands, but he couldn't go around carrying it all day. The weapon was stored in his room above the barn, and Heero regretted that there was no one who could train him properly, but he was not going to ask Darlian of all people if he knew a weapon master.

Meanwhile, Khushrenada's men, the Treize Faction, had become a part of daily life in the city and started to scour the lands and harass the farmers. More members of the Treize Faction arrived in Romefeller country, and not all of them were well-behaved. Besides rumors of war, rumors about excessive taxes and pillages grew stronger with every passing day.

The farmers felt their freedom slowly being stripped away. An order was unexpectedly issued by esshan-dar Noventa prohibiting all trade with the city. Only the Treize Faction was allowed to trade between farmers and the townsfolk, and they were allowed to set the prices and conditions as they saw fit, no matter how impossible, ridiculous or even below actual market value.

It caused a lot of annoyance and grievance as the farmers were forced to sell against extremely low prices, knowing that the Treize Faction would resell it for far higher profits, forcing the townsfolk to pay what they asked. Darlian's farm was visited more often than not by the neighboring farmers, discussing and complaining about the situation. They all reached quickly the conclusion that the future was looking bleak if Noventa kept granting the Treize Faction and Khushrenada more of these privileges. It was however a completely different thing what they were supposed to do about it.

Heero didn't meddle with the on-going discussions; Darlian had experience enough with politics and he was just simply a servant. They would probably chase him out of the room if he were present, unlike Relena who actively participated. She didn't speak to Heero about what was exactly discussed; she didn't want to bore him or ruin their conversation with heavy politics.

It was just a day like any other day when she sought him out again for another lunch. Relena had taken the opportunity to change into a beautiful blue dress, not suitable for work, but very well fitting for a nice, casual lunch. She had shortened the dress a little, the garment reaching just over her knees, and made ribbons from the remaining fabric to tie off her braids. They went to sit on their own spot, the other side of the hill, looking out over the city.

She was uncharacteristically silent when taking out the food from the basket; warm bread, home-made cheese and sausage. She had even brought hard-boiled eggs and two large pickles. He helped her put everything out, taking the heavy jug of -- cool -- water from her and putting it on the piece of cloth serving as table linen.

"Something on your mind?" It sounded brusque, but he was genuinely worried for her. She was his friend, and whatever she might think of him, he didn't want to let her down.

"I'm afraid, Heero," she said after a short moment of hesitation, "afraid that war will break out, and that people will fight...and die...and leave our country in shambles."

"You can't keep people from feeling what they feel or the events from happening as they happen," he pointed out. "With the exception of a few, most people don't like fighting or a war any better than you do...but the way Khushrenada and his men are present here, how they are treating the citizens...it's not surprising that there is a lot of anger and dissatisfaction. It's in man's nature to stand up against tyranny." He wasn't so sure if his words were true. After all, Noventa all but cooperated to turn his country over to the usurper Khushrenada had proven himself to be.

"War is awful, people should strive for peace, not anything else," she murmured. Her fingers crumbled a slice of cheese into tiny bits, falling on the grass. "Even when they talk to my father, they want to know how to make their own army, and their weapons, and the best way to fight. The only farmer-friendly smith has long since left the city..."

"Howard?"

"Yes, Howard, where you got your tools," she answered, almost absent-mindedly. "My father told me he has left the town, and he's not the only one. A number of good people are leaving, because they see and fear what's coming."

"Why is your father staying, then?" Heero had felt the unease rising as of late. Darlian had been taking their prize-winning stallion Vayeate for 'rides', but Heero had seen him once traveling directly to the city. He hadn't thought anything about it, assuming that Darlian wanted to relive his earlier fame as high-esteemed member of the local government, but now he changed his mind. Relena's father would never answer with a war, and he wasn't opposed to Khushrenada's interference per se as long as the citizens were left in peace. Was the man trying to reestablish his earlier position of power?

"Father doesn't want to abandon the people," Relena nodded. Heero's face flushed; he hadn't realized he had voiced his thoughts out loud. "It's not their fault that Noventa send him home. He's trying to talk to him, as he experiences first-hand the growing unrest from the farmers...it's all a hot-bed of tensions, and it's only the question of who's going to ignite it first."

Her appetite seemed to have vanished, so she put down the slice of cheese, as far as she hadn't shredded it. She was restless, he could tell; these times were bad on anyone's nerves. Heero hadn't known war in his young life; Romefeller country had never known such problems and had just been what it always had been -- the daily grind, ups and downs, nothing more.

Any problems plaguing the country was something to solve for the government or people in power Heero didn't feel attached to; it was only when he came into Darlian's service that he learned more about the people behind the power, and how politics worked in general. He didn't like it that he knew too little about these sorts of things. Despite being just a servant, Heero wasn't stupid. He never forgot what people told him, and though he wasn't ashamed of asking questions if he really didn't understand something, he preferred to avoid it. Darlian was one of the few people who had books in their possession and had started to teach him how to read, but his lessons were irregular at best.

"He sure has good faith in them," Heero said, chewing on a slice of bread, referring to Relena's father putting himself on the line for the citizens. The girl nodded, her face darkening in thought.

"He believes in second chances and in the good of people, yes," she agreed. "I'm sure that he can talk to esshan-dar Noventa and convince him to take back his position, and to do something about..." Her words suddenly stuck in her throat, and Heero didn't have to ask her what was going on.

Black clouds of smoke colored the sky, carrying the heavy smell of fire and burning wood with them. Heero jumped up, dropping his piece of bread in the grass.

"Heero! The farm...the farm!" Relena screamed.

Her words came from somewhere far away, he was already running. His feet stomped on the grass, his pace too fast for anyone, even in good physique, to keep up with. Boiling hot anger overwhelmed him. The farm was on fire, the flames burning through the roof, and he could already hear the large support beams groaning. Men on horses wandered around the farm, carrying torches in their hands while they laughed and yelled in uproar.

"Bastards!" Heero yelled and jumped, grabbing one man at the leg, almost throwing him out of the saddle. The horse whinnied, lifting its legs to jump away while its rider whacked with the torch at Heero. He recognized the colors of the man's armor -- the typical dark green with dark yellow markings and the strange caps on the back of his head -- Treize Faction.

"Let go, you filthy servant," the man hissed and struck at him again with the torch, and the heat scorched strands of hair. Heero had to let go, out of fear that his face would be burned.

The man immediately drove his heels into the horse's sides, spurring it on to jump away. Heero was thrown to the ground, the large animal storming away too quickly to avoid. His shoulder was hit with the rear end of the torch, and pain erupted as he gritted his teeth -- no one would taste the satisfaction of hearing him yell in pain.

Ignoring his shoulder, Heero rolled and got up again, running towards the east side of the farm, towards the large barn. He heard Relena yelling and caught a glimpse of her -- in the same split second that he saw her, he noticed that she had brought the picnic basket with her, including the blanket. She was close to the backdoor of the farm.

"Mother! Father!"

"Get away from there!" he roared as a large support beam crumbled and came crashing down. "Relena!"

He couldn't see her anymore, thick black clouds obscuring his vision and separating them from one another. Coughing, Heero continued running. There was one thing, besides saving the Darlians, that stood out on his mind -- he wanted his sollevar. The weapon was priceless to him; he wanted to save it from the flames, and he made his way to the barn, jumping over the smoldering remnants of the doors to get in.

There wasn't an animal in sight. He didn't see any cadavers, so he assumed the animals had either escaped or were confiscated by the Treize Faction to serve their own purposes. He raced up the wooden stairs, taking three steps at once, and jumped on his bed -- more like a sleeping-bag in the hay, and he rolled over the extra blankets -- nothing.

A string of curses rolled over his lips as he got up from his bed, taking the stairs down again and left the barn quickly; the wood was already smoldering and the roof was creaking dangerously. It was pretty much clear that neither the farm nor the barns could be saved; the fire was too intense, too much, too fast. Heero had counted in his haste more than six men on horses; they had methodically lit the buildings in every corner. Nothing would survive that.

As he ran outside again, three soldiers were standing next to each other, one on his horse and the other two next to him. They didn't carry torches; they had probably left them at the corners to do their destructive work. Enraged, Heero ran towards them, just in time to see the man on the horse pulling out a sword, the man to his left too and...the man to the right carrying his sollevar.

Heero lunged for him, his hands immediately grabbing the handle of the weapon. The man cried out in surprise, clearly having underestimated Heero's strength, but he wasn't about to give up that easily. Grunting, the man pulled the weapon towards him, and Heero quickly stepped to the side taking the man with him, turning him around so the other ended up with his back facing the man to the left, who already had lifted up his sword for a dashing strike.

Noticing that it was his fellow soldier whose back was turned to him now, the man tried to swing his sword away, but it was too late to alter it, the force of his swing struck the other soldier. He screamed out in pain and let go of the sollevar immediately, grabbing his shoulder and sinking to his knees on the ground, cursing madly.

The soldier still standing immediately shifted his position and grabbed the handle of his sword with two hands, as Heero lifted up the much lighter sollevar and poked with it in the man's direction. The other's eyes went from slightly worried to frowning. His heavy broadsword was a match for Heero's weapon; but it remained to be seen if he was fast enough to avoid the fast attack speed when wielding such a heavy weapon himself.

The man on the horse carried a much lighter rapier and slashed at Heero, roaring in triumph. Warned by the noise, Heero quickly turned around on his feet to avoid the oncoming attack, using the length of his sollevar to strike at the soldier with the broadsword. The soldier had taken too long to contemplate his next move, and suffered another strike, resulting in a superficial wound across his chest. He moved away, dropping his sword, and he was immediately dismissed by Heero who had to block the attack of the man on the horse. The rapier hit the sollevar full force, sending sparks flying despite the staff of the weapon being made out of wood. He didn't hesitate a second before the rider could strike again; shifting his stance, he cut the man in his right side, the sollevar slashing through armor and flesh. With a high-pitched scream, the man fell out of the saddle as the horse bucked, the scent of blood making it wild.

The foot soldier had simply decided to attack full-force as he thought Heero to be too occupied with the rider to suspect his next attack, and swung his broadsword once again. Heero moved away from the prancing horse, evading its strong legs, turning around in time to face the attacking soldier, lifting up his sollevar in a last-ditch effort to avoid the sword cleaving his head. To his surprise, the sword was stopped by the sollevar, which by all means should have been split in two.

Heero grunted; despite his weapon not breaking, the force of the other's blow was almost driving him into the ground. He tried to overthrow the soldier, and gritted his teeth in his effort, breath coming in painful gasps. The man strengthened his footing, and the two other soldiers were slowly getting up from the ground; one clutching his shoulder and the former rider clutching his side, a grimace on his face. They were injured, but not incapacitated enough to be totally harmless.

With a deep grunt, Heero finally pushed the foot soldier away, the man staggering backwards with a surprised look on his face. He immediately swung his sollevar around, this time slashing open the approaching soldier's intestines, and he went down again screaming, hands in front of his stomach, blood dripping through his fingers. The horseless rider briefly looked at his fallen comrade abhorrently, but quickly focused his attention on Heero again, rapier in hand.

He twirled his sollevar around and noticed the soldier's focused eyes. They were darting towards the weapon, not to Heero himself. The sollevar. Why had Howard exactly given it to him, and what exactly had the smith given him? How had it been able to withstand the blow of a broadsword without splitting? How could there be sparks when the steel of the rapier hit the wooden shaft? Why was the rider looking at the weapon with more fear in his eyes than at Heero? There was no time to contemplate now, and he had to dodge the man's attack.

The hilt of the rapier hit the trident-shaped head of the sollevar, and this time even bigger sparks flew. Heero shifted his stance, moving around, cursing himself mentally -- he didn't possess fluency or skill enough to wield the weapon proficiently in battle. He stabbed and struck with it like the first-class peasant he was; he knew that the sollevar in the hands of a weapon master would be invincible. It was flexible, it was strong, and it was razor sharp. He also knew that most of his hits were just pure luck. He was going to get in over his head if this fight took to long.

The rider was far more skilled with the rapier, and obviously thought he was standing a chance, judging from his confidence returning. He even approached Heero, trying to drive him into a corner -- or in this case, into the burning barn. The man didn't need all his experience in battle to notice Heero's clumsy moves compared to his own. He tried to lunge at Heero again, and this time he managed to cut him. Heero hissed in pain, warm blood welling up across his chest.

His defense was down, and the soldier with the broadsword was approaching him from the back, trapping him between his comrade and the burning barn. Two trained military men against a simple servant; he could see their confidence grow with each passing second. They had noticed that he handled the weapon like a beginner and considered him killing the first soldier a fluke, a sick bit of beginner's luck.

Heero quickly figured out they were going to drive him into the burning flames. He swung the sollevar in front of him, fighting for a bit of space. Though he succeeded in driving them a few steps back, apprehensive looks on their faces, it didn't help him much. He was running out of time. He had to dispose of these two; the sounds of the farm burning and crashing down grated his ears...and he feared that the Darlians were still inside.

"You'll pay for killing Walker," the rider hissed at him.

"You'll pay for burning down the farm," Heero hissed right back at him, his knuckles turning white from his grip on his sollevar.

"Don't mess around with the Treize Faction, boy," the other soldier snorted. "You're lucky enough to still be alive. Consider it an honor to be killed by us!"

With that, the rider lunged at him again and Heero brought up his sollevar to block the blow, but from the corner of his eye he noticed the soldier with the broadsword also lunging at him. This was it. No way he was able to block two attacks at once. The man was going to pierce right through his neck, the force of his impact hard enough to sever his head completely...it was all a matter of seconds, but Heero refused to close his eyes for what was coming; he just stared at the soldier, sword engulfed in flames, as it reflected the burning farm behind him.

A matter of seconds, and in the same short time span everything changed. Before the soldier could finish his attack, broadsword swinging, he cried out, more in surprise than from pain. He was thrown to the ground, the sword missing Heero's neck by just a few millimeters.

"Vayeate!"

Never before had he been so happy to see Relena's horse. The gray stallion whinnied loudly, moving its legs to trample on the soldier. His screams of agony were smothered pretty quickly, and Heero dismissed the man as soon as he saw the horse. Sweaty, bloodied and face blackened by the smoke, he turned to take on the last soldier with the rapier -- but the man stared at both Heero and Vayeate, suddenly dropping his weapon and running for his life. If it weren't for a bloodcurdling scream coming from the farm, Heero would have gone into pursuit.

"Relena!"

He immediately ran back to the farm, sollevar tight in his hand, faintly realizing Vayeate was following him, his hoofs stomping on the ground. The barn was lost, being built from less sturdier wood and materials than the farm. The door was blocked by the support beam that had cracked earlier and was completely burnt through. The heavy smoke and sky rising dark clouds impaired his vision.

"Relena! Where are you!"

"Heero, in here!"

Her voice was weak and immediately followed by violent coughing. She was inside the farm, as he had feared, probably with her parents; how was he ever able to rescue three people? The window to the far left wasn't completely damaged by the fire and impulsively, Heero took off his torn shirt and used it to cover his nose and mouth.

"Relena! I can't see you!"

"The living room..."

He was so familiar with the farm that he could find his way blindfolded, but his eyes stung from the smoke and his lungs were burning, struggling for fresh air. Heero took careful steps forward, annoyed that he couldn't move quickly. The fire obstructed his passage here and there, flames roaring, and he needed to turn around a few times.

"Relena!"

An awful creaking noise made him halt and look up, but he couldn't see a thing. After a minute or so, Heero went on, hissing every now and then, ignoring his protesting lungs and tearing eyes. Everything radiated the intense heat, the wood was smoldering, and the other support beams and even the walls could give way any moment now.

Coughing, he finally found Relena in the living room, on her knees and crying, her face blackened and tear-streaked. The fire greedily moved upwards here, through the open hole in the roof; here was where the first support beam had fallen. Heero heaved a grievous sigh when he saw who the beam had fallen upon. He could only pray to the Twelve that esshava Darlian's death had been instantaneous and merciful. Darlian himself, however, was still alive, his face twisted in pain.

"Father! Mother..." Relena cried, her blue dress torn and scorched. One of her braids was undone, ribbon missing, the strands plastered to her cheeks.

"Relena," Heero repeated her name again and took her gently by the upper arm. Darlian would die any moment now; there was nothing they could do for him.

"Heero, you have to save my father! Help me remove the beam...mother!"

"Please stand up," Heero said, shaking his head. Even if they managed to lift the beam together, Darlian would die very soon -- it was already a miracle he survived this long. The girl made an awkward move to get up, clinging to Heero, but her father grabbed the frayed hem of her dress, and she immediately fell down on her knees again.

"Relena, listen to me," he said, voice croaking and barely audible. He coughed, and his face showed the pain of how much effort it took him to speak.

"Relena, listen...you're not our daughter. We...we adopted you as a young baby...my wife...she couldn't...Relena, you're a Peacecraft...remember that, please..."

"Father, no..."

"Sanq... Go to Sanq, they will save you there."

"Father, don't be silly," Relena said between hiccups and cries. Her hand rested on his, her other hand on his face as to protect it from touching the ground. She had seen the beam, she knew it had crushed his body, but her troubled mind didn't want to accept reality or his words. Heero knelt down, trying to get Relena up again with both his hands.

"Heero," the man immediately addressed him.

"Esshan Darlian," he answered, not abandoning his habits even in this moment of time.

"Promise me that you will protect her," the man said. "At whatever cost, at whatever price. Protect her and make sure she reaches Sanq, Heero."

"I...I promise," Heero said and the man simply nodded at him, relief visible. A serene grace came over his face, his eyes displaying acceptance and the knowledge that at least his daughter was going to be safe.

"Father! Father!"

The creaking of the roof increased, indicating that it would give way soon. Heero knew that there was nothing he could do for Darlian and his wife, no matter how hard his heart cried. He would save their daughter and protected her as he promised. With all his strength he started to drag her out of the burning farm, crying and screaming for her parents.

He had lost his shirt along the way, and his eyes were stinging as if they wanted to burst out of his head. The coughing was killing him, lungs protesting, he needed fresh air, breath... gasping, he finally made his way out, falling forward and taking Relena with him in his fall, rolling over the grass, away from the flames and the intense heat. She was yelling, crying and fighting in an attempt to make him let go of her -- her eyes were fixed on the farm as she cried.

"Don't look!" He brusquely pulled her down again, knocking the wind out of her. Relena gave an indignant yelp and gasped for air, coughing and crying at the same time.

"Father, father...! Mother...mother!"

The tears on Heero's cheeks weren't from the stinging smoke alone. He coughed violently, his voice hoarse and croaked when he tried to tell her again not to look...but Relena did look after all. She looked at the farm, and how the smoke wreathed along the sky, black clouds in a darkening sky. Tears rolled over her cheeks, but her mouth didn't move and not another cry came over her lips. Heero didn't like her silence; it was deafening, painful and uncomfortable.

Her watery eyes kept staring at the destructive fire, wiping out her youth, her past, her life. He remained standing next to her, wondering if he should wrap his arm around her. Relena had always done the consoling if need be, and now he needed to say the words that would bring her comfort...but he couldn't find any. That alone made him even sadder, and he swallowed thickly. How could he protect her, live up to his promise, if he didn't even know how to deal with...with this?

The horse had sneaked up very quietly on the both of them, bumping its nose against Relena's back. She turned around, shocked, but a small smile broke through on her face when she saw the animal.

"Vayeate! Oh Vayeate..." The girl embraced the horse's neck as much as she could and cried into its mane. The stallion snorted, but allowed the tight grip she had on him.

Heero peered at the fire from the distance, watching how the once proud and strong farm was reduced to rubble. A large part of the roof caved in, taking a few walls and the chimney with it. Relena didn't see this, as she was crying against the large horse, and he was grateful for it. The thought of the bodies in the farm...the Darlians hadn't deserved this.

"Relena...we need to go."

"Where are we going to?" Her voice was soft, laced with small sobs.

"We don't know if Khushrenada's men are still roaming around," Heero said. This wasn't the right time to tell her he had killed two of them, something the Treize Faction wouldn't be happy about. More than probably, they would put a price on his head for killing the soldiers.

"They're gone, Heero," she said, almost admonishing him. "There's nothing to find here but...smoldering ruins." It came out harshly...far too harsh for a girl like her.

"We'll go to Sanq," he answered, remembering what Darlian had said. His eyes widened when Relena suddenly started to laugh, throwing her head back, laughing hysterically.

"Sanq? You know what Sanq is, don't you?"

"Sort of," he replied. The fountain in the middle of the city came to his mind. The statues with the worn down carvings...the warriors in a wasteland, protecting a kingdom surrounded by myths. Legend upon legend.

Relena's face saddened as she brusquely wiped her tears away.

"It's a kingdom out of fairy tales. It doesn't even exist," she muttered and that was all she said. She swayed on her feet and would have keeled over if he hadn't quickly caught her.

As soon as Heero put her on the back of the horse, she started crying again, silently. He held the sollevar in his right hand, the weapon light and comfortable, not hindering him as he mounted the horse. He grabbed the reins, but suddenly Relena shot upright, eyes large.

"Heero, wait!"

"What's wrong?"

She was off the horse faster than he could blink; she took a few steps towards the ruins and picked something up, returning to Vayeate and allowing Heero to help her up again. He frowned lightly, noticing what she had taken with her; the picnic basket. Keeping Relena in front of him, sollevar in his right hand, he held the reins and spurred Vayeate into a fast gallop.

"Heero...I'm tired."

Romefeller country wasn't exceedingly large, but it wasn't possible to reach the borders within a day either. They had traveled all night, Vayeate's firm gallop slowing down into a trot. Relena had dozed off, resting against Heero, waking up at intervals and staring around her, gasping lightly. He had no difficulties staying awake. The destruction of the farm would be a nightmare to haunt him for quite a while. Relena had stopped crying altogether after a while. Her face was a mess of black soot and tears streaks, her hair messy and unbraided.

Vayeate was calmly stepping forward, as if it simply knew where to go to. They hadn't taken anything with them but the picnic basket Relena had picked up at the last moment. Heero had thrown the blanket around them. The fabric was a little prickly and still held some crumbs from their earlier lunch. He was only wearing his pants and leather boots; the rest of his possessions, except for the weapon obviously, had gone down with the rest of the farm.

Relena owned nothing more than the dress she was wearing and hadn't thought of taking any gold with her...it was doubtful anything could have been saved from the ruins anyway. They needed food, shelter, and new clothing. The girl hung limply against him, about to fall off if he didn't stop the horse.

"Huu, Vayaete," he said and dismounted, carefully helping Relena off. She sank through her knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled and shivered. She pulled the blanket closer and looked up at Heero, suddenly grimacing.

"You're half naked," she said accusingly, before she realized she was holding the blanket. Immediately, she took it off and gave it to him.

"No Relena, I'll be fine," he said.

"No, you won't. Take it."

"Relena..."

"I'm not the one without clothing," she said, smiling at him. "Please, take it. The nights can be cold."

He took the blanket from her, mostly to please her. Relena was very strong willed and she wouldn't rest until he had accepted the blanket from her. It was of no use discussing it until the cows came home; he could probably put the blanket right back around her shoulders when she was asleep. That posed a whole other problem; where to go to, where to stay for the night, what to eat?

Relena was still carrying the simple picnic basket, it dangled from her arm as if she wanted to protect it with her life. She shivered again, but tried not to show it.

"I know this road," she said hesitantly. "The large road goes to another village, not as large as the capital, but they surely have an inn...a place to sleep."

"We don't have any gold with us," Heero reminded her. She nodded sadly.

"I'm trying to remember if we have any relatives living around here..."

Her voice trailed off. If she was thinking like Heero about Darlian's words, then she wasn't really sure if she had any relatives. He could see the question marks in her eyes, but she didn't voice it out loud. Adopted? Just like him? He had been adopted purely to work on the farm, not as a son into the family. He wasn't offended or hurt by that. He had already been given a chance of a lifetime, just to be away from a life on the streets, and he was forever grateful.

He wrapped his arms around the girl.

"Those bastards will pay, Relena."

"No violence," she said, but she sounded defeated. Relena would never take a weapon up herself, not even when faced with an enemy. Heero didn't comment on that; he was starting to get tired after all, and it was only because of fatigue that Relena didn't say anything about him carrying a weapon.

"We need a place to stay," he suggested. Spending the rest of the night alongside the road didn't sound like a good idea. The sun would come up in a few hours, but he didn't fancy Relena sleeping under a hedge, not when he couldn't stay awake himself. Fatigue had hit him as soon as he had dismounted Vayeate; the tall horse was currently chewing on some grass, calm as always.

Relena lifted up the basket and dug through it, as if she was expecting to find the solution in it. If his memory served him right, there was nothing but a few bites of bread, cheese and a half-empty jug of water in it...that was, if Relena had put it all in there in her haste. Not much they could live on. Heero didn't realize he was already busy adapting himself to the change in their situation, the change in their lives. It was a natural born instinct, sharpened by his previous life on the streets. He knew how to survive, but he wasn't so sure about Relena.

How would she adjust to a harsher life? No securities, no home, no parents to fall back on? She had been a little spoiled on the farm -- true, she hadn't shunned physical labor, but it mostly had consisted of taking care of Vayeate; curry-combing the horse or cleaning out his stable. The rest of her work was on paper, if she wasn't too busy with her education or discussing politics with her father. She had been taugt how to dress nice, how to hold up herself in conversation, and her hands weren't as calloused as his...but why should they be?

Relena was to be married, and in this country it was already a miracle that her father involved her so much in his own life. Usually, the parents were actively searching for a fitting husband, the bride-to-be's opinion ignored.

Life was going to be hard for her, now that they didn't know what to do, or where to go to... he was startled out of his thoughts when Relena suddenly said: "Hey, what's this?"

"What's the matter?"

She looked at him, holding up a small leather bag, jingling it.

"I just found this on the bottom of the basket," she said, her voice sounding incredulous.

"What's in it?" He asked, even though it sounded like coins -- quite some coins.

"It wasn't in the basket this morning. I didn't put it in here," she babbled, a little nervously, as she tugged on the strings that held the bag together. Heero looked at her quizzically, and she extended her arms to allow him to peek inside.

"A small fortune," Relena said and she smiled, albeit sadly.

He saw the silver, and a few gold pieces no less -- she was right; it was a small fortune, enough to buy them provisions and lodging for a long time to come if they were careful. He shook his head, not understanding.

"How can that be? How did it get there?"

"Mother...she helped me pack the basket this morning. As if she knew...anticipated..." Relena's voice hitched. She started crying again, soundlessly just like before; large tears rolled over her cheeks.

Heero didn't know what to say. There were a million questions jumbling in his mind, and with every step he took, there were a million more. Esshava Darlian had put the money in there? Had they been rich enough to even own gold? He wasn't sure why Relena was convinced that her mother had been the one to put the money in the basket, but he was very grateful for her foresight.

"Let's get away from the road, Relena," he gently said and nudged her, just a very light touch on the elbow. She nodded, not caring that her face was still dirty and tear-streaked. She took Vayeate's reins and guided him along.

They walked along the road in the hope to find an inn; with the discovered money, things were looking better. People were more willing to do something for gold than out of compassion; at least, that was Heero's take on it. Relena still was convinced of the kindness of people, but he wasn't going to fight about it. Tired as they both were, and also the horse showing signs of fatigue, it was imperative that they found a place to stay first and foremost.

Luck was with them as finally, after two more hours of a painstakingly slow walking pace, an inn showed up along the way, with vacancies -- they even had room for Vayeate in their stables. Heero made sure, by subtlety showing the sollevar, that the innkeeper wouldn't keep them for stupid peasants who had no idea about prices in the world. Two silver coins was way too much for a night, even with Vayeate in the stable; but Relena tugged at his elbow and asked him to let it go.

The two of them didn't make a very good impression: Relena in a scorched dress, hair matted and in tangled strands reaching past her shoulders, a picnic basket dangling from her arm, and Heero with a blanket around him, only wearing pants and boots, both their faces covered in soot, and in Relena's case, the trails of her tears more than visible. The female innkeeper pursed her lips and gave especially Relena a strange look when she saw the torn and burnt clothing, but didn't knock the least amount off of the price.

Not in a mood to haggle, Heero took Relena upstairs to their room; for the price they paid, they were allowed to use a tub in the general bath room. Relena was all but happy to take a bath, now that the opportunity presented itself. She gave Heero the leather bag with the coins to guard, and quickly disappeared into the room to start her bath. Yawning, Heero took the sollevar with him; for some reason he didn't want to be separated from it. Too many people recognized the weapon for the danger that it was, and that annoyed and surprised him at the same time. If only he knew what was so special about it...

His fatigue was reduced to just a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He had been up all night, and it was amazing that an inn was even open at this early hour -- probably for people who came to have breakfast here. Taking the steep stairs down again, Heero entered the large dining room, sniffing up the scent of porridge. It smelled like a heavenly dish to him since the lunch of yesterday has been the last food he'd had. Relena and he were entitled to one meal per room; he was sure they had paid way too much for everything, but as long as there were some silver coins in the pouch left... Heero wanted to go outside, or maybe take a look at Vayeate in the stable to check up on the horse. It would be a while before Relena would come out of her bath and go straight to sleep.

As he was on his way out, he noticed an elderly man in the corner of the room. He had his back turned to the rest of the customers and sat hunched at his table, dressed in all dark colors, nursing a jug of whatever brew there served here. Heero wasn't really sure, but the gray hair...some of the man's traits were familiar...he approached the man and cleared his throat.

"Esshan-dar Noventa," Heero took a lucky shot. The man ducked away, not wanting to be recognized, and he looked around him frantically, hands reaching to pull up the collar of his worn sweater.

"Who wants to know?" He asked rather brusquely, but his face softened immediately. This was the peace-loving man Heero knew; Noventa barely raised his voice, and he had been like a grandfather to every one of his people. Maybe too much of a grandfather instead of a good leader, because he hadn't been able to stop Khushrenada's influence and rising power.

"Heero," he introduced himself, not expecting the man to recognize him. "I was...am in service of the Darlians."

"Darlian," the man muttered, making a gesture to the chair opposite of him. Heero sat down, putting the sollevar between his chair and the wall. The man looked older, much older than Heero imagined, but he hadn't met this man before to ever notice. His gray hair was receding, and the friendly, grandfatherly face was marred by a very deep frown, etched with sorrow and worries.

"How did you end up here, esshan-dar?"

The man flinched again.

"Please don't refer to me like that," he whispered. "I was stripped of power and title, and the Twelve know that I didn't do anything to stop it."

"What happened?" This was news to him -- just as finding the man in power of his country in an average inn in the early morning.

"A masked fool and a madman," Noventa said, taking a large sip of the jug. He grimaced before swallowing, and he looked ready to throw up. His clothes were ragged and torn, and Heero would bet on it that the man was drinking on his last coin. He waited for him to continue.

"They visited me yesterday afternoon," he said, and now his tone of voice matched the bitterness on his face. "The Twelve help me, They know I already did more than enough to squander my own country... I allowed Khushrenada to station his men here, hoping we could come to some kind of understanding: his troops maintaining law and order, buying from our farmers to keep the economy and markets going, and in exchange he wouldn't declare war on our ground."

Heero nodded, silently listening. With disgust on his face, Noventa pushed the jug away from him.

"They visited me," he repeated, "and handed me a statement. They told me to sign it, but when I read it..." He took a deep breath, "...when I read it, it stated that I would surrender the whole nation to Khushrenada and entrust him all the power of ruling it. If I wouldn't sign, a declaration of war would follow..."

"You were left no choice," Heero said. "You were with your back against the wall." Noventa grimaced again.

"I should have listened to Darlian," he sighed, "but Khushrenada's plans at first were reasonable. He was leaving us out of his war and instead, we would provide his army with food and supplies, all for reasonable prices..."

"That would still involve Romefeller country in the war," Heero said, aghast.

"Yes, but there would be no fighting," Noventa immediately objected. "None of our men, fathers and sons, would be drafted for Khushrenada's army, and no harm would be done to any of the citizens! That was worth the price of selling..." he sobered again, "...selling my integrity as a leader. As long as no one would die, I would do anything to accomplish that!"

"What happened?" Heero demanded. Something must have happened for the man to end up here -- did he even know the Darlians were dead?

"My granddaughter," Noventa, his voice strangled.

"Sylvia?"

"She defied Khushrenada, calling him a liar, a usurper, an extortionist. She knew about his men's crimes in the city, under the guise of maintaining peace. She knew how they harassed hard-working, law abiding citizens, how they hunted and pestered orphans for fun, and told him that we never would agree to his conditions!"

Noventa buried his head in his hands.

"Sylvia...Sylvia had such a temper, just like her mother...but not like her father, my son... she possessed the courage of a hundred men, and a good heart, believing in justice and fairness..."

It didn't elude Heero that Noventa spoke about her in the past tense. He could only imagine what had happened to her.

"A masked fool with magic powers and a madman with an army of thousands," the esshan-dar whispered. Heero guessed that the mage was masked, he didn't know why. He didn't know anything about the man, only that people were afraid of him -- but most people were weary of mages and magic in general.

"I had hoped to keep my country out of trouble, but instead I only made it worse," Noventa continued. "I told myself, I keep telling myself that I wasn't as cowardly as I'm perceived to be...but by granting some of Khushrenada's 'wishes', I gave Romefeller country away before even the first threat was uttered. I should have listened to Darlian and strengthened up an army when the first rumors of war were reaching the capital."

"You did what you believed in," Heero answered. "You tried to protect your people, even if it wasn't the right way."

"How's everything in the city?" Noventa abruptly changed the subject. Heero blinked, but complied with the man's question. He told him about Darlian and the death of the family, about the Treize Faction being responsible for the burning down of the farm. Noventa paled with every word Heero said.

"May the Twelve have mercy on their souls," he said, folding his hands as if in prayer. "I failed my best friend and most esteemed advisor... I left my people..." He shook his head again, as if a stubborn insect was buzzing around his head. "I did it all wrong... he tried to warn me. I didn't want to believe people were capable of..."

"They were very much capable," Heero replied, anger clearly audible. The images of the ruined farm, of both the Darlians dying, of Relena crying out in despair were etched in his body, mind and soul. Khushrenada was going to pay for this. Slowly and bloodily.

"The Treize Faction outnumbered us, and would've killed me and Relena as well if --"

"I can't believe it," Relena's voice suddenly chimed. "Esshan-dar Noventa!"

The elderly man shivered again. "Please, don't... I don't deserve that title anymore."

"Nonsense, esshan-dar," Relena insisted and even sketched a bow. Heero hadn't expected her back so soon after her bath, assuming that she would go to sleep. She looked very tired, face pale, but her eyes darted sharply through the room, nothing escaping her gaze. He also noticed that her dress was shorter; she apparently had cut off the scorched hem. It still reached below the knee, and the fabric appeared cleaner than before. Her hair was braided as usual and for a moment she just looked like a girl simply traveling, on her way without any worries.

Noventa gestured towards the other chair just like he had done with Heero, and shoved the empty jug more to the side. A waitress appeared and started serving them breakfast without much interest or chit-chat, despite not being overly busy. Heero caught Noventa's longing look at the large bowl of porridge. He probably hadn't eaten in quite a while either.

"Would you please bring him breakfast as well?" Relena said, obviously sharing Heero's thoughts.

"You only paid for two," the waitress answered sourly. Relena glared at her as if offended, and repeated: "Would you please bring him some breakfast? We'll take care of the costs later."

"Thank you," the elderly man said as soon as the waitress stomped away, face red in embarrassment. He was ashamed, a mighty man who had fallen from grace hard, overpowered or not. They used the next moments of silence to simply eat; to Heero's surprise, the porridge was quite nourishing and tasty. The waitress appeared at their table again to serve Noventa, as well putting a small basket with rolls and a jug of fresh, cold water on the table.

Relena tried to strike up conversation, but Noventa became more withdrawn, eating his porridge as if starving. She said that she hadn't known that Noventa had left the city, and he murmured something about Khushrenada telling him to leave in return. His speech became slow and almost slurred, and for a moment Heero asked himself if the man was drunk. He slumped more and more in his chair, and finally Relena asked him: "Esshan-dar, are you all right?"

"Please stop calling me that," he said, but his voice lacked any scolding. He remained silent for a minute, then he continued, voice nothing but a whisper: "They took my granddaughter."

Relena almost choked on her sip of water. Of course she knew Sylvia Noventa, she was of the same age and they had gone to school together for a few years until the girl had gotten private tutoring. Relena had asked her father if she could get private tutoring as well, not understanding why her friend had left school. He had explained to her that Sylvia, due to the position of her grandfather, had special privileges. The title and position of esshan-dar was passed down in their family, ruling the city until the people would either object or demand for election.

When that happened, anyone could declare him or herself a candidate and run for the position, but the last time the people chose an esshan-dar, the Noventa family, had been generations and generations ago. Sylvia was to be prepared for ruling Romefeller country one day; the obligation resting on her shoulders since her parents had both died at a young age.

"Who did?" She said, but she knew the answer before Heero spoke.

"Khushrenada," he gritted, and Noventa nodded.

"They just took her, dragged her out of my office, when I...when we both refused to sign the statement. If I didn't sign immediately, she would die. I...I didn't face an army, I faced the decision between the life of my granddaughter and the well-being of my country."

"That's even a tougher decision," Relena said. She even touched the man's hand, almost petting it. "We understand that Sylvia's life was far more important than..."

"No," the man said, and his fingers curled, his nails driving into the soft wood of the table top.

"I shouldn't have squandered the nation to begin with. I should have stood up against Khushrenada. For too long, I thought everything would be all right if I fulfilled his demands in a reasonable manner... but I should have seen that the need of the many outweigh the need of the few..."

"No," was Relena's stern answer, "that's not true, esshan-dar. Every life is precious, and after they had... killed Sylvia, they would've found someone or something else to force you. You couldn't have won, never."

The man was trembling, and shaking his head spasmodically.

"Please save my granddaughter," he pleaded. "Please save her! Without Sylvia, my life is worthless! If I had her back, if she could be with me again, I could draw from her strength and courage, and together we could face Khushrenada."

"She's just a..." Heero started.

"...wonderful and invaluable person," Relena smoothly completed his sentence. She ignored his look and smiled at the former ruler.

"Essan-dar Noventa, we'll find Sylvia and return her safely home."

"Thank you, esshava," he said. For the first time this evening, Heero saw the man smiling.

"No, not esshava. Esshan-diva," Noventa continued, his face lighting up, the worried frown gone.

Relena blushed. "That's way too much honor."

"You deserve it. I can only give you my gratitude, esshan-diva Darlian. May the Twelve protect and guide you."

She stared at her spoon in the bowl; there was still some porridge left, but she was already full, having nibbled on one of the rolls as well. Her cheeks were flushed, but Heero couldn't figure out why. Was it because of a silly title that didn't make any sense? She had all but flat out promised Noventa they would rescue his granddaughter, and they didn't have a clue where she was.

"His name is Nichol," the man suddenly continued. "He was the one to...take her away. One of Khushrenada's lackeys, but I don't know his rank...he wore the same uniform as the Treize Faction, but he has more golden stars on his right shoulder than a regular soldier. Dark, brown hair...curly... and sideburns...and the most nasty look in his eyes you'll ever see."

"Nichol," Heero repeated. Only a name wouldn't bring them very far. He had no idea how to deal with this, but Relena looked confident.

"I have faith that you'll bring her back to me, safe and sound," Noventa said, his eyes shimmering with new-found hope. "I'll be waiting here for Sylvia to take her home."

After the waitress had cleared their table and breakfast was over, both Heero and Relena excused themselves and went outside. Relena shivered; it was chilly outside, especially compared to the warmth inside the inn where a small open fire had been burning.

"What was all that about, that he called you esshan-diva?" was the first thing Heero asked.

There weren't many titles in ordinary speech, with esshan and esshava to indicate a man or a woman of certain standing, but not really powerful. That started with esshan-dar, as in Noventa's case. He had never heard of esshan-diva before, and it sounded silly to him.

Relena looked pensive. "He wanted to give me some kind of title in his gratitude, but esshan-darava would be way too much honor, as it would indicate me as his equal. As I'm not ruling any country, not that I know of," she tried for a dry joke, "he named me esshan-diva. I like it. It's more than addressing a woman of simple standing, but far less than addressing someone in high power."

"Poor man," Heero said, already dismissing the issue with the title.

"What? For inventing a new title?"

"No, that his granddaughter is kidnapped. Khushrenada doesn't know any limits in his path of war," he almost growled. "It's going to end very badly for him."

"We don't have to deal with Khushrenada, not yet," Relena said. "Let's try to get some sleep, all right? We're both tired, and we can ask to be awoken in the afternoon, that would give us at least five to six hours of sleep. After that, we'll decide what we're going to do... like buying you a new shirt, for example."

Heero couldn't help but grin at her, slightly amused. No one had said anything about his bare torso, assuming he was a poor laborer. He had never owned more than two shirts in his life, and he usually took it off when working -- with this soft, warm climate, shirts often were more a hindrance than a convenience, especially with physical labor.

"All right," he agreed. "Let's go inside."

"You need a bath, too," she said, voice strikingly soft, but when he looked at her, she lowered her eyes and lifted up her foot to step over the high threshold, back into the inn. Noventa was still inside, but he appeared in a far better mood than when Heero had first met him. He was staring almost dreamily outside, awaiting his granddaughter's return. That was something he had to discuss with Relena too, Heero thought. Her spontaneous promise could well prove to be a burden, not to mention improbable to hold.

Their room held two beds, and Relena had chosen the one by the window, the picnic basket placed on the pillow. He used the small wash-basin on the dresser to minimally wash his hands, face and neck; the cut from his earlier fight was already healing, as superficial as it was. Without any comment, he took the other bed and rolled into it, plucking at the blankets. He wasn't feeling very tired after all; it seemed his body had simply pushed the need for sleep away. The thick velour curtains blocked out the light of the rising sun, and it was a little strange to be in bed at this time of hour. Any normal day, he would have been up for hours already, feeding and taking care of the animals, the lands.... Silence reigned for a while.

"Heero?"

"Yes, Relena?"

Her voice sounded like a young child, afraid of the dark.

"You're going to stay with me, aren't you? I mean...I can't imagine..."

"I'm staying with you," he said steadfast, as if she had been crazy to ever doubt that. There was another silence, then came a whispered, but genuinely relieved, "Thank you".

He assumed she'd fallen asleep pretty soon after, hearing her breathing even out. He wondered why his own body wasn't resting, but his eyes were wide awake, staring into nothing. He knew he had good health and good stamina, but neither his body nor his mind felt tired after all the events involving the fight with the Treize Faction, the fire and their escape from their hometown. Not that he felt attached to it. He had made a promise to Darlian, and he was going to keep it, no matter what it took.

A noise awoke him; feet shuffling outside the door. Heero reached next to his bed, hand grabbing the sollevar. He had slept a few odd hours after all; adrenaline rushed back into him, his body perfectly awake. If there was someone going to attack them... the door opened and the woman who came in said out loud: "It's afternoon already!"

Heero almost dropped his weapon from the sheer noise the woman made, and identified her immediately as the sour waitress who had served him breakfast. He couldn't believe Relena had asked her of all people to wake them.

"Thank you," he barked. It was a good thing it was almost near-dark in the room; she wouldn't have appreciated having a weapon pointed at her, he presumed. Relena stirred in the bed, heaving a deep sigh.

"Is it that late already?"

"I suppose so," Heero said. "Why don't you rest a little longer, I'm going to take my bath."

"Hm-mm," she made a non-committal noise, voice muffled by her pillow and he could hear her shift around, sheets and blankets shifting with her. He jumped out of his own bed and went to take his bath; it felt good to clean himself from head to toe and get every bit of soot off of his body. He wished he could scrub away the memory of the burning building and the Darlians dying as easily, and stared at the bar of soap in his hands. Khushrenada would pay... and he would beg for mercy before the sollevar would rip open his intestines and make him bleed like a stuck pig.

When he returned into the room, he found both beds perfectly made, the curtains open, the late afternoon light coloring the sparse light wooden furniture a soft yellow and orange. The picnic basket was gone, but his sollevar was still standing in the corner; he hadn't taken it with him into the bathroom. He only had to dress himself with his pants and boots, a light shiver running through him as he was still shirtless.

Heero went downstairs, immediately locating Relena haggling over the price of the extra breakfast for Noventa. The man himself was nowhere to be seen, and Heero was curious as to where he went. Back into hiding in another place? Relena would probably know where he would have gone to, and he walked up to the girl, engaged in a heated discussion with the innkeeper. Casually swinging the sollevar around, the innkeeper became a little less adamant in his demands for another full silver coin for the extra bowl of porridge.

"I'm very sorry, but these are the prices we have to ask," the man said defensively, but not apologetic. "We have to pay taxes and levies as well, esshava, so I have to ask for another half a silver coin, then."

"We paid you more than enough for our room and own breakfast, even if it was including the bath," Relena protested again. "It's not that I don't want to pay for the extra meal, but half a silver coin is really too much!"

"We can always call for the Treize Faction and let them know that someone wants to rip off a law-abiding citizen, who pays rent and taxes," the innkeeper snarled, voice turning chilly. "They know what to do with scammers."

Heero took a step forward, the trident-shaped weapon swinging dangerously close to the man's face, but Relena stopped him. The last thing they needed was an all-out brawl in an inn.

"Very well," she said and took out the coins, sighing. She couldn't see the bottom of the small leather bag yet, but that didn't mean they could throw the money around. The innkeeper eyed the bag greedily and from the look on his face, he was mentally calculating if there was something else he could charge the both of them for.

"We're leaving," Heero said curtly.

"About the horse," the innkeeper started. "He ate more than estimated, so..."

"Nonsense!" Heero barked and his voice was so loud and curt that the man almost sprung up, his hands pressed against his chest as if he suffered a heart-attack. The metal tip of the sollevar was almost stuck up his nose and his teeth chattered in fear. Heero shot him another death glare, then withdrew the sollevar and turned around to leave, escorting Relena out of the inn before the situation would completely explode. The nerve!

Vayeate was all right, and whinnied expectantly, already brought out of the stables. Relena took his reins and patted him on the neck, greeting her friend. Heero imitated her and patted the horse also on his neck. He would serve them well in the time to come; Vayeate would have to guide them on their path, for many many miles. He was a good companion, not to mention Heero owed him his life. If it hadn't been for the trampling force of Vayeate's legs, he had never been able to deal with the three soldiers of the Treize faction all at once. Relena smoothed out a few wrinkles in her blue dress, the picnic basket dangling from her arm.

"Let's go," Heero said and started guiding the horse. Relena hadn't mentioned a thing about Sylvia Noventa, and he had no idea where to start looking for her, with the little information they had. They probably wouldn't find her in the forests around here that formed the natural border. The country of Auda and Iria wasn't that far away, depending on how long it took for them to trek through the thick woods.

They settled into a rhythm of alternately riding the horse, with Relena taking the first turn to sit on the horse's back. She forced Heero every now and then to take his turn, not believing that he didn't grow tired of all the walking he did. Their pace wasn't that fast, and Heero was slightly worried about how long it would take for them to cross the border, as these thick woods were hard to travel through. He was already grateful that the obvious road was easy to follow, but he doubted there would be inns popping up every now and then.

Relena had used some of their money to acquire herself some provisions: a small sewing-box with which she had mended her blue dress, new undergarments, a new shirt and pants for Heero, as well as another dress for herself -- a simple light brown one. She had also bought some food that could be conserved for quite a while, filling up half the picnic basket. The silver was enough to sustain them for a while, but she didn't know for how long. Food and lodging would be pricey, for them as well as for the horse.

Romefeller country was, especially at the border, abundant with fruit gardens. The picnic basket was soon filled to the brim with fruit, and they were ready for their journey through the forest. Following the road, they were on their way to Auda country first; Heero tried to envision the map he had seen in the living room, but he couldn't recall the exact outlines of the different countries of the world. They had decided to go to Auda country just to get away from their homeland for a while; Heero didn't mind and left it to Relena to decide which way they should go.

They made it through the forests easier and faster than he had thought; it only took them two days, and he stayed awake the one night they need to spend at the side of the road. Vayeate was able to find enough to eat, and Relena was in charge of rationing the food. It took him some time to convince her to take the blanket, and she insisted she was fine and wanted him to get some rest as well, so he pretended to be asleep until she fell asleep herself.

Out of the forest, they traveled into Auda country. It was a lot more barren, the road to its capital city poorly paved despite it being wide and well-traveled. Farms and houses were few and far between, the people eyeing the travelers suspiciously. Hardly any children or animals were running around, and there weren't any fruit gardens here. Nobody greeted them or looked even up from their work. Heero didn't pay much attention to the people either, but didn't bring his guard down.

It was Relena's turn to ride Vayeate and she was almost dozing on his back, softly swinging back and forth. Heero had gotten used to the long marches, but knew it was physically very heavy for Relena, though not one complaint ever came over her lips. He practiced with the sollevar whenever they were resting; he wasn't sure if he did everything right, but he got a better handle of the weapon. Relena's lips were always pursed in a disapproving scowl when she saw him practicing, but she didn't comment on it. She was more amazed about his stamina, that he was still able to practice so intensely after a long day march.

Fortunately they hadn't run out of money yet, but Relena feared they would need to dip into the leather bag again. This country couldn't provide for their needs; the fields were sown with several crops they didn't recognize, and though Vayeate ate from it without any troubles, both of them didn't have a clue how to prepare it, and didn't have anything to cook with. The fruit and half of their food stash was already gone, thanks to Heero's major appetite. He tried to eat not too much, especially not compared to Relena who apparently only needed one apple to live. He realized very well she was sparing the food out of her mouth for his sake, which made him feel guilty -- but his apparently endless stamina needed lots of food to sustain it.

With a good and well-fed looking horse, a girl in simple, yet clean and neat clothing and a boy walking next to them, Heero was painfully aware that they were prey for bandits. He didn't have any illusion that his sollevar would scare them off, not if they were working in groups. Keeping themselves to the well-used road was the only thing he could think of to minimize the risk; diverging from this path would probably get them into trouble. Still, Heero kept a watchful eye out whenever he saw bushes or heard strange noises, and hoped that casually swinging the sollevar around would keep people from getting the wrong ideas. After all, people had shown fear of his weapon before.

It all went wrong on the third day they traveled through Auda country, just half a day away from reaching the capital city. The road was surrounded by thick bushes with large, smooth leaves; impenetrable, and ideal to hide behind. The border town had been buzzing with rumors of bandits and Heero grabbed Vayeate's reins, eyes darting back and forth.

"Is there something wrong?" Relena was quick to ask. He had assumed she was half asleep or sunken in thoughts, but she was apparently paying better attention than he thought.

"You better get off the horse," Heero said and that was all he got the chance to say. The next moment, Vayeate bucked wildly, lifting up his heavy legs and whinnying. Not in fear, but to attack -- but because Relena wasn't riding with a saddle, she slid off of his back, crying out in surprise and fear, and she fell to the ground.

"Relena!"

Heero wanted to help her, and in the same movement he turned around to reach for her, an arrow shot just past his ear, missing him by a millimeter. The feathers of the arrow brushed his ear, and he could feel the metal tip cutting his cheek. Relena lay motionless on the ground, her face turned away from him -- but before he could do anything, Vayeate moved in front of her, protecting her.

He gritted his teeth, but immediately whirled around, swinging the sollevar and deflecting a row of arrows. Men emerged from the bushes, dressed in sloppy, filthy clothing; unshaven and not bathed for more than just a few days. The bows were handmade and improvised, not terribly accurate; it had been simply a coincidence that the arrow had been so well aimed. Some of the men were wearing swords, and certainly every one of them carried a knife or a dagger. Showing him nasty, mean-spirited grins -- which only displayed their rotten teeth and the gap in between them -- the mob was confident Heero would claim defeat just because of their sheer numbers.

"Give up," the leader spoke. He had dirty blond hair, uncombed and matted like a bunch of hay, strands hanging in front of his eyes. How he could see like that was a mystery to Heero -- the man hadn't seen a bath or a barber in ages. The mob's weapons might not be accurate or sharp, but they were plenty. He shifted his position, pointing the sollevar at them.

"Now, now, don't be over-confident," the leader spoke again amusedly. "Put that thing away before you cut yourself, and give all your money to us."

"We don't have any," Heero answered curtly. The basket had rolled away from Relena when she dropped it during her fall. He could only hope the leather bag hadn't fallen out of it, or that any of the men had heard the jingling coins.

Grinning toothlessly at Heero, one of the bandits detached himself from the group and moved towards Relena. Not soon after, a second bandit left the group to walk into the direction where the basket had rolled to.

Both Heero and Vayeate stepped to the side, blocking the men's passage. The horse snorted dangerously, as always impressive in strength and height. The man halted, and just grinned like a loon. The leader snorted too, but far less impressively; he unsheathed his sword. Heero didn't have a smith's eye, but it looked sharp enough to him. The situation was growing worse with every passing second -- not even he could take on a mob like this. The rest of the group followed their leader's example, and three of them lifted up their bows. Heero counted his adversaries quickly -- ten to one, without the two already detached from the group. Unfair as if he'd ever seen it. Putting his faith into the sollevar, he decided that offense was the best defense and lunged for the leader.

The scruffy man was quite surprised that Heero went for the attack instead of running away in fear and had barely enough time to block him with his sword, uttering an undignified grunt.

"You little bastard!"

Heero didn't bother answering, cursing or speaking. The other men started to attack him, and he needed all his strength and concentration to keep them at bay, at least preventing them from hitting or cutting him. The sollevar twirled and swung around, striking and hitting, and soon enough high-pitched screams were heard, and blood dripped thickly from the trident-shaped head. Apparently the wounds were not lethal enough, because the bandits kept coming, and Heero took hits to his chest and sides. His movements started to slow down, and his swings became less and less fierce. They were too many -- he had sustained too many wounds, he was losing too much blood, he was feeling light-headed. Far away, somewhere in the background, he could hear someone screaming about "Put down this crazy beast" and Vayeate whinnying and snorting.

He had to fight, had to go on...! It was only because of his willpower that he was still standing; he moved the sollevar as if he was wading through mud, and he felt hands tugging at the weapon. The hilt of a sword hit his temple and he immediately dropped the sollevar, black spots swirling in front of his eyes. For a brief moment, he didn't know where he was, everything spun around him. The only thing keeping him awake was Relena screaming his name. Relena! Heero tried to turn around, but his knees gave out on him and he fell to the ground.

The men laughed in uproar. The leader, his shirt cut open and the ragged edges colored dark red, breathed a little heavily, but showed a triumphant grin. With one kick of his foot, the sollevar was out of Heero's reach.

"Nice weapon, that'll fetch me some gold," he taunted him. "You're not so tough now, are you?"

"Losers," Heero bristled, "ten to one..." He was kicked in the ribs.

"Shut your mouth! Your horse looks good too; it'll taste great in the stew tonight!"

Relena cried a loud "No!" and Heero groaned -- Vayeate was a champion's stallion, not food! If only he could reach his weapon...his body stiffened when he heard the rest of the bandits making inappropriate remarks involving Relena and what they were going to do with the girl.

Their horrible laughter hurt his ears and Heero had a pretty good picture of what the men were planning, even without telling it out loud. Grunting, he tried to muster up his strength to get up from the ground. A boot was placed between his shoulder blades and he was pushed down again, face grinding into the sand.

"Don't worry boy," it was the leader, "we're going to have some fun with you too."

"Stop it," Heero tried to say, but his voice had abandoned him. Sand was choking his throat, and his eyes were stinging. His jaw was swollen, the cuts all over his body hurt pretty badly. His vision was blurring, and his body refused to obey him. Relena screamed, and he could hear the raw laughter of the men.

"Stop it!" He couldn't bring himself to beg. He would do it, for Relena's sake, he would beg to leave her alone, but the words didn't cross his lips -- only a deep grunt when the leader drove his boot deeper between his shoulder blades.

"Shut up, boy. You're lucky if your head ends up on a spike," he announced, grinning in anticipation. "But before that happens, we're going to have some mighty fun with you and see how loud you can scream!"

Heero swallowed thickly. He had promised Darlian to protect his daughter. He had promised to protect Relena, to keep her safe and to guide her to Sanq, wherever it was...and he had failed already. If only Relena would be safe...he couldn't care less about his own life.

"Please...stop it..." I'll do anything.

It was barely audible, drowned out by the sound of clothes ripping and Relena screaming, again and again. He closed his eyes briefly, then forced himself to muster up all his strength and to get up. One last-ditch effort, he had to try! Heero put his hands flat on the ground and started getting up, his body twitching with the effort.

"Don't bother," the leader said disdainfully, but he couldn't suppress the surprise in his voice. He hadn't expected Heero to be able to even lift up another finger. "You're not going to --" those were his last words, as blood gurgled from his mouth.

The pressure of his boot on Heero's back disappeared as the man crashed to the ground with a bewildered look on his face. His heart and lung were pierced -- exactly through the center. A marksman aim, but Heero had no time to wonder about it. He kicked at the man slumped over his leg, pushing the dead weight away from him. Getting back on his feet, albeit a bit wobbly, he was up just in time to see the other bandits fall down one by one, arrows protruding from their chests and backs.

The ones left clever enough to notice that something was terribly wrong didn't make it far as they tried to run away. Similar arrows hit them and they fell to the ground without another scream, and it had only taken a few seconds.

Heero grabbed his sollevar and looked around him, frantically searching in the direction the arrows had come from. He thought he saw someone fleeing -- no, not exactly fleeing, just turning away and leaving the scene casually. He quickly looked back at Relena who was huddling into herself, crying, her legs pulled up to her chest. He couldn't leave her alone like this. Vayeate stood behind her, large nose sniffing at her and bumping gently against her neck. His knees felt like they could give out on him any second now; he couldn't go into pursuit even if he wanted to.

For good measure, he yelled out loud to their savior. Whoever had fired these arrows, he or she had saved their lives.

"Hey! Come back! Whoever you are, come back!"

No answer, and Heero couldn't see the archer anymore. He did walk into the bushes, in the last hope of seeing where the archer was going to -- but he found nothing but the small hideout of the bandits. They had lumped together their earlier loot as well as some provisions to set up camp: blankets, food, a genuine horse saddle, extra ammunition. He picked up some of the arrows, which were badly carved from wood, with a mismatching steel tip tied to it, nothing like the arrows that had killed them.

He grabbed everything, including a bolt of cloth, some pans and a small chest. Those vermin had set up a permanent camp here to ambush innocent people. He grunted. His strength was already returning and he shouldn't have had any trouble at all carrying this, but it felt like his limbs were made out of pure lead, weighing him down.

Returning to Relena, he was taken aback to see her standing up, rummaging through the basket to find her other dress. The blue one was ripped as far as up to her thighs; she shot him a look that was a mixture of shock, anger and disbelief, but she didn't stop looking. Her face was set in stone, her lips drawn into a tight, small line. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying.

"Relena..."

"I'm all right!" She barked at him, immediately turning her face away. She had found the dress and took it out of the basket, clutching it to her chest as a last lifeline.

"Are you injured?" He asked, and promptly got a drop of blood in his eye. It came from the sollevar, its tip covered with the thick liquid, dripping down the shaft. Heero swung it a few times to cast off the spatte