He wished he knew of a method to preserve this moment in time. Forever. Who didn't want to re-live a victorious, glorious moment of his life again and again?
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.
"Heeeeeeeerrroooo!"
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 appfle 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.
Chapter 2 |