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rose_in_winterPairings/Characters: Kain Highwind, plus cast
Rating: R (overall), G (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward.
Wordcount: 5800 this chapter.
Beta:celeloriel
Eight years after Zeromus
"They’ve turned out like it's a festival day," Kain said, looking out over the courtyard. A chilly breeze snuck into the archway where they waited, bringing with it the faint bite of oncoming winter. Despite the chill, the day was rather fair, with clear blue skies and bright sunlight. The edges of the courtyard were packed with the residents of Baron City of all stripes, leaving a large open space at the center for the day's planned demonstration.
"Well, the Dragon Knights do not hold demonstrations often," Cecil pointed out.
"And still less often does the Commander of the Dragon Knights spar with the King, I suppose." Kain checked the straps on his shield again.
"It will be a good learning experience for them," Cecil said.
Kain nodded and flipped the visor closed on his helmet. Ahead, Matthew raised his arm to indicate that they were ready to begin.
"We haven't done this in years," Cecil said, his voice echoing oddly within the shining helmet. Such echo had been a constant companion in their youth; it was only the past six years when Cecil had spoken unencumbered by steel, and it jarred Kain now in a way it had not then.
"I pray you have not lost your edge, Your Majesty. I would be distressed indeed to inadvertently cause you harm."
"Rather, you should pray that you are as skilled as you believe yourself to be," Cecil retorted, and Kain laughed. This, he understood; this was like the good days, before treachery and loss.
The new recruits to the Dragoons were gathered to one side to observe. Farther back, Matthew waited with a small detachment of active Dragon Knights, who would act in the second part of the demonstration. They carried covered and blunted spears, for the purpose today was not injury.
Cecil and Kain walked to the center of the large circle, drawn out in chalk, where they would spar. Despite the festive atmosphere, there seemed to be little conversation. The intensity with which the observers watched them made the skin of Kain's back crawl.
"Ready?" Cecil asked.
"Are you?" Kain replied, and sensed rather than saw Cecil's grin behind his visor.
They raised their weapons in salute to each other, and began to fight.
Though his spear gave him an advantage in reach, Cecil's sword was faster, and they were both adept at turning away blows with their shields. They had agreed that Kain would not use his jumping skills in this demonstration, because the intent was to show the new recruits what a Dragoon could do in close combat with an armed foe. Cecil's strikes fell like hail on Kain's shield and, occasionally, his unprotected left shoulder, but Kain used those opportunities to strike at Cecil's unprotected right side.
They had grown up sparring together, and that gave Cecil an advantage that most men fighting Kain lacked; Cecil was accustomed to fighting someone who fought left-handed. By unspoken agreement they moved and turned in such a way as to extend their battle, wanting neither to show the King defeated nor to give the Dragoons the sense that they were vulnerable.
Matthew called out the time after ten minutes had passed, and they broke apart and saluted each other again. Jalen approached them with a waterskin, and he appeared to be taking his assigned role very seriously. The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth as he counted the steps from the edge of the circle toward them. When he was five steps away, he stopped and bowed. "Would Your Majesty care for some refreshment?" he asked, offering the waterskin.
"Thank you, Crown Prince," Cecil said solemnly, and took the waterskin from his son. Jalen smiled, proud of his little role in the formal demonstration. He had begged for days to be allowed to participate, and finally Cecil and Rosa had given in enough to permit this small ritual.
Cecil finished with the water and passed it to Kain, who drank deeply and handed it back to Jalen. Jalen bowed and retreated with the same carefully measured steps.
"So sure of his dignity," Cecil murmured, a little sadly.
"So were we, at that age," Kain replied, but he knew what Cecil meant. Jalen was anxious to grow up, but it meant that the moments when he behaved as a six-year-old ought were few and far between.
Then again, Kain supposed royal heirs were not permitted much of a childhood in any event; he and Cecil hadn’t been.
"Ready for round two?" Cecil asked, and Kain nodded, then raised his arm to signal to Matthew.
One of the Dragon Knight recruits wheeled over a leather-covered practice dummy and positioned it exactly in the center of the circle. Kain lowered his visor, hearing the clanking sound of Cecil doing the same, and took up a position with his back to the practice dummy. He knew Cecil would be on the other side.
"Begin!" Matthew shouted, and eight experienced Dragon Knights charged at them.
Four against one would have been difficult odds on any battlefield, but the difficulty increased because Cecil and Kain were demonstrating their ability to protect someone else in addition to themselves. Since the Dark Knights had been disbanded upon Cecil's ascension to the throne, the Dragoons were the uncontested elite force in Baron. Kain wove spear and shield into a constantly-moving dance of steel and wood, brushing aside blows in the patterns he had studied since he was no older than Jalen. Even amid the din of battle, he forced himself to isolate the sources of the different shrieks of metal and creak of leather and wood. He heard Cecil step to the right, and promptly did the same himself to stop a Dragoon who thought to take advantage of a weakness in their defense.
He could hear the murmurs of the spectators, and the occasional cheer when someone struck a particularly clever blow. His side ached abominably where a Dragon Knight had swept his shield against him, hoping to knock him off-balance, and dozens of fresh bruises competed for his attention. Kain ignored all of them, and spun his spear in his hand to drive the butt firmly into the chestplate of the Dragoon to his left, using his shield to knock aside two incoming spears. Even as the Dragoon he'd speared withdrew from the fight, he dragged his shield upward to deflect the last spear and used the opening to deliver his own strike.
With two attackers down, cleaning up the rest was only a matter of a short while. He turned in time to see Cecil defeat the last of his opponents, and grinned.
"Well fought, Captain," Cecil said.
"Your Majesty honours me," Kain replied.
Cecil pushed back his visor, and Kain saw that he had a wide grin on his face. "I think we acquitted ourselves well, for men who've not seen a true battlefield in eight years," he said.
"We did well enough," Kain agreed, and saluted his Dragoons when they lined up for acknowledgment.
"I'll leave you to your recruits, then," Cecil said, and departed for where Rosa stood nearby, keeping a firm grip on their children.
Kain turned back to the new recruits to deliver his planned lecture.
~*~
At the end of the long day, Kain traveled into Baron City proper. Cecil had retired to tend to his family, and Cid was off somewhere up to his elbows in grease and airship bits, trying to bring the Falcon's capabilities in line with Lady Fortune's. Kain, for his part, wanted nothing to do with the castle or politics tonight, so he went in search of a tavern with clean glasses, good strong ale, and good food.
He found all three at the Paladin's Shield, a tavern hastily renamed after Cecil's return eight years before. It had once gone under the name of the Dark Sword, and, although the name had changed, the exterior had not, nor had the ale. He found himself a glass and a quiet corner and sat down to enjoy his drink.
This establishment was fairly upper-class as such things went, and occasionally hosted parties for young nobles out to raise a ruckus where their families weren't directly nearby keeping an eye on them. One such party was gathered a few tables from Kain, laughing uproariously. He ignored them. The serving girl brought him a dish of stew and a thick slice of crusty bread, along with a smile and an invitation to call her if he needed aught else. Her tone left little doubt as to what she offered, but Kain waved her away. He had not come here seeking feminine companionship.
He applied himself to his stew with good appetite, for the demonstration earlier that day had been quite a workout. As he was mopping up the last of the stew juices with his bread, he heard a fragment of conversation from the next table that made his blood run cold.
"The King has grown quite lax about guarding his heir. If you wished to teach him a lesson, now would be a good time. He is distracted with the plans for the Damcyan embassy, and with Captain Highwind traveling so frequently, the castle is not as tightly secured as it has been in the past." The speaker was male, most likely in his late middle age from the sound of his voice, and had an accent that was neither wholly of the nobility nor wholly common.
Kain gritted his teeth and forced his body to relax, dipping his bread into the bowl again and pretending to just be contemplating the bottom of his glass of ale.
"Well, that's all I have to say on the matter." A chair scraped across the wooden floor. From the corner of his eye, Kain saw a dark cloak bearing no identifying markings. "If you choose to take action this evening, both our houses will profit from your audacity."
"I am glad we could come to an accord on this matter. Safe journey home." The second voice was far younger, and certainly belonged to a nobleman, judging by the inflection and accent.
The dark-cloaked man moved past Kain's table. He kept his head bowed and wore a broad-brimmed hat of the sort that was currently in fashion, so Kain was not able to get a glimpse of his face in the dim light. That same dim light worked in Kain’s favour, however, since it shadowed his blonde hair and his features, keeping him anonymous in his corner. He shifted his chair slightly so he could see the table to his right. The young man seated there had black hair and a thin, pinched face with deep-set, small eyes. He was studying the contents of his wineglass with great concentration. A moment later a good-looking young nobleman Kain identified as Stephen Vyran took a seat at the table.
"And why are you sitting all alone over here without even a wench for companionship? Shame on you!" he scolded.
"I'm not in the mood for the company this sort of place provides," the second man responded.
"Well, pay for that wine you're not drinking and we'll go to the Rose for some fun." Stephen smirked. "My treat at the Rose."
The young man laughed and drank his wine. "Not tonight, Stephen, but thank you all the same."
"Well, some other time." Stephen rose, clapped the dark-haired nobleman on the shoulder, and rejoined the raucous gathering of noblemen. They scattered some coins across the table and departed in a noisy mass, joking about the companionship they intended to pursue.
The lone nobleman continued to nurse his wine. Kain inched his chair a bit further back into his corner and finished his meal, keeping an eye on the nobleman. The serving girl started toward him and he shook his head, sipping slowly from his ale. He passed two or three hours in like fashion, refilling his ale only once, while the nobleman brooded into his wine.
Near midnight, the nobleman rose and dropped a few gil on the table. He was walking a trifle unsteadily, which was all to the good as far as Kain was concerned. He paid for his own meal and ale, leaving extra for the serving girl, and followed the man into the streets of Baron, where a strong wind was snapping banners and cloaks.
The nobleman was weaving his way through the streets of Baron, which made it child's play to follow him in silence, concealed in the shadows of the buildings they passed. Kain's soft leather boots made very little noise upon the cobbled stone streets. The nobleman's boots scuffed, scraped, and thudded against the stone streets. Kain breathed a quiet prayer to Bahamut, Lord of the Dragons, who was patron of the Dragon Knights.
As they moved out of the noble quarter of Baron City, the nobleman's steps became more even and sure, and he abandoned his weaving, shuffling gait in favour of a quiet, balanced stride not unlike Kain's own. Kain swallowed a curse; the man had been play-acting so as to have an alibi if anyone should ask his whereabouts this eve. They had passed a few parties of nobles who called out greetings and waved, to which the nobleman had drunkenly waved back, but Kain had been unable to catch the man's name.
The gates of Baron Castle were closed, as they rightly should be at this time of night. Rather than attempt to gain entry through the gates, the nobleman slid from one shadow to another to get up close to the castle walls, and began to stalk alongside the stone barrier. Kain followed him, biting his tongue to keep back a slew of curses. The nobleman made his way along the stone to a point about halfway along the south wall of the castle, where the wavering light of the torches from the guard posts to either side did not quite meet. He began to climb up the stone walls. Kain watched him and realized that someone had been coming along here and chipping out handholds, for the stone had not been so forgiving the last time he had checked this in the spring.
A Dragoon had swifter means of ascent than a noble assassin, so Kain slid down to the next guard outpost and performed a Dragoon's jump, catching hold of a small outcropping of stone designed as a gutter for boiling oil to be poured down upon attackers. Grunting a little with the effort, he hauled himself up until he could brace his boots upon the stone wall and change his grip to the top of the spout rather than the bottom. He walked his feet slowly up the wall until he could balance carefully on the gutter. He glanced to his left. The nobleman was about halfway up the wall and appeared to be taking a short breather. Kain smiled fiercely and jumped again, landing on the parapet without a sound. The guard turned to face him, mouth open to shout a warning, then frowned in puzzlement.
"Good evening, Lieutenant Darmin," Kain murmured. Though Dragoons were not required to take guard shifts, they often did, a relic of Kain's father's tenure as Captain. He had often thought it foolish, but was grateful now.
Matthew blinked. "Sir," he said, equally quiet, "may I inquire as to why you felt it necessary to return to the castle by jumping over the wall rather than entering by the front gate?"
"There's a nobleman climbing up the wall just there. Don't go look," Kain added quickly. "I think he means Prince Jalen harm, and I intend to follow him until I have conclusive proof and then arrest the bastard." He would have preferred to kill him, but Cecil would be angry, so he would make violence his second resort.
Matthew scowled. "How is he going to get in?"
"There's a very small area where the torchlight isn't reaching because of the wind tonight." Kain indicated it, and saw Matthew's face tighten.
"Not for long," Matthew muttered. "I'll have additional torches placed immediately."
"Not until he gets in," Kain corrected. "We need proof. I can't go arresting noblemen out of hand, you know."
"Very well, Captain. Raise a shout if there is aught you need." Matthew turned to face outward again, though Kain could tell he was struggling not to turn and stare at the point Kain had indicated.
Kain dropped down below the edge of the parapet and crept forward as silently as he could. He paused far enough from Matthew's torch to be under cover of darkness still, yet not so far he would be visible to the nobleman when he reached the top. He was not a moment too soon; the soft sounds of leather scraping over stone ceased as the nobleman heaved himself over the last few feet of stone and landed quietly on the parapet. Kain watched, squinting in the faint light of the quarter moon overhead. The nobleman withdrew a coil of rope from beneath his cloak. Keeping low to the ground, he crept forward and knotted the rope around the top of one of the oil spouts. He dropped the rope over into the courtyard and swung his leg over the wall to climb down.
Kain crept back toward Matthew. "He's climbing down a rope," he murmured very quietly. "I'm going to jump down and trail him. Send some Dragoons to the prince and princess’s rooms."
"Yes, sir."
Kain stepped up to the edge of the wall and jumped, aiming for a long jump rather than a high one as a Dragoon normally did. His ankles and knees protested the impact when he landed, for it was a longer drop than he was accustomed to, but he made very little sound. He shifted farther into the shadows cast by flickering torchlight, and waited. He could dimly see the dark shape of the nobleman creeping down the wall.
The nobleman reached the bottom and left the rope hanging there. Due to its location, it was unlikely to be seen, and if he succeeded in his efforts he would need a means of egress from the castle. He kept to the shadows and began to move toward the eastern tower. Kain followed him as quietly as possible. Approximately halfway along the wall, the noble paused and bent down. Kain swore silently as a small opening, just large enough for a grown man to crawl through if he wasn't too large, appeared at the base of the wall. He had explored the castle multiple times and reviewed all the plans he could get his hands on, and had been unable to locate this particular bolt hole. He added it to his mental list of things to have Cid fix before the winter, preferably with a generous application of cement. He also needed to find out how the hell the noble had known about this secret passage when he and Cecil had not.
The nobleman crawled into the passage. Kain had to admit the man either had nerves of steel or was too stupid to look for potential followers, for he had not once checked over his shoulder as he moved. Kain unbuckled the scabbard holding his short sword before he followed the nobleman into the passageway, holding the scabbard in one hand so it wouldn't scrape against the stone walls. Within the passageway, it was pitch-black and very tight, and Kain felt cold sweat trickle down his spine at the enclosed feeling, so like being locked in the tiny cell in the depths of the Tower of Zot when he had displeased Golbez. He felt it catch on his scar, which ached. He shoved the memory away and crawled forward, forcing himself to breathe slowly and evenly, focusing only on reducing the amount of noise he made and tracking the sounds of the noble crawling in front of him, for the other man was not as adept at silent movement as he.
The lightless tunnel seemed to go on forever, and the farther he crawled, the more he felt the weight of it pressing down upon him. At last he heard the scrape of stone moving over stone ahead of him, and he could see outline of the nobleman as a darker shape against the darkness beyond. Kain crawled a bit faster, emerging from the tunnel to find himself in a narrow hallway, lit only by light filtering in from a few chinks in the stone high overhead. To his left was a very narrow stone staircase, so narrow he'd have to go up it sideways. The nobleman was about seven steps up already. Kain crept up the stairs behind him, timing his footsteps so that the faint noise of his feet touching stone was covered by the noise of the nobleman's own footsteps. The nobleman was moving more quickly now, less quietly, which worked to Kain's advantage. He followed the man up the stairs. They climbed to the third floor, by Kain's best guess, before the nobleman paused. Kain heard the faint rasp of steel on leather as the nobleman drew a blade. He tensed, waiting for the nobleman to turn and attack him. Instead, he heard the scrape of steel across stone and the rumble of a door mechanism working. A section of the wall slid away, letting a faint glow of candlelight into the stone passageway. The nobleman stepped forward into whatever room had been revealed.
Kain followed a few seconds behind, emerging into a passageway. His quarry was to his left, outside a door that Kain recognized as leading to Jalen's rooms. Down the hall, at the corner that, until now, had been the only way to the children's quarters, the guards continued their watch. Kain took a deep breath and grasped the hilt of his sword with his left hand, the scabbard with his right, prepared to draw it in an instant.
The noble opened the door and stepped into Jalen's room. Kain abandoned stealth and raced forward.
The assassin stood in Jalen's room, holding a knife with a foot-long blade that glinted in the faint candlelight aloft as he approached Jalen's bed. Some sound he made must have disturbed the prince, for Jalen stirred, opened his eyes, and screamed.
Kain leapt forward, drawing the sword in one smooth motion and continuing the momentum of his arm to knock the nobleman's knife aside. His sword gouged into the nobleman's wrist, which sent the knife skittering across the floor and drew a sharp cry of pain from the man. Jalen was still screaming, and running footsteps approached with the clank of armour.
The nobleman turned to face Kain, drawing a falchion awkwardly with his left hand. Kain smiled fiercely and parried the noble's first clumsy swing. He was not quite so proficient with a sword as with a spear, but he had years of experience with real combat compared to this man’s games with his fencing master.
The noble bobbled his grip on the falchion as he tried to switch it from his left hand to his right. Kain brought his scabbard up as the noble did so, knocking the falchion away. It clanged upon the stone floor as he brought his own sword up and drove it straight into the noble's chest.
The noble clutched at the blade, a look of utter disbelief on his face, and sank to his knees. His eyes met Kain's. "Traitorous...bastard," he wheezed as he collapsed.
Two guards burst into the room. Kain turned to face them with all the composure he could muster, even as they leveled their swords at him.
"Stop it!" Jalen appeared to have got over his fright, and he clambered out of bed to place himself between the guards and Kain. "Uncle Kain didn't do anything wrong!"
"Your Highness, please," the guard said, "step aside."
"I will not!" Jalen drew himself up taller.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Cecil roared. Kain sighed, folded his hands, and waited.
A few moments later, the paladin appeared in the doorway, followed closely by his Queen. Kain saw Cecil's gaze rest on him first, then drop to the nobleman with Kain's sword protruding from his chest. As the sword had been a gift from Cecil to him on his last name-day and featured a hilt worked with intertwined dragons, there was little doubt as to the sword's owner.
"Jalen!" Rosa raced forward to clasp her son in a tight hug. "What on earth happened?"
"It's not Uncle Kain's fault!" Jalen squirmed energetically until his mother let him go.
"I am sure it was not," Cecil said. He turned to the guards.
"I swear on my life no one passed us, Your Majesty," one said quickly. "We heard His Highness scream and came at a run, to find His Highness awakened, that man on the floor, and Captain Highwind standing over him."
Cecil winced. "I want a full explanation and I want it now. Jalen, you first."
"I was asleep," Jalen said, rubbing at his eyes. His blond hair was sticking up in all directions, making him resemble a much-ruffled chocobo. "I woke up and that man in black was standing in here with a knife raised over me. I screamed, but Uncle Kain was already here, and they fought, and Uncle Kain killed him."
Rosa's mouth was open in a soundless gasp of horror. Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Kain?"
"I became aware of a threat to the prince, and mitigated it," Kain said.
Cecil glared at him. "That is insufficient."
"With respect, Your Majesty, the details are not fit for public discussion."
Cecil opened his mouth, sighed, closed it again, and rubbed his eyes. "Very well. We will adjourn to my chambers." He turned to the guards. "Please see that this is cleaned up, and the body placed somewhere safe. It should be guarded until I personally give other instructions. Set someone to guard that door as well." He pointed to the opening through which Kain and the assassin had gained access.
The guards saluted, and watched with neutral faces as the four of them paraded past. Rosa turned aside to check on Sophia, who had been wakened by the commotion and was crying. Four Dragoons raced up, fully armed, and paused, then bowed to Cecil and Jalen and saluted Kain. "Your Majesty. Your Highness. Captain."
"Did Lieutenant Darmin send you?" Kain asked.
"Yes, sir!"
Cecil gave him a long look over Jalen’s head. "Come with us, then, and guard our chamber until we ask for you," he said mildly.
"Yes, Your Majesty." They drew near enough for an honour guard, and were silent as they approached the royal chambers.
Rosa rejoined them in short order. She saw Jalen comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, though there was little hope of him sleeping anytime soon, before she and Cecil took their seats side by side on another, hands clasped. It was obvious that both yearned to hug Jalen close, but he was all aquiver with energy, and unlikely to tolerate such affection. Kain remained standing, despite Cecil’s very obvious gesture for him to take a seat.
Cecil drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well?"
"I had gone into town to get a meal and a glass of ale," Kain replied. "I overheard two men talking at the next table over, and one of them said something about you having grown lax about guarding your heir, and that if the other man wished to do something about it, tonight might be a good time."
Rosa drew a hissing breath. Cecil looked up, as though to pray for patience. "Continue."
"The dead man in Jalen’s room was the other man at that table. I didn't recognize him. I followed him from the tavern to the castle. He climbed up the wall in one of the blind spots between the guard posts, where someone had been chipping out handholds for him. I jumped to the top of the wall, and then down the other side. He climbed down a rope, which you can still find in the eastern bailey hanging down a wall. He entered a secret passageway of which I was previously ignorant and climbed through to the opening in the hallway." Kain gestured in the direction of Jalen’s quarters.
"What happened after that?" Cecil asked.
"I followed him into Prince Jalen's room. He had a knife drawn. The prince awakened and began to scream. I disarmed the man. He chose not to surrender, but rather drew a falchion on me. I killed him."
"Why did you not act before?" Cecil demanded.
"The laws of Baron require proof of a crime before a trial may begin, Your Majesty. I had no proof, merely suspicions and casual, ambiguous words spoken in a tavern."
"Yet, you followed this man until he began to climb into the castle. Why did you not stop him there?"
"He might have merely been out for a lark, and regardless, I still had no proof that he intended harm to yourself, your Queen or your heirs. I was confident that I would be able to defeat him should he attempt to harm anyone."
Cecil was silent for a moment, scowling. Kain took a deep breath and sank to one knee. "Your Majesty, it is my duty as a Dragon Knight to see to your safety and that of your family. It is true I chose to let this man advance farther into the castle than perhaps might have been wise, but I did so in hopes of obtaining further evidence or perhaps being able to subdue him without resorting to lethal force, in which case he might have been questioned to find out who supports him and the names of others who might be involved in this plot."
"This is not necessary, Captain Highwind. I thank you for your loyal service to the royal family and to my son." Cecil held out a hand. Kain grasped it and rose to his feet. He was more grateful than he could say that Cecil had treated him with appropriate formality, rather than as a member of the family. It was not as Jalen’s uncle that he had fought tonight.
"I presume the Dragon Knights are there for a reason?" Rosa asked.
"Matthew was on guard when I jumped up. I told him to send them to Jalen’s rooms."
"Please call them in."
Kain went to the door. The four Dragon Knights waited patiently outside and marched in together. They lined up to face their King and bowed.
"Please tell me what you know about tonight's disturbance," Cecil said to them.
The Dragoon on the left end of the line, who had served since before Golbez, spoke first. "Lieutenant Darmin sent a messenger to inform us there was a possible threat to the Crown Prince and instructed us to make haste to his quarters. We did so. As we drew near, we heard shouting, and arrived as Your Majesty, the Queen, the Crown Prince, and the Captain exited his quarters."
"I concur," said each of the others in turn.
Cecil nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Captain, we will speak more on this matter tomorrow." He turned to the Dragoon who had spoken first. "Please go to the wall guarded by Lieutenant Darmin and ask him to gather the evidence that Captain Highwind described to him. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty." They bowed, and left.
In private, Cecil heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. Rosa leaned over to massage his shoulders. Kain made himself continue to look at them, and did not flinch.
"Get some rest," Cecil said. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Kain bowed.
He returned to his own quarters. He removed his cloak and hung it up neatly, then shed his tunic and boots. He made something of a production of removing his socks, belt, and trousers and setting them neatly aside. Then he sank down on the edge of his bed and tried to control the shudders that racked him.
That bastard had nearly killed Jalen. He kept seeing terrible images whenever his eyes closed for even a moment. How could he possibly have been so stupid as to allow something like this to happen? Even if he wasn't physically present in Baron himself, his security measures should have seen to a situation like this. Had he not been in that tavern this evening, or had he not arrived when he did, he might have missed every clue and Jalen would be dead; his guards would never have reached his room in time.
He folded his hands tightly in his lap, shivering violently in the chill breeze that crept in through the open shutters, ruffling his hair and sending goose bumps rippling down his spine, but didn't move to shut the window. He felt as cold as ice, as cold as the frozen glory that was Shiva when Rydia would stand with her hair whipping about her in a magical wind and the ice goddess would unleash her power upon their enemies. Jalen could have died, and he would have been to blame.
It was a long time before he could rouse himself to shut the window. He lay down upon his bed with the blankets over him, but could not get warm. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and calmly, attempting to will himself into sleep. Eventually sleep came to him, but it was not peaceful. He dreamed of Jalen's bloody body amid red-soaked sheets and the noble standing above him, laughing as Kain entered the room because he was too late to save Jalen. He dreamed of arriving in time to stop the noble, but Jalen was not there, and while Kain fought the noble, Jalen entered behind him and stabbed him with the dagger Kain had given him for his sixth name-day, and Kain sank to his knees amid a red haze of pain while Jalen laughed.
He dreamed, too, of Jalen waking and holding up his arms, crying "Father!" He ran to him, scooped him up in his arms, and Jalen clung to him, crying. "Father, I was so scared." He patted Jalen's back soothingly, but his hand came away bloody and he realized the head of his spear was buried in Jalen's back, snapped off at the haft, and Jalen died in his arms.
He dreamed, half-woke, dreamed again, twisting restlessly upon his bed until the sheets were tangled so tightly around his body he could scarce move, but still twitched and shuddered until the faint light of dawn touched his face and woke him.
Rating: R (overall), G (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward.
Wordcount: 5800 this chapter.
Beta:
celelorielEight years after Zeromus
"They’ve turned out like it's a festival day," Kain said, looking out over the courtyard. A chilly breeze snuck into the archway where they waited, bringing with it the faint bite of oncoming winter. Despite the chill, the day was rather fair, with clear blue skies and bright sunlight. The edges of the courtyard were packed with the residents of Baron City of all stripes, leaving a large open space at the center for the day's planned demonstration.
"Well, the Dragon Knights do not hold demonstrations often," Cecil pointed out.
"And still less often does the Commander of the Dragon Knights spar with the King, I suppose." Kain checked the straps on his shield again.
"It will be a good learning experience for them," Cecil said.
Kain nodded and flipped the visor closed on his helmet. Ahead, Matthew raised his arm to indicate that they were ready to begin.
"We haven't done this in years," Cecil said, his voice echoing oddly within the shining helmet. Such echo had been a constant companion in their youth; it was only the past six years when Cecil had spoken unencumbered by steel, and it jarred Kain now in a way it had not then.
"I pray you have not lost your edge, Your Majesty. I would be distressed indeed to inadvertently cause you harm."
"Rather, you should pray that you are as skilled as you believe yourself to be," Cecil retorted, and Kain laughed. This, he understood; this was like the good days, before treachery and loss.
The new recruits to the Dragoons were gathered to one side to observe. Farther back, Matthew waited with a small detachment of active Dragon Knights, who would act in the second part of the demonstration. They carried covered and blunted spears, for the purpose today was not injury.
Cecil and Kain walked to the center of the large circle, drawn out in chalk, where they would spar. Despite the festive atmosphere, there seemed to be little conversation. The intensity with which the observers watched them made the skin of Kain's back crawl.
"Ready?" Cecil asked.
"Are you?" Kain replied, and sensed rather than saw Cecil's grin behind his visor.
They raised their weapons in salute to each other, and began to fight.
Though his spear gave him an advantage in reach, Cecil's sword was faster, and they were both adept at turning away blows with their shields. They had agreed that Kain would not use his jumping skills in this demonstration, because the intent was to show the new recruits what a Dragoon could do in close combat with an armed foe. Cecil's strikes fell like hail on Kain's shield and, occasionally, his unprotected left shoulder, but Kain used those opportunities to strike at Cecil's unprotected right side.
They had grown up sparring together, and that gave Cecil an advantage that most men fighting Kain lacked; Cecil was accustomed to fighting someone who fought left-handed. By unspoken agreement they moved and turned in such a way as to extend their battle, wanting neither to show the King defeated nor to give the Dragoons the sense that they were vulnerable.
Matthew called out the time after ten minutes had passed, and they broke apart and saluted each other again. Jalen approached them with a waterskin, and he appeared to be taking his assigned role very seriously. The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth as he counted the steps from the edge of the circle toward them. When he was five steps away, he stopped and bowed. "Would Your Majesty care for some refreshment?" he asked, offering the waterskin.
"Thank you, Crown Prince," Cecil said solemnly, and took the waterskin from his son. Jalen smiled, proud of his little role in the formal demonstration. He had begged for days to be allowed to participate, and finally Cecil and Rosa had given in enough to permit this small ritual.
Cecil finished with the water and passed it to Kain, who drank deeply and handed it back to Jalen. Jalen bowed and retreated with the same carefully measured steps.
"So sure of his dignity," Cecil murmured, a little sadly.
"So were we, at that age," Kain replied, but he knew what Cecil meant. Jalen was anxious to grow up, but it meant that the moments when he behaved as a six-year-old ought were few and far between.
Then again, Kain supposed royal heirs were not permitted much of a childhood in any event; he and Cecil hadn’t been.
"Ready for round two?" Cecil asked, and Kain nodded, then raised his arm to signal to Matthew.
One of the Dragon Knight recruits wheeled over a leather-covered practice dummy and positioned it exactly in the center of the circle. Kain lowered his visor, hearing the clanking sound of Cecil doing the same, and took up a position with his back to the practice dummy. He knew Cecil would be on the other side.
"Begin!" Matthew shouted, and eight experienced Dragon Knights charged at them.
Four against one would have been difficult odds on any battlefield, but the difficulty increased because Cecil and Kain were demonstrating their ability to protect someone else in addition to themselves. Since the Dark Knights had been disbanded upon Cecil's ascension to the throne, the Dragoons were the uncontested elite force in Baron. Kain wove spear and shield into a constantly-moving dance of steel and wood, brushing aside blows in the patterns he had studied since he was no older than Jalen. Even amid the din of battle, he forced himself to isolate the sources of the different shrieks of metal and creak of leather and wood. He heard Cecil step to the right, and promptly did the same himself to stop a Dragoon who thought to take advantage of a weakness in their defense.
He could hear the murmurs of the spectators, and the occasional cheer when someone struck a particularly clever blow. His side ached abominably where a Dragon Knight had swept his shield against him, hoping to knock him off-balance, and dozens of fresh bruises competed for his attention. Kain ignored all of them, and spun his spear in his hand to drive the butt firmly into the chestplate of the Dragoon to his left, using his shield to knock aside two incoming spears. Even as the Dragoon he'd speared withdrew from the fight, he dragged his shield upward to deflect the last spear and used the opening to deliver his own strike.
With two attackers down, cleaning up the rest was only a matter of a short while. He turned in time to see Cecil defeat the last of his opponents, and grinned.
"Well fought, Captain," Cecil said.
"Your Majesty honours me," Kain replied.
Cecil pushed back his visor, and Kain saw that he had a wide grin on his face. "I think we acquitted ourselves well, for men who've not seen a true battlefield in eight years," he said.
"We did well enough," Kain agreed, and saluted his Dragoons when they lined up for acknowledgment.
"I'll leave you to your recruits, then," Cecil said, and departed for where Rosa stood nearby, keeping a firm grip on their children.
Kain turned back to the new recruits to deliver his planned lecture.
~*~
At the end of the long day, Kain traveled into Baron City proper. Cecil had retired to tend to his family, and Cid was off somewhere up to his elbows in grease and airship bits, trying to bring the Falcon's capabilities in line with Lady Fortune's. Kain, for his part, wanted nothing to do with the castle or politics tonight, so he went in search of a tavern with clean glasses, good strong ale, and good food.
He found all three at the Paladin's Shield, a tavern hastily renamed after Cecil's return eight years before. It had once gone under the name of the Dark Sword, and, although the name had changed, the exterior had not, nor had the ale. He found himself a glass and a quiet corner and sat down to enjoy his drink.
This establishment was fairly upper-class as such things went, and occasionally hosted parties for young nobles out to raise a ruckus where their families weren't directly nearby keeping an eye on them. One such party was gathered a few tables from Kain, laughing uproariously. He ignored them. The serving girl brought him a dish of stew and a thick slice of crusty bread, along with a smile and an invitation to call her if he needed aught else. Her tone left little doubt as to what she offered, but Kain waved her away. He had not come here seeking feminine companionship.
He applied himself to his stew with good appetite, for the demonstration earlier that day had been quite a workout. As he was mopping up the last of the stew juices with his bread, he heard a fragment of conversation from the next table that made his blood run cold.
"The King has grown quite lax about guarding his heir. If you wished to teach him a lesson, now would be a good time. He is distracted with the plans for the Damcyan embassy, and with Captain Highwind traveling so frequently, the castle is not as tightly secured as it has been in the past." The speaker was male, most likely in his late middle age from the sound of his voice, and had an accent that was neither wholly of the nobility nor wholly common.
Kain gritted his teeth and forced his body to relax, dipping his bread into the bowl again and pretending to just be contemplating the bottom of his glass of ale.
"Well, that's all I have to say on the matter." A chair scraped across the wooden floor. From the corner of his eye, Kain saw a dark cloak bearing no identifying markings. "If you choose to take action this evening, both our houses will profit from your audacity."
"I am glad we could come to an accord on this matter. Safe journey home." The second voice was far younger, and certainly belonged to a nobleman, judging by the inflection and accent.
The dark-cloaked man moved past Kain's table. He kept his head bowed and wore a broad-brimmed hat of the sort that was currently in fashion, so Kain was not able to get a glimpse of his face in the dim light. That same dim light worked in Kain’s favour, however, since it shadowed his blonde hair and his features, keeping him anonymous in his corner. He shifted his chair slightly so he could see the table to his right. The young man seated there had black hair and a thin, pinched face with deep-set, small eyes. He was studying the contents of his wineglass with great concentration. A moment later a good-looking young nobleman Kain identified as Stephen Vyran took a seat at the table.
"And why are you sitting all alone over here without even a wench for companionship? Shame on you!" he scolded.
"I'm not in the mood for the company this sort of place provides," the second man responded.
"Well, pay for that wine you're not drinking and we'll go to the Rose for some fun." Stephen smirked. "My treat at the Rose."
The young man laughed and drank his wine. "Not tonight, Stephen, but thank you all the same."
"Well, some other time." Stephen rose, clapped the dark-haired nobleman on the shoulder, and rejoined the raucous gathering of noblemen. They scattered some coins across the table and departed in a noisy mass, joking about the companionship they intended to pursue.
The lone nobleman continued to nurse his wine. Kain inched his chair a bit further back into his corner and finished his meal, keeping an eye on the nobleman. The serving girl started toward him and he shook his head, sipping slowly from his ale. He passed two or three hours in like fashion, refilling his ale only once, while the nobleman brooded into his wine.
Near midnight, the nobleman rose and dropped a few gil on the table. He was walking a trifle unsteadily, which was all to the good as far as Kain was concerned. He paid for his own meal and ale, leaving extra for the serving girl, and followed the man into the streets of Baron, where a strong wind was snapping banners and cloaks.
The nobleman was weaving his way through the streets of Baron, which made it child's play to follow him in silence, concealed in the shadows of the buildings they passed. Kain's soft leather boots made very little noise upon the cobbled stone streets. The nobleman's boots scuffed, scraped, and thudded against the stone streets. Kain breathed a quiet prayer to Bahamut, Lord of the Dragons, who was patron of the Dragon Knights.
As they moved out of the noble quarter of Baron City, the nobleman's steps became more even and sure, and he abandoned his weaving, shuffling gait in favour of a quiet, balanced stride not unlike Kain's own. Kain swallowed a curse; the man had been play-acting so as to have an alibi if anyone should ask his whereabouts this eve. They had passed a few parties of nobles who called out greetings and waved, to which the nobleman had drunkenly waved back, but Kain had been unable to catch the man's name.
The gates of Baron Castle were closed, as they rightly should be at this time of night. Rather than attempt to gain entry through the gates, the nobleman slid from one shadow to another to get up close to the castle walls, and began to stalk alongside the stone barrier. Kain followed him, biting his tongue to keep back a slew of curses. The nobleman made his way along the stone to a point about halfway along the south wall of the castle, where the wavering light of the torches from the guard posts to either side did not quite meet. He began to climb up the stone walls. Kain watched him and realized that someone had been coming along here and chipping out handholds, for the stone had not been so forgiving the last time he had checked this in the spring.
A Dragoon had swifter means of ascent than a noble assassin, so Kain slid down to the next guard outpost and performed a Dragoon's jump, catching hold of a small outcropping of stone designed as a gutter for boiling oil to be poured down upon attackers. Grunting a little with the effort, he hauled himself up until he could brace his boots upon the stone wall and change his grip to the top of the spout rather than the bottom. He walked his feet slowly up the wall until he could balance carefully on the gutter. He glanced to his left. The nobleman was about halfway up the wall and appeared to be taking a short breather. Kain smiled fiercely and jumped again, landing on the parapet without a sound. The guard turned to face him, mouth open to shout a warning, then frowned in puzzlement.
"Good evening, Lieutenant Darmin," Kain murmured. Though Dragoons were not required to take guard shifts, they often did, a relic of Kain's father's tenure as Captain. He had often thought it foolish, but was grateful now.
Matthew blinked. "Sir," he said, equally quiet, "may I inquire as to why you felt it necessary to return to the castle by jumping over the wall rather than entering by the front gate?"
"There's a nobleman climbing up the wall just there. Don't go look," Kain added quickly. "I think he means Prince Jalen harm, and I intend to follow him until I have conclusive proof and then arrest the bastard." He would have preferred to kill him, but Cecil would be angry, so he would make violence his second resort.
Matthew scowled. "How is he going to get in?"
"There's a very small area where the torchlight isn't reaching because of the wind tonight." Kain indicated it, and saw Matthew's face tighten.
"Not for long," Matthew muttered. "I'll have additional torches placed immediately."
"Not until he gets in," Kain corrected. "We need proof. I can't go arresting noblemen out of hand, you know."
"Very well, Captain. Raise a shout if there is aught you need." Matthew turned to face outward again, though Kain could tell he was struggling not to turn and stare at the point Kain had indicated.
Kain dropped down below the edge of the parapet and crept forward as silently as he could. He paused far enough from Matthew's torch to be under cover of darkness still, yet not so far he would be visible to the nobleman when he reached the top. He was not a moment too soon; the soft sounds of leather scraping over stone ceased as the nobleman heaved himself over the last few feet of stone and landed quietly on the parapet. Kain watched, squinting in the faint light of the quarter moon overhead. The nobleman withdrew a coil of rope from beneath his cloak. Keeping low to the ground, he crept forward and knotted the rope around the top of one of the oil spouts. He dropped the rope over into the courtyard and swung his leg over the wall to climb down.
Kain crept back toward Matthew. "He's climbing down a rope," he murmured very quietly. "I'm going to jump down and trail him. Send some Dragoons to the prince and princess’s rooms."
"Yes, sir."
Kain stepped up to the edge of the wall and jumped, aiming for a long jump rather than a high one as a Dragoon normally did. His ankles and knees protested the impact when he landed, for it was a longer drop than he was accustomed to, but he made very little sound. He shifted farther into the shadows cast by flickering torchlight, and waited. He could dimly see the dark shape of the nobleman creeping down the wall.
The nobleman reached the bottom and left the rope hanging there. Due to its location, it was unlikely to be seen, and if he succeeded in his efforts he would need a means of egress from the castle. He kept to the shadows and began to move toward the eastern tower. Kain followed him as quietly as possible. Approximately halfway along the wall, the noble paused and bent down. Kain swore silently as a small opening, just large enough for a grown man to crawl through if he wasn't too large, appeared at the base of the wall. He had explored the castle multiple times and reviewed all the plans he could get his hands on, and had been unable to locate this particular bolt hole. He added it to his mental list of things to have Cid fix before the winter, preferably with a generous application of cement. He also needed to find out how the hell the noble had known about this secret passage when he and Cecil had not.
The nobleman crawled into the passage. Kain had to admit the man either had nerves of steel or was too stupid to look for potential followers, for he had not once checked over his shoulder as he moved. Kain unbuckled the scabbard holding his short sword before he followed the nobleman into the passageway, holding the scabbard in one hand so it wouldn't scrape against the stone walls. Within the passageway, it was pitch-black and very tight, and Kain felt cold sweat trickle down his spine at the enclosed feeling, so like being locked in the tiny cell in the depths of the Tower of Zot when he had displeased Golbez. He felt it catch on his scar, which ached. He shoved the memory away and crawled forward, forcing himself to breathe slowly and evenly, focusing only on reducing the amount of noise he made and tracking the sounds of the noble crawling in front of him, for the other man was not as adept at silent movement as he.
The lightless tunnel seemed to go on forever, and the farther he crawled, the more he felt the weight of it pressing down upon him. At last he heard the scrape of stone moving over stone ahead of him, and he could see outline of the nobleman as a darker shape against the darkness beyond. Kain crawled a bit faster, emerging from the tunnel to find himself in a narrow hallway, lit only by light filtering in from a few chinks in the stone high overhead. To his left was a very narrow stone staircase, so narrow he'd have to go up it sideways. The nobleman was about seven steps up already. Kain crept up the stairs behind him, timing his footsteps so that the faint noise of his feet touching stone was covered by the noise of the nobleman's own footsteps. The nobleman was moving more quickly now, less quietly, which worked to Kain's advantage. He followed the man up the stairs. They climbed to the third floor, by Kain's best guess, before the nobleman paused. Kain heard the faint rasp of steel on leather as the nobleman drew a blade. He tensed, waiting for the nobleman to turn and attack him. Instead, he heard the scrape of steel across stone and the rumble of a door mechanism working. A section of the wall slid away, letting a faint glow of candlelight into the stone passageway. The nobleman stepped forward into whatever room had been revealed.
Kain followed a few seconds behind, emerging into a passageway. His quarry was to his left, outside a door that Kain recognized as leading to Jalen's rooms. Down the hall, at the corner that, until now, had been the only way to the children's quarters, the guards continued their watch. Kain took a deep breath and grasped the hilt of his sword with his left hand, the scabbard with his right, prepared to draw it in an instant.
The noble opened the door and stepped into Jalen's room. Kain abandoned stealth and raced forward.
The assassin stood in Jalen's room, holding a knife with a foot-long blade that glinted in the faint candlelight aloft as he approached Jalen's bed. Some sound he made must have disturbed the prince, for Jalen stirred, opened his eyes, and screamed.
Kain leapt forward, drawing the sword in one smooth motion and continuing the momentum of his arm to knock the nobleman's knife aside. His sword gouged into the nobleman's wrist, which sent the knife skittering across the floor and drew a sharp cry of pain from the man. Jalen was still screaming, and running footsteps approached with the clank of armour.
The nobleman turned to face Kain, drawing a falchion awkwardly with his left hand. Kain smiled fiercely and parried the noble's first clumsy swing. He was not quite so proficient with a sword as with a spear, but he had years of experience with real combat compared to this man’s games with his fencing master.
The noble bobbled his grip on the falchion as he tried to switch it from his left hand to his right. Kain brought his scabbard up as the noble did so, knocking the falchion away. It clanged upon the stone floor as he brought his own sword up and drove it straight into the noble's chest.
The noble clutched at the blade, a look of utter disbelief on his face, and sank to his knees. His eyes met Kain's. "Traitorous...bastard," he wheezed as he collapsed.
Two guards burst into the room. Kain turned to face them with all the composure he could muster, even as they leveled their swords at him.
"Stop it!" Jalen appeared to have got over his fright, and he clambered out of bed to place himself between the guards and Kain. "Uncle Kain didn't do anything wrong!"
"Your Highness, please," the guard said, "step aside."
"I will not!" Jalen drew himself up taller.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Cecil roared. Kain sighed, folded his hands, and waited.
A few moments later, the paladin appeared in the doorway, followed closely by his Queen. Kain saw Cecil's gaze rest on him first, then drop to the nobleman with Kain's sword protruding from his chest. As the sword had been a gift from Cecil to him on his last name-day and featured a hilt worked with intertwined dragons, there was little doubt as to the sword's owner.
"Jalen!" Rosa raced forward to clasp her son in a tight hug. "What on earth happened?"
"It's not Uncle Kain's fault!" Jalen squirmed energetically until his mother let him go.
"I am sure it was not," Cecil said. He turned to the guards.
"I swear on my life no one passed us, Your Majesty," one said quickly. "We heard His Highness scream and came at a run, to find His Highness awakened, that man on the floor, and Captain Highwind standing over him."
Cecil winced. "I want a full explanation and I want it now. Jalen, you first."
"I was asleep," Jalen said, rubbing at his eyes. His blond hair was sticking up in all directions, making him resemble a much-ruffled chocobo. "I woke up and that man in black was standing in here with a knife raised over me. I screamed, but Uncle Kain was already here, and they fought, and Uncle Kain killed him."
Rosa's mouth was open in a soundless gasp of horror. Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Kain?"
"I became aware of a threat to the prince, and mitigated it," Kain said.
Cecil glared at him. "That is insufficient."
"With respect, Your Majesty, the details are not fit for public discussion."
Cecil opened his mouth, sighed, closed it again, and rubbed his eyes. "Very well. We will adjourn to my chambers." He turned to the guards. "Please see that this is cleaned up, and the body placed somewhere safe. It should be guarded until I personally give other instructions. Set someone to guard that door as well." He pointed to the opening through which Kain and the assassin had gained access.
The guards saluted, and watched with neutral faces as the four of them paraded past. Rosa turned aside to check on Sophia, who had been wakened by the commotion and was crying. Four Dragoons raced up, fully armed, and paused, then bowed to Cecil and Jalen and saluted Kain. "Your Majesty. Your Highness. Captain."
"Did Lieutenant Darmin send you?" Kain asked.
"Yes, sir!"
Cecil gave him a long look over Jalen’s head. "Come with us, then, and guard our chamber until we ask for you," he said mildly.
"Yes, Your Majesty." They drew near enough for an honour guard, and were silent as they approached the royal chambers.
Rosa rejoined them in short order. She saw Jalen comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, though there was little hope of him sleeping anytime soon, before she and Cecil took their seats side by side on another, hands clasped. It was obvious that both yearned to hug Jalen close, but he was all aquiver with energy, and unlikely to tolerate such affection. Kain remained standing, despite Cecil’s very obvious gesture for him to take a seat.
Cecil drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well?"
"I had gone into town to get a meal and a glass of ale," Kain replied. "I overheard two men talking at the next table over, and one of them said something about you having grown lax about guarding your heir, and that if the other man wished to do something about it, tonight might be a good time."
Rosa drew a hissing breath. Cecil looked up, as though to pray for patience. "Continue."
"The dead man in Jalen’s room was the other man at that table. I didn't recognize him. I followed him from the tavern to the castle. He climbed up the wall in one of the blind spots between the guard posts, where someone had been chipping out handholds for him. I jumped to the top of the wall, and then down the other side. He climbed down a rope, which you can still find in the eastern bailey hanging down a wall. He entered a secret passageway of which I was previously ignorant and climbed through to the opening in the hallway." Kain gestured in the direction of Jalen’s quarters.
"What happened after that?" Cecil asked.
"I followed him into Prince Jalen's room. He had a knife drawn. The prince awakened and began to scream. I disarmed the man. He chose not to surrender, but rather drew a falchion on me. I killed him."
"Why did you not act before?" Cecil demanded.
"The laws of Baron require proof of a crime before a trial may begin, Your Majesty. I had no proof, merely suspicions and casual, ambiguous words spoken in a tavern."
"Yet, you followed this man until he began to climb into the castle. Why did you not stop him there?"
"He might have merely been out for a lark, and regardless, I still had no proof that he intended harm to yourself, your Queen or your heirs. I was confident that I would be able to defeat him should he attempt to harm anyone."
Cecil was silent for a moment, scowling. Kain took a deep breath and sank to one knee. "Your Majesty, it is my duty as a Dragon Knight to see to your safety and that of your family. It is true I chose to let this man advance farther into the castle than perhaps might have been wise, but I did so in hopes of obtaining further evidence or perhaps being able to subdue him without resorting to lethal force, in which case he might have been questioned to find out who supports him and the names of others who might be involved in this plot."
"This is not necessary, Captain Highwind. I thank you for your loyal service to the royal family and to my son." Cecil held out a hand. Kain grasped it and rose to his feet. He was more grateful than he could say that Cecil had treated him with appropriate formality, rather than as a member of the family. It was not as Jalen’s uncle that he had fought tonight.
"I presume the Dragon Knights are there for a reason?" Rosa asked.
"Matthew was on guard when I jumped up. I told him to send them to Jalen’s rooms."
"Please call them in."
Kain went to the door. The four Dragon Knights waited patiently outside and marched in together. They lined up to face their King and bowed.
"Please tell me what you know about tonight's disturbance," Cecil said to them.
The Dragoon on the left end of the line, who had served since before Golbez, spoke first. "Lieutenant Darmin sent a messenger to inform us there was a possible threat to the Crown Prince and instructed us to make haste to his quarters. We did so. As we drew near, we heard shouting, and arrived as Your Majesty, the Queen, the Crown Prince, and the Captain exited his quarters."
"I concur," said each of the others in turn.
Cecil nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Captain, we will speak more on this matter tomorrow." He turned to the Dragoon who had spoken first. "Please go to the wall guarded by Lieutenant Darmin and ask him to gather the evidence that Captain Highwind described to him. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty." They bowed, and left.
In private, Cecil heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. Rosa leaned over to massage his shoulders. Kain made himself continue to look at them, and did not flinch.
"Get some rest," Cecil said. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Kain bowed.
He returned to his own quarters. He removed his cloak and hung it up neatly, then shed his tunic and boots. He made something of a production of removing his socks, belt, and trousers and setting them neatly aside. Then he sank down on the edge of his bed and tried to control the shudders that racked him.
That bastard had nearly killed Jalen. He kept seeing terrible images whenever his eyes closed for even a moment. How could he possibly have been so stupid as to allow something like this to happen? Even if he wasn't physically present in Baron himself, his security measures should have seen to a situation like this. Had he not been in that tavern this evening, or had he not arrived when he did, he might have missed every clue and Jalen would be dead; his guards would never have reached his room in time.
He folded his hands tightly in his lap, shivering violently in the chill breeze that crept in through the open shutters, ruffling his hair and sending goose bumps rippling down his spine, but didn't move to shut the window. He felt as cold as ice, as cold as the frozen glory that was Shiva when Rydia would stand with her hair whipping about her in a magical wind and the ice goddess would unleash her power upon their enemies. Jalen could have died, and he would have been to blame.
It was a long time before he could rouse himself to shut the window. He lay down upon his bed with the blankets over him, but could not get warm. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and calmly, attempting to will himself into sleep. Eventually sleep came to him, but it was not peaceful. He dreamed of Jalen's bloody body amid red-soaked sheets and the noble standing above him, laughing as Kain entered the room because he was too late to save Jalen. He dreamed of arriving in time to stop the noble, but Jalen was not there, and while Kain fought the noble, Jalen entered behind him and stabbed him with the dagger Kain had given him for his sixth name-day, and Kain sank to his knees amid a red haze of pain while Jalen laughed.
He dreamed, too, of Jalen waking and holding up his arms, crying "Father!" He ran to him, scooped him up in his arms, and Jalen clung to him, crying. "Father, I was so scared." He patted Jalen's back soothingly, but his hand came away bloody and he realized the head of his spear was buried in Jalen's back, snapped off at the haft, and Jalen died in his arms.
He dreamed, half-woke, dreamed again, twisting restlessly upon his bed until the sheets were tangled so tightly around his body he could scarce move, but still twitched and shuddered until the faint light of dawn touched his face and woke him.