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| ===Chapter 10 - Shifting Winds===
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| "....The entire hill was a sea of fire at that point. So I figured it was time to lead in a charge. ''One hundred and seventy'' armored gryphons straight into their ranks! And their center hardly even buckled!"
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| Kaede listened to Sylviane's incredulous tone as she sat next to Cecylia on the Princess' spacious bed, in the broad but otherwise austere 'royal cabin'. Meanwhile her hands nursed a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which Cecylia had introduced as a Skagen product when she made it.
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| It was surprising, since cocoa was not a plant that grew in the frozen north. Given that most other produces paralleled those of Earth, there was likely more to the Northmen nation than meets the eye.
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| "They're housecarls -- and their name for being household troops isn't just for show either..."
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| With a patient tone that was almost unlike her, Cecylia explained in a soft soprano that felt soothing just to hear. Her hands gently stroked the largest Ania as all nine bodies of the matryoshka cat laid comfortably around her, purring in turn as though a chorus of relaxation. They all basked in the warm glow of the phoenix Hauteclere, who continued to stand regally next to the Princess while chirping playfully to the smaller kittens.
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| "--The housecarls live in their lord's castle. They drink and dine at the same tables. They're raised alongside noble sons and daughters, trained on the same grounds to the same standards, and address each other like brothers regardless of rank..."
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| Not even Cecylia could keep the rising admiration out of her voice.
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| "Men like that have a bond stronger than any oath. They will fight to their dying breath for their liege, protecting the safety of his life and the sanctity of his corpse. The Jarl's personal force might have struck the detachment, but I'll bet that the heir was among those you defeated, Sylv."
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| "We don't have anyone like that," Sylviane murmured back.
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| "The Knight Phantoms, the Lotharin Armigers, Imperial Praetorians and Scholarii, not even the Cataliyan Ghulams could compare to the élan of the Northmen elite."
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| Cecylia's broad grin then returned in full:
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| "It's ''brotherhood'' at its finest."
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| "Of course you're a fan of them," the Princess chuckled back as she twirled her dark-plum hair. "Sweaty shirtless men wrestling each other in the halls before drinking themselves to a stupor." Then, curious: "but I thought they also fought each other to the death over disagreements?"
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| Cecylia returned a rather tilted nod:
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| "It's true that in the north all disagreements could be decided by single combat. But usually it isn't to the death -- that's just outsider exaggeration -- and certainly not among brothers. However it does save all the political wrangling and plotting, just smash your wine cup at them and draw swords!"
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| "Sometimes I wish we had that tradition," Sylviane sighed wistfully. "Then I can just knock out all those bickering lords and save us the headaches!"
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| Kaede could almost imagine: the new United Nations Assembly, where they resolved national disputes by putting world leaders in a ring and having them fight it out.
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| The was a certain refreshing allure to it... definitely cleaner, at any rate.
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| "Once upon a time," Cecylia grinned back, her scarlet-crossed eyes almost twinkling. "A lot of Lotharin cultural aspects survived the Imperial subjugation, but that's not one of them..."
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| The petite dhampir shrugged.
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| "...It does have its downsides though: like how all judicial cases may be overthrown through trial by single combat -- no representative champions allowed either. So among the Northmen, if you're weak, you're nothing. Can't even get a bride, since a man is expected to literally beat off the other suitors and then ''take'' his bride-to-be in a staff duel."
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| "Sounds like a painful wedding," Sylviane frowned back.
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| "If he wants her to look good on their first night, then he better be good enough to beat her without much bruising! It's part of the incentive!"
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| In response, the Princess crossed her arms and raising her head high. With her eyes closed, she began in a faked, haughty voice almost reminiscent of Pascal's arrogant drawl:
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| "No, Pascal. I cannot marry you. Go back and train for another decade."
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| Sylviane peeked one eye open and met her friend's gaze once more, before her composure fell away and both of them began to laugh.
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| "Well, to be fair, having Hauteclere ''is'' rather one-sided," Cecylia countered half a minute later. "Not that Pascal will ever say that. He's no sore loser and is all about combat realism; Oriflammes certainly don't hold back on a real battlefield."
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| "Wouldn't such a culture imply that Northern women are martial as well?" Kaede finally cut in after her last sip. "I didn't see any of them fighting though; neither the attack force nor on the walls."
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| "Only the men leave their settlements on campaigns," Cecylia clarified. "Northern women only take up arms as part of a garrison to defend their homes. So the militias units are gender segregated, and you probably faced an all-men unit on the wall."
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| Then, it was Sylviane who answered with a solemn deadpan as she reached down to cradle a meowing kitten:
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| "There were hundreds of women killed and wounded at the gates. I had to bloody them some more before they would talk... and I thought we Lotharin girls were tough..."
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| "Sorry," Kaede looked down as a depressing silence fell over the room. ''I shouldn't have brought it up.''
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| She soon felt an all-encompassing hug from the back. A comforting embrace she had wanted since last night, yet couldn't ask.
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| Cecylia seemed warmer than most people too. More touchy-feely than she was used to, at any rate...
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| ...Just before hot breath blew into the sensitive back of her left ear as the dhampir girl leaned in and softly bit her earlobe.
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| "EEK!"
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| Kaede yelped. She almost jumped on the bed, if it wasn't for the other holding her down.
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| "She's having trouble dealing with her first battle," Cecylia informed Sylviane through a catlike grin. "Clearly we should help her forget it."
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| The Princess smiled back but shook her head:
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| "It doesn't work that way."
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| But as her wisteria eyes met Kaede's, it was with the softest look she offered the familiar girl yet.
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| "Come over here Kaede. My hair is just not as soft as yours."
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| Kaede paused and looked back with reluctance, while the Princess reinforced her pleasant smile:
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| "What did you promise in exchange for my permission to stay besides ''my fiancé'' again?"
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| The smaller girl almost groaned aloud.
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| ''Teddy Bear time...''
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| After Cecylia let go and Kaede shifted across the soft comforter, she once again found Sylviane draped over her shoulders and rubbing cheeks against the back of her head.
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| "She's super-huggable isn't she?" Cecylia grinned.
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| "Yep," Sylviane agreed happily, her voice slightly muffled as she continued her snuggling. "And since she's my fiancé's familiar, she belongs to me as well."
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| ''I'm not a belonging!'' Kaede almost cried out.
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| Not that it would have done her any good. But for some reason, despite Pascal's more oppressive aura and Sylviane's lack thereof, Kaede found it a lot harder to object to the Princess than to him.
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| "You're possessive as ever," jested Cecylia from across the bed.
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| "Holy Father forbid a ruler who ''isn't'' possessive," Sylviane countered. "They might start losing pieces of their realm."
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| Turning to face Kaede from over the smaller girl's right shoulder, Sylviane finally decided to talk to her depressed doll:
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| "Kaede, I tell you this as my father once told me the same thing -- in war, your enemies are here for the same reason you are: to serve and to protect. Once battle begins, you win or you lose. You kill or be killed. It's either your life, your friends, your country... or theirs. And until you're willing to surrender everything you hold dear or they offer the same to you, there is no middle ground..."
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| Even as the Princess spoke, her delicate fingers continued to gently brush back the fine, silky strands of canary-white hair that pooled around Kaede.
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| "--Respect your foes, for they are the same as you. But never hesitate to kill them where they stand, so long as they hold steel."
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| Meanwhile, Cecylia nodded along with a thoughtful smile.
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| A bit begrudgingly, Kaede agreed as well:
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| "I... I know all that. But it's just..."
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| ''Knowing it and doing it are still two entirely different things.''
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| But that wasn't something any amount of reasoning by others could fix.
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| "...I just wish we could have won without destroying so many lives."
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| "Everyone believes they're just, everyone wants to win," Sylviane said quietly. "But to achieve that with little or no bloodshed is rare accomplishment indeed... one that required the highest caliber of military command."
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| "Thus to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting," Cecylia added sagely while brushing a nonexistent beard.
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| "Who is that from again?" the Princess asked, mirroring Kaede's exact thoughts.
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| She could have sworn she read those very words in ''The Art of War''.
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| "The 1st Sun General of the Dawn Imperium," Cecylia answered, referring to the superpower in the eastern continent of Eos.
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| Two millenniums ago, it was the Inner Sea Imperium and the Dawn Imperium that signed the accord "Two Realms Under Heaven", splitting the world into two respective spheres of influence that still shaped geopolitical and cultural boundaries today.
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| "Unfortunately, Pascal isn't that good yet," Sylviane spoke Kaede's mind once more.
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| "Neither was its originator when he first started," Cecylia noted. "It took him a lifetime to perfect his ways of war. They say that by the end, he wrote those lines because he grew absolutely sick of spilling blood."
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| "So... the only way to avoid bloodshed in war is to get better, and the only way to get better... is by bloodying more foes."
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| ''Talk about a catch twenty-two,'' Kaede summed up her own words.
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| "I don't want to sound callous," the Princess began. "But you're his familiar, Kaede. This is the path you'll have to help him along, so it's you best become acquainted with it."
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| "Easy for you to say," Kaede retorted irritably.
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| She regretted it almost immediately. Sylviane was the one person she really couldn't afford to throw temper at.
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| But as she turned face Sylviane with a "sorry", what she met instead was a dry smile filled with nostalgic melancholy.
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| "No, you're right. It is ''easy'' for me to say..."
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| The Princess replied before exhaling deeply, her shoulders visibly sagging:
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| "--Perhaps one day you'll figure out just what it means for me to wear this tiara of a crown."
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| Kaede had barely a second to ponder, before royal hands reached over and began to undo her blouse.
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| "Cecil says your skin is as beautiful as your hair, so let's have some fun and take a look."
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| 'Fun' was the last thing on her mind as Sylviane began to strip her quickly and... almost forcefully, just short of tearing her clothes off.
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| Surprised at first, Kaede's half-hearted attempts to stop the Princess barely impeded the stronger and faster hands. Within a minute, she was down to only her charmeuse undergarments, as pure and white as the freshly fallen snow. They were warm and soothing to the touch, but she nevertheless felt cold and vulnerable as her hands huddled around halter top covering her small chest.
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| "Please stop... Your Highness," her wispy voice cried out.
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| Just before Sylviane leaned over her shoulders to whisper into her ear:
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| "Should I also ask you to 'please stop' sleeping in my fiancé's cabin? Would that be fair? I hear the barrack cabins are quite crowded -- maybe they'll have to give you a bed among the men..."
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| ''No...''
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| Kaede froze at once. Her only night spent in a stranger's room was her first night in Pascal's dorm. She never wanted to experience that terrible anxiety again...
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| ''You witch!'' she could only curse back in her thoughts.
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| Across from them, Cecylia simply sat there, content to observe with a faint smirk.
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| Taking the opportunity, Sylviane gently brush her hand down the spine of Kaede's barren back, leaving a ticklish sensation and trailing heat down her exposed skin.
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| "You promised to obey me, remember?" the whispering voice continued with a sensual edge, its breath hot against the back of her ear.
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| The combined sensations soon left Kaede shivering all over.
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| "Your skin is really sensitive," the Princess declared happily. "It's a shame I don't have my wardrobe here."
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| Before Kaede had a moment to relax, she gasped aloud as Sylviane brushed a hand across her upper thighs, lightly stroking the exposed flesh above her thighhigh stockings.
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| It sent tingles across her entire body.
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| "P-please... stop..." Kaede whimpered as she cringed her eyes closed.
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| ''I don't want this... definitely not like this...''
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| Moisture pooled within her eyes even as her feminine body began to heat up, particularly in the area between her legs that still felt alien to her.
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| "No..." came the slow reply.
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| "But keep begging softly," whispered Sylviane as her fingers continued creeping up Kaede's delicate, inner thigh. "And maybe I'll consider..."
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| ''Even though she already know I was a guy...'' Kaede thought, before her rationality managed its last conclusion this morning:
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| ''She's doing this on purpose...''
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| ...
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| After what felt like an hour of teasing, the Princess finally stopped her harassment.
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| By the end, Kaede was nearly sobbing as she trembled all over.
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| "Shhhh. Calm down. It's alright."
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| Sylviane repeated those words in a motherly voice as she rhythmically stroked the Kaede's hair and back.
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| She continued for minutes, dozens of minutes, until the smaller girl relaxed once again.
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| Kaede just couldn't understood the purpose of it all. Was it punishment for her impudence? Or was Sylviane just trying to assert her dominance again?
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| The only thing that seemed apparent was that joining Cecylia or Sylviane merely added to her problems.
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| Yet... as she left the cabin, her stress somehow felt a bit more relieved from before entering it.
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| ...
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| Later that night, when Cecylia visited Sylviane after dinner for another chat, she reflected her surprise at the day's events:
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| "I never thought I'd see you consoling another girl. Try to, anyway. Just feels so odd coming from our sadistic princess."
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| Sylviane immediately frowned back in rebuttal:
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| "I am ''not'' sadistic!"
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| Cecylia grinned as she gave her friend a tilted, knowing look:
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| "You enjoy bullying smaller girls until they get teary because you find them cuter that way. That's totally sadism, even if it's still on the mild side."
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| The Princess almost rolled her eyes with a "whatever" expression.
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| "She's definitely a submissive though," the dhampir smiled again after a few seconds' pause. "It was even more glaringly obvious than last time."
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| Sylviane smirked a little in response, before their eyes met again:
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| "Thanks for the tip from before."
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| "What are friends for?" Cecylia rhymed back, before the two of them started giggling again like normal girls their age.
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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| Jarl Asgeirr Vintersvend scratched his white beard as his icy-blue gaze stared unblinking through the glass windows.
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| Shaped from a single rock column and reinforced by steel, the Air Docking Tower laid at the corner of a V-shaped cliff that rose twenty-stories from the shores below. From its control room at the top, Asgeirr should have been able to see the waves for kilopaces around...
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| Instead he could barely make out Aurora's bulwark-like head in the dense icy fog.
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| His skywhale 'flagship' was moored below, tethered to the tower alongside three others. They were also asleep -- their first rest in three days' time. Meanwhile, the dockhands took this opportunity to move one wheelbarrow after another of supplies on-board; at least, that was what they should be doing.
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| "Welcome back to civilization, Asgeirr."
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| The elderly man with a perpetual frown never bothered to turn around. Even after ten years, he still recognized the gruff voice of his half-brother and one-time liege: Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen of Kattegen.
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| Asgeirr soon felt the hard muscles of a powerful arm reach around his bony shoulders. They wasted no time before pulling him into a warm, familial embrace.
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| "Cold as ever," Eyvindur chuckled before releasing his brother. He then turned about to gaze out the same window, though his arm continued to hang around the other's shoulders.
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| "Still upholding your name as our Admiral Winter?"
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| "They call me Admiral Winter because winter always comes with me, not because I'm quiet," Asgeirr corrected him. "I just found it amusing how southerners consider us 'barbaric Northmen', yet we turn right around and call the tribesmen of the frontier that."
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| The older brother's grin soon lit up his entire face. Asgeirr didn't even have to face him to feel its warmth.
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| "Isn't that why we call it the 'frontier'?"
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| "But the frontier is where we belong," said the younger. "Settling wildlands and recovering realms the dragonlords once held, not back here squabbling over strips of dirt."
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| The one skill that Hyperboreans of Skagen excelled at above all other peoples was their seamanship. Here boys learned to swim before they could even walk, to knot a rope before they could truly talk. Saltwater was the grass of their prairie, with trimaran hulls in place of saddles and steeds.
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| ...Except for those who bonded to skywhales, of course.
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| Not that the difference was huge: the storms remained the same, just replace waves with clouds.
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| "Hey, I didn't vote for this," Eyvindur countered. "In fact, we never voted at all. Those idiots in the south decided to mobilize on their own, and before we could force an edict on them the Wickers struck first. What were we suppose to do? Watch and drink while those heathens trod over the last of our people on the continent?"
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| Asgeirr didn't bother answering, and Eyvindur took a moment's silence to calm back down.
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| "Hyperboreans never abandon their brothers, no matter what. You know that better than anyone. Out in the frontier, our ways are all you can depend on," Eyvindur reasoned. "Västergötland took a thrashing and lost their fleet during their fall campaign, yet they didn't hesitate for even a half-day before issuing a call to arms in our name when the Wickers invaded."
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| "It's arguably their fault. Were it not for their marauders and adventurer scum, we'd have hammered out a treaty with Weichsel centuries ago," Asgeirr almost sighed.
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| It wasn't entirely fair. The southerners' own prejudices were also to blame, as they often neglected to differentiate between the Hyperboreans.
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| "And were it not for their warriors, the Imps would have kicked us off the continent even longer ago."
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| The burly Eyvindur then slowly shook his head:
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| "No point with endless 'what ifs'. We are what we are -- different, but united by our honor, the dragons' honor. Those Trinitians can call us barbaric all they like, but if that's what it takes to not devolve into a society of scheming, backstabbing, morally-depraved mongrels, then I'll gladly remain a 'barbarian'."
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| "Barbarian..."
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| Asgeirr echoed as he eyed the silhouette of a volcanic drake in the fog. The armored beast belonged to the lead rider of Aurora's on-duty 'combat air patrol'. Except given the need to hide the skywhales' presence, they were kept on reserve atop Aurora's blocky head instead.
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| "We'll see who the barbarians are when we rain fire and ice upon them."
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| "Don't forget the acid," chuckled his companion in good humor. "Ice is in our blood. But acid, that's your trademark! Should of named you Admiral Vinegar instead. Cool ''and'' sour!"
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| Asgeirr exhaled sharply. It was as close to a snort as he would get.
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| Better to have 'sour' personality than bitter. Growing up, Eyvindur was the Jarldom's mighty heir, full of confident masculinity, while Asgeirr was the scholarly bastard mage. Girls flocked to see Eyvindur in action, while nobody even noticed him -- until he made a name for himself circumnavigating the world, single-handedly.
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| He had broken his brother's heart before departure, yet Eyvindur welcomed him back with open arms and a grand feast to spread his fame. Since then, Asgeirr vowed to himself that he would never betray blood again.
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| "Just make sure they don't notice," he replied after a long pause. "Keeping the Frontier Fleet fogged up the entire way back already killed my men's mood. Hate to see it go to waste."
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| "Don't worry," the jolly Jarl reassured while patting Asgeirr's shoulder. "I handpicked every man in this tower right now. There's not a single one of them that I wouldn't trust with my life."
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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| Gabriel Gautier de Gaetane, Duke of Auxerre and brother of the Emperor, was still kneeling in prayer before the Cross of Holy Hyperion when the gates opened.
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| In walked three figures hooded and cloaked. Their footsteps clinked with the telltale sounds of heavy plate underneath, interrupted only by the sound of chapel gates slamming shut behind them.
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| The Duke had instructed his armigers to keep all disturbances out... all except his anticipated guests.
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| "Your armies are quite a sight, Your Grace," said the leading knight before taking off his hood, revealing a square-faced man just beyond his prime with blond hair, full mustache, and a well-trimmed beard.
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| Gabriel slowly turned around as he stood up to his modest height:
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| "Fifty thousand strong," he replied through a handsome smile. "But they are not mine -- it is the Holy Father's will they follow, and among them stand many other lords who share our just and righteous cause."
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| "But you speak for them," the knight declared through a much heavier voice. "Just as you spoke to them, bringing them from this godless realm to the grace of the Holy Father."
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| "I am his humble servant first and foremost."
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| With open arms the Duke bowed deeply, enough for his torso to form a right angle to his long legs.
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| Only the clinking echo of steel interrupted the silence that followed as the knight strode forth.
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| Then, just three paces away, he stopped. Meeting Gabriel in a leveled gaze, his eyes revealed a thin halo of gold surrounding the cerulean iris -- the blessing of a Knight Templar, sworn in service to the Holy Church.
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| ...More precisely, they were the paramilitary arm of the Papal Inquisition. Except the 'Papal' name was becoming questionable; they had grown powerful enough that even the Holy See often had trouble commanding them.
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| "In the name of His Holiness the Pope, please kneel, Your Grace," the knight beckoned.
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| Duke Gabriel gracefully lowered himself onto one knee without a moment of hesitance. Before the messenger of the Holy Church, he could not afford to show even the slightest doubt... for otherwise his piety would prove insufficient to be the Holy Father's chosen, the savior of the realm.
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| He bowed his head in reverence as the knight opened the cloak to pull out a glistening sword.
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| "By the powers invested in me by His Holiness Pope Vigilius..."
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| Gabriel felt the cold, deadly steel lay flat against the back of his exposed neck. Only by prostrating one's life before the mercy of the Holy Father could true devotion and faith be shown.
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| "--I, Preceptor Caelestis of the Monastic Knightly Order of the Temples, hereby recognize Gabriel Gautier de Gaetane, Duke of Auxerre and Prince of Rhin-Lotharingie, as Defender of the Faith and, by the grace of the Holy Father, the rightful heir to the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie."
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| Withdrawing the blade from his neck, Caelestis then tapped the Duke's shoulders one after the other:
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| "May you deliver the realm from the apostasy of the false Emperor, Prince Gabriel."
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| "In the name of the Holy Father, Noblesse Oblige," Gabriel answered the calling of his faith.
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| After sheathing his sword, Preceptor Caelestis pulled the entire scabbard from its straps. Then, he carefully laid it in the Duke's open palms.
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| It was a beautiful arming sword of untarnished white and gold. Straight and elegant, with two crosses on each side laid into a hilt of metallic feathers, stretching outwards like a pair of angelic wings.
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| The Sword of Fortitude -- one of the seven holy swords of virtue that belonged to the Trinitian Church of Holy Arcadia.
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| The excommunicated Emperor Geoffroi might believe that his brother was still marching south with fifty thousand reinforcements. But on this day, in this moment, Gabriel had baptized himself for a new life -- one armed with the sword of the 'just' and dedicated to a path of no return.
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| ''Forgive me, brother. But this is indeed the best course for our nation, our people...''
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| Gabriel prayed in silence as he stood back up to face the Preceptor. Drawing the sword from its sheath, he raised the cross before his eyes in a symbolic gesture.
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| ''--And it is the Holy Father's will.''
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| ...
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| Ultimately, even with all the ceremony and pomp, Gabriel's unsmiling seriousness lasted for only three minutes.
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| "Is there a 'Flail of Fortitude' I could use instead?" he asked casually, flourishing the sword in his hands as he tested its balance.
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| "No."
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| "How about a 'Mace of Fortitude'? Or better yet -- a ''Morphic Blade of''..."
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| "The virtues of our faith are ''not'' to be freely altered at will!"
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| Caelestis' twitching brows clearly took offense to Gabriel's carefree demeanor and playful emphasis. But the Duke paid no heed as he continued on:
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| "Yeah but don't you think the Holy Father is a little biased towards the Inner Sea folks? I mean does it have to be a ''sword''? It's just a bit too... ''ornate''."
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| "Swords are the embodiment of knightly grace and chivalric virtues."
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| "Yeah, just like a rose..."
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| Gabriel twisted his wrist with a light, embellished wave before bowing slightly, as though presenting a flower to the knight commander.
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| "Great for the ladies, I'm sure. But we Lotharin nobles prefer something with a ''little'' more substance, like a trusty flail -- flanks shields and bashes steel."
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| He stopped just short of mentioning that the Lotharins adopted their shield-and-flail style to rebel against ''Imperial'' legionaries, who relied upon their steel mail and towering shields.
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| In fact, Gabriel was certain that the Preceptor already regretted naming him Defender of the Faith.
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| ''Too bad... and too late.''
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| <noinclude>
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| {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
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| |-
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| | Back to [[Daybreak:Volume_2_Chapter_9|Chapter 9]]
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| | Return to [[Daybreak_on_Hyperion|Main Page]]
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| | Forward to [[Daybreak:Volume_2_Chapter_11|Chapter 11]]
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| |-
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| |}
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| </noinclude>
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