Daybreak:Alpha Chapter

Chapter 12 - Never Leave Regrets

"...Scouts report that the heathens broke camp before dawn this morning. They advanced to within five kilopaces of the riverbank and are now fortifying their position."

After hearing the officer's communique, Sylviane curled her fingers against her chin in deep thought.

"They're not attacking?"

It was barely noon on a sunny day. Surely there was still time?

"Under Cataliyan operating procedures, their siege train gets packed if they do not anticipate its use within fifty kilopaces," the Weichsel Major Hans Canaris-Oster explained. "It's been nearly two weeks since they last took a fortified town. I anticipate they'll be taking the afternoon to assemble and prepare positions for their siege and pontoons."

"They'll be attacking at first light tomorrow morning then," a Lotharin duke finished.

But before a tense silence could seize the war council, Vivienne's soft reassurance filled the room:

"Then they've given us time to be as well prepared as we can be. General Clermont arrived in Roazhon at dusk yesterday. His brigade of five thousand men is moving into position even as we speak."

"Clermont is here?" Sylviane gazed back, her focused thoughts suddenly plunging into a whirlpool of emotions.

There was no mistaking that name. General Clermont was the garrison commander of Alis Avern. He was in charge of the very men that should have protected her father's life.

"Yes, Your Highness," Vivienne bowed her head.

The youngest of the Oriflamme Paladins had been unusually respectful all morning. Sylviane had told her that they would talk about it later tonight. But frankly, her behavior was already beginning to bother the Princess.

"...He told me last night that he takes full responsibility for what happened at Alis Avern," Vivienne added, "and that he will seek your forgiveness in person."

Old sly fox, Sylviane thought. It took political acumen to command troops stationed within the empire's very capital. By using Vivienne to scout the Princess' mood beforehand, the general could either extract a promise of safety, or stay protected among his fresh troops.

"The fault is not his," she replied as her fist pressed into the table's edge. "It was my father who decided that the defense of the empire was more important than protecting himself."

Burying her sorrow and intensifying her anguish, Sylviane donned the mask of zeal as her gaze swept the assembled war council:

"His timely arrival represents my father's final gift to us, and I swear upon the Holy Father's name that we shall not waste it."

Heads began to nod as the commanders and nobles voiced their agreement. Even the devout Edith's smiling gaze seemed touched. News had trickled in over the past week that many reinforcing columns bound for the front lines had been turned back by the pretender Gabriel. His excuse was the assembly of a unified army at the Capital, but no one had been more displeased with this apparent betrayal than the Paladins commanding each war front.

It was then, in that uplifting moment, when a breathless lieutenant barged into the war room.

"Y-Your Highness, Your Ladyship!" he address both Sylviane and Edith, the army's de facto and de jure commanders. Then, as though he couldn't believe it himself: "K-King Alistair has arrived!"

...

Kaede watched from the sidelines as two skywhales loaded with cargo compartments 'landed'.

Of course, the weight of a skywhale truly touching down would buckle if not crush the cabins underneath its belly, which meant the massive beasts simply hovered as low as possible.

Soldiers from the nearby army camps crowded all around the grassy clearing, watching the spectacle unfold as the gates opened and metal ramps hit ground. Giant-like men from the Kingdom of Gleann Mòr marched out from each skywhale in neat rows of three, carrying two-handed claymore swords on their backs as their heavy chainmail glittered under the noon sun.

There was no doubt that the arrival had been planned for maximum effect to morale. The exiting troops marched around the skywhale before settling into parade formation, as though shouting "don't judge us by our numbers; we're freaking elites."

Meanwhile, a group of four individuals gathered from both skywhales, before striding over towards the Princess' greeting party.

"Your Highness!" their leader called out, less in reverence and more like meeting an old friend.

"Your Majesty," Sylviane certainly did not hold back as she spread both arms and joyfully hugged the much taller man as they met. "Alistair!"

Kaede could feel a surge of dark emotions trickling over her empathic feedback link with Pascal, coloring her thoughts with the sourness of... jealousy.

King Alistair wasn't a handsome man by any means. He was youthful and tall, with an appearance in his late-twenties and a towering height at over one-ninety centimeters (6'2"). His shoulders were broad and he had to be buff to walk around in plate mail and swing that massive sword. But his head leaned on the side of round, his eyes a faded blue, and his hair a dull brown; apart from a rustic smile and a goatee-like fuzz, his face could easily blend in among the crowd.

Upon his shoulders also perched the deep-blue phoenix Almace -- the familiar of the Commoner King, or as the military fancied him: the Hound King.

Yet as Kaede watched Alistair and Sylviane grinned in each others' presence, she realized that it wasn't his physique or even his rank that Pascal felt threatened by.

It was the natural ease he seemed to have in making her smile.

...In other words, the two of them were old friends.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" the Princess remarked, still beaming.

"I had told Vivienne two days ago," he replied, a mite confused. "I just wasn't sure of my time of arrival."

Scanning the crowd, Alistair's gaze soon fell upon Kaede, only to grow more bewildered before they returned to Sylviane:

"Is Vivi playing a joke on me?"

"I'm afraid such a joke would be too weird, even for Vivi," the Princess smiled back before looking over to the Samaran girl. "She's my fiancée's familiar, Kaede."

Kaede gave a curtsy from her spot at the back as the King sent her a polite, smiling nod.

"Maybe Vivienne did not want to raise everyone's hopes up for nothing, in case you backed out, Your Majesty," Pascal spoke as he stepped up towards the two, his dislike for Alistair almost palpable.

"Not a chance in hell I would, Your Grace," the King replied simply, deflecting Pascal's scorn with ease.

He left no opportunity for an escalation, as his voice rose and he turned to gesture to the assembled crowd:

"Our mountain passes are still closed by the snow, blocking my army in the north. But as you can see: we managed to outfit a young skywhale and recruited another to help us. We had to ditch logistics to make everyone fit. But I brought six companies of the Glens' finest Galloglaich Shocktroops to aid the front."

With a practiced spin back to the Princess as though he wasn't wearing plate, King Alistair bowed chivalrously and vowed before the world.

"The Glens will always remember, Your Highness. Lotharingie has never let us down. We would never let Lotharingie down."

The Princess' eyes seemed to glisten with emotion as she grasped his gauntlet in both palms and nodded firmly.

...Which only made the ebbing jealousy from Pascal grow stronger.

...

"Much as I'd like to, Sylviane, I can't stay," King Alistair divulged after the assembled troops departed. "The northern nobles aren't like the ones down south. Leave them alone and they'll start picking fights. Drill together all winter without someone to manage? The clans will soon be tearing each other to pieces."

"No," he sighed. "I have to go back. But you have my word that I shall rejoin you in the Spring."

"Then stay for just two days, even one," Sylviane requested as a princess, but her eyes were pleading.

"There will be a major battle tomorrow, Alistair, and there is no better man to lead the highland charge than their king."

Alistair pursed his lips. A lot could happen in two days; circumstances could turn into obligations that would entrap him here for much longer.

But as he looked down upon the grown-up princess, he once again saw that young, eleven year old girl. She had shown him not the veneer of respect like every other noble, but also true sincerity and kindness. She gave him confidence and faith in his kingship, his bastard inheritance, when everyone else only sought to manipulate and play him according to their will.

It had been odd back then, for an accomplished fifty-year-old adventurer and mercenary to consider an adolescent princess his study mate and pen pal. But while Sylviane was emotionally turbulent -- as teenagers usually were -- she also held a combination of cunning and sagacity that inspired him.

"All right," Alistair conceded, unable to deny her imploring gaze. But he had to set his foot down: "two days then, three at most."

Broad appreciation spread across her lips like the sun as she grinned back.

"Thank you."

The Princess then turned aside to face the tree line, gesturing for him to take a stroll with her. Alistair then nodded to his battlegroup commander and the civilian captain, urging them to stay behind as he followed her with only his bodyguard in tow.

His hunch proved correct as the Princess conjured a bubble of privacy between them.

"There is also one certain issue I must discuss with you..."

The King of the Glens could feel a young Weichsel landgrave's graze burning a hole in his back as he departed.

...

Kaede had been watching the two royalty as well, but her conclusion was that Pascal was being unnecessarily obnoxious.

It was obvious to her that Sylviane and Alistair were nothing more than 'just friends'. In fact, they reminded her of a rural uncle and his urban niece who visited every summer, which was odd considering that he was also a king.

However, before she could try to explain this, Kaede herself was distracted as the civilian captain from the King's entourage approached her.

"Your name is Kaede?"

Kaede spun around as the beefy, broad-shouldered man who appeared to be in his forties took off his floppy fur cap, revealing a head of snow white bedhair.

"You're a Samaran skywhale captain?" Kaede's wispy voice barely let out, her lips left gaping in astonishment.

His weathered cheeks and crystal blue eyes nodded with a tense smile.

"Her Highness the Princess mentioned that you are a... familiar," he worded with hesitance, clearly finding the circumstances bizarre.

Kaede nodded back:

"I was summoned by Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, the Landgrave of Nordkreuz and Her Highness' fiancé."

"I'm Captain Markov, Grand Republic Merchant Alliance," he offered a large palm to Kaede, who gladly shook it in return.

"It's unusual to find a non-mercantile Samaran in these parts, let alone as a familiar," Markov continued, his countenance more relaxed in the wake of her smile. "Would you and... you master... like to join me this mid-afternoon for some coffee? King Alistair's soldiers should be finished unloading everything by then."

Kaede couldn't help but grin. Ever since she arrived in Hyperion, she had been wondering how real Samarans lived like. Now all of a sudden, she was being invited to coffee by one?

"I'm not sure how free Pascal is yet, but I would love to join you."