Suikoden Fan Fiction ❯ Missing in Action ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

The man shuffled down the quaint street, his boots kicking at the dirt on the ground. Wind-licked leaves spun around in front of him, as if trying to offer some sort of comfort, but that comfort didn't come. His fingers closed around the large object he carried in his hand. Wrapped in an old piece of burlap, it smelled of blood, of death, and of battle, but traditions were traditions and he would deliver it as he was supposed to.

A glance to the sky and a silent prayer were all he offered as he found the house he was looking for. He didn't much feel like being in this place, and normally he wouldn't be subjected to the unpleasantness of the mission. A simple note sent by messenger would suffice, but in this case he had a personal interest. It wasn't just responsibility and duty-- no, it was friendship.

The man wrinkled his nose the smell of animals from the barn nearby filled him. The odor was so strong he could taste it, but this did not bother him. There were other matters to worry about, much more important than the stench of manure. He raised his gloved hand to the door and drew a deep breath, silently cursing the fate that had dragged him to this place.

The news was bad.

The thudding sound of the knock was made by a gauntlet-a leather one-and its rhythm still sounded like a dirge. She knew the sound well, but that didn't make it any more palatable. She didn't want to open the door, but she knew this would happen one day. She knew this was inevitable.

Years ago, when they had married and decided to start a family, they had talked about it. They both knew the risks, but neither could explain away the duty when the war started. Eleven years it had raged on, eleven years longer than it needed to last. She fought the knot forming in her throat as she chased their two small sons upstairs to their bedrooms, and then steeled herself as she approached the door.

The knock came again, as is reaffirming itself in the realm of reality. She reached towards the crude lock and unfastened it, her fingers fumbling at the latch. A moment later she had won the small battle, and then gently pulled the door open.

She knew the man standing there, and she knew how he felt. He might have still been on the right side of fifty, but at that moment, he seemed to age another thirty years. Touches of silver in his dirty blonde hair were pulled by the wind, and through the new wrinkles on his face she could read his message.

Still, he met her eyes as he said quietly, "I'm sorry, milady."

She knew it was coming, but still his words were paralyzing. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes started to well with tears.

The man reached for her hand with his free one and gripped it tightly. "Allow me to come in and stay with you, milady. It is the least I can do."

She nodded ever so slightly at his request, and felt his arm drape over her shoulders as he guided her to a seat on the lounging bench in front of the fireplace. It was rather ornate, something not seen often in this town, and it was comfortable-usually. She sat there, letting the delicate blue velvet cushions hold her, and the oak frame support her. Although still very much in shock, she heard the children shuffling around in their bedroom upstairs, but knew they didn't dare to come out. They were well aware what their father did for living, and the consequences of such a life.

Her friend placed his burlap bundle down on the low table in front of her, and started to unwrap it.

"Let me do that," she said, interrupting his slow, reverent movements.

He nodded and stepped back, bowing his head solemnly as she removed the shroud of the unwanted present.

She peeled the burlap back gently, being careful not to disturb its contents. Inside was what she knew would be there-a long bloodstained sword. Her hands went to touch the silver hilt, but then she looked back at the man in a mix of surprise and anger, "Salome, where is the sheath?"

"We couldn't find it, milady," he said as he glanced away. "We didn't find anything else. But you know how the enemy will take things, or bodies."

She felt her teeth grit. She knew this, but she didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to accept death as the answer here, and so she found a bit of hope lying within her own denial. She pushed herself back from the sword and announced, "He's not dead."

Salome didn't answer her, and after a moment bowed ever so respectfully, "Allow me to make us some tea, milady. There is much we need to talk about." He didn't even bother to wait for her answer and disappeared into the kitchen.

Her eyes fixed themselves on the sword, as if waiting for it to come to life so she could grill it for information. When she realized it was futile, she let out a small sigh and then reached to touch the bitter silver hilt. Her fingers traced the tiny carvings of good fortune and the green stone that had been set into it, proclaiming the owner as a proud member of the elite ranking officers. She glared at the sword again, wanting to hear its tale, but then leaned back, and impatiently waited for Salome to return and explain it all.

Salome poured the hot water into the worn ceramic mugs and waited for the tea to steep. He brushed the forming tears from his eyes and shook his head her stubbornness. He knew that she wouldn't accept it, he knew that he would have to give her all the information he had, and pray she wouldn't do anything stupid.

Footsteps slowly descended the stairs and their owner stood proudly in the kitchen. He bowed his head to the other man, "Hello Lord Salome."

Salome forced himself to give a smile to the dark-haired young man of eight years. "Hello Ryan."

"I put Geoffrey to bed," the boy said. "He's too little to be up this late."

"Good. You're a good help to your mother," was all the man could come up with.

"I have to be. I promised Father I'd take care of her. So don't worry, Lord Salome. It will be all right." Ryan said as he turned towards the staircase.

Salome smiled at the boy's courage and selflessness. They were traits that ran in both sides of his family. With the first light of happiness he experienced that day still fresh in his mind, he took the mugs and headed back to the other room.

He handed her the mug and knew that its warmth was welcome in her frigid hands. She took a sip and then glared at him, her eyes commanding him to tell her what had happened. He sighed and then found his voice.

"As you know milady, this border clash-"

"It isn't a 'border clash.' It's a war. It may have started as a border clash, but eleven years later we're still fighting."

"I agree, milady," he said as he sat down next to her.

"Then don't sugarcoat things for me, Salome," she said as she glared over the top of her mug.

"The Council would like it to be called a border clash."

Her eyes narrowed at him, the bright violet color nearly cutting through his skin.

"Regardless, milady, we were assigned to attack the Tinto port city of Dubios. Its close to the border, and if we had it, it would give us the upper hand and we might be able to negotiate a treaty."

"You were not successful," she said flatly.

"No we were not. We didn't anticipate their numbers, nor did we anticipate the denseness of the woods surrounding the city." He lifted his chin and looked her in the eye. "That is my fault." After a breath he continued, "Many were lost, but as I said, all that we found of your husband was his sword. I had the men scour the woods in the hopes that he and his battalion had escaped, but-"

"They found nothing," she interrupted.

"Yes milady," he said softly.

"I'm sure they took prisoners. Are you doing anything to retrieve or even identify them?"

"The Council has not yet approved action on that. Although I have heard rumors of a peace negotiation in the works."

She snorted, "The Council will take weeks to decide either. Perhaps if you sent word to Tinto's capital and asked for a treaty, and then waited on the Council? You could have the entire thing wrapped up before the wax dried on their seals." She narrowed her eyes, "Unless you want to keep fighting this idiotic war."

"Of course not, milady. I myself have questioned the need for it to the Council, but all I have been given is stalling tactics and rhetoric."

"Of course you did. That's all those old fools speak in-riddles and politics. Unfortunately, it is the way of the world: war means good commerce, and good commerce means re-election," she said with a strain of hatred in her voice. "Remember I dealt with them at one point, too."

A half-hearted smile crossed his lips, "Yes, milady. I remember."

There was a long moment of silence between the two as they sipped their tea. Then she started the questions he was really dreading. "Tell me, did any of his squad return?"

He couldn't lie to her. "No milady."

"And did you find any of their weapons, armor, or…" Her voice trailed off before she finished.

"No milady. As I said before, I only recovered your husband's sword. All that was left of the group were their weapons. No sheathes, no shields, no horses."

They looked at each other from over their cups, and he could see the workings of her mind through her eyes. "When I first saw you, Salome, I thought that Percival was dead. But now I know that he is alive. He and his men were captured! An entire battalion just doesn't float off into the distance. Besides, Tinto is a respectable nation. They would return the dead to their families."

He closed his eyes, "We're not quite sure that we were fighting the Tinto army, milady."

"What do you mean?"

He pinched his nose in thought as he explained it. "They didn't fight like soldiers, they fought more like bandits. They met us in the woods, and we didn't even have a chance to get into the city gates. Men just popped out of trees and overtook us. It was a very strange, yet effective strategy."

Her eyes closed and then reopened with a new resolve. She got to her feet and looked at him with determination. "Something must be done here, and if I must be the one to do it, so be it."

He shook his head at her, "Milady, you do not need to show your strength to me-I know what you are capable of-but I don't think you are making the right decision by getting involved in this. I will swear to you that I will do everything to find out exactly what happened, but you have a family to think about now, Lady Chris."

Her reply was harsh and full of the spirit she'd had her entire life. "I already am involved in this, Salome. I will do whatever it takes to bring my husband back to me, so don't try and talk me out of it."