Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Educating the Devil ❯ Meeting the Devil ( Chapter 1 )

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Educating the Devil

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Chapter 1 - Meeting the Devil

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Dark clouds rolled above Amet's head. Although it was only mid-afternoon, an ominous darkness had settled over the city. He squinted against the sharp winds, carrying the damp scent of rain. The clouds would break soon, drenching the city in a downpour, which Amet considered comparable to the Eastern hurricanes he vaguely remembered from his childhood. A large weathered hand held tightly to the hood of his cloak. The winds were whipping furiously around him, threatening to pull the thin fabric from his grasp and leave him mercilessly exposed to the elements. He suddenly remembered why he hated coming to Zaibach's capital. The city was known for its harsh storms, especially during this time of the year. He would much rather have been at home, enjoying his retirement along Zaibach's eastern coast, alone but content. It had taken something particularly important to drag him out to the city that he had hated since the first time he set foot in it more than fifty years ago. Well, that wasn't entirely true. It had been good to him back in those days when he had been a child scraping out a meager living alongside his impoverished parents. He paused for a moment, trying to remember what was good about that life. Maybe it was just his aged memory betraying him; the past always seemed better when you were no longer living it. In any case, he was here now to see an old friend and repay a favour, two things that Amet never neglected. The brief letter he had received had explained little, except that he was expected to train a young boy. It had been many years since he'd trained anyone. He wasn't sure this would work out.

He finally stopped before the gates of a large mansion. With a smile, he showed his military tags to the young guard posted at the front. The youth's eyes widened with surprise at the name, and he grinned broadly before saluting. The gates were opened and Amet was escorted up to the front door. He turned back once more as thunder rumbled in the sky above, before sighing as he entered the building.

It was affluently decorated, as expected, but not gaudily so. His old friend had always had a taste for quality, but favoured simple, orderly lines rather than lavish opulence. A servant took his cloak, revealing the old and rather unimpressive peasant clothing he wore beneath. He seemed decidedly out of place in the clean and decorous manor, but held himself at ease and waited patiently. At his age, he thought, time was something to be enjoyed, never rushed. The door creaked open, and he looked up, expecting to see a large, thick figure entering. However, it seemed to hang mysteriously open, until he looked down and caught sight of a tiny boy emerging. His dark eyes locked on the child's pale thin figure in amazement. An albino, he mused. So this was his young charge. The boy stepped up confidently, until he was standing barely a foot from the older man, and stared unabashedly at his face. Amet couldn't help but return the gaze.

It was a child, certainly, but with an appearance and mannerism that seemed strangely at odds in its arrangement. Amet quickly surmised the incongruity. He had an angel's face and a devil's eyes. It was a sight both captivating and disturbing, almost grotesque in its perversion, save for its perfect beauty. The translucent white of his skin emitted a faint glow, marred only by the soft tint of pink on his cheeks and the deep cherry colour of his pouting lips. Wisps of pale coloured hair framed his tiny face, the strands so devoid of colour as to seem ghostly, yet vibrantly alive in their sway. It would have been an angel's visage, heavenly in its pale perfection, but for the two burning orbs set brightly where his eyes should have been. Their reflective surfaces shone with untainted contempt on the old man standing before them, two tiny abysmal entrances shining the way to darkness.

"You're very ugly," the boy declared, hands on his hips as his eyes gazed intently at the older man. Sweet pink lips turned up in a twisted smile, adding a mischievous element to his young face.

"Is beauty necessary to teach?" Amet inquired, stroking his gray-streaked beard. His dark face contrasted sharply with the child's smooth, pale one. Long, hideous scars crisscrossed his face and his large hands, trophies from the many battles he had seen, and survived. One drew a dark line from his forehead, through one end of his eyebrow, and across his broad, crooked nose, while another twisted the skin near the left side of his mouth. Several tiny ones, a result of having lived a life exposed to the harsh elements and having grown darker with age, painted a patchwork piece of art across his tanned face. The picture they created was indeed ugly as the boy had noted, but imbued with a strange reverence. Each held a story, a single moment of battle within its ruptured flesh, memento to a life dedicated to war. He returned the boy's burning gaze with a softer one, firm yet understanding.

"Yes," the boy continued, petulantly. "How can I learn anything if I can't stand to look at you?"

"Well, I can't change my face," Amet mused. "Perhaps it is your eyes that need to be changed?"

One corner of the child's lip turned up in a sneer of confusion. "You hideous old man!" he snapped.

"Dilandau!" The boy spun on his heel, his bright red eyes growing wide at the sound of the deep voice. It echoed through the room, finding and filling every corner. Despite his youthful arrogance, he immediately jumped to attention as the heavy trod of boots drew nearer. An aged man, clad in black leather and copper armour, emerged through two large doors at the other end of the room. He walked with perfect ease and an aura of command through the decorous room. The numerous medals adorning his uniform distinguished his rank as general. "I told you to be polite to our guest!"

A broad smile bent Amet's lips. "Adelphos Gein . . . "

The boy trembled slightly before the greater man, as his angry pale blue eyes glared down at him. The moment ended quickly, however, as he bypassed the child to greet his friend. "Amet Seseri. It's been a long time, old friend." The two men embraced briefly, broad smiles creasing their faces. "I see you've already met your young charge. I hope he hasn't insulted you." He glared at the child. "He has a smart mouth."

"Not at all. I admit, I'm not used to children, but their blunt honesty can be . . . refreshing." He grinned. "And I am quite ugly, you know."

The general laughed. "As are we both! Time does terrible things to these bodies. And so we must give way to the next generation."

"Speaking of which, how is our youngling doing?"

The child pouted. "I am not a youngling. My name is Dilandau Albatou. You should remember it." He spat the last words with open contempt.

Amet smiled and bent down until he was eye level with the boy. "Of course. I beg your pardon, Mister Albatou. I should have greeted you properly." He held out a large rough hand. Dilandau sneered and batted it away.

"Dilandau!" Adelphos snapped, and the boy's arrogance immediately faded. He reluctantly reached out, placing his small soft hand in Amet's larger one, which quickly became enveloped as the older man shook his hand gently. Dilandau's red eyes glared at him.

"And how old are you, Mister Albatou?"

The child hesitated, raising a thin silvery eyebrow in confusion.

"He's seven," Adelphos supplied quickly. The moment struck Amet as being slightly odd, but he dismissed it and smiled at the albino.

"Seven? You're practically a grown man, now." Dilandau couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual arrogance and wariness thrown off guard by Amet's friendly and open demeanor.

"If you'll excuse us, Dilandau, Amet and I have things to discuss," Adelphos interrupted. The boy obediently retreated, giving a quick nod before he left the room.

"He's quite a young man," Amet said in admiration. "Where did you find him?"

"He was sent to me," Adelphos explained cryptically. "I was told to prepare him as a future general in Zaibach's army. So, I thought to enlist your expertise. I've never met a finer general than you, Amet."

"I was enjoying my retirement, you know. I hope I've already seen the last of my war days."

"As have I. But we both know; war in Zaibach never truly ends. It just has quiet periods." He smiled as he sat down, drawing his broad shoulders back.

"Lust for power is insatiable in this country," Amet muttered absently.

"Isn't that what draws us to it?" Adelphos asked, stroking his golden-red beard.

Amet sighed in self-defeat. "Unfortunately, yes." He stood before his friend. "But let's be honest, Adelphos. The Emperor is planning something and I want to know what it is."

Adelphos blinked once, his hand frozen at his beard, then grinned and leaned back. "I wish I could say, but I don't know anymore than you do. While we may be generals," he stopped when he noticed Amet's glare, then continued, "or former generals, we are still not privy to the Emperor's plans. In the end, we're just his tools, to be used whenever he sees fit. Not much different than an infantry soldier, hmm?" he added cynically.

Amet eyed his friend warily, but decided not to push the issue. "So I'm to begin training the child?"

"Yes, I'd like you to begin tomorrow, if possible. I think he would benefit tremendously from your tutelage. He's a bit hot-headed, but I'm sure you can work that out of him."

"And I thought my days of child-rearing were over . . . "

Adelphos grinned. "I am truly sorry, my friend."

"Liar," Amet muttered. He turned his attention towards the window as thunder echoed loudly outside. Droplets of water clinked sharply against the glass as the rain began to fall.

To Be Continued (though I don't know when) . . .

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