Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Educating the Devil ❯ The Devil's First Lesson ( Chapter 2 )

Educating the Devil

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Chapter 2 - The Devil's First Lesson

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Amet rose early, before dawn, as he always did. It was a habit he had developed during his military days, which he had never bothered to break. There was something particularly refreshing about the chill, clean morning air that pricked his skin to waking. He flung his bare feet over the side of the bed, rising steadily and stretching his aching muscles. He clenched his fists painfully as the joints screamed for release. It seemed mornings, especially cold, wet ones in Zaibach, were merciless to his withering joints. With a loud groan, his greeting to the new day, he stumbled wearily in the dark, searching for the door. He had requested to be put in the small cottage on Adelphos' land, rather than take a room in the large mansion. The endless movement and bustle in the house made him uneasy at night, and he found he could never sleep peacefully in it. It was decidedly more peaceful in the cottage, if less comfortable, and certainly less luxurious.

Stepping outside, he had to suppress a shiver as the chill of the morning wind washed over him. The rain had finally ended just a short time ago and as gray morning light began to colour Zaibach's capital, it glinted off the thick fog coating the air. Amet waded through the whiteness towards the stables, guided by the faint neighing that drifted in the breeze. He stopped at a large barrel, which had filled the night before with rainwater. Taking a quick breath, he dunked his head into it, and then quickly flipped it back, shaking off the excess droplets and reveling in the cold shock to his skin.

"That's disgusting!" He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, before looking down towards the direction the voice had come from.

He sighed as a tiny figure emerged from the gray morning mist. "Good morning, Mister Albatou." The child's face had already settled into a scowl, an expression that seemed permanently fixed on his delicate features. The deep red of his overcoat caught the glint of his ruby eyes so that they seemed to take on an ethereal glow within his pale visage.

"Why are you washing your face with that water? It's dirty!"

"What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

"I don't sleep much."

"Unfortunate," Amet muttered.

The child's silvery eyebrows narrowed. "What did you-AAAHHHH!!!" An angry flutter of wings cut short his words and he flailed his arms as thin white sheets of paper filled his vision. "Get away!" His hands brushed away the tiny insect, but it returned, fluttering before his face, ignoring his commands, until it settled, rather arrogantly, he thought, on the end of his nose. Dilandau grimaced in disgust, fingers curling in anticipation. "Get it off! Amet!" He debated slapping his own nose to kill the thing, but hesitated at the thought of it lying dead on his face. Instead, he wrung his hands helplessly. "Amet!" His voice had risen to a screech.

The old general knelt down until he was level with the child. "Calmly, Mister Albatou,," he whispered. A gentle smile twisted his lips. "It's harmless." Two thick fingers reached out and gently plucked the insect from the child's nose. Dilandau breathed a sigh of relief, then gasped as Amet held the tiny bug before his eyes. "It's just a moth," he explained, holding up the creature for examination. Dilandau instinctively backed away. The insect held still between his fingers as Amet set in on the back of his hand. He looked up at the boy with a wide grin. "Your first lesson, Mister Albatou."

Dilandau stared in confusion at the paper-thin wings. It was fragile, weak, and rather useless. His lips turned up in a sneer. "What am I going to learn from some stupid bug?"

"Moths are fascinating creatures. Especially, this one. See how delicate it looks?" Dilandau nodded. Pale and light, the insect looked almost sickly because of the bits of yellow on it wings, though at the same time, strangely beautiful in its fragility.

"Yes," he muttered. He glared down his nose at the older man, his red eyes burning angrily. "Now squish it."

Amet returned the child's gaze evenly, and cocked an eyebrow. "You do it."

Dilandau pressed his lips together in irritation, his eyes growing wide in anger. He turned the full force of his fiery glare on the old general, who met it without flinching and calmly, held the moth before him. Finally, tentatively, he reached out a small, thin hand and poked the insect with a single finger. He recoiled as the wings fluttered once, and then settled back down. Pouting, he reached forward and pushed down again in its center, trying to crush it. The tiny body bent beneath the weight of his fingers, giving way to his superior strength, but refused to break. With a snarl, he suddenly raised his arm and slapped down an open palm on the moth. Then slowly, triumphantly, he lifted his hand, to reveal a slightly stunned, though very much alive, tiny paper-white moth.

"What a stupid bug!" he snapped irritably. "It doesn't even know how to die!"

Amet covered the insect with a large withered hand, gently brushing the damaged wings. "Strength through suppleness. A good warrior must understand this. Not all battles are won through resistance."

Dilandau stared in confusion, irritation replacing the scowl on his face.

Amet grinned, then gently set the moth down into the grass. "Just remember, no matter how strong or rough, a warrior's hands must always be gentle and supple."

The albino rolled his eyes. "You're a stupid old-"

"Shhh," Amet hissed, as his hand instinctively went to his side, searching for a hilt that was not there. He crouched low in preparation, squinting as his gray eyes tried to pierce the fog. A tall, muscular figure materialized as a shadow in the dense whiteness of the mist. It moved with a strange, languid grace, though with a forward pressing motion that made its upright position seem unnatural or unnecessary. A long fur-covered snout came into view as the figure drew closer, blue eyes shining like beacons through the mist. Pale gold fur covered its exposed body and long strands surrounded its face in a wild halo. Beastman, Amet thought. His muscles tensed for action. He had a strong dislike of the creatures. They were wild, unpredictable, and inhumanly vicious. He had often fought alongside them in times of war. While their battle prowess and natural ferocity had its uses in combat, he pointedly avoided them in normal society. They did not belong in the human world.

An irritated groan startled him from his thoughts. "Jajuka!" Dilandau whined. "Why do you keep following me?"

"What are you doing out at this hour?" the beastman snapped back. "Haven't I told you to-ah!" He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of Amet. The older man's gray eyes stared intently at the creature. "Forgive me, General Seseri," he amended quickly. "I am Jajuka, Dilandau's manservant. General Adelphos told me that you would be here. Please forgive my lack of manners."

Amet backed away warily. It was unusually polite for a beastman and, seemingly, well educated.

"If you wish," Jajuka continued, "I can have breakfast prepared for you immediately. It is time for Lord Dilandau to come in, after all."

"I don't want to!" the albino pouted.

"Lord Dilandau, please."

The guttural clearing of Amet's throat silenced them both. He looked the beastman square in the eye. "Yes. Breakfast would be good."

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A/N: Just in case anyone was wondering, it was a Swallow-tailed Moth that they found. I don't know if that analogy came off very well. But if anyone needs more explanation, you can email me . . . and then tell me how to fix it. =)