Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Paths of Destiny ❯ The Wistful Cavalier ( Chapter 8 )

Quick note - sorry this has taken so long! I'm not very happy with the last chapter, so I might re-write the end of that at some point, but here's hoping this is slightly better! And yes, I know it's very slow - it's semi-intentional, I've got all the INTERESTING bits of the story worked out in my head, but I have to get to those points somehow! Please keep reviewing and reading etc. it's really encouraging and helpful! Anyway, here's the next instalment of Paths of Destiny - The Wistful Cavalier

The covered wagon, obviously heavily laden with merchandise from the surrounding areas, creaked through the cobbled streets of Palas, careening around unstably as the aged horse which pulled it ambled inanely forwards. The driver, a gaunt man with glasses perched on the end of his nose, appeared vaguely asleep to those watching from behind their market stalls in the bustling squares and alleyways that characterised the sprawling capital of Asturia, only stirring when the horse strayed too close to the gutters or nearly trampled some poor unsuspecting child beneath its hooves.

The wagon drove on relentlessly, passing through a deserted by way in an attempt to make a short cut to its destination. The sun cast long shadows that loomed on the high walls of the surrounding homes, as the horse gave a half hearted whinny in senile fear.

"Whoa there, Chand," the driver muttered, rubbing at his eyes, "What's wrong here then?"

The driver turned to look behind him to see a swarthy, thick set man standing behind the cart, dressed in a grimy tunic and trousers and idly tossing a knife in one hand. His stance suggested arrogance, though a small twitch below his left eye seemed to betray a slight nervousness, as his free hand lay close to his pocket, ready draw on the daggers which could be seen within, glinting in the sunlight.

"Looks like you've got yourself a fine load there, mister?" the man said, smiling wickedly.

"Exquisite silk, bound for the weaver's stalls. I mean you no harm, sir, please don't intimidate old Chand here," the driver hastily said, glancing at the nervous horse and seeing that three men had appeared in front of the wagon.

"Didn't anyone tell you? King Aston's ordered a new toll system on this road - you've got to pay the price to get through here, of say… half your silk?"

"And if I refuse?"

"Do you know anyone who's refused to pay the toll?"

"I don't think I'll bother thanks. But you can still have my wares!"

The brigands barely had time to be surprised by the driver's sudden backbone before the covering of the wagon was ripped off from the inside to reveal three men, clad in brilliant white shirts with blue jackets and trousers, who leapt off the wagon, drawing their swords from their sheathes and racing for the robbers.

"Ah, Lestine! We meet at last!" one, tall with long blonde hair that cascaded to below his shoulders, shouted as he thrust his sword forth with a twisting motion at the large man who had blocked the return path for the wagon.

"Allen Schezar! So our little scheme won't last much longer - but I'll go down fighting!" Lestine growled with hatred, expertly using his thin knife to block the Knight Caeli's blow and jabbing forward, causing Allen to leap back quickly.

"Marc! Vilisca! Take care of them - I'll deal with Lestine!" he called out to his companions, who were already busy with fighting the other criminals in the alley.

Lestine advanced further forward, with surprising grace given his bulk, throwing a seemingly inexhaustible supply of sharp daggers at Allen, who deflected some with a quick flick of his blade whilst weaving away from the others, although painfully aware that Lestine was forcing him to back up against the cart.

Lestine saw Allen falter for a moment, and seized the opportunity to throw another dagger straight for his throat. Seeing the threat only just in time, Allen ducked to one side to have the knife sheer off a few strands of hair.

"Close," he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "but I will bring you to justice!"

Allen tensed himself, then leapt impossible high into the air, flipping backwards to land on the back of the cart once more, readying his sword once again.

Lestine looked impressed. "I didn't realise that the Knights Caeli were so well trained in the art of combat," he said, unconsciously retreating from his opponent, "But your chivalry shall be your undoing, Allen Schezar!"

"On the contrary, my Lord Lestine. Honour is what shall win me this fight - the honour of Asturia."

Lestine growled with anger and sprung at the cart, his knife held at shoulder height ready to stab at Allen. The knight moved back over the wooden planks that supported him, his sword before him braced for the impact.

Leaping heavily onto the cart, Lestine suddenly changed his stance with a swift motion, holding his forward and jabbing quickly at his opponent. Allen, ever the fighter, anticipated the change in tactics, and speedily deflected the blade, his sword glinting in the fresh morning sunlight as a flock of sea gulls wheeled overhead, chattering and calling out to each other.

Lestine was sweating heavily as blow after blow was deflected by Allen's superior swordsmanship, and his arm was beginning to falter. In a last ditch effort, he fumbled in his pocket, searching for another weapon to attack the knight with.

However, Allen's sharp reflexes spotted the movement and, sensing an opening in Lestine's defences, kicked the brigand in the chest in a fluid motion.

Lestine, gasping, fell backwards, tripping over a knothole in the wood. Slipping over and swearing, he struck his head on the planks and fell silent, his head lolling to one side in unconsciousness.

Allen re-sheathed his sword slowly, taking a moment to savour the peaceful atmosphere. The two other knights had made swift work of Lestine's inexperienced lackeys and had chosen to leave them lying in the street until they regained consciousness so they could re-consider their choice of lifestyle. Lestine, however, deserved no such second chance, and Allen bound the brigand's hands with thick rope after checking that there was no excessive damage done to Lestine's skull from the fall.

The wagon driver looked sullen as Allen left a small bag of coins on the cart along with the prone body of Lestine.

"Many thanks for the use of your wagon, sir. Please could you take Lestine to the palace before you continue your journey? Thank you again for your time." Allen bowed courteously to the driver, who merely shrugged nonchalantly and set off once more, cursing Chand as the old horse feebly moved forwards again.

"Another criminal brought to justice, Magister!" Marc, a fourteen year old only recently chosen as a Knight Caeli at the suggestion of the young Duke Chid of Freid who already showed promise with the blade despite the hot-headedness of youth that hampered his progress in the other martial skills, turned with a smile to Allen. "Palas is at least partially safer now!"

"As always, Marc, as always." Allen sighed wistfully, turning his eyes towards the sky resignedly.

"Cheer up, Allen. Shouldn't you be glad that we're no longer at war?" Vilisca, three years older than Allen yet happy to defer to the younger man's superior skill, sat polishing his sword in the middle of the street, looking concernedly at his leader. "You have your sister back, Palas is at peace, and…" Vilisca smirked dirtily, "Princess Millerna is available again…"

"Stop that!" Allen snapped, his normal composure ruffled. "I am in no way interested in the Princess, as lovely as she is."

"Allen Schezar, the knight that every woman in Palas claims to know intimately, ISN'T interested in the Princess of our country that rumour had already…made some progress with you last year?" Vilisca's smirk had grown wider into a grin, as he revelled in the fun he was baiting Allen with.

"I won't have such gossip amongst the Knights Caeli!" Allen turned, his hair swishing after him, as he began to stride towards the palace and King Aston to report his progress. "Especially during Millerna's absence!"

Vilisca and Marc hung back slightly as they followed, wary of the young man's temper. Allen was lost deep in reflective thought, hardly thinking of the two of them as he considered where his heart truly did lie…

"Magister of the Knights Caeli, do you have any further information regarding the whereabouts of my daughter?" King Aston had lost weight recently, as his baggy clothes, not yet re-tailored to fit, showed, and he chewed at his knuckles with nervousness unbefitting of such a regal figure. His chief advisors stood worriedly at his side for support as Allen knelt before his king, while Eries, his eldest living daughter, stood back behind a pillar to observe the goings-on, un-noticed by all the others present.

"No, Your Majesty. She last reported that she was embarking on a trip to Arzak to establish trade links - she hoped to find new medicines in the jungle there, and gain the co-operation of the lizard shamen who reputedly live therein. However, she has sent no messages recently, and none of the group that travelled with her have returned."

"I cannot lose another daughter!" Aston shouted angrily. Eries drew back from her father, her eyes brimming with tears as she listened.

Allen returned the king's gaze evenly and calmly. "Your Majesty, I don't see why you won't allow me to go and find her. I am willing…"

"What about Celena? She's your only family, you can hardly abandon her. I also don't really see you doing this for the right reasons - I'm aware of what there was between Millerna and yourself."

"That is long in the past, King Aston." Allen looked down at the polished floor of the audience chamber. "I can assure you that my… relationship with Princess Millerna is now over."

"Yet for Celena's sake, I forbid you to go!"

"Celena is not helpless, Your Majesty." Allen spoke sharply. "Her experiences in the War have trained her well - I have reason to believe she is as adept with a sword as any man would be…"

"Any other man, surely?" Aston could barely conceal his anger. "That thing you call a sister needs re-conditioning to adept to life in Asturia - I cannot forgive the atrocities she perpetrated against her own country so easily!"

"Father!" Eries rushed out from the pillar, unable to restrain herself any further. "With all due respect, such bigotry is against what we have stood for!"

"Silence!" Aston roared, sweating heavily. "Such insolence from my own daughter! And you, Magister!" he cried, turning on Allen, his eyes simmering with fury, "You dare to question my authority? You defile the honour of your position and Asturia!"

Allen set his hand at the hilt of his sword unthinkingly, caught up in the heat of the moment. "King Aston!" he shouted threateningly, as courtiers cowered in fear at the scene before them. "You are acting in madness!"

The doors to the audience chamber burst open heavily as Marc rushed in, tripping slightly over the green carpet that led towards the throne. Stopping to stare at the scene in front of him, he took a deep breath before speaking hurriedly.
"Sorry to intrude, Your Majesty, Princess, Magister… but there's something going on in the courtyard. I think you should come and see…"

Allen turned and ran after Marc through the hallway of the palace, bedecked with elegant marble statues of the God of Water in his form as the serpent, towards the courtyard of the palace, Eries following behind. Aston remained at the throne, his head in his hands in sorrow.

As they reached the courtyard, Allen stopped, and stared up at the sky.

Countless pure white feathers poured down from the sky, cascading down like snowflakes upon the courtyard. As they touched the ground, they flared briefly, before fading away into the air again. The sound of wings flapping gently seemed to resound around Allen, as the gentle fall seemed to become a blizzard, obscuring his vision with the storm of feathers.

As Allen shielded his eyes from the soft onslaught, he though he could make out the forms of people appearing through the shroud of feathers, though they were obscured by the dense clouds. Eventually, the fall began to thin, as feathers thinned away in the air before reaching the ground.

Marc gasped in surprise to see a group of seven people he had never seen before standing in the middle of the courtyard, with an enormous white Guymelef standing behind them.

Hitomi dropped her arm, then replaced the pendant around her neck. "Looks like we're here, everyone!" she said. She turned towards Allen.

"Allen…I'm back."