*In the Coming of a Truce*
A Legend of Dragoon Fanfiction -- Chapter 2
Written by Rap's ([email protected])

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Now isn't it funny
That we should know, but not see.
And that through time despite change-
Nothing had mattered.

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Two hours later....
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Lohan honestly pissed Doel off.

He had forgotten exactly how loud and alive the town was. Buildings upon crowded buildings lined every corner. Stairs and walkways seemed to extend like spider webs throughout the entirety of the town. There was no greenery, no natural decor other then the trampled earth underfoot... and the *people.* By god, how noisy they were. Merchants and traders and screaming children, squealing as they chased one another throughout the streets.

A sigh.

Even so, the town also served it's purpose. No one honestly gave a damn that the two most powerful sovereigns in Endiness now walked casually through it's heart.

They wouldn't have been recognized in anycase.

The travel on route to Lohan had been... interesting Doel supposed. Thinking briefly of it now as he and Albert paced their Runners quietly through the mad streets. He had explained everything- and his nephew had listened intently throughout. His discussion with Frugel, the warden's liberty with his position. The Hellena soldiers.

From what he could tell, Albert accepted his explanation.

And then there was still that odd tension. The personal uncertainty and hostility that neither could shake. Both of them knew that they were not here to speak about the past- but of the future... and yet Doel hated the feeling that passed between them both. It spoke of memories and hurts and hates. A silent reminder of who they were and what had begun the Serdian war.

~Doel.~ He remembered quietly, the voice reaching far into his past. ~End it.~

Doel feared that aspect of their meeting over all else. Forever ago it seemed, but reunited the wounds seemed fresh and pungent. It still amazed him slightly that they had *not* met with swords flying. Something in the back of his mind had sparked that possibility far before his consideration of a truce ever developed.

He knew very well that he had destroyed a good deal of Albert's life 'that day.' Six years old, and then the sudden ruler of a country on the brink of war.

"Derrick." And Doel turned his head to regard his relative as Albert brought Patience to a stop. The emperor of Sandora worked his jaw a moment, and halted Dark as well. The bull, who had been mindlessly avoiding civilians underfoot, gave a snort of annoyance.

"This won't take me long." Albert said firmly, dismounting and carefully taking the wounded knight down from the saddle. "The man in this building-" And he pointed to a large establishment at their right. "Is one of the most experienced doctors in Lohan. I will leave Derrick under his care, and return for him after we are through in discussion."

Doel shifted his jaw slightly, regarding the massive framework of the building in front of him. It was huge- laden with levels and doors and assorted crosswalks. Like the rest of the city, this infirmary was yet another plug in the endless chain of buildings that compiled it's fabric.

"Alright, then." And Doel nodded once and dismounted as well. Albert, preoccupied with Derrick's weight, did not notice his uncle come aside him and take the man himself. There was a brief pause and uncertain glance.

"You'll bleed all over him..." Doel offered in way of an explanation as Albert began to protest. "I'm stronger anyway. Now move." And he curtly nodded Albert away, easily slinging Derrick over one shoulder and turning on heel- walking across the busy sidewalk and up the stairs nearest them.

"Be careful!" Albert called after him, following quickly.

"Be quiet." Doel snapped with a sidelong glance.

The people around them hardly blinked. They'd seen wounded before, and quite frequently over the years as the war became ever the more brutal. Up another few stairs and shoving open a large pine door, Doel clattered into the room nearest him. Albert entered directly after, scowling slightly at his uncle. Doel just smirked a little at that, and surveyed the small area.

One tall, older man regarded them with somewhat of a dumfounded expression. One hand up, the other holding a vile, he was mixing chemicals of some sort. Or had been, until Doel's abrupt entrance interrupted his thoughts.

"At least it's less noisy in this shack..." Doel muttered absently. He could still easily hear the hustle of the town outside... but it was rather muffled. "You there." And he tossed his chin at the single man in the room. It certainly didn't *look* like a medical office. More a living area... "Where is your doctor?"

"I..." He stuttered. Blinked.

"Come on then! I don't have all goddamned day! Do you see this bleeding heap on my back!?"

"UNCLE!" Albert growled from behind him. Doel turned his head sharply to look at Albert, who walked beside him a moment and then continued towards the rather distraught man. Positioned away from them both, up near the window and seated behind a small desk, his eyes widened as Albert approached.

"Good Graces!!! Your majesty Albert!?!

"Hello, Fe'rom. It's been a while now."

"i.. I should say!!" Fe'rom blinked, moving forwards abruptly and taking Albert's hand in greeting. "Years, then! Whatever should bring you here!? I.. Well- it's quite unexpected!! Why would you leave Bale!? Is anything wrong?"

"I assure you that nothing lay amiss, but a friend is injured and needs your care." Albert smiled and released him, nodding to Doel and Derrick. "The wound was caused by a Cross bow, and pierced his lung. I'm afraid the injury is serious..."

Fe'rom was already standing next to Doel, carefully running an ancient hand over Derrick's brow to check for fever and instructing the tall, raven haired Sandoran to lay him on the single bed nearby. He nodded and muttered aloud, taunt features evaluating the wound.

"Yes... yes it is serious. He's lost a deal of blood, but infection is not evident. You took good care of the gash..."

Doel knitted his brows together. "So you *are* the doctor, then.."

Fe'rom turned to glare at him just slightly. "I should think it obvious. And you? Are you a knight of Basil?"

Doel laughed aloud, turning his eyes with dark amusement on Albert. His nephew simply let a cold expression settle over his face and continued to watch Fe'rom as the Doctor blinked in confusion.

"I am the emperor of Sandora, you fool."

~Good one idiot, scare the poor bastard....~

"Come again!?" Fe'rom sputtered quickly, nearly dropping a book he had picked from beside the bed. He was shocked- but did a superb job of hiding both the sudden fear and floundering surprise that came with such a declaration. Reasonably, he looked to Albert. Then to Doel again. Back to Albert.

"Sire... surely he-!?"

The young king of Basil took in a quick breath, and then nodded slowly. "He is my uncle, Fe'rom."

"Holy mother of..." And the doctor swallowed, wrinkled flesh tensing and changing as a variety of expressions attempted to convey his reaction. Finally, one hand resting on Derrick's chest, he sharply leveled his gaze over Doel's frame.

"I didn't know he'd be so ugly..."

Albert stifled a laugh.

"Har Har you little maggot. Mind your damned manners." And Doel swung an arm lightly at Albert to shut him up. "Fix the Knight. We'll be returning."

"Yes, that was inappropriate of me. I apologize..." Fe'rom remarked absently. He pushed a handful of thinning white hair back behind one ear and gave a sigh. Questions boiled within his mind as he turned a confused gaze on the two kings. By gods, they were enemies. Black and white pieces of a chess game that had begun at the start of the Serdian War. Profession over all, he did not have a right to ask why they were here. Why they were even speaking. Why they hadn't killed one another by now.

He simply took the fallen medical book from the floor where it had dropped, flipped it open quickly, and looked to Albert.

"I will do my best for him. Keep hopeful."

Albert nodded slowly. "Yes. Thank you."

***

"Brave little bastard..." Doel was growling as they left the building and returned to their Runners. "Does he have a deathwish? Is he really that goddamned STUPID?!"

"Get over it." Albert said thinly. "Lohan is a commercial city. It's out of our boundaries. You know they operate on a 'Pure Market' economic system with little established involvement. They have no restrictions or rules governed by the royal families." He paused. Worked his jaw silently.

"People here do not fear you, Doel..." And Albert gracefully craned his neck to survey the populates of Lohan. "Although that must be somewhat of an odd feeling, isn't it?

Doel stopped his walk instantly, and only briefly held Albert's sharp glance as the younger continued forwards to Patience. His sage cape fluttered in a spin of motion as Albert leapt up unto her back. Flexed his wounded shoulder and ignored the stab that beat throughout it.

"Your just as brave as he, with comments like that." Doel snarled. He was ignored, and so grasped Dark solidly by the reigns to mount as well. His Black and brown attire sheened lightly under the high sun. Rustled as the emperor gave a harsh jerk to his lead straps and sent Dark trotting away.

Albert listened as Doel's deep voice shoo'd civilians about the area. Began to lead Patience after him.

Where they were headed, Albert wasn't entirely sure. Around, above- below the winding streets they traveled at a quick and silent pace. He wondered briefly if they could find somewhere even remotely quiet and inactive to stay temporarily. Afterall, he had never known Lohan to be without it's natural upbeat nature in any area. At times the 'Den' could be a relatively calm place... but it was really like a central square to Lohan. A good many inns lined the outerwalls of it's arena like area, followed by an inner circle that served as a massive walkway. Every year, he had heard there was a rather brutal contest held within. The 'Strongest in the World' or something like that... in which assorted fighters would compete against each other for...

Well- his details were scarce. It had never been a happening Albert gave much thought to.

~I hope Derrick is alright.~

"Hell." Doel muttered from just ahead of him. Albert raised a brow. Brought Patience alongside Dark.

Is something wrong? And Albert blinked in confusion as his uncle growled at the people in his immediate vicinity. One boot even went so far as to strike a man nearby that had muttered something colorful at his passing.

"No. I just need a damned drink." He continued, eyes immediately beginning to scan the shops along their route. Before Albert could protest in any fashion, he had sighted a small tavern off to their right- nestled against the giant border wall that ran along the city limits. Dark was directed towards it.

"Honestly, do we have time for this!?"

"Shut up, Albert." He laughed. A deep, booming sound. "This entire goddamned day has sucked- quite frankly. If you can call a time out to help the little brat knight, I can get a decent shot of hard liqueur." He waved a hand back to his nephew. "Besides. The whole point of our meeting in the first place was to discuss a truce, right!?"

Albert just stared. "In a local BAR!?"

Doel was already off his Runner, scattering a couple of ground pigeons as he jumped down. One hand flicked a strand of black from his eyes and then pointed at Albert.

"Just come on. Gods..."

Alright- so it may not have been a simple drink Doel was after. When he entered- everyone somewhat halted their conversations. Arguments. Doel was a big man, stocky and built as any good fighter would be. He gave something like a nod to the curious faces, each in turn, and made a general pace towards the keeper.

When Albert wandered in afterwards, again the company stared.

He raised one hand and waved meekly.

"Your closing shop." Doel was saying to the keeper. A firm, direct order that was both blunt and not without a trace of hostility. Of course, the poor smaller man on the receiving end of this exchange simply gulped back his pride and tried to argue in a reasonable fashion. It was quite the little scene, with Doel crossing his arms and the short, slim keeper attempting to save his tavern's business for the day. Eventually, after about ten minutes passed, Doel simply handled things the old fashioned way to attain what he wished.

A rather bulky pouch came up in one hand from Doel's left pocket- and he tossed it at the keeper. A catch. A gasp as the man examined the amount of lucre within.

"Now closed the damned shop."

No further argument.

Albert only felt himself sigh heavily in the minutes after. Watch listlessly as The keeper left the bar, and the diverse amount of people within quietly shuffle outside. Many sent Doel three or four death glares- But his uncle simply flashed them a grin in return and waved good-bye. He had to admit that the entire procession was somewhat humorous. Death glare- grin and wave. Albert watched the last man shuffle out and slam the door behind him.

"Tax money does have it's uses, doesn't it?" Doel chuckled. The dirty look Albert shot in his direction was entirely expected.

"In your terms? hardly." His nephew began. "That was a rather crude display. I wonder why Kanzas has not yet reached the point of economic collapse."

"Was that a joke?"

Albert rolled his eyes and sauntered away from the wall he had been leaning against. A gloved hand reached out slowly, took a chair and pulled it back to sit down. Somewhat tired eyes trailed absently over the small, dim room and it's blocky assortment of tables. Along the far wall was the bar Doel now rummaged through evenly. He took out various bottles, growled at the labels he didn't approve of and slammed a glass down on the counter.

"Drink?" he inquired, mixing a small medley of alcohol.

Albert replied with a somber; "I don't drink" And lowered his gaze slightly, raising one hand to kneed at a rapidly forming headache. He could hear Doel snort with some type of amusement. A chink of glass, and then heavy footfalls coming near.

"Funny. I don't either." The Sandoran said quietly. Albert blinked as his uncle walked behind him.

"Ugh- and then why come here in the first pla-aaaGGHH!!!"

Doel watched as Albert clamped his jaw down viciously. He couldn't blame him... because the burn had to be extremely hurtful. The contents of the glass he had prepared was now seeping into Albert's wound, and Doel held the injury fast. Clamped both of his hands over the shoulder and pressed down hard. There was a long moment of silence save for the harsh breathing of his nephew... and Doel was quick to exchange the pressure of his hands with a cloth he had taken from the bar.

"I'm sorry, but If your waiting to return to Bale before seeing to this wound, we have to kill the infection.

Albert gave a slight cough and tensed visibly. You could have WARNED Me!" he gasped in a strained voice.

"I suppose- but it's quicker this way. The pain will stop soon."

Albert nodded quickly, and Doel felt himself smile when he cursed in True Serdian three or four times. As the strong alcohol had sent his blood running anew, Doel was quick and frank in moving his shoulder up. Wrapping the injury with skill that somewhat took his nephew off guard.

"Neide'a Vetier, eh?" The Sandoran smirked, keeping his relative occupied as he dressed the wound.

Albert slightly turned his head to regard him with a touch of surprise. He winced as Doel pulled another cloth tight over his shoulder- have momentarily returned to the bar for another.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch..." The young king began. "I didn't know you were fluent in the dialect..."

"Ha! how could I not be!? With listening to your mother run on with it as she did!?" Doel shifted his right hand to gently smooth flat a torn piece of flesh that hung from Albert's jagged wound. Now- he was somewhat amazed. Albert had fought, carried Derrick, and ridden with him to Lohan supporting this thing... the kid should have been doubled over in pain throughout half of their journey- nevermind when he tossed alcohol on it...

"Yes... I remember that."

"Well, you have the accent. I knew you could speak it when I heard you talking to that man from Hellena. Even over the common day Serdian dialect, you can tell True from the Universal variation although neither sound alike." He slapped his hands free of blood and gave a sigh. "... There. You'll look a little awkward with my make shift Band-Aid and all... but it will suit it's purpose for the time being."

Albert nodded absently. Looked up to regard his uncle as he gazed out over the tavern a few moments.

"Thank you."

"Yeah..."

A silence.

"We just had a conversation, didn't we? Aside from war and the wounded..."

Doel twitched his nose as his nephew spoke. One hand slid a chair from the table at which Albert was sitting and settled down himself. "Scary, huh?"

"In it's own way... yes. I suppose."

Doel shifted his head and gave a nonchalant nod. Absently fumbled with the cuff of one sleeve. "Shame. Because you know that once we start talking, we're going to loose whatever pleasantries surround us now."

"Hmm. Sitting in a bar you paid to have empty- and discussing the future of our kingdoms. Do you at all find this rather ridiculous?"

Doel shrugged and hefted his boots up onto another chair nearby. "Well, it could have been worse. We met to talk, right? Setting doesn't really play that large a part in logical words." He glared at nothing a moment. Tossed Albert a glance.

The young king closed his eyes and let a painful shudder pass through his wound.

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Kanzas

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"Doel should return shortly. Do not be distressed."

Lloyd spoke carefully to the aid that had come running in on he and Frugel's little 'session' He could tell the young soldier was attempting to stay focused and alert. Trying gravely to keep his gaze on Lloyd alone, and not the bleeding mass aside them. Silver hair glinting softly under the dim oil lamps that lit Hellena, Lloyd seemed perfectly collected. Despite what he had been partaking in.

The Wingly had been intent on making Frugel pay for simply being alive long ago. His recent foul-up was just an excuse to have a little one on one with the huge Warden.

"But... sir! We can't understand what Kongol is 'saying!' I know his majesty left him responsible for the castle in his absence... but-!!!"

"Stop running on." Lloyd said quietly, absently wiping a knife clean on his left pant leg. "Kongol's speech isn't that horrid, and he's a damned smart man."

"Yes... but..." And the soldier fidgeted in place. "Sir!!!"

"Honestly." Lloyd shot him a glance. "What is of such dire importance that Kongol can not assist you?"

They both looked to Frugel quickly as a hacking cough let up from the man. Seeming even more uncomfortable, the soldier immediately averted his gaze and returned his attention to Lloyd.

"It's... well, our routine scouts found the Hellena soldiers Frugel ordered to pursue his majesty Albert."

Lloyd raised a brow. "And?"

"They are dead, sir. We found one of our identification bands and counted the exact number of graves. Seven in total, with one man who apparently survived longer then the rest, and was stabbed sometime after his group had been buried. We are seeing that their families are notified in the next hour or so. As for the scene itself... it was rather messy- and a dead Runner was also reported at the site, although it was not one of ours. From Basil, sir."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Alright, then. But I hardly see that as substantial news. Although-" And he addressed Frugel without looking at him, a slight grin on his face. "It seems your team did a *fine* job of incapacitating Doel's nephew, eh?"

No reply. Lloyd chuckled. "Unfortunately, seeing as how the Hellena soldiers reached Albert before Doel had, I suppose our chances at a truce have been broken."

"I wouldn't know, sir. Doel did meet up with his nephew at somepoint- and that is what has us confused."

The Wingly stilled. Blinked. "What?"

"Dark, his majesty's elite Runner, is an enormous male and very easy to track. We found the imprints of it's hooves scattered about the area. Doel was there."

Lloyd crossed his arms and thought a moment, training his eyes over the body of Hellena's head warden. Gasping- breathing in hoarse, shallow gasps... his skin was laden thick with blood. Streams of the hot fluid steamed into the chilly air.

"Then... if Doel did find his nephew..." And he mentally counted the graves as a sudden panic caught- and then released him. Albert could never defeat Doel- one. Two, the bodies found did not represent an accurate number should the emperor have been present among them. "I don't understand. It's not likely that after having an encounter with the soldiers Albert would have been willing to discuss much of anything. Nevermind a truce. If he returned to Bale, Doel would have also returned to Kanzas and surely would have been back by now..."

The young soldier nodded. "Yes. But we believe they went off together. Judging by the tracks presented, two separate patterns had left the forest- and both in the same direction.

"Forest?"

"The Hauestus. Just outside Seles."

"Then why the hell haven't they arrived in Kanzas yet?"

"I don't know! And that is why we are somewhat distraught- nevermind that fact that we can't get any UNDERSTANDABLE advice from Kongol!"

Lloyd simply shook his head in understanding, running over the information in his mind and quickly sorting through it.

"Then... you have simply to wait I suppose."

"Sir!?"

"That is all we can do. Answers will be brought in time.

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Back in Lohan...

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"We have two main forces each. You with the first and second knighthood's. I with the Hellena quarter troops and your general castle brand soldiers. Each of us has lost the most of our men from these individual groups, yes?"

"Yes. Strategy being similar, we've brought one another to a standstill on several occasions. A stalemate- for which nothing but further loss of life can been accounted." Albert's slender left hand rose and swept evenly across the map in front of them. "Here," And he indicated an area between the border to Tiberoa and Hoax, "Is the Seventh Fort of Basil. You know as well as I that the second knighthood is currently stationed within. That the fifth is in Hoax. I propose that you withdraw your soldiers from this area in exchange for my release of Birh'aut."

"... which is currently under the occupation of Basil."

"Again- As you know."

Doel thought a moment, nodded his head in acceptance and moved his eyes to regard Albert. "That is acceptable. We haven't been able to do a damn about your second knighthood as of yet. I'll admit they are a good group of men... " He took in the topographic landscape of Serdio, knitting his brows together. "You also have that Lavits fellow as well... commander of the 1st knighthood. The Bastard is annoying as hell."

Albert only breathed a sigh and adjusted his posture. He didn't want to aggravate his shoulder any more then completely necessary.

"Your supreme commander Geraldek' is.. Quite similar. If at the moment this is a matter of relent and reacquire- we need to balance our powers evenly. A shift on either end will not be acceptable to our men, and certainly not acceptable to us."

"By the book, as always?"

"By the rules of war, Uncle."

Doel leaned back in his chair and yet again nodded. Carefully evaluated his nephew's expression and it's subtle changes. They had been at this perhaps a few hours now. Generally underlining the fine points of both agreement and disapproval. He was surprised, really. Albert had a very clear head on his shoulders. Quick and sharp, his mind did not skip even the slightest detail. The smallest possible outcome.

The months to come would prove interesting. Horrible, when Lloyd and he finally accumulated their planning into the ideal that it was. Albert, despite his intellect and alert nature, would never see it coming. The 'rules of war' would no longer apply.

~Feyrbrand. The violet dragoon spirit.~

As much as Sandora needed this truce- there were other reasons that drove it's necessity.

And all at once, he no longer wanted to go through with any of them.

"Uncle." Albert began. A pause and brief wait before his voice came again. "Uncle Doel?" And the Sandoran jolted himself forwards a moment, having not initially realized he was being addressed. Taking a short breath and looking at his nephew, Albert eyed him carefully. A curious- borderline concerned look.

"... what?" he managed lamely.

"You looks distressed. Is anything wrong?"

Doel didn't entirely know how to answer. He stared numbly at his relative a moment. Traced his eyes over the young features that now so calmly regarded him. Oddly enough, he felt an odd confusion and anger in doing so. Both of which laced his voice as he spoke a sentence that.... somewhat surprised him.

"Why *do* you call me that...?"

Albert raised a brow. "Call you what?"

Doel shook his head. "Uncle. Of all things to call me, you say it like it... it was most native thing in the world to you."

Somewhat confused, Albert only sat back in his chair. "Out of habit, I suppose."

"A 17 year old habit!?"

"And why not?" His nephew flexed his good shoulder and seemed indecisive a moment. "I just... I had always done so. Before... my father died. I can't remember not. Because with you.. That was just- I guess..."

Doel wasn't the only one who realized that, at the mention of Albert's father, they were heading into dangerous territory. Saying it alone brought something thin across Albert's features. An obvious strain on his memory that demanded it's say. That demanded to question, know, and be allowed to hate. The emperor of Sandora was then met with a choice of sorts. Break that thread- force the past into the present and deal with it now.

Or, go over that notion completely and end their converse. He could easily enough leave matters as they were now- with boundaries decided and an agreement reached in the Serdian war.

But it seemed wrong.

And yet it didn't...

And he hated himself for being so damned unable to deal with this issue as it was.

"Then... we've settled this as it remains now, yes?" Doel heard himself begin. Over Albert's last comment completely, his voice again addressed the reasoning of their talk. The truce.

Albert looked as if he had been shaken from somewhere unpleasant, and blinked slowly. His eyes scanned the map, his uncle, closed and reopened as a type of finality was reached. He shook his head. Carefully redrew their border territories with a skilled flow of ink. Replacing the writing utensil to a pouch at his side some few moments after, Albert breathed in heavily.

"It's done, then."

Doel regarded his nephew carefully. "It is."

"Good." A somewhat hollow voice. "You may take the original- and I will draft a copy. In returning to our respectful kingdoms these will be put into effect at once, and the appropriate officers will be notified. I trust you to follow these terms exactly."

"Yes. And you the same."

"Of course."

Doel nodded, lowered his eyes and wrapped up the map scroll that had been spread evenly over the long pine table. He briefly registered Albert, having stood in the moments after and walked passed him at a somewhat tired pace. Carefully tying three bands back into place over the thick paper, he lightly turned his head to glance at the ash blonde.

"I thought you didn't drink?"

"I still don't." Albert said flatly, returning his uncle's gaze and pouring a shot of vodka. "I simply heard it calms your nerves..." And he swallowed the clear liquid, grimacing and giving a cough afterwards.

"Utterly Vile."

Doel raised a brow. "And Does it work?"

"Of course not." Albert washed out the glass he had used and returned it to a delicate row of holders. Both hands came up over the bar, and he leaned into it weakly. "Makes you stupid, irrational and awkward? Yes. But otherwise?"

"Then why drink it?"

Doel had just enough time to brace himself before a very distinct look ran quickly across the face of his nephew. It was sad, angry, and confused all at once. Accusing in it's own way, and frightening in another.

"Simple. Because just maybe, when I return to bale, I'll be able to understand why I'm about to ask you this."

A silence.

"Uncle...." And Albert's voice was terribly thin as he pinned Doel's gaze with his own. "Why didn't you kill me? Then?"

~No escape now...~

***

"No."

The strong, able soldier that stood behind him seemed to not have heard. That, or perhaps the shock of what Doel had said was still present. The throne room, so cold and quiet, remained ever the more still as his voice echoed away.

"... W..what!?" Galen choked roughly, as if he had been struck.

:"I will not *End it*" his voice gathered furiously. "Not him!"

Doel still held the sword to Albert's neck even as he said this, feeling his arms shake in place. Tremble madly to hold a life so thin. To take it, and only with a slide of the mammoth weapon.

***

Doel felt himself falter even as his eyes took on a dark shade. His body tensed with the question- and the confrontation it would bring about. Holding Albert's gaze with a somber expression, he drew his mouth into a thin line and filtered through the thoughts of his memory. It sounded so simple to ask- and yet the answers to most questions were never the such.

So what did he say, now that they had begun?

A deep; "You were *not* your father" came from his throat. A start to a thousand different reasons that could be mistaken for logical thought.

"But I *was* his son." Albert bit back. "You could have had it all by killing me. You could have taken Serdia in that one moment, and yet you did not. I awoke to find you gone. I was bleeding. My neck was bleeding... but you weren't there and *I* wasn't dead..."

Doel closed his eyes and felt a scowl flicker to life over his features. "And would you prefer I had taken your life!?"

"At times, yes!" And Albert noted Doel's somewhat startled reaction as his uncle shot a burning gaze back to his own. "Including the day my father died- and a various more! I *need* to know, uncle. Your explanation is impossible. I was not my father!? I was not much of anything other then a lowly obstacle in your path!"

Doel's eyes flashed. "Is it REALLY so hard to believe!?"

" When a twenty year war lay solely on that decision!? YES!! you tossed this country to hell!"

"I FREED this country from Tyranny!" Doel snarled, feeling his voice and temper raise at an instant. "Exactly how much do you remember about your goddamned father Albert!? You were six years old for the love of Soa!"

"Six!?" His nephew growled in an intense, determined tone." Six and old enough to know right from wrong! My father was a good man! A good king!"

"And how many years did it take before Noish made you BELIEVE That!?"

The instant silence that dropped around them was suffocating, but Doel refused to speak until Albert could contradict him. His regarded the intent hazel eyes that drove into his own with immense effort. Because this was his nephew's spot. His area of pain. Suffering that was eager to find an outlet inside a body that could never overcome such emotions. Doel could see, relate, and hate it's presence just as much as Albert could now hate him.

It was rather unnerving. They had gone from friendly to hostile in a matter of seconds.

His nephew tensed and backed away from the counter- rounding it in a single motion to begin towards him again. Doel stood over the old wooden floor to meet his stalk.

"You don't know anything." The young king growled- stopping inches from Doel's tall frame.

"I knew *everything* That regarded your father, boy. I knew about the way he treated people. His abusive use of land and labor. His belief that all living things were under him and his opinions. The way he-" And Albert cut him off with a ragged sentence.

"How could you possibly-!?

"How could YOU honestly believe I did not know my older sibling! Everyday of my life he was with me! Challenging my ideals and my strong disapproval of his absurd actions! You, who hates death so very much, should have rejoiced to see such a merciless killer put in his place!

Albert looked shaken as he spat a furious; "Liar! You should speak of killers!!"

And Doel had had enough.

Cautious to avoid the full fury that sparked behind the eyes of his nephew, one hand shot out and grasped his wounded shoulder. Albert relented under his strong grip with a cry of pain- and Doel spun him around in one lightning fast motion. Threw him down over the table behind them and held Albert immobile.

"Do you even KNOW What denial is!?" Doel hissed in a sharp, but quiet voice. "Don't you remember ANYTHING!? What he did to others!? To you mother!? To YOU!?" He picked Albert slightly from the table and slammed him down again in a half-shake of sorts. "Wake UP! Why must you be so BLIND!"

Albert struggled against his firm grip, wounded and hating.

"Why did you have to destroy my LIFE!!?"

That- struck him.

The truth of it was what burned the most, Doel supposed. But his first reaction was to give a furious growl and bury his nephew again into the hard wood at his back. He could understand Albert's intense anger now. Not caused by his fathers death- but what had come about because of it. The war. Growing up and living amongst it. Having to decide who lived and died because you were king. Albert, who was forced to become a strength he could not feel.

Doel had always known it... but it was better to try and overlook such things. Knowing that the child he had loved as his own was the unwilling scapegoat of this entire affair.

All of it because he had not killed the boy. Had not been *able* to- and for that very same reason.

~Damned if I had, and damned if I hadn't. What justice is this?~

Certainly a cruel sort, if none other.

Albert was more still now, but both of his arms had come up and grasped Doel's own where the older man held him down. They stayed like that a few moments- Doel's one powerful hand at Albert's neck- and his nephew holding him back from what indeed might have been a strangle. The emperor could not bring himself to let go. Not yet. Not for any reasons he truly understood, in all honesty.

"Your just as vicious as he had been..." Albert said quietly- unable to gain his breath. "TO end this fighting. This..wa.r..." And he gasped, struggled still. "I would give you the damned country if I was not so certain you would destroy it! But I'm in too deep now. I can't turn back- and you are obsessed with gaining more and more power!"

Doel jaw knit tight. "I am NOT like Carlos. In gaining power I can shape this world to it's true potential. I can fix everything. Everyone!"

Albert sucked in a breath. "What wounded you so to make you think this way!? You acquire only death- uncle! Fighting cannot be solved with fighting! I have continued this struggle only to earn my people freedom from your reign! Freedom they die to attain every single day! What you have created is Chaos-!!!" And his voice was struck back violently as Doel forced his arm down. Overcame Albert's strength and cutting the air from his lungs.

"Then why take such a *chance*..." Doel finally growled after a few moments had passed. "Knowing that this meeting could have been ill intentioned. That I or any one of my men could kill you- just like I'm slowly doing now..."

Albert glared up at him without fear or contempt. Simply a strong, solid gaze. He spoke firmly, even with knowing he chanced to loose even more precious air in the attempt.

"Because..." He managed hoarsely. "You could n..ot kill me then... Yo..u won't now... and I sim..ply refuse to di..e..."

"Strong words for someone who can't even breathe!" Doel felt himself shaking as he drove even harder. Clamped his grip down with tremendous force and watched as Albert closed his eyes tightly. The Sandoran was horrified now. With himself. That he could be this way and *want* this.

~But I DON'T! I don't -want- this! I just... I...~

His thoughts were violently interrupted as Albert suddenly fought back with a quick, massive burst of strength. Chest and back- two solid blows that landed without mercy or delay. A flip in his thoughts and a cry of pain that came from his very own throat... ended quickly with one solid punch.

Doel was sent stumbling to the ground as Albert landed a firm kick to his mid section. As he felt the hard wooden floor rip at his clothing, he could also hear Albert speaking from somewhere at his left.

"I told you, uncle. I refuse to die- and my resolve will remain firm in this decision until I am certain that Serdio has once more found peace."

Solid steps approached him.

Doel looked up in a form of distant, detached thought as Albert quietly appeared above him, and reached out a hand. For a few moments he simply stared. Shocked in a way. That one- Albert had managed to escape his hold, and that he was now on the *floor* atop it.

Out of further options, He reached up and took the hand. With a clean, quick motion, Albert hauled him to his feet once more.

They exchanged a long look.

And very quickly, without warning of any sort, his nephew stumbled just slightly and all but collapsed to the ground.

----------------------------------

The following morning

----------------------------------



"Hmmm?"

"Well?!"

"Be more patient. Isn't that supposed to a virtue all royalty must share in?"

"Old man- are you *looking* for an early grave?"

"No, no..." And Fe'rom shook his head distantly. "I'm sorry. Don't get so very offensive!!"

In the bright light of early morning, Derrick flashed his eyes amongst those present. The Knight was hurting and sore... but his injury had be dealt with and repaired with expert skill. He shifted slightly by his perch on a nearby table, ignoring the itchy gauze that was wrapped about his chest and concealed under his garments. Now washed of the blood from before, he was glad to have the pungent stink away from his flesh. Hells knew he smelt enough of that on the battle fields...

But... then again. He wouldn't be fighting for a time, now. As Doel had informed him, a ceasefire would come into existence.

Derrick wondered if he had looked as shocked as he felt.

Of course, when he had awoken this morning he'd thought the worst. His king was near him- strewn carefully over another small bed. Having Doel in the room had not helped his initial reaction either. Despite his pain, Derrick attempted to run at him with sword flying. Limping upwards like a man possessed and searching for his weapon. The emperor had simply cocked a brow in his direction.

Doel, as he then learned, was the one that *brought* Albert to Fe'rom.

"Simple Blood loss.." The doctor was explaining again. "The infection you killed..." And he looked quickly at Doel. "Had had time beforehand to tax Albert's system, which made it all the more easy for his loss of fluid to become a distinct problem. Amazing he made it to Lohan in the first place... that arrow wound was quite a nasty little thing..."

Fe'rom continued absently like that, skillfully threading Albert's injury and closing the horrid gape. The young king looked pale and somewhat weak, but overall he had more or less subsided into a deep sleep.

Derrick nodded, keeping his gaze level with Doel. It was the first time he had ever seen the tall Emperor of Sandora... and this was not... exactly what he had expected. He *expected* someone evil...

But Doel was just... there. Looking concerned and generally pensive. As if there was far to many wrong thoughts in his mind.

"When will we be able to return to Bale?" The knight asked carefully.

"Oh- by this afternoon, surely." Fe'rom said with a grin. "Albert will awaken soon, I'm positive..." And he shot an awkward glance in Doel's direction. "Kanzas will be up and searching for you by now." He smiled. "However *will* you explain that black eye of yours?"

Almost as if he had forgotten, one strong hand came up and touched the sore area of his face. With it came actions- remembering the tavern- and the words exchanged. He grimaced long and hard, finally resolving to emit a low; "Shut up." Just for good measure.

"I'm sure you'll figure out something, Probably similar to what Albert will have to concoct, seeing as how he has a deep arrow wound and obvious bruises around his neck and shoulders."

Derrick, who had spoken, caught Doel's dangerous glance. "Settling some issues, were you?"

"*Settling* can be a very vague word."

After a few silent minutes were left to echo around his last emotionless sentence, Doel silently pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. Absently pulled two black gloves from his right pocket and jerked them on abruptly. Derrik and Fe'rom regarded him silently as he tossed a strand of black from his eyes. Looked at each of them in turn.

"Your leaving, then."

"Yes." And Doel nodded curtly. "My mount is outside- As is Patience, and a runner for the young knight."

Derrick looked a tad startled, but then nodded his thanks.

"However..." And Doel stopped at the door, glancing only momentarily at his nephew and then turning coal-like eyes to knight of Basil. "Would you tell him something for me. When... he awakens?"

Derrick absently looked to Fe'rom, but nodded quickly. "I..." A pause. "Yes.."

"Tei' Lorda'ra." And Doel expected the surprised expression that flashed over Derrick's features. "Say it. I want to make sure you can pronounce it correctly."

The knight stuttered in confusion, blinked, but then finally relented and echoed a slow: "Tay...' Lore..de..Hara?" in as accurate an interpretation as he could manage. The syllables were odd, drawn and sharp. a language he had never heard before.

"... True Serdian..." Fe'rom said slowly. "I don't know the dialect, but I can recognize it's sound. Albert knows it?"

"Other then myself, he's probably the only one left who may. The knight is close enough." The Sandoran nodded and then glared at Derrick. "DON'T forget."

With a soft rustle of his clothing and a toss of broad shoulders, Doel left the building. He did not bother to look back. Nor did he even manage to growl in irritation at a noisy shopkeeper that went running across his sight. The city of Lohan would never change, day or night.

People were a different breed, though.

Dark saw him coming before Doel even noticed the buck. A mocking neigh went shooting up into the early morning air, and more then a few people jumped back in surprise as the giant black Runner began to haw like a damned fledgling. Ah, well... he must have been bored.

Patience on the other hand, (tied at a post near to Dark and the meek- but sturdy Runner he'd acquired for Derrick) was not nearly as overjoyed to see him. Baring her teeth- which seemed a characteristic not foreign to the creature- she bellowed a type of disgust and snorted at Dark. His beast took it personally, thwacking it's head towards her chestnut hide.

Patience, in turn, whirled like a madwoman and kicked him directly in the ass.

"Serves you right for being a cocky bastard..." Doel said quietly to the now whimpering Dark. He came beside him carefully, minding his distance of Patience and her rather evil temper. "Remind me to tell Albert his Runner has a serious attitude problem."

After eventually soothing Dark's wounded pride, Doel easily climbed onto his back in one smooth motion and began down the gritty streets. As when he had arrived the previous day, pedestrians proved a bother- and Dark took out his frustration with Patience on their busy bodies. He made a delighted chirp, happy to scare each new man and woman with a quick growl.

Doel, usually amused with the traditional antics of his buck, simply stared on ahead as they exited Lohan.

Paths became fields. Fields became forests. It was quiet again. A noiseless venture home, with only the sounds of nature to drift light and unnoticed over his hearing. Honestly, it may not have mattered if a troop of those bustling people from the city he'd left behind showed up at that very instant. Doel wouldn't have noticed them- if even registered their presence at more then a glance.

"There are many things I don't understand, Dark..." He commented absently, speaking to the beast that shifted quietly beneath him. The Runner perked his ears... snorted and walked on. Doel simply found his voice continuing. As if perhaps listening to his own speech might clarify troubled thoughts.

"But of all those things... and even after believing that yes, I understand him- and that yes, I can judge and evade his mind... Albert confuses me. His logic, his value of life. Perhaps the only thing I understand is his hatred of the past."

~Which he has a right to hate me for. But... his emotions were so sudden. Like he didn't want them, and was ashamed to place blame on the closest person to actual family that still exists in his life.~

A fragment of a sentence both disturbed and angry shot into his thoughts.

"Why did you have to destroy my LIFE!"

In war, there were always casualties. His nephew had been no different. Those many years ago, if his soldiers had *just* managed to slay the small prince...

"It never would have landed in my hands. Mine- that I could not bring to take his life, because he had done nothing. Was still my family. Was not his father." Doel sighed heavily and breathed deep of the crisp air around him. Perhaps Frugel, fat dragon egg that he was, had been right. He was a coward.

It didn't matter now in anycase, but he wondered what Albert truly thought of him. If the hatred he saw in the young king's eyes was a true emotion, or if it was something else. A desire to understand that flickered behind each glance they shared.

~unfortunately, that will Never happen. You know what the future holds, Doel.~

To end this fighting. This war... I would give you the damned country if I was not so certain you would destroy it! But I'm in too deep now. I can't turn back- and you are obsessed with gaining more and more power!

It was amazing he could recall those words with such vivid detail.

You acquire only death- uncle! Fighting cannot be solved with fighting! I have continued this struggle only to earn my people freedom from your reign! Freedom they die to attain every single day! What you have created is Chaos-!!!

Chaos...

But if Chaos was what needed to be dealt in order to attain his goals, so be it. Albert could not understand that. Again he thought a blind; 'There are always casualties in war'

The people who had died thus far were sacrifices of a worthy cause.

They *had* to be.

His thoughts continued to run as the sun peaked at high noon, and the black castle loomed like a jagged piece of obsidian on the earthen horizon.

Soon.

And Dark paced onwards.

*******

"Hey!" Derrick grinned and lowered the glass of water in his right hand- stopped quickly in the motion of taking a drink. "Your awake!!!"

Not that Albert entirely understood that himself. Fe'rom smiled kindly as the king of Basil blinked in earnest. Attempted to adjust his vision and clarify his thoughts. Around him the room was scented of medicine and... old blood. He turned his head weakly to the right, taking in the presence of those also in his company, and winced under the light that streamed from nearby windows.

"I..." he began softly, but Albert's voice faded when he realized he didn't know exactly what to say. What... had happened?

"Good to see you with us once more, your majesty." Fe'rom said quietly, and lifted one hand to check his injured shoulder. Albert watched, still somewhat listless, and registered the wound as if it was something he'd forgotten. Derrick came up at his right.

"You lost a lot of blood after those Hellena guys shot you. Doel kind of filled us in on all that... he wouldn't give any hints as to what happened between you two, but last night he carried you to Fe'rom so the doc' could stitch up that wound." An energetic smile. "Thanks. For saving me. I would have died if you didn't go through what you had..."

Albert replied with a troubled glance. He turned his head slightly and began to sit up. "Your... injury. Are you...?"

Derrick smiled again. "I'm fine! Fe'rom rocks. High five, old dude!!" And the doctor laughed out loud.

"Yes, well.. I thank you for the kind words, M'boy. As for you Albert, you'll probably be feeling a little woozy and not quite yourself. That should let up soon. An hour or so I would think. In the meantime I suggest resting here until you've regained your strength. Perhaps eat something too- it will help."

Albert only nodded and managed a somewhat detached "Thank you..." before already attempting to stand and walk. It was somewhat of a ludicrous sight, as immediately one arm reached out to steady himself against the wall- and Albert slowly lowered to his knees as a wave of dizziness swept him. Derrick was immediately at his shoulder.

"Eerrrhhh.... you should listen to the doctor. He'll know what's best- come on..." And he helped Albert stand again so the young king could seat himself back upon the bed. "We don't need to leave for Bale immediately, so don't worry about it."

Strands of loose ash blonde left to waver in his eyes, Albert suddenly shook his head- almost violently- and grasped Derrick's supportive arm.

"Doel! I... my uncle- where is he!?!"

"Oh! Yeah- he left! Calm down! I don't know what you and he got into before coming here, but damn did the guy look spooked!"

"A bit distraught, might be a better word." Fe'rom sighed from aside them, and carefully began mixing herbs at a table nearby. With skilled practice, he ground the small leaves in a tiny marble bowl and added a swirl of things. "You should know that Patience is outside as well- with another Runner for Derrick when your well enough to leave. And-" He paused a moment. "Young knight... I believe the emperor asked that you give a message to his nephew, correct?"

Derrick nodded quickly. "Yes- I know." And looked to his king. Albert regarded him with somewhat troubled features.

"Now- okay... I *think* I got this correctly.." He shook his head and blinked. "It went.. Like... Tay Lor...de'hara? Ugh- Lord...era?"

And Albert looked so very stunned, that Derrick cut slack his attempts to pronounce the words correctly. Fe'rom too turned at the sudden silence. Gently waited for it to pass.

Hazel eyes lowering in the moments after, Albert echoed a soft: "Tai' Lorda'ra."

Derrick nodded furiously. "Yeah!! That's it!!"

Fe'rom would not be the only one who could tell that the short phrase had left some form of impact on the King of Basil. Albert's expression was one of such confused understanding that it nearly made the old doctor feel numb to watch it. Whatever the words had been, Albert did not expect them, and now his eyes flashed further with memories. Perhaps the happenings of last night.

Derrick looked a bit concerned. Tightened his jaw just a moment and spoke again.

"I don't mean to pry, but..." And he lifted his brows. "What does it ... ?"

And after a few moments had passed, Albert replied with a listless: "It means... " then paused as if to evaluate the words one last time; "I'm sorry... "

The Knight and Doctor watched quietly as Albert brought both arms up. Gingerly held his head in his hands.

*********

I tend to think that what drives us
Is not so great
As the goals of past that haunt your present
When hell seemed a finer word.
And you truly wish to love.
To forgive.
But will not yet
Let go.

--Timothy Astoneu

-------------------------------------------------

*revised 7/24/01*

*Fin*