Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 12:
Van stumbled clumsily through the labyrinth, his legs aching from his mad leap out the second story window. He had not looked at how far up he would have to jump, worried that he would loose his nerve, and wished now that he had. He came to a dead end, a high brick wall with a large statue of Yumai the Flower Goddess standing before it. He paused to catch his breath and get his bearings, looking around and wondering how he had gotten into this mess.
The lithe boy could hear guards on the other side of the wall, but he did not worry about them. He was in a maze after all. From what he had seen of it from dining room, paths right next to each other could encircle the entire maze before they ever joined together, if they joined together at all. More guards could be heard coming near by and he hid behind the statue as a precaution, but no oner cer checked his hiding place.
The young hunter looked towards the sky and sighed. He would have to wait till night fall to leave the labyrinth, and even then it would be difficult. Not to mention he had no idea where he was or how he could get out. Dilandu might be helpful in that aspect, but he did not want to call upon him until it was absolutely necessary. The little demon was likely in a foul mood still and needed his sleep. So Van made himself comfortable behind the Goddess’ statue and listened to the guards and Allen searching for him.
A strong breeze rustled the hedges, momentarily overriding the sound of the search parties, but he gave it no mind.

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Allen stalked through the cursed maze, his hand clenched around his unsheathed sword. He had not been this angry since before his father’s death and that was nearly ten years ago. He felt violated in the same way victims of burglars felt violated. Guilavene had trespassed on the sanctuary of his home and held at a mere arms length the life of his cousin. It would never feel as safe again. He heard himself start to mutter and was too angry at the moment to care.
“The nerve of that impudent, conniving, little-”
“Careful, your Majesty. It would ne pre proper for someone of your station to resort to vulgarity,” interrupted a smooth, slightly accented voice.
Allen whirled to his left, bringing his blade up in a defensive position. On plinth of a statue, the familiar form of the Strategos sat calmly watching him. His black cape stood out starkly against the pale gray form of the fighting soldiers. His ebony wings were absent this time, but he would never have passed for long as human.
What was he doing here? Was there nere ere in his home that his enemies would not taint?
The young man also realized he was completely alone. The soldiers who had been following only a moment ago had lost track of him somewhere among the various twists and turns of the labyrinth. Luckily, he still knew where he was. A childhood spent exploring this place had not been completely forgotten.
“You seem upset,” the demon stated.
Allen replied with rush forward a swing of his sword. The Strategos avoided it of course, coming to rest on the slanted back of a gray soldier and settling as if he had not just had an attempt on his life. The prince thought to follow him, but realized that would leave him so vulnerable.
“What are you doing here?” the mortal spat.
The pale creature smiled mysteriously.
“I am searching for what is mine.”
“Guilavene?”
“Always.”
“Why is he here? Why did you send him?!” Allen demanded.
The demon’s eyes narrowed in mute laughter. Tman man might prove rather useful.
“I did not send him here, you chased him this way.”
A soft sigh and he continued.
“It really is a nuisance. Even from above, it almost impossible to find him. You people really need prune the overgrowth in this place. It is rather disgraceful.”
“That was not what I meant. Why was he with the crown prince?”
“Crown prince?’ thought Folken, ‘I was wondering why he was here. Such interesting people my little one meets.”
Aloud he said, “My business here is strictly confidential.”
Interpret that as you will, my overly presumptuous little man.
“Bastard! I will not allow you to succeed in what ever you are planning!”
Pulling a dagger from his belt, the royal guardsman let it fly directly for the demon’s heart. But the skilled albino had anticipated his move and came down upon him even as the blade flew past him. He careened into the smaller man, smashing him onto the stone floor of the pathway. The force of it knock the air from his lungs, but a powerful hand around his throat kept him from taking his much needed breaths.
Fear sprang up in him as realization hit him. There was a monster on top of him, one so strong it could shatter stones in the palm of its hands. Think how easily it could break his neck? The creature’s presence pervaded all, even as he felt himself slipping into darkness. It leaned in and it’s warm breath tickled his ear.
“Leave my boy alone. If you harm him I will make you suffer in such ways that would make gods of Hell cringe,” the demon whispered, knowing he would be heard.
Suddenly, the albino looked up, paused, and was gone.
Air flooded the man’s lungs and the blackness receded from the corners of his vision. He lay there gasping for several moments, pain and weakness his only reality. Then, something reached his ears besides the thudding of his heart. Voices. His men must be coming. He opened his eyes and staggered to his feet, refusing to allow them to see him so helpless.
The first soldier found him leaning against the statue, rubbing the dark bruise forming around his neck.
“Your highness! There you are. We have been looking all over for you. Are you all right?” the nervous guard asked.
“I am fine,’ he replied, a little too sharply, ‘Have you found Guilavene?”
“Ah... I do not believe so, but it is hard to try to communicate in here.”
“Mm. Keep looking. He is still here. I am going to talk to the Queen, but I will be back shortly for further orders.”
He did not wait for the guard’s reply, if indeed he had one at all. He stalked back the way he had come, more determined than ever to find the young fugitive and get to the bottom of this once in for all.

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“But he did not do anything!” Chid protested to his mother.
In an uncharacteristic act of sympathy, the Queen knelt down and took him into her arms. She held him against for a long time, pressing her cheek to his and listening to his breath hitch in his throat.
“My poor dear. I could have lost you so easily today,” she crooned.
The little prince pulled back abruptly to look her in the eye, scowling as much as his young face would allow.
“Aren’t you listening? He did not do anything! I was the one who invited him here, he did not do or say anything,” the child repeated for the hundredth time, frustration making his cross.
His mother shook her head condescendingly.
“You do not understand. He is very dangerous, Chid. H e works for a powerful demon, may even be a demon himself. Don’t you see? He already lied to you about who he was. He has attacked our soldiers. He even holds command over other demons. Do you understand?”
Chid frowned down at the floor, but his posture was that of defeat.
“But... he seemed so sad,” he said softly.
She kissed him on the forehead and stood up.
“We will talk more later. But right now I must speak with Allen, and you need to check on Merle. She seemed very distraught,” his mother said gently.
Chid thought to protest, knowing that no one was listening to him, but she was already closing the heavy doors of the conference room. He would have run after her, but his guards were there and he did not want to look foolish in front of them. Soldiers had a tendency to talk about things they should not. Gritting his teeth he stalked down the palace corridor towards his room, his useless guards following him closely behind.
The Conference Room, one of almost a dozen in the palace, was windowless
and dark. It was perfect circle, with no drapes or furniture for which someone might hide behind, and the walls were too thick for ease dropping. There was only one circular wooden table placed in the center of the room surrounded by ten chairs, all of which were bolted to the floor. The walls were painted a dark amber and the floor was made of brown marble. It gave the room a rather dark and secretive feel to it.
Queen Eries took a seat and scanned the occupants of the room. There was, of course, Allen. Gaddes was hovering behind her nephew, staring grimly at the darkening bruise around his neck. They were both standard requirements in a meeting such as this, but someone else seemed to have followed them in. The handsome rogue had arrived with Gaddes, but had been discreetly shadowing Allen since they met. He was definitely not a soldier, and his eyes held a keen intelligence about them. The other men did not seem concerned, so she let it go. In addition, there was Octavian the gardener, looking more than a little out of his element, and Mionides, her record keeper.
“What did he say?” Allen asked first.
“He is convinced your fugitive did not come here with harmful intent. He said that Guilavene saved Merle from some men, which his guards have attested to. Also, that he invited him to the palace to thank him and talk. The young man apparently became upset about something and was already leaving when we walked in on him. I am a little confused on the details, but I do not believe even Chid knows why he behaved as he did... An sai said he seemed sad,” she finished.
“Sad?” Gaddes asked.
“I have seen his angry, determined, and even happy once, but I don’t recall him ever being sad,” Allen said.
“It does not matter,” said the Queen.
“I suppose not. Any theories on why he was here? Why the Strategos sent him?” asked the blonde.
“Wait, how do we know he was sent? Chid has already said that he invited Guilavene, not that he asked to come,” the second-in-command pointed out.
“It may have been a setup,’ offered Eries, ‘The men were paid or tricked into chasing Merle, Guilavene plays the hero, and naturally the Prince is grateful. Whether or not he was invited to the palace I think is irrelevant. He probably just wanted to be get close to my son.”
Allen considered, but even he had to admit there were holes in that idea. He turned to Dryden, who had made been silent through the entire meeting and was enjoying his ever present cup of tea. Where did he keep getting that damn tea?
“What do you think, Merchant?” he asked.
Dryden glanced at them all briefly and then turned his attention back to his tea.
“If it involves Strategos, I would say the Queen’s idea was sound. However, Van does not seem the type to undergo such deceit. He is too naïve for it.”
“But Strategos is Guilavene’s master, isn’t he?” asked her majesty.
“Hmm. In theory,” Dryden said flatly, clearly skeptical.
Allen looked at him sharply, the pain in his neck making him regret it instantly. The Queen frowned slightly. Gaddes appeared greatly annoyed, and the other occupants did not seem to know what to make of it all.
“Is there something you’re not telling us?” demanded Gaddes.
“It just doesn’t fit,” murmured the rogue.
“What?” the Queen asked.
“Van and the Strategos. If Van were really a child of the Strategos, why isn’t he demonified? And that is not the only thing. When ever I see him or hear him speak, he seems completely... well... peasantly. Er.. That’s not quite what I mean. I mean he dresses and talks just as if he really were from some bumpkin town called Fanelia in the middle of no where.”
“So?” asked Gaddes.
“So? So if he really were one of the Strategos’ children, he would never have experienced growing up any such place. The Strategos raises the children he takes himself at some castle or temple, or so the stories go. How would he know how to act around humans, even if he were not demonified?”
“If you are suggesting,” growled Allen, ‘that Guilavene is not working for the Strategos- don’t. I just had his master’s hands wrapped around my neck and telling me otherwise. Not to mention, if all this did not involve the Strategos, why would he be here at the palace? And how would he know the boy was here in the first place?”
Dryden shrugged, not bothering to look up from his tea, and still did not look completely convinced. The Queen’s hands curled into loose fists, but no one noticed.
“Regardless of your opinions, sir,’ she said, ‘Guilavene cannot be allowed to wonder about my estate while his intentions are not yet known. We must capture him and sort things out afterwards, agreed?”
The men noddnodded, even the gardener and the scribe who had no idea what
was going on. Eries turned her gaze to the gardener and nodded to him. Octavian moved to the table and fumbled a bit with a piece of parchment, dirty and torn in some places. It was a map of the labyrinth, though definitely incomplete and by no means professionally done. The laborer coughed into his hand to clear his throat.
“Ah.. um.. this is the maze.. sort of... well, I made it. The original blueprint was done by the designer, some hundred and thirty years ago... but... er... he got mad at the royal family for something and burnt it.”
Allen felt a headache coming on.
“Are you saying, we have had this labyrinth for over a hundred years and we still don’t know our way around it?” the Royal captain asked in a deadpan voice.
“Ah.. er... well, we know the main paths. The ones that lead out of the maze from all sides, but... ah.. no one has bothered try and map the place since... Hmm…”
“Forty years ago,” the Queen stated.
Everyone turned their heads to her, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Forty years ago, my father, the king contracted a man to map out the labyrinth. However, the man got lost and died inside. They never did find the body, but my father said you could smell the stink for weeks. Understandably, no one wanted the job of mapping the maze and we have not attempted more than basic maintenance on the main paths.”
Octavian shuddered. He really hated that story, especially when it was his turn to trim the hedges of that cursed place.
“Well.. Crap,” muttered Gaddes.
“Look on the bright side,’ said the merchant, optimistically, ‘At least, Van might still be there. Allen said it himself, that the Strategos was having trouble finding him. And the guards would have if if he had left the labyrinth. We have a general idea of where he is, which is more than we had before.”
This was true, but Allen felt little comfort in the fact. If they did not catch Guilavene soon, he was certain the boy would find a way to escape again. He turned his gaze to his aunt.
“Would you mind terribly if we simply burned the labyrinth?”
“I most certainly would!” she snapped.
“Well, then, I’m out of ideas.”

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Van lay behind the statue of Yumai, playing with his mother’s pendant. As he swung it back and forth, it would occasionally catch the sun and sparkle bright pink and blood red. His mother said she used to do swing it when he was an infant, and that it never failed to make him stop crying and simply watch it. She had done it too when he was young boy and easily amused by the dots of pink light that would sprinkle the cottage floor as it caught the sun.
He paused a moment, and simply stared at the jewel laying in his gloved
palm and pondered it. It was said to be a shard from the heart of a dragon. His father was a descendant of a proud family of dragon hunters. Was it just a strange irony or something more? Could it have been this very pendant that had called his father to his mother in the first place?
When he was fifteen he would have thought it a silly idea, but now he was not so sure. With all that had happened to him, he wondered if it were not fate. Divine intervention, maybe? That was probably an arrogant assumption, but still he wondered.
He sighed and slipped it back around his neck. If this was all part of some master plan by the gods, he wished they had left him and his family out of it.

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The young hunter wander about the labyrinth quietly, not entirely sure where he was going. The soldiers had apparently left the interior of the maze, concluding they would not be able to find him in this puzzling garden. However, Van could sometimes hear talking and was fairly certain there must still be men guarding the perimeter of the labyrinth.
Darkness was his ally, but at the same time he could not help but feel a little nervous. The guards might not be able to see Van, but Van definitely could not see demons should one choose to sneak up on him. He doubted Folken knew where he was, but that probably would not last long. Unlike the Fanelian forest, the young hunter did not know his way around this place and the narrow pathways and dead ends did not favor him in a man to demon fight.
Finally, after a long search he found just what he was looking for. In a relatively open space of the maze, a sort of picnic area was made. What interested Van was the wooden overhang, overgrown with hanging vines to the point that they were like a flower curtain wrapped around the entire structure. This place would serve his purposes.
The young hunter scanned the premises briefly before struggling through the natural wall of foliage. Inside it was completely dark. Van pulled out Escaflowne from pack and the sheath glowed blue in his hands, casting a eerie light inside the room. It was practically empty, only a table and a set of benches made of heavy stone set in the center. It was covered in decaying leaves and bird dropping, but it was not like he was planning on eating off of it.
“Dilandu,’ he said softly, ‘Come out.”
The sword glowed brighter, but most of it would not pierce the vine curtain. The characteristic ‘poof’ was followed by a glowering little demon still wearing Van’s old clothes. Dilapercperched himself on the corner of the stone table, perhaps to make himself appear taller, and hissed at his master.
“What the hell took you so long? Do you have any idea how boring it is that thing?”
“Shut up, Dilandu,’ the boy growled, listening carefully to make sure no one had heard them, ‘There are still guards nearby.”
The little albino did not appear impressed, and ignored him in favor examining this new place. It was not worth writing home about, that was for sure. It was just a little shelter of decaying wood and natural overgrowth, littered with dead leaves, flower petals, and bird skeletons. He turn his crimson eyes to the boy.
“I’ll say this much, Van. You really know how to pick the most... ‘intriguing’ domiciles,” the demon drawled.
“Oh, shut up. I just need a place I could summon you with out being seen. It’s not like we’re staying here.”
“Mm. Well that’s a relief.”
The demon prince moved to the awkward opening Van had already made in the
vines, sniffed the air for possible threats, and climbed out. The young mortal followed close behind, but Dilandu seemed to have frozen where he stood. Annoyed, Van gave him a light push so he could get through. The albino growled venomously at him for moment, but then turned his attention back to their surroundings. He had never seen a place like this. In the demon world, gardens were strictly geometrical in design, but this garden- if indeed that was what it was- from what he could see was irregular and poorly
maintained. It was still sort of beautiful, it was eerie in a way from the combination of human design and strange wilderness feel to it. It sort of reminded him of the ruins of cities long since past.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“The Royal Labyrinth, right behind the Royal Family Palace,” Van replied.
The demon spun around.
“We’re where?!”
The yohunthunter sprang forward and covered his mouth before anything else came spilling out.
“You fool!’ he whispered ‘Do you want us to get caught?”
Dilandu growled and nipped his hands, but his fangs did not pierce the boy’s thick leather gloves.
“Why,’ the pale boy began in a softer voice, ‘are we here?”
“I got chased in here.”
The demon looked skeptical.
“You were chased to the Royal Palace?”
“No, I was invited to the palace, I was chased into the labyrinth,” the boy explained.
“Who invited you to the palace?”
“The Prince.”
“Allen invited you to the palace?”
“Of course not, Prince Chid invited me.”
“How many princes do you humans have?”
“I dunno. I’ve never followed politics,” answered Van.
“Wait, how did you meet this Prince Chid?”
“I’ll tell you later. Lets just find a way out of here for now.”
“You mean you don’t even know how to get out of here?”
“Well, gee, it is a maze, Dilandu. That’s sort of the point,” he said sarcastically.
“What a stupid idea. What kind of idiot would put something like this in their backyard? Is it some weird human thing? Do you send you old in here to die or something?”
That actually made Van chuckle. The demon was right, humans did do some pretty stupid things and this place was likely one of them. Dilandu looked back at the mortal as he laughed. He was going to say something snappish, but in the eerie blue glow of Escaflowne the youth held such a beautiful expression that he could not bring himself to ruin it intentionally.
The demon quickly turned his attention away from Van and towards the three likely paths they would have to choose from.
“So, any sign of the mangy bird?”
The young hunter blinked, not knowing what he meant at first.
“Mangy bird? Ah, no, I haven’t seen him, but we should still be cautious. I doubt it will take him long to find me,” Van said.
Dilandu made an ambiguous sound and then ignored the human altogether. He sniffed the air, catching the scent of growing things, dying things, Van, and most of all the guardsmen. Their pungent aroma of sweat and beer was unmistakable, and it was also easy to follow as traces of it lingered in certain pathways.
“This way,” Dilandu stated and started walking, not bothering to see if the boy followed.
They traveled in silence through twisting and turning corridors. The demon prince took a few wrong turns, but those had been the soldier’s faund nnd not his own and they stayed on track for the most part. Tension ran high as they neared the entrance to the labyrinth, neither quite able to accept that it was going to be so easy. Van wrapped Escaflowne in his cloak to hide its blue glow, careful that he still managed to keep skin contact with his one gloveless hand.
They turned into a slightly larger corridor, this one well maintained with carefully pruned hedges and Lady’s vine. Now Van could see warm light shining through an opening along the left side of the wall. It had to be the way out, but was inevitably well guarded. The swordsman pulled his father’s blade from its sheath with his left had and followed close behind Dilandu, barely inches from touching.
The demon prince could feel the mortal’s body heat against his back. Could smell his fear and excitement, and was surprised that he found it rather appealing. Mentally, he growled. This boy would suffer for the torment he put him through. It was not fair! Having this fragile creature so close and not being able to defy it, suppress it, own it. It was not fair!
He stopped abruptly, unsurprised when the mortal ran into him and he briefly felt the boy’s warmth through his thin shirt. He signaled Van to be quiet, and proceeded to make a hole in the hedges to look through.
Dilandu peered through the bush, delighting in the frustrated and irritated way in which Van was moving behind him. His del qui quickly vanished, however, as his gaze found the veritable wall of soldiers standing guard from one end of the labyrinth to the other. There had to be at least a hundred. Most of them were dressed in blue uniforms, like Allen, and bore the expression of hardened warriors ready for battle. Half of them carried crossbows, a quarter of them held swords, while the remaining men were mounted on war elk, great black beast snorting andwingwing at the ground while their masters held them still with one hand and held coils of rope in the other. It was almost flattering that they would go to such extremes for them, if it were not so damn inconvenient.
Dilandu stepped back and allowed Van the room to see for himself. The slender swordsman lingered there longer than the demon thought necessary, utterly lost on how he could possibly get by them. Annoyance ran through him unexpectedly. What did Allen think he was, the damn Freidian Army?
The young hunter straightened, glowering at the line of troops as if the bushes were not even there and then turned, stalking by the bored looking demon prince.
There was no way to get by them tonight. They would just have to wait for an opportunity.

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Queen Eries had always prided herself on being a self-made woman. While it was true she had earned the thrown by default, both her husband and her father having died in war, she still could have been evicted from power by the Austorian legislator and forced to marry yet again for the sake of her country. She had grasped her freedom and her pride with tooth and nail, playing on every political and public appeal she could until finally, her opponents were too tired to keep up the attempt. Had they known that as soon as she had stabilized her power base that she would systematically destroy
them one by one, they probably would have taken the fight a little more seriously.
Still, her battles were not over with. As Queen she had inherited her country’s problems and over the years they seemed to grow. Fried, Astoria’s arch nemesis for almost as long as either nation had existed, was amassing their army again under their new king, Alkanine III. Their official excuse was continuing rumors that demon activity along the border was increasing, and she would call them on that lie if were truly false. Lord Balgus, who was always permitted to travel between their countries unharassed, had confirmed it to be so and that it was true in parts of Austoria as well. This was foreboding news. Her son was still young and immature, and when he was of legal age to inherit the throne, a mere six years away, he may end up with more than he could handle. Queen Eries, however, had soon found the solution to her problems in the most unlikely of sources.
A boy and his master.
“In the future, Lord Folken, I would appreciate it if you would not attack my kin. My family does not have many relations left for you to play with,” she spoke softly, watching her visitor over the rim of her wine glass with hooded eyes.
The man smiled from the window of her bedroom, the black of his cloak and
wings barely visible in the shadows of her room, making his pale hands and face almost seem to levitate in mid air. He moved gracefully towards her, taking a seat across from her. Their still beautiful forms lit by a single candle would have inspired a thousand paintings if anyone had been there to witness it.
“All for show, I assure you, your Majesty,’ he said in his usual smooth and accented tone, ‘We can’t have you nephew suspecting the truth, now can we?”
She shared a sly smile with him and sipped her wine.
“But what, pray tell, is the truth? I am a little confused on that myself. Who is Guilavene to you? Why do you pursue him so relentlessly?”
“Now that would be telling,” he replied, a mysterious smile crossing his lips.
“Hn. Fine, keep your secrets. So long as you also keep our bargain,” she said, her cold blue eyes searching his unreadable crimson ones.
“Certainly. So long as you keep it as well, though I should warn you if I find the opportunity to take him myself our contract will be void.”
“That is reasonable,” she agreed.
She poured another glass of wine and handed it to him. He looked at her curiously for a moment, then smiled.
“Let us drink to it then,” she said, lifting her glass to him.
“Yes. To our promising future together,” he replied, tapping his glass to hers.
“To our promising future.”
In silent exhilaration, she drank win wine, day dreaming of once again crushing her enemies again and earning her title in the pages of history as the first Great Queen of Austoria. So caught up in her vivid daydreams, that she did not notice that Lord Folken had not swallowed his wine.