Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Justice! ❯ Stranger in a Strange Land ( Chapter 2 )

Wufei returned to consciousness slowly, aware of the sound of male voices speaking…German?

His situation felt very wrong, and his old pilot training for what to do in case he was taken prisoner kicked in automatically. Without giving away that he was no longer unconscious, he tried to assess his situation.

Status after self-evaluation: wet, a bit cold, pounding headache, but no real injuries.

All right. I'm alive and functioning. Now, what the hell just happened? he thought, trying to determine as much as he could about his situation before he had to open his eyes.

He was no longer at Preventer HQ.

That was first thing he was quite sure of--he was in some large space, from the sound of the echoes and movement of the air. There were at least five other men, possibly six in the room. The air smelled organic in the way that HQ's air conditioning or the ventilation and recirculation systems of a colony never did. Wufei identified the scents of wool, stale woodsmoke, roasting meat, fresh human perspiration, and a few other unidentifiable but not toxic things.

Had he been abducted from the Preventer's restroom? From a sealed room with no windows and Maxwell stationed right outside the door...Maxwell...

If this is one of Duo's infamous practical jokes...Wufei thought, darkly, then I may be going up on those assault charges, after all.

Enough speculation, he told himself, and returned to his assessment of the situation. He was sitting, slumped, in a padded chair of some kind. A cautious twitch of hands and feet showed that no one had tied him up.

All right, he was probably not a prisoner, at least not in the conventional sense. His confusion deepened.

One of the men was speaking again, and Wufei strained to understand what he was saying. It sounded like German, but somehow comprehension was slippery.

Then a phrase suddenly clicked everything into place, triggering rusty memories of the class he had taken in ancient European literature, and he finally knew what he was hearing. It sounded an awful lot like the Middle High German used by the Minnesänger, the medieval German troubadours.

But who would be speaking such an archaic language in this day and age…? Wufei pushed down his curiosity with an effort, and concentrated on what the man was saying.

Just to make things more complicated, the medieval German was sprinkled with words that sounded like Japanese, of all things.

Wufei's headache intensified as he frantically tried to translate what was being said.

"…it worked, I tell you! He has to be one of the exiled Mazoku--after all, didn't he come from the other world through the Gate of Water, just as the legends tell? Just as the present Maou did! And look at his black hair!"

Wufei finally opened his eyes, to find a group of men scrutinizing him intently. Some of the men were young, some middle-aged, but all dressed in old-fashioned clothing. None wore any electronic equipment of any kind--no phones, beepers, or earbuds. And not a gun in sight, though at least three of the men wore sheathed swords hanging at their hips.

"Black eyes!" exclaimed another man, this one older and bearded, in awed tones. His comment was taken up and repeated by the others. "Black eyes!"

"Black hair and black eyes!" the first speaker, a younger man, with a neatly-trimmed beard and an intense gaze declared. "He is Mazoku! How can you doubt it now?"

Wufei ran through a number of questions, discarded most of them as clichéd, and finally settled on: "Who or what are Mazoku?"

He said this slowly and carefully in modern German, not feeling confident enough to tackle the medieval version that he had, until today, only read and never actually heard spoken.

Luckily, German had not changed quite as much as English from its medieval to modern forms. He only hoped they could understand his modern German pronunciation.

Wufei had learned to read and write German at a young age, as part of his studies, but he had only started speaking it on a regular basis since joining the Preventers. French might be the preferred language of the restored European nobility, but German was the language of the businessmen and bankers, and a Preventer Special Agent had to be comfortable with both tongues, as well as Standard English.

"My lord, you're awake!" said the man who had been so passionately focused on Wufei's hair and eye color. "How do you feel?"

Wufei assessed him coolly. "What I feel is...confused," he growled. "Who are you people? And how did I get here?" He allowed his gaze to sweep over the other men crowding around. "You do realize that abduction and false imprisonment of a Preventer agent are Class One felonies under the Earth Sphere criminal code?"

As he spoke, he was painfully aware of his lack of weapons in the face of so many swords. Not that his body wasn't itself a weapon, honed by years of martial arts training, but he preferred to counter blade with blade, rather than blade with fist, which was a rather more unequal contest.

His captors–if that was what they were–looked confused at his words.

The young, bearded man raised his hands, and gave Wufei a rather sickly smile. "Abduction? My lord, you mistake us! We did but cast a spell for a new Maou to come save us in our hour of need, and you," he leaned forward, his smile transmuting into something real and shining that made Wufei's gut twinge in alarm, "answered that call!"

"Perhaps," Wufei said slowly, "you had better explain what's going on. And then we'll see if it's something I can help you with." And while you're talking, I'll see if I can figure out where you've brought me, and whether there's any way to escape.

There was a murmur of agreement, and a general shuffling as the group of men dragged benches and chairs from various points in the hall–which, Wufei noticed uneasily, was some sort of historic building, lacking even modern lighting–and arranged themselves around their captive.

The bearded man, who seemed to be the de-facto leader of the group despite his relative youth, cleared his throat and began. "My lord, ah--" He gave Wufei an inquiring glance.

"Chang. Preventer Special Agent Wufei Chang," he said, naming himself in the European style, with his personal name first and family name last.

"Lord Chang," the man continued, with a respectful nod. "My name is Sir Walther von Christ, second cousin to the Von Christs."

Wufei blinked, rapidly running through his mental register of the restored nobility of Europe, and coming up blank on a Von Christ family.

When he joined the Preventers, he had taken great care to memorize the list of the powerful families who had regained political power in the ruins of the European Union by first financing the building of the space colonies, and then exploiting them ruthlessly.

Wufei's efforts paid off from time to time, usually when a titled malfeasant would bellow, "Do you know who I am?" while being arrested.

Wufei could then call upon his scholarly memory to recite the suspect's titles and lineage, followed immediately by a reading of his rights and a firm wrestling of the stunned suspect into a set of handcuffs, and hence into a law enforcement vehicle.

It was always very satisfying, one of the few petty pleasures he allowed himself.

Walther von Christ was still speaking: "I, and the men you see around me, are all members of the foremost noble families of Shin Makoku, and we have come together because of our concern regarding the dangerous decline of our beloved kingdom."

Wufei blinked. Shin Makoku? Where the hell was that?

"...for some time now, we have been concerned about the fitness of the present Maou to rule our kingdom." von Christ was saying. He looked around at his companions. "He's very..."

"–young," said an older man, reprovingly.

"–naïve," said another, with a disgusted roll of his eyes.

"–much under the influence of the previous Maou's sons," finished von Christ. "And too soft-hearted to rule effectively at his tender age."

There was a general rumble of agreement, the other men nodding and murmuring things that mostly escaped Wufei.

"And so we began researching our options," von Christ continued. "We knew that some of the Mazoku went into exile in other worlds–the present Maou actually grew up surrounded by humans, thinking he was human himself!"

"And then he went and allied himself with humans, the traitor!" interjected a middle-aged man, whose belly hung over his sword-belt, nearly concealing the gilt-stamped leather.

"In any case," von Christ said, quellingly, "we found one group of Mazoku who retained their identity, refusing to intermingle with the humans around them, keeping themselves pure and apart–"

Wufei was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

"–even going into exile among the stars when forced out by the narrow-minded and ignorant of Earth," von Christ declaimed. "They called themselves...the Dragon Clan."

Wufei groaned silently. He had grown up hearing multiple versions of why his ancestors had left China, resisting the forced cultural integration and assimilation policies of the Earth Sphere Alliance, and how they had come to settle in one of the smaller colonies of the L5 cluster.

In none of the stories, however, was it ever even hinted that Wufei's ancestors were anything but human.

And if these "Mazoku" didn't consider themselves human, then what did they think they were? They looked human, and certainly sounded all-too-human with their plotting and list of grievances...

He had fallen into the hands of some sort of insane racial-supremacy revolutionary group, he decided. Better play along until I can figure out how to extricate myself and contact Maxwell and Yuy for backup.

"All right," Wufei said. "For the sake of argument, let's suppose that you're right, and that my ancestors originally came from...here." And the sooner he found out where here was, the happier he'd be. "And that they were, um, Mazoku rather than Old Earth Chinese. With my people having been gone so long, I am not, of course, acquainted with the present situation here in, ah, Shin Makoku. Tell me why you think I should help support a coup d'etat against your ruler."

Walther von Christ brightened at these words. "My lord Chang," he breathed, a disturbingly worshipful gleam in his pale gray eyes. "I hardly dared hope–"

Gotcha, Wufei thought grimly.

And then everyone started talking at one, interrupting each other:

"–lowered the tax rates on the peasants, how am I supposed to live on a reduced income–?"

"–not only that, he wants to make us pay taxes, can you imagine–"

"–hasn't been a good battle against the humans since he signed that damned treaty–"

"–couldn't agree more, my sword is getting rusty. No chance to–"

"–and none of our daughters stand a chance of become Maou-Consort with that damned pup Von Bielefeld clinging–"

"–and everyone knows that Gwendal von Voltaire is really running the kingdo–"

"Yes, that's right. The Maou is hardly even ever here–"

Their voices grew steadily louder and louder and less comprehensible as they each fought for verbal dominance.

Wufei studied them critically, ignoring the chill from his rapidly-drying uniform. It didn't take him long to determine that they were cast from the same mold of blowhard titled bullies who had helped oppress the colonies before the war.

His uncomfortably damp socks and shoes just added to his irritation as he listened to a laundry list of complaints that appeared to boil down to resentment of the curtailment of their hereditary privileges, their desire to exploit the commoners of this place, and the lack of wars to fight in and prove their manly prowess.

He began to twitch in boredom as the complaints went on...and on ...and on...

Finally, his patience ran out.

"ENOUGH!" he roared, in same voice that made Preventer cadets want to piss themselves with nerves during his field training sessions.

It worked on these men. They fell silent, waiting for his next words.

"Let me see if I've understood you all correctly," Wufei said, with icy precision. "Is anyone in this kingdom presently starving under the policies of your Maou?"

Von Christ scowled. "No, in fact the peasants are flaunting themselves by buying all sorts of good above their station, with our tax monies!'

"Hm. I see," Wufei frowned. "Is security threatened along your national borders?"

There was a spate of grumbling about rusty swords and battle glory. He cleared his throat, and repeated himself, more loudly.

"Well, no, not since the Maou's gone and made friends and alliances with all Shin Makoku's neighbors," Von Christ answered, resentfully.

"Depriving us of our right to live as warriors! That isn't fair!" someone added.

"And your ruler is now asking you to contribute to the welfare of the realm by paying a share of the taxes, where previously the nobility were exempt?"

"Yes! It's an outrage!" Von Christ's voice was instantly joined by a chorus of agreement.

"So, in summary," Wufei said, his voice dropping from chilly to positively arctic. "The realm is at peace and relatively prosperous, and your Maou and his councilors are enacting reforms to ensure the rights of the non-noble citizens?"

"Yes! I see you understand how outrageous and subversive this all is," von Christ said, eagerly. "Why, if we let the Maou have his way, in another ten years, the ancient noble families of Shin Makoku will be left powerless and reduced to the same rank as merchants and--and farmers." He all but spat that last word.

"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," Wufei informed them, coldly. "As one who fought for freedom and justice for the oppressed people of the space colonies, I approve of your Maou and his policies. Now, you will cease this foolishness and release me?"

The room fell silent and the atmosphere turned instantly ugly, as Wufei knew it would. He was itching to teach these entitled morons a lesson, and it looked like they were about to give him the opportunity to do just that.

Ten of them, and I'm unarmed. Pleading self-defense after I break every bone in their miserable bodies will be a piece of cake, he thought, with grim anticipation. That's if they aren't arrested for kidnapping and assault of a peace officer first.

"This one is just as useless as that boy, Sir Walther," said the oldest man in the group, a disgusted look on his weathered face.

Von Christ nodded. "Take him away and put him in one of the special cells. We'll execute them both as soon as the others arrive."

"You really think he can use maryoku, Sir Walther?" asked another man, looking doubtful. "I don't sense anything special about him. He seems awfully...human."

Maryoku? Now that didn't sound like any of the German words he knew, thought Wufei. Was maryoku some kind of martial art?

He curled his fists in anticipation, but forced himself to keep the rest of his body loose and relaxed, ready to respond to the first move.

"No use risking it, Sir Ulrich," von Christ, said briskly. "If he isn't really Mazoku, then no harm done. And if he is Mazoku, then, well, those houseki crystals will keep him from–"

Still talking, von Christ reached to grab Wufei's arm.

Wufei grabbed him instead, while von Christ was leaning slightly forward and off-balance, and used the man's own weight and forward momentum to send him flying overhead.

In a flash, Wufei was out of his chair, and ready for his next opponent.

He dodged the downward swing of a sword–a real weapon with a substantial forged blade, not a costuming accessory, he noted–and spun gracefully, his foot lashing out at the swordsman's midsection.

His opponent folded at the waist and toppled to the floor with the explosive oof! of someone who'd just had the wind knocked out of him.

Wufei completed his pirouette with a jab to the unprotected throat of someone trying to sneak up behind him.

Three down, seven to go, and he wasn’t even breathing hard, he thought, smugly. "Who's next?" he mocked, hoping to lure another fool into range of his feet or fists.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Walther von Christ had regained his feet, though his face was bloody from his unexpected nose dive into the stone floor. He had spread his hands and was chanting something about the Lords of Water. The others started smirking.

Now what? Wufei didn't stop to speculate what kind of prayer or invocation Von Christ was making.

Instead, he took advantage of the distraction it offered his opponents. He leaped lightly into the air, somersaulted, and came down with all his weight on his right heel, which caught the wrist of the nearest swordsman.

The man screamed as the bones in his hand and forearm shattered, and his weapon dropped with a loud clang to the flagstones.

Wufei landed, and smoothly swept up the weapon. The blade was a little too long, and incorrectly balanced for someone of his height and reach, but he could work around that.

The important thing was, he had just evened the odds a bit.

Not that he hadn't been holding his own with just his bare hands. "Which of you dishonorable dogs wants to try me next?" he taunted.

Angry men were often clumsy in their actions, and the next two would-be revolutionaries to fall were no exception.

Wufei controlled their dance right from the start, and a few more carefully-calculated insults, combined with a swift twist away from an enraged lunge, resulted in one of his attackers accidentally stabbing the other through the bicep of his sword arm.

Wufei easily disarmed the remaining man in the confusion that followed, and took him out of the action with a swift kick to the point of his chin.

Then an eerie rush of some great power across his battle-heightened senses alerted him to a new danger.

Wufei turned to face the source of the strange feeling, and saw von Christ with a triumphant grin on his face. His outstretched arms were surrounded by gravity-defying blobs of--was that water?–and his whole being hummed with power that leapt across Wufei's nerves with a sensation like sparks of static electricity.

Something inside of him resonated in response, but he didn't have time to think.

Von Christ flung his outstretched arms forward, as if hurling a set of twin daggers, and the water globules suspended in the air around him somehow formed a great, towering wave, which shot towards Wufei.

Pure reflex took over, and Wufei moved his sword into a blocking stance.

Heat sang and scraped along his over-sensitized nerves, and his skin prickled as if stung with a thousand needles.

Then the blade of his sword burst into flame.

Holy shit. What--?

Wufei had no more time to think before the wall of water hit his blade, extinguishing it with a great hissing and cloud of steam.

The miniature tsunami tore his weapon from his hand, and then he was choking, drowning in cold water where dry air had been only an instant before.

He was still trying to fight when the world went dark.