Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Journey of a Thousand Miles ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

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A special Thank You to Anne Olsen for beta reading.

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Journey of a Thousand Miles

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"

-Confucius-

Part 4

Cecilia had outdone herself with dinner. We started with creamy asparagus soup, followed by salad and freshly baked French bread. For the main course she prepared small, tender beef medallions with a wonderfully spicy sauce, young vegetables and a potato dish that smelled delicious and tasted even better. For dessert she had baked the best Jubilee Cake I had ever eaten.

All through the meal we engaged in small talk, or more precisely Zechs and Treize did most of the talking. Somewhat intimidated by their age and level of sophistication I mostly listened and only spoke when I was spoken to. They talked about business, politics and the social scene in London.
After dessert we retired to the sitting room. Xander had lit the fireplace and left a bottle of wine and glasses on the table before he discretely withdrew.

My cousin poured the drinks and surprised me when he handed me one of the glasses, filled about half with the deep red liquid. I had never been allowed to drink wine before, cider (1) was about the strongest drink I'd ever tried.
"Go ahead," Treize encouraged me as he noticed my hesitation. "You are not a child anymore, Quatre; you are a young gentleman and as such you deserve to try a gentleman's drink."

I took a careful sip from my glass and decided that the wine wasn't bad at all. The duke's words and the fact that I had been invited to sit down for after dinner conversation with him and his acquaintance made me all of sudden feel very "grown up".
"Tell me, how are things going with your art exhibition?" Treize asked his guest, and then directed toward me. "Zechs is an artist you must know; a painter."
"Is that so? How interesting." I don't think I had ever met a real artist before. "And there is an exhibition of your work?"
"Not quite yet," Zechs answered. "However, a gallery in London might be interested in showing some of my paintings this summer. Your see, I haven't been living here in England that long really and I'm afraid I haven't made myself a name yet. If it wasn't for Duke Khushrenada's influence and his speaking out for me I doubt that any gallery owner would have even bothered looking at my work."

"You are not giving yourself enough credit, Zechs," Treize remarked gently. "You are very talented and your paintings speak for themselves."
I have to admit that it surprised me to hear that Zechs was not native to England. For some reason I had assumed that he and my cousin were childhood friends who had grown up together.

At one point the duke excused himself and left the room for a short time.
"Your cousin is a truly remarkable man, Quatre," the blond aristocrat spoke after a moment of silence.
"Yes, I'm starting to realize that." I nodded in agreement. "He also seems a most kind and generous person. I'm glad I'm having the opportunity to get to know him. May I ask you something?"

"Please, go right ahead."

"I was just wondering. How did the two of you become friends? Did you serve together on the same ship?"
"No, I was never in the military. The first time I met the duke I was probably your age. A few years later our paths crossed again while he was on shore leave, recovering from injuries. We had the chance to spent some time together and that's when we truly became …um… friends."

"He was wounded?" I gasped. "During battle?"

"Twice I believe. I take it he never told you about that. That's just like him. He prefers not to talk about himself, although his memoirs would probably be more exciting to read than any novel."

"I'm sure they would. I can only imagine how exciting his life has been so far. I would love for him to tell me about it."

"Tell you about what?" the dukes asked as he walked back into the sitting room, a trace of humor in his voice. "What have you two been doing while I was gone? Is Zechs giving away all my little secrets?"

I'm not quite sure, but maybe it was the wine, that gave me the boldness to retort. "If Mister Merquise knows about them, they couldn't be really considered secrets, now could they?"

Zechs let out a short bark of laughter. "Handsome and sharp witted, are you sure he isn't a Khushrenada, Treize?"

My cousin chuckled. "Well, we do have the same grandfather." He refilled his and Zechs' wineglasses before taking his seat again.

"Treize why don't you entertain us with a story from your time in the navy. " the blond aristocrat suggested.

"Yes, please do, Cousin."

At first Treize refused but after some more pleading from Zechs and I he finally gave in.
"Very well, I think I just have the perfect story." He said, with a smirk in Zechs' direction.

:::Start of Treize's POV:::

Shortly after my promotion to Commander I had been assigned as first officer to the King George which was at that time stationed in the Mediterranean Sea, at Gibraltar. The island was full of high ranking British Military personnel and foreign ambassadors who had come for the inauguration of the first Governor, and the King George was only one of several Royal Navy vessels protecting the port and coastal waters during that time.

Our captain was attending the festivities that night and I had been left in command of the ship.
I was very young and very eager to prove my competence. I had just finished my round and sat down to complete my log entries for the day when I heard shouting and the sound of people running on the Forecastle deck. I hurried out of my cabin to discover the cause of the commotion. Before I even reached the deck I ran into the first Lieutenant who was already on his way to find me.
"What is going on, Lieutenant Nichols?"

"We caught somebody trying to climb aboard, Commander Khushrenada, Sir."

I followed Nichols onto the main deck, where two officers were restraining a third person, a young man, or rather a boy, thirteen or fourteen years of age perhaps.
"Commander, this is the trespasser," the lieutenant reported.

I nodded in acknowledgement and let my glaze wander over the young man. He was soaking wet, with seawater dripping from his clothes, and shivering in the cool night air as he glared at me from beneath his sodden fringe.
"I demand to be released immediately."
"You demand?" I asked in slight amusement. "What makes you think you are in a position to make any demands?"

"Do you even know who I am, Commander?" he snapped.
"Quite frankly," I explained to him calmly. "It is of little concern to me who you are. For all I care you could be the king of China and it wouldn't change the fact that you have come aboard this vessel without permission."
"China doesn't even have a king," my `prisoner' snorted.
"Thank you for pointing that out to me - Lieutenant Nichols, get him something dry to wear and take him to the wardroom. I'll follow shortly."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

I walked back to my cabin, deliberately taking my time to finish up my log entries before I went to see the prisoner. The wardroom was empty. Most of the officers that weren't on duty that night had taken shore leave, electing to eat in one of the local taverns rather than aboard. The young man was sitting at one of the tables; wearing an ill fitting, but at least dry, uniform. He looked up when I entered the mess. I ordered the two men who had been guarding him to wait outside before I directed my attention toward him.

"What is your name?"

He glared at me but didn't answer.
I stepped closer, stopping right in front of him.
"I don't think you realize how serious your situation is." I told him sharply. "I could turn you over to the port administrator and have them deal with you, or I could have you locked up myself. What happens to you depends on your cooperation. Do I make myself clear?"
He blinked and swallowed convulsively as he looked up at me. "Yes, Sir."
"Shall we try again, then? What is your name?"
He hesitated for just a moment before he answered. "Otto, Otto Fisher."
I nodded, satisfied for the moment, and turned to walk into the small kitchen area. On the hearth stood a pot filled with hot tea. I took 2 cups from the sideboard, filled them with the hot brew and handed one to the young man before I took a seat across from him.
Now that I had established my authority it was time to put away the whip and pull out the sugar.
"Tell me, Otto, what exactly were you trying to do? Surely you couldn't have seriously considered stealing from a military ship."
"I assure you, Sir, that I had no intention of stealing anything." He snorted as if offended by me even suggesting such a thing.
"Then, would you care telling me, what you were doing?"
He stared into his cup for a moment, before taking a small, caution sip, then he looked up at me.
"Would you believe me, Sir, if I told you it was just a bet? My friend dared me, saying he didn't believe that I had the courage to swim over to one of the ships and climb aboard."

I looked at him sharply. He was either was an excellent liar, or a fool - a very daring fool, but a fool nevertheless.

"So, what is going to happen to me now?" he asked.
To tell the truth, I wasn't sure myself. Of course I had no intention of turning him over to the port authorities, but maybe a night spent in the brig, and bread and water for breakfast would scare enough sense into him not to do anything so foolish again.
Before I was able to answer his question Lieutenant Nichols interrupted us, stating that he had to speak to me immediately.

I stepped out into the hall but didn't close the door behind me.
"What is it now, Lieutenant?" I wanted to know.
"Sir, you won't believe who just arrived."

"Are you going to tell me, Lieutenant? Or am I expected to guess?" I snapped, eyes narrowing in irritation.
"I'm sorry, Sir." Nichols snapped instinctively to attention. "His Majesty, King Stephan Peacecraft is requesting to see you."
"The king of Sank wants to see me?"
"Yes, Commander Khushrenada, Sir. - I believe his precise words were, I need to talk to the man in command of this vessel. I'm here to retrieve my son."
"His son?"
I turned my head to face our prisoner. The young man ducked his head a little under my stern look.
"His son?" I repeated with a little more emphasis than the first time.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't think it was wise to give you my real name."
"Any more surprises?" I asked.
"No, Sir, anything else that I told you was the truth."

***

The king arrived escorted by two men clad in the uniform of Sank's royal guard. He was a tall and broad- shouldered man, quite and impressive figure.

"Your Highness, please forgive the less than formal welcome." I spoke. "We were not prepared for the arrival of such an exalted guest as yourself."
"I believe I should be the one to apologize, for the inconvenience my son had caused with his actions." He answered. His head turned toward the prince, who was standing by my side, looking him up and down with a glare.
"What in the world are you wearing?"

"A navy uniform, I would say? My own clothes got wet." the young man explained.

"I just would like to know what you were thinking, Milliardo. Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions? And I don't only mean the consequences for yourself. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? Your mother and I were having dinner with the Duke and Duchess of Baden when I was informed about this latest folly of yours. And you think I would seriously consider letting you finish your education out of the country?"

"But father, that has nothing to do with…"
"That's enough, Milliardo," the king cut his son off. "I'm not going to argue with you, not now and not here. Go and wait outside, while I'm talking to Commander…?"

"Khushrenada," I offered.
The young prince gave me a curt nod before he left, and his Highness turned his attention back to me.

"I sincerely apologize for this incident, Commander Khushrenada."

"No harm, no fault," I told the king. "There is really no reason to be too harsh with your son. I think it is just normal that a young boy his age gets himself into trouble every now and then."

"With all due respect, Commander, I don't think you understand. Milliardo is not a normal boy. He is the crown prince of Sank and everything he does or doesn't do reflects on his country and me."

We talked for a little longer. I assured his Highness that I had no intention take any actions against his son in this matter, which was probably in the best interest for both our countries, and soon after the king and his entourage left.
A few hours later out captain returned from shore.
"How was your evening, Commander?" he wanted to know. " Very boring and uneventful I might imagine."
"To tell the truth, Sir, the evening wasn't as uneventful as one might think. We had quite a bit of excitement, including a visit by the king of Sank and his son the crown prince."
The captain laughed and slapped my shoulder. "Very good, Khushrenada, very good. I love a man with a sense of humor."

::: End of Treize's POV:::

Both Zechs and I chuckled as the duke had finished his tale.
"This was an excellent story, Cousin. Thank you for sharing it." I said. "However, I can't help but feel sorry for the young Prince Milliardo."

"Perhaps I should mention that when Prince Milliardo returned to the King George the next day to apologize for the trouble he had caused, he was given a grand tour of the ship."

"Still, it sounded to me like the king was more concerned about his own reputation than his son. It can't be easy to grow up as a crown prince. One would think his father would be the one person to understand that."

Treize and his blond guest exchanged a strange look with one another before Zechs said in a rather somber voice: "Yes, one would think so, indeed."

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T.B.C.

Author's Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)

Unlike the non-alcoholic drink we know as cider in the US, in Europe cider has always been (since Roman times I believe) a fermented apple drink with a low level of alcohol.

Wardroom = officer's mess