Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Skywind ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Gundam Wing, and I do not make any money from the writing of this fanfiction.

 

*Milliardo and Anne Une (Annabel) may seem a bit OOC right now. I promise there's a point to it, it's just going to take some plot development to get there.

 

Chapter 6

 

Milliardo watched his apprentice and cousin interact with the Winner boy, and couldn't help but wince in sympathy for Winner. There was such a thing as going too far in acting the fool.

 

“Lord Peacecraft.”

 

Milliardo passed a hand over his seeing crystal, blanking it, before turning to face the servant who stood nervously by his door. “I asked not to be disturbed,” he said slowly.

 

A cloaked figure pushed past the servant into the darkened room. “Do not blame your man,” a soft, rich alto advised. “He had no choice in the matter.”

 

Milliardo recognized the voice and sighed. He glanced at his servant, waved a hand briefly in dismissal. As the man gladly made good his escape, the cloaked figure closed the door firmly.

 

Milliardo gestured toward a chair. “Care for a seat, your majesty?”

 

The figure threw back her hood, revealing a lovely woman. Honey-colored hair hung in curls about the woman's proudly sculpted face, for once loose and unrestrained. Large, almond-shaped grey eyes shone bright and sharp in the woman's face. Her figure was perfect, sculpted by diet and exercise and - in secret - martial arts. Annabel Une of Lantall possessed the fresh beauty of a woman just south of her twentieth year, yet Milliardo knew the woman to be in her middling thirties.

 

Annabel sat on the chair offered, moving with unconscious grace, not the grace of a lady, but the silent feline grace of a fighter. Not many were able to tell the difference, but that grace spoke volumes to the few who had studied martial arts and hand-to-hand combat to the same extent that the queen had.

 

“So,” she said, her brilliant, razor eyes focused on Milliardo. “You have found another Winner for me?”

 

Milliardo, like most, was discomforted under that gaze, but was careful not to show it. “I really must see about buying some of your intelligence agents away from you,” he remarked in a low drawl. “You have quite the network to have discovered my activities this soon.”

 

Annabel cocked an eyebrow sardonically at him. “You have sent your strongest apprentice - the one you intend to be your heir - to the wilds of the southern forests,” she said. “Surely it's not a pleasure jaunt, with his mastery exams so soon.”

 

There was a pause, then, “No,” Milliardo admitted quietly.

 

Annabel waited.

 

There was another pause, then Milliardo sighed. “You wouldn't want to just let me handle this one on my own, would you?” he asked in an almost plaintive tone.

 

Annabel cocked her eyebrow further. “He must be powerful,” she commented. “The only time you ever want to work alone is when the matter deals with a tremendous amount of magic.”

 

Milliardo nearly groaned at his slip. “Whoever said it was a he?” Milliardo said, giving in.

 

Annabel smiled. “Oh, I have my ways. Are you going to tell me about her, or am I going to have to find out the hard way?”

 

Milliardo eyed her, then spoke in a tone of more seriousness. “I cannot stop you from watching this man, your majesty, but I warn you, tread carefully. There are many shadows that dog the footsteps of this particular Winner.”

 

Annabel's eyes grew sharper in intensity. “So, he has already made some enemies?”

 

“More than the usual, I think,” Milliardo said quietly.

 

“Meaning…?”

 

Mandros took a seat of his own and pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to figure out how much to tell this overly curious queen without putting her in the same danger he had just witnessed the Skywind girl face.

 

Annabel eyed her long-time friend carefully. She knew Milliardo kept much from her to protect her, knew that he was deep in hidden counsels with the others mages of his caliber for a matter of great import, perhaps of imminent value to her country. She trusted Milliardo with her life, but she did not trust him to keep her informed of things relevant to her rule, as the mage had a habit of wanting to fix things himself before the problem reached national proportions. Her intelligence networks provided some counter to that, but only to a point. She would have to rely on her own skills of persuasion to get Milliardo Peacecraft to tell her just what the hell was going on.

 

“Milliardo,” Annabel said, schooling her expression and tone in calm. “I am not a fool, do not treat me like one. If there is something you fear to tell me because you think the knowledge may place me, or another, in danger, then say so, not dance around the subject. Please. I have to deal with enough evasion and deception at court.”

 

Milliardo looked quickly at his friend, then sighed. “There is much I do not wish to speak of concerning the Winner, but it is not because it would place you in danger,” he half-lied. “The suspicions I harbor concerning his parentage and power are only that - suspicions, at the moment. He appears to have a great many enemies, one of which has power over minor demons.”

 

Annabel breathed in sharply. “You know this for a fact?”

 

Milliardo nodded. “I sent Duo after him so I could observe them without the Winner's own powers warning him of my eyes. Duo's power overshadows mine, so I am able to watch over them both without the Winner's brand of magic realizing what is happening.”

 

Annabel's eyebrow arched again. “But surely she can feel the power in your nephew.”

 

Milliardo shook his head. “Duo has a singular gift for concealing what he is,” he reminded Annabel. “Just because he rarely bothers with the mask in your presence does not mean it cannot exist when called upon. In addition to his extraordinary acting skills, he has a great power over illusion. The Winner boy believes him to be a wannabe mage, an inept fool trying to do magic because it's `the popular thing.'”

 

Annabel leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowed. “How is Duo to protect him, if he must maintain the mask of fool at all times with him?”

 

Milliardo smiled faintly. “Doing things without seeming to do them is another of his many talents. Please don't ever tell him I said the word `many' in connection to his talents, by the way.”

 

Annabel returned his faint smile, then sobered as the memory of Milliardo's previous words hit her. “So your suspicions were correct about the eims? Someone is controlling them?”

 

Milliardo nodded grimly. “Or something. Until I have more information, I cannot discuss this any further with you, your majesty. I am sorry.”

 

“The apology is not necessary from you, old friend,” Annabel said gently, rising. She held out her hand and he gripped it for a moment in the gesture of old comrades. “You will, though, inform me of any information you receive on the Winner.” It was not a request. It was a command.

 

Milliardo looked at his friend for a moment, then rose and bowed. “But of course.”