Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Between Two Worlds ❯ In a Sticky Predicament ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou. Tomo Takabayashi does.

 

Summary: Young Wolfram's world is thrown into chaos when his uncle Waltorana attempts to gain his custody from Celi.

 

Title: Between Two Worlds

 

Ch.4 In a Sticky Predicament

 

Conrart gripped the bouquet he held in his hands firmly but gently and smiled softly down onto the assorted flowers: a dozen Beautiful Wolframs nestled among a few Celi's Red Sighs, Secretive Gwendals, and Conrart Standing Talls.

 

His little brother was such a narcissist, he thought fondly. If anything would make him feel better, it would certainly be seeing these flowers when he woke up.

 

The flowers which he had gathered together and managed to salvage from the storm-struck wreck that had once been the gardens…

 

He had been so afraid when had found out what had happened in the gardens. He had almost lost his little brother! What kind of life would that be like, with no big green eyes begging to be comforted or paid attention to, or gazing at him in adoring hero worship? No more tucking in and telling stories to a small energetic blond or waking him at night so they could both launch a sneak attack on an unsuspecting sleeping Gwendal. Who would he look after? Who else could need or he possibly share his protection with?

 

Conrart stopped right outside the door from his little brother's room and took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn't want to alarm Wolfram with looking worried or upset. He was here to verify for himself the report that his younger sibling was alive and recovering from his near-disaster with his element and possibly entertain Wolfram, who was no doubt probably throwing one of his infamous temper tantrums at having to stay in bed all day.

 

Finally regaining his composure, Conrart pushed open the door and entered, smiling broadly as he opened his mouth in greeting…

 

The words he had been about to utter died before they even made it to his throat and the bouquet he had so carefully picked slipped out of his numb grasp and fell to the floor, scattering loose flowers in its wake.

 

Conrart stared at the empty bed, completely devoid of anything: pillows, covers, sheets, but most especially, Wolfram.

 

Thoughts raced madly across the boy's mind. Why would Wolfram not be in his bed? Hadn't he been told that all his little brother needed was a period of rest to recuperate? Why was the bed stripped completely bare? Wasn't that only done when a person…died?

 

The room started to reel and tilt around him and Conrart's vision blurred as he started taking in short, panicked breaths.

 

A noise to his right shattered him out of frozen state and Conrart jerked his head towards the sound to view his mother seated in a rocking chair over by the window, her face turned as she gazed outside.

 

Celi had not sat in that rocking chair for over thirty years. It had only been used when she had nursed Wolfram as a baby.

 

“MOTHER!” Conrart exclaimed rushing over to her side. “Where's Wolfram?! Where is he?!”

 

Celi said nothing but continued to keep her vigil at the window, and the only sign of movement she made was the wild shaking of her hands as she clutched something tightly between them.

 

It was a stuffed animal: a badly deformed blue dragon, knitted by Gwendal for his newest little brother, blackened and ragged over the passage of time and Wolfram's rough horse-play.

 

It hadn't been that long ago, Wolfram couldn't get to sleep without his “Liesel”.

 

“Mother, please,” Conrart pleaded, kneeling down and placing his head on his mother's lap. “Where's Wolfram? Tell me.”

 

Something warm and wet plopped down on his head and he looked up to see the traces of twin rivulets of tears from Celi's green eyes and the sparkling of unshed ones yet to come.

 

“Gone,” Celi said, her gaze never leaving the view outside from the window, as she repeated herself. “Gone”.

 

What did she mean by “gone”, Conrart wondered, fear gnawing at him. Surely not…

 

“Conrart,” came a voice from the doorway and the boy turned to see Gwendal standing in the threshold with a very odd expression upon his face: sadness and perhaps a bit of pity as well.

 

“Aniue,” Conrart said, getting up from kneeling. “What's happened? Where's Wolfram? What does Mother mean he's `gone'?”

 

“He's with Waltorana. They're heading back to Bielefeld now,” Gwendal explained, his voice never once faltering from nonchalant tone he spoke in, although his knuckles has turned white from his hands gripping his arms which were crossed over his chest.

 

Conrart stared, unable to believe his own ears. It couldn't be true! Not when Celi had seemed so dead set against it and Shinou himself had declared that was the last option if the trial period he had graced their mother with had failed. Had Wolfram's perilous bungle with his element tipped the scales of the Great One's judgment? Or had Waltorana simply bullied his sister-in-law into giving in to what he wanted? No, their mother was not one to be intimidated by scare tactics, but what was the reasoning behind Celi's decision then?

 

“I brought this…on myself,” came a soft whisper and Conrart turned to see his mother no longer gazing outside the window but staring with unfocused eyes at the space in front of her.

 

“Who…puts herself…before her own children?” Celi asked no one in particular. “Who is so blind not to notice when one of her children needs something other than toys and presents? I …have been selfish. So selfish…”

 

“Mother, you haven't selfish!” Conrart protested, placing his hands over one of hers, which clutched his little brother's stuffed animal. “You've been the best mother anyone ever had! How could you let Waltorana take Wolfram? He belongs here with us!”

 

“I…deserve this,” Celi said, not appearing to hear what was said or even be aware of her surroundings. “I wasn't able to keep him from harm. I'm unable…to keep a lot of things from happening…”

 

Conrart suddenly realized that perhaps it wasn't just Wolfram his mother was talking about anymore.

 

“He'll be better off with his uncle,” Celi said, speaking to the air again. “He adores him and Waltorana loves him like a true son. He'll be better off…”

 

Then the Demon Queen turned her head towards the window once more and lapsed into silence, Wolfram's blue dragon falling out of her limp grasp onto the floor by her feet.

 

Conrart turned away, unable to bear seeing his mother in such a broken state, and ran out of the room, pushing past forcefully by Gwendal.

 

His older brother caught his arm as he attempted to flee and asked, “Where exactly do you think you're going?”

 

“I'm going after Wolfram and I'm bringing him back!” Conrart shouted, struggling to break free out of the strong grip.

 

“Don't be a fool!” Gwendal snapped out harshly. “They're a good hour ride ahead of you, and even if you do catch up with them, what do you propose you do? Challenge Waltorana to a duel? Or get down on your knees and beg for him to change his mind? I'm sure you groveling in the dirt before him is something the bastard would enjoy very much!”

 

“At least I'm actually going to try and do something about it, unlike you and mother!” Conrart yelled, angry tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as much as he attempted to stop them.

 

Gwendal froze for a moment, although his stoic mask never faltered, then he let go of his brother's arm and watched as Conrart took off down the hallway. The mazoku stood there in the same spot even when he heard the loud commotion of cries and shouts of alarm from outside in the courtyard. Gwendal remained where he was, until even the sounds of a horse's neighing and the wild pounding of hooves had long since faded into the distance.

 

Sometimes life dealt out hard circumstances that were unavoidable. It was a lesson Conrart was going to have to learn sooner or later.

 

oOoOoOo

 

It was nearing dusk and slowly the setting of the sun crept upon the land transforming all the earthly tones into varying shades of crimson, orange and a golden splendor, making the trees and grass seem ablaze with fire.

 

Fire, Waltorana mused, staring at the coppery scenery from the carriage's window. To think that his own nephew was almost killed by his own element…an end like that would be a shameful embarrassment for any vonBielefield, who took the utmost pride in being masters of their elements. That, however, was not the reason for Waltorana's anger. The mazoku was furious, no doubt, but it was at himself, for being stupid and foolish enough to leave his nephew in the clutches of that blithering harpy he called his mother. A cat possessed more nurturing instincts that amorous wench.

 

Contrary to what that oaf, Stoffel had accused him of, he had not visited Covenant Castle on behalf of the Ten Aristocrats to survey how the kingdom was being run. Really, if they were all to blind to see that that woman would bring the walls crumbling down around her during her reign, they were just as idiotic as she was. Neither had he been there to usurp the present Maou from her throne and place himself or one of his relatives upon it, although, now that he thought about it, that notion did have merit. Wolfram would make a much better Maou than his mother, however, he was still quite young. It would be best to wait a couple of decades until his nephew came of age and had been cued in the role and mannerisms of how to rule. Now that the boy was safely out of reach from being corrupted from his mother's ludicrous whims and reprobate habits, he would truly be able to grow in his power and character! He had seen the way Wolfram had been sheltered and babied by his mother and two older brothers. Most assuredly, they would keep on in such a manner even when Wolfram reached adult-hood. There was nothing wrong with being loved so greatly, however coddling such as that often produced tremendously spoiled children. Although he had never actually seen Wolfram act up in front of him, he had heard the servants' hushed whisperings in the castle. It seemed his nephew had earned quite a few titles for his infamous temper tantrums: Selfish Pooh, Little Lord Brat, and so on.

 

Yes, he was definitely doing the right thing separating him from his mess of a family and the bad reputation he was already gaining. A future Maou couldn't afford to have entanglements like that hanging about him.

 

But still, training Wolfram for that purpose was not why Waltorana had come to the Covenant Castle and had vied so hard for his nephew's custody.

 

He had always wanted to raise Wolfram. Perhaps he had felt guilty at his brother not desiring to have a child and refusing to have anything to do with his own son. Perhaps he had felt responsible for taking care of the boy who never really knew his father that well before the father died all too soon and too young.

 

Perhaps it was because Waltorana himself, had come to view his nephew as his own son over time and could no longer swallow the bitter jealousy of seeing him so utterly happy with the woman he so despised.

 

Perhaps the title Selfish Pooh did not just apply to Wolfram, but to all vonBielefelds in general.

 

The carriage bounced a little too roughly over a rough patch in the road and Waltorana was jostled out of his thoughts along with it. A small head slumped across his shoulder and onto his chest and the mazoku blinked and looked down to see Wolfram, bundled up securely in the blankets and sheets from his bed, his complexion still a little grey but now sporting hints of rosy cheeks. He was snoring contentedly, even drooling slightly, while a gentle evening breeze wafted through the carriage's window and tousled the boy's golden locks.

 

Waltorana smiled fondly and twirled one soft curl between his gloved fingertips.

 

He honestly had expected to be at the castle for several weeks before he could figure out some way to get around Shinou's decision. He had been certain Cecile was going to slip up and he would be there to see her utmost demise, however, he had never once imagined she would simply relent and allow him his way. He supposed Wolfram's elemental incident may have been the straw that broke the stack, that his combined preaching. It was probably one of her spontaneous resolutions, one which she would undoubtedly change her mind in a few hours or so, but he had seized the moment of victory when it was presented and left almost immediately with his prize.

 

He now possessed full guardianship of his nephew. Even if the Maou regained her senses and sent the guard after him, there was nothing she could do legally.

 

Wolfram was his.

 

“Lord vonBielefeld! There's a rider approaching!” announced one of the men in his traveling party.

 

“So soon, Cecile?” Waltorana murmured surprised. It was only an hour since they had left the castle. He had thought he would get a day's start ahead at least. His sister-in-law must be more distressed than he thought.

 

“My Lord?” asked his man waiting for instructions.

 

“Stop the coach,” Waltorana said, getting up and carefully laying Wolfram down across the seat so he would not wake him. “I'll deal with this myself.”

 

The mazoku stepped out of the carriage and waited with crossed arms as he watched the rider in the distance become larger and larger, until at last he came into full view and reined his horse in.

 

Waltorana raised an inquiring eyebrow surprised. Perhaps Cecile hadn't tried to recall her decision after all. If she had, she surely picked a poor choice sending her mulling half-human whelp to do the job.

 

“What do you want, boy?” Waltorana asked, emphasizing the last word, to show there were a few more colorful examples he could address him as.

 

The boy dismounted but kept a firm grip on the reigns as he stared Waltorana straight in the eye and said, “I want my brother.”

 

“Go home, boy. Don't meddle in adult affairs you don't understand,” Waltorana stated, turning to leave.

 

“I understand things better than you think,” he heard the young Weller's voice say. “I understand that Mother isn't the best Maou to rule and that she lets Uncle Stoffel have his way more that he should have. And I understand that you think you are doing Wolfram a favor taking him away from us, but really, he's just a tool for you to use.”

 

Waltorana tilted his head over his shoulder and half-smiled, “If that's what you want to think, go ahead. Now, begone, I have better things to do than make small talk with whiny children like you.”

 

“Wolfram's happy where he is!” Conrart shouted, a hot rage swelling up in his chest.

 

Unbidden, the hand holding the reins of his horse fell open and strayed to the hilt of his sword which had begun accompanying him everywhere. The vonBielefeld guardsmen noted the movement and copied it warningly.

 

Waltorana glanced behind him and laughed, “Really, now, men, are you that intimidated by a weakling human spawn? I highly suggest you do not draw that toy of yours, boy. Demon Queen's son or not, you will show an Aristocrat the proper respect or you will get sound thrashing!”

 

“What do you propose you do? Challenge Waltorana to a duel? Or get down on your knees and beg for him to change his mind?”

 

Conrart's hand shook in restrained fury as Gwendal's words drifted back to him. No, he would not beg. He wouldn't give the man the satisfaction. And however much he wished to gut him open, he was still several lessons from being able to defeat a whole group of guards single-handed.

 

But one day...one day he would be the best swordsman there ever was! And when that day came, Waltorana had best watch his back.

 

Waltorana nodded as Conrart slowly let his hand drop from his sword's hilt, appeased at the sight, and motioned for his men to get moving.

 

“Wait,” came a soft voice and the mazoku turned back yet again to see the boy's face no longer swarming with hatred and anger, but sadness and despair.

 

“Can I…can I see him, please?” Conrart asked, his voice pleading. “I never got…to say good-bye”.

 

Waltorana stared at him for a long while with a measuring look, before he finally spoke his answer into the air.

 

“Yes, it is unfortunate that half-mazoku age quicker than full-bloods. Still, I suppose you'll live long enough to see him again when he returns to show everyone what a true Maou should be, that is, if you don't die ill-fatedly, challenging your betters and superiors to a hopeless duel!”

 

The vonBielefeld guards laughed uproariously at this and Waltorana, as he stood, one foot on the steps of the carriage, commented, “My nephew is sleeping. I do not see any reason to disturb his rest.”

 

“Are you going to tell him?”

 

Waltorana paused and directed an inquisitive eye upon the figure of the boy standing forlornly in the road, despondent for all to see and with eyes that had once been burning with a determined fire minutes before, now so achingly hollow.

 

The mazoku stared, knowing what the question being asked was about, and when he finally answered, listeners might have mistaken the response for pity or compassion, however for Waltorana, it was a simple matter of fact realization.

 

“I don't think there's any need to destroy the boy's delusions he may have concerning you,” Waltorana said, his eyes narrowing. “I'm sure you and all humans alike will over time reveal their true colors. I'd rather he found that out for himself first hand.”

 

Then he climbed into the carriage and soon the traveling company was off with a steady rolling pace, leaving Conrart in a cloud of dust.

 

It was twilight now and the brazen radiant colors of the earth had all faded into a pale shimmering blue, while the night sky had been enshrouded in a deep purple hue which quickly turned a dark grey color as storm clouds gathered.

 

Conrart remained in the same spot and watched the carriage disappear from his line of vision, even when the warning rumbles of thunder boomed and flashes of lightning flared overhead.

 

He stayed, even when the heavens opened their floodgates and let lose a torrent of rain upon the land below.

 

And through the raging downpour, it was unable to determine raindrops from tears streaking down the boy's face.

 

oOoOoOo

 

The vonBielefeld coach's windows had been tightly closed to keep the cold air and stinging rain out. Waltorana could not help feeling sympathetic to his men who riding in the awful weather.

 

If I were a more poetic person, I might think the gods are grieving in tune with the Demon Queen's melancholy mood, he mused.

 

The carriage gave a violent lurch forward then before rolling in the opposite direction a few paces with a loud squelching sound, causing its passengers inside to slam backwards into their seats quite hard.

 

A hand knocked against the window and Waltorana pushed it open and inquired with an annoyed countenance, “What is going on out there?”

 

“The carrriage's wheels have gotten stuck in the mud, sir!” one of his guards explained with an apologetic face. “Even if we do get them clear, they'll just get stuck again with the road the way it is!

 

“There's also the possibility of falling trees to be wary of, sir” stated another guard.

 

“What are you suggesting? We just stay out here all night like sitting ducks until the storm passes then?” Waltorana said, his voice heavy with irony.

 

“We passed an inn not too far behind, My Lord,” one of his men offered. “We could spend the night there and set out in the morning when everything's calm.”

 

Waltorana's lip curled up in distaste at the very idea of staying in such a common place among lesser people, however the only other option was to return to Covenant Castle on horseback. He would not give Cecile another chance to take back what she had willingly given.

 

It might be hazardous to Wolfram's health if he spent the night in a damp coach though.

 

“Very well,” he said reluctantly, picking his sleeping nephew up, making sure he was securely bundled up in his blankest, and wrapping his cloak around him, before he stepped out into the soaking rain and gusts of wind.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Wolfram woke up confused and just a little bit frightened. This room with wooden walls, rotting in some places, bare with little furniture, its shabby bed and scratchy sheets were not his room. A window to his left held no fancy curtains with tassels and was streaked with dirt, and the view outside showed that it was night and a storm was blowing. The room was very dark with only a small lamp lit, its glow casting odd-figured shadows to dance eerily about.

 

The door to the room suddenly opened and Wolfram sat up and stared wide-eyed at the outline of the person unable to see their identity until they stepped fully into the light.

 

“O-Ojiiue?” Wolfram asked, relieved to see the familiar face.

 

“Ah, Wolfram, you're awake,” his uncle said, smiling charmingly as he took off his cloak which was thoroughly drenched and hung it on the bedpost and flung his cap onto the bed next to his nephew's. “I'd thought you'd sleep till morning.”

 

“Where, where am I?” Wolfram questioned blinking, uncertain if this was a dream or not. “Where's mother?”

 

Waltorana frowned slightly at the mention of Celi, then cleared his expression as he walked around his bed to Wolfram's and kneeled down so he was eye to eye with the boy, “She's at the castle. She agreed to let me take you to vonBielefeld. We're staying at this location they have the gull to call an inn until the storm dies down.”

 

“I get to visit you for awhile?” Wolfram asked excitedly, not understanding.

 

Waltorana hesitated, wondering if he should correct him. He wasn't sure how Wolfram would take the news, and didn't want to jeopardize the boy's already fragile state. He was still weak from abusing his maryoku. The last thing he needed was his nephew to launch into an impressive fit. Not only would he become more ill, but he would probably bring this decrepit shoddy inn to its foundation in flames.

 

“Yes, for quite a long while,” Waltorana replied, settling for a half truth. He would explain the situation fully when they were back at his home.

 

“Go back to sleep, Wolfram,” he said, and swept one hand through the young boy's flaxen hair affectionately. “You need to rest some more.”

 

Wolfram lay back down and let his uncle tuck him in, his gaze never leaving the older mazoku. Waltorana glanced up and smiled in bemusement at his nephew's close examining of him.

 

“What is it?” he asked puzzled.

 

“Are you lonely, Ojiiue?” Wolfram questioned, his green eyes blinking large and owlishly in the dim lighting. “Because you don't have to be. I'm here.”

 

With that, Wolfram leaned up and planted a soft peck on his uncle's cheek, before rolling over and quickly drifting into peaceful slumber.

 

Waltorana remained in his kneeling position by the foot of his nephew's bed for a few moments, before getting up and going to stand by the window to watch the never-ending cloudburst from the sky batter mercilessly against the glass pane.

 

Lifting one hand to his cheek, he voiced out loud to his reflection, vivid with the flashes of lightning, “Lonely…I wonder…”

 

oOoOoOo

 

It was amazing, Waltorana speculated, that his nephew could seem so adorable the night before, however, in the morning it was as if he had been replaced with a changeling child.

 

First had been the incident with one of the serving girls at the inn. Waltorana had gone out early with a few of his guards, leaving the rest behind to see no harm befell his nephew, to see what damage the storm had dealt to the road they were going to be traveling and if their carriage could be unstuck from the now dried mud. After setting some of his men to clear the bramble and fallen debris upon the path and receiving word that the wheels would probably be dislodged in an hour, Waltorana returned to the inn and stumbled onto the scene of the serving girl fleeing down the stairs from the rooms above screeching hysterically and flinging herself into the inn-keeper's broad chest where she continued her ear-shattering caterwauls.

 

From what audible sayings she managed through her gulping sobs, it appeared she had thought the guests had left already and had gone to clean the rooms as it was her duty. However, when she had entered she had noticed the room was still occupied by a small blond body in the bed.

 

“He looked like so cute! Like a little angel dreaming! He even made little purring sounds! I just had to touch him!” the girl was shrieking now. “I only pet his head! Then he attacked meeeeeeeee! WAAAAAAH!”

 

Further interrogating from both Waltorana and the inn-keeper, they learned that the “little angel dreaming” had become quite grumpy and violent at being awoken and had bit the servant girl's hand right through the skin. Waltorana wondered if his nephew always awoke in such a manner, however he did think his actions were highly justifiable this time. The stupid girl had got what she deserved. Perhaps this would teach her to not bother her guests and leave them in peace. She should be glad she hadn't provoked Wolfram enough for him to strike up his maryoku.

 

The inn-keeper was trying to console her, but she was baying like a cowardly dog, “But he bit me! I might have caught a disease!”

 

It only took once chilling ominous glare from Waltorana to shut her into silence and send her scurrying hurriedly away. After that, the mazoku had looked around, searching for the guards who had been supposed to watch over the boy. He spotted them sitting at a table, devouring the food which had been prepared for them.

 

A fist slamming down hard upon the table's surface interrupted their pleasant meal and upset their appetites as they stared at their lord's vexed demeanor.

 

“If you can not follow through with the simple task I ask of you, then you can join the rest of the company sweating outside and toiling slavishly!” he barked out, sending the men saluting hastily and scrambling for the door in a panicked state.

 

Waltorana heaved a sigh of exasperation and pinched the skin between his eyebrows in an attempt to spirit away the headache he felt coming on.

 

The day wasn't even half way over.

oOoOoOo

 

Waltorana raised an incredulous eyebrow at his nephew seated across from him at the table or more correctly, the petulant pout which was firmly planted upon the boy's lips as he stared at the dishes laid out for them to eat.

 

“Is anything wrong with the food?” he asked, finding himself terribly amused.

 

Wolfram looked as if he was fighting an internal battle within himself. His mouth was quivering at the corners, his face had flushed an angry shade of red, and he had curled his hands into tight little fists as he glowered sourly at the meal before him. No doubt he was not at all pleased with the inn's choice of food and was debating whether or not he was upset enough to pitch a tantrum. Waltorana found himself surprised to be waiting in eager anticipation. He had never witnessed a Little Lord Brat incident before. He suspected that his nephew wanted to appear like a good boy for his uncle, however this breakfast seemed to be pushing the child's limits.

 

“Wolfram?” he asked, wondering if his voice had splintered the fragile wall holding the boy's emotions back.

 

Wolfram jumped a little at hearing his name and blinked at his uncle as if just realizing he was there. His presence seemed to resolve something for the child's next actions were to set his mouth into a firm line, take a deep breath, pick up a spoonful of the grey glop which was supposedly porridge, and swallow the lump with a dreadful but determined grimace.

 

Waltorana chuckled, placing his hands under his chin as he watched his nephew delightedly. The serving girl may have been an air-headed wench, but she was right. Wolfram was very cute indeed.

 

oOoOoOo

 

The carriage rolled along through the now-cleared road, wobbling a bit unevenly, but at least they were finally moving, away from Celi and Covenant Castle and away from the inn and its extremely unsatisfactory service.

 

Wolfram had at last snapped out of sluggish, fussy behavior and was a very different sight from the pale ashen child he had been the day before. At the moment, he was sitting next to uncle, swinging his short legs to and fro happily as he giggled at the various shapes and forms his uncle's fire element changed to as he manipulated it to entertain him.

 

“When we arrive at my manor, I shall teach you how to do this as well,” Waltorana stated as he kindled a small flaming bird into existence.

 

“But I already know how to do that!” Wolfram bragged, puffing out his chest proudly. “Mother said I made a fire lion bigger than Elizabeth's!”

 

Waltorana raised an eyebrow at that and opened his mouth to say something, before thinking better of it.

 

“Well, I shall perfect your skills then, O Mighty One! Would you like that, Master of Greatness?” he inquired jestingly, reaching over and tickling his nephew on the stomach.

 

Wolfram howled with laughter, his legs kicking out in vain as he tried to escape his uncle's clutches, and Waltorana laughed heartily hugging the boy close, startling himself even.

 

He couldn't remember the last time he truly laughed…it must have been when his brother was still alive…

 

All of a sudden, the carriage gave a tremendous jolt as if it had been slammed with a battering ram and there came frenzied shouts from his men and shrill horses' cries outside.

 

For a moment, Waltorana believed the wheels had gotten stuck in the mud once again. Then he realized it was not storming…and the sounds of swords clashing were filling the air.

 

Curious, Wolfram made to poke his head outside the window to see what the loud ruckus was, but he was jerked him backwards abruptly. Landing on the coach's floor with a startled yelp, he stared up at his uncle puzzled.

 

“Ojiiue?”

 

“Quiet,” Waltorana ordered, drawing the window's curtains quickly.

 

Wolfram watched as his uncle stood up and lifted up the cushion where the two had been sitting seconds before. There was an empty space below the seat and Waltorana motioned the boy to climb into it.

 

“Hurry,” he said, his voice issuing in a sense of urgency.

 

Heart pounding and his mouth suddenly dry, Wolfram did as bidden and squatted down in the small hiding place, circling his arms around his knees.

 

“No matter what happens, you stay here and do not come out,” Waltorana commanded in a grim tone, his eyebrows furrowed and his face stark white.

 

“Ojiiue!” Wolfram cried softly, but his uncle had already placed the cushion back on top of the secret compartment and he was left alone in the darkness.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Waltorana flung open the door to the carriage in a furious rage. Whoever it was who dared to attack his company, they would soon feel his wrath. The mazoku stepped outside and paused, his gaze falling to his unconscious men lying scattered across the forest road. The horses were gone; either they had run off in the ambush or had been taken. The surrounding area seemed deserted and was deathly silent, however Waltorana wasn't one to be fooled by false appearances.

 

“You can come out now, all three of you,” he ordered, letting his arms fall to his side to show he had not drawn any weapons yet.

 

“You sensed our presence. Pretty smart for a mazoku, but who would expect anything less from the leader of the Ten Aristocrats?” came a voice from a figure suddenly melted away from the shadow of a tree and stepped into the light.

 

Waltorana was aware of two other people approaching slowly, one from his left side and one from behind, but he remained where he stood and focused on the person in front of him.

 

It was a woman with long flowing red hair, violet eyes, garbed in a purple cape and brandishing a staff with a glinting red stone.

 

Houseki crystals…so that was why his men had been knocked out so easily. He would have to be careful. He couldn't just openly attack her with his maryoku.

 

“What do you want?” Waltorana inquired, stalling for time while he searched for a way out of this situation. “And tell your lackeys trying to sneak up on me they're about as quiet as a Bad Omen bird.”

 

The woman laughed at that and said with an impish smirk, “Falconer, Hughes, His Lordship is funny! Let's humor him, ne?”

 

The two men halted in their bumbling wake and Waltorana turned his head a bit to the side to evaluate his opponents, while still keeping an eye on the female who it seemed was in charge of the assailment.

 

If their names matched their character, he would bet that Falconer was the slim, scrawny fellow to his left with raggedy brown hair and a hooked nose and Hughes was the tall, muscular man with the shaven head behind him. They, themselves, did not possess houskei crystals, but swords instead.

 

“What do you want?” Waltorana asked again, a small sheen of sweat perspiring across his brow, but it was not himself he was worrying for…

 

“We really couldn't believe our luck when we saw you at the inn earlier this morning,” the woman continued, ignoring his question. “It was just too good to be true! Here we were on the way to slip across your borders to get to you, but there you were right in front of us with only five guardsmen! So we decided to slip out ahead of you and greet you in a proper manner.”

 

“A sneak attack is the manner you think is proper?” Waltorana inquired, refusing to dwell on why he was their intended target and subtly curling his right hand into a starting summon of his element.

 

The woman was standing directly beneath a very thick, heavy-looking tree branch. If he hit it right on its weak point, it would fall upon the victim below and he could deal with the two less dangerous ambushers.

 

“Don't even think about it,” the woman said, as if knowing his next move and whirled her staff upside down, touching the ground by her feet with the tip of the crystal.

 

Waltorana's first thought was that she was an idiot to leave herself open like that and thrust out his hand immediately in hurl an assault with his maryoku…only to find himself utterly paralyzed and unable to breathe for several long seconds.

 

Then finally, after what seemed like forever, a small prickle of pain shot right in the center of his chest and quickly flared out in all directions across his body, growing more and more intense, until Waltorana collapsed to his knees convulsing violently, and there it was he saw that he was hunched over directly in the center of a shining red pentagram, pin-pointed by smaller houseki crystals which had been set up.

 

He had been lured into an entrapment.

 

Through his excruciating lacerations, Waltorana swore silently at his own folly.

 

“Sorry, Lord vonBielefeld,” the woman said, shrugging. “Nothing personal. It's just good business.”

 

What did she mean by that? the mazoku wondered, however he soon had his mind in turmoil on something other than the horrible pain he was in.

 

“Hey, Valmira, do you think there's any valuables in the carriage?” asked the muscular man, supposedly Hughes, while Falconer nodded to the suggestion.

 

“You greedy swine!” Valmira chided mockingly to her comrades in arms. “We'll be paid handsomely enough as it is for His Lordship here to live like the nobles themselves and you're still wanting to hunt for petty baubles? Tch, go ahead if it will keep you from sulking for the rest of the journey though!”

 

The carriage…Wolfram!

 

Waltorana bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out not from pain but from fear. He had to trust that the boy would be safe in the secret compartment. Nontheless, he watched the searching of the coach with bated breath until it was finished.

 

“Nothing but traveling money,” Hughes grunted, weighing the pouch of money in one hand.

 

“Well, you sure don't boast your wealth like most aristocrats,” Valmira commented.

 

Waltorana felt a wave of relief rush through him. So they hadn't discovered the hiding place after all.

 

“Are you sure that's all?” Falconer asked, speaking out loud for the first time. “These mazoku are tricky, don't forget.”

 

Valmira cast a debating look at the carriage before examining Waltorana closely.

 

“What do you say, Your Lordship?” the woman questioned. “Are you holding back the goods on us?”

 

Waltorana stared back at her spitefully and said nothing.

 

“I guess there really is nothing of any worth in there. I'll just destroy it then,” Valmira declared off-handedly as she leveled her staff at the coach, the houseki crystals glowing dangerously.

 

“NO, STOP!” Waltorana shouted in a distressed voice.

 

“Oho! Check it again, boys!” Valmira ordered excitedly. “This is getting interesting!”

 

Waltorana could only watch on helplessly as the two men began rummaging through the carriage anew.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Wolfram sat huddled in the coach's hiding place frightened and worried. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but he didn't like it. He hated the dark and the silence and the compartment which he was sure was slowly growing smaller and smaller. He had to remain there though, his uncle had told him to!

 

What was going on outside? One little peek couldn't hurt.

 

Then he heard his uncle's voice through the compartment, muffled, “NO, STOP!”

 

All rational thoughts flew from the boy's head, including the instructions from his uncle. Wolfram pushed the top of the compartment up and lifted his head out…to come face to face with a huge bald monster.

 

oOoOoOo

 

“Look what I found!” Hughes guffawed. “A pint-sized stowaway!”

 

Waltorana gazed in trepidation as the man hauled a kicking and squalling Wolfram out from the carriage and held him up for all to see.

 

“Hmm, a kid?” Valmira voiced, seeming quite surprised. “Who's he?”

 

“Bit of family resemblance there, don't you think,” Falconer stated, pointing between the two mazoku.

 

“Is the runt yours?” Valmira inquired of Waltorana, who never got to respond due to a great rumbling bellow from Hughes as Wolfram bit him.

 

“OJIIUE!” the small boy screamed, struggling wildly and flailing his limbs in punches and kicks.

 

“Be still, damn brat!” Hughes snarled flinging back one hand in preparation to strike.

 

“WOLFRAM!” Waltorana exclaimed at the same time Valmira yelled, “Hughes, you big lug, you'll damage him!”

 

Falconer solved the problem by reaching over and pinching a nerve on the boy's neck. Wolfram slumped over in the man's arms, completely docile, unconscious.

 

Waltorana clenched his teeth in frustration as he attempted in vain to free himself from the houseki stone circle's imprisonment, but it was no use. He could barely move and he was about to faint. He could tell by the darkening edges in the corners of his eyes.

 

“Don't strain yourself, Your Lordship, it'll hurt less,” Valmira said though she was staring at the smaller blond with a furrowed brow as if thinking really hard.

 

“What…do you want?” Waltorana managed to get out, his limbs trembling in exhaustion from forcing himself to stay alert for so long.

 

“It's not what we want. It's our employer,” the woman explained. “I'm not gonna do any name-throwing, but he's pretty high up there, power-hungry and needs an incentive for your kingdom to make the first move against his so he can justify a war.”

 

Waltorana's eyes widened at that shocking statement. She couldn't mean…

 

“I don't think the Ten Aristocrats are going to like the example he makes out of their leader,” Valmira said, winking at him. “Or the plans he has for your cities. Your Maou will have no choice but to fight, even is she doesn't want to-”

 

The woman cut herself off abruptly a she gaped at the boy in Hughes arms and Waltorana realized with a sinking feeling, she somehow knew who he was.

 

“Wolfram,” she said. “Did you call him Wolfram just before? As in Wolfram vonBielefeld, third son of the Demon Queen? Yes, you did, and he called you `uncle'! Oh, this is rich!”

 

With that, the woman threw her head back and laughed elatedly, not able to believe her good luck.

 

“Oh my, this is unexpected!” Valmira crowed triumphantly as he smirked over the unconscious child like he was a trophy. “Let's go, boys! Leave His Lordship here and bring the runt instead.”

 

“But I thought the boss wanted to make an example out of him,” Hughes said confused, pointing to Waltorana kneeling on the ground.

 

“We'll be forgiven. The kid's worth his weight in gold ten times over. Forget living like nobles. We'll each buy an island and become royalty,” Valmira said. “If he wants an incentive for war, he'll get one. I highly doubt the Maou will like the fact her youngest child is in the hands of the neighboring kingdom at their mercy. Besides, what would be a more better example than the leader of the Ten Aristocrats being caught off his guard by three weak humans and die due to houseki crystals draining his energy?”

 

Waltorana's vision was swimming and he felt as if he were traveling down a long tunnel, for even when the woman bent down next to his ear, her words sounded as if she were speaking from far away.

“You mazoku think you're so much better than us lowly humans, don't you, just because you live longer and possess maryoku? Well, here's what I say. You may think that; it may even be true, but I will tell you something: we are and always will be smarter. Now hurry up and die!”

 

Her boot connected to the mazoku's rib with a resounding crack and the last thing Waltorana recalled before darkness overtook him, was hearing the name whispered faintly upon his lips.

 

“Wolfram.”

 

To Be Continued…

 

A/N: OHOHOHO! I bet the title threw you off didn't it? Ho-hum, a chapter about a carriage stuck in the mud-AH, what just happened?! Seriously, I've been working like crazy on this chapter and my goodness, its long! (And angsty,again, when shall I ever be free from this genre?)

 

Concerning Wolfram's father, there's not a whole lot of information aside from a small tidbit in one of the drama CDs, which was he was young when he died and did not want anything to do with Wolfram. (Correct me if I'm wrong, KKM Comm Ljers).

 

Notice anything familiar about the three humans? No, they're not the same ones from the show. They are, however, their predecessors (that I made up). It seems kidnapping and profiteering must run in the family genes. Also, if anyone's wondering, yes, it's Big Cimaron's king that wants to start a war.

 

So, I would love some feedback from you all (aside from the “Poor Wol-chan! You're an evil author! :chucks sporks: )^^;;;. Tell me what you liked, what parts were tearjerkers, if I managed to get the right emotions across to you all, and did I depict the characters' thoughts and personalities well. Thank you for reading and I hope you come back for the next chapter!