Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes and Remembrance ❯ Chapter Thirty ( Chapter 30 )

THIRTY

The carriage gently rocked as it slowly made it's way up the street. The curtains in the windows had been pulled closed and the interior was so quiet that all that could be heard was the creaking of the leather seats. Jindra sat on the bench across from her parents, staring at the silk window coverings as if she could see through them to the city beyond.

Since Folken's departure last evening, Jindra had felt like she was drifting in some foggy, dream-like state; as if she were watching someone else's life from a distance. After Folken had closed the door behind him, even as she begged him not to go, she had lost all sense of herself. Turning, she had run to the stairs, only to find her father blocking the way. When he had tried to reach out to her, she had pushed him away. Strangely, she could vividly recall the look on his face -- like she had just taken a knife and stabbed him in the chest. Without speaking a word to either of them, Jindra had gone back upstairs to her room where she had remained until this morning.

She had sat in her chair by the window, wrapped in a blanket and feeling chilled to the bone. She lit the fireplace in her room and had the maid bring her hot tea, but nothing could drive away the coldness that had settled over her. Shivering, she had cried long and hard into the night. She had cried over Coren, she had cried over Folken, and she had cried for herself; over the despair that had settled in her heart like a lead weight. She had never felt so alone; not even when she had been lost in the woods, injured and afraid. Coren had to go and get himself killed; Folken walked away and left me; even my parents -- even my parents have turned against me. I don't care . . . I don't have anything left . . . there's no reason to even try anymore.

So Doreena Roh had found her daughter curled up in the chair, wrapped in blankets in a stifling room. Like a mindless automaton, Jindra had washed and dressed; without one word to her mother. She didn't even make a sound when Doreena pulled out an actual dress for her to wear. She had eaten a breakfast that she never even tasted and still shivering, she had wrapped herself in a woolen mantle as she followed her mother downstairs to the waiting carriage. The carriage that was to take them to the ship that had brought Coren's body back to the city.

Although the trip was not long, it seemed so; due to the heavy silence that hung in the air. Erich glanced at his daughter occasionally during the short trip. He knew that she had been up crying throughout most of the night; he had stopped outside her bedroom door several times and heard her. Looking at the hollow-eyed, ghost-like girl sitting across from him, he wondered for the hundredth time if he had done the right thing by turning Folken Lacour out of his house. When Lacour had walked out the door, it was almost as if his daughter's spirit had gone with him. He could still see the look on Jindra's face when she had pushed him away the night before, and he knew that it would haunt him for a long time to come.

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Anton Lefebvre made his way through the crowded common room of the tavern. It was mid-day and the place was packed for lunch. When he reached the bar, he pulled a folded sheet from his pocket and showed the wax seal to the barkeeper. With barely a glance, the man inclined his head to the left and in a gruff voice said, "Three." Reaching into his pocket once more, Anton threw two small bronze-colored coins on the bar and started in the direction the man had indicated. His destination was one of the small private dining rooms towards the back of the establishment. When he reached the door marked with the correct number, Anton hesitated. No more -- I'm finished. I can't go on like this. Taking a deep breath, his hand shook as he reached for the door knob.

Anton was almost relieved to find the room empty. He's not here yet. Thank the gods. Closing the door, he felt the warmness of the room and he removed his overcoat and draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs. He was feeling anxious and started pacing about the small room. I have to get out . . . I don't want to cause anymore pain . . . this isn't what I wanted -- I can't do it anymore. Anton was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the door open.

Quietly closing the door to the private room, the black-cloaked figure observed the young dark-haired man as he paced away from him. Having second thoughts, my young lieutenant? Guilty conscious weighing you down? Within the darkness of the cloak's hood, the figure smiled to itself. Fool man! It was so easy -- so easy to lure you in. But you can't escape -- you're mine, Lefebvre -- until I decide otherwise.

When Anton turned, he jumped when he saw the dark figure standing in front of the door. "G-G-Gods above and below!" The figure smiled within it's hood once again. "Good day to you too, Lieutenant," a man's voice replied. Anton could hear a mocking amusement in the voice and he narrowed his eyes. "I find nothing good about this day -- nor in this past week."

The cloaked man moved to the table and took a seat. "You seem to be a bit out of sorts, my young friend. Is there something troubling you?"

"Troubling me? You know damn well what's troubling me." Anton stalked to the table and stood across from the other man. Thumping his fists down on the wooden top, his eyes flashed with anger. "I agreed to give you information -- information about Lacour. I--I--I never agreed to this . . . I never agreed to -- to murder . . ."

"Murder? You had better watch yourself, Lieutenant. I wouldn't bandy that word about if I were you." The voice was like ice and even though he couldn't see them, Anton could feel the man's eyes burning into him. The young man felt the heat rise in his face and he tried to keep his voice steady. "Or what? You'll kill me next?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Lieutenant. What happened to your friend was an accident - a tragic and unfortunate one to be sure; but an accident just the same." The man smiled to himself once again. He was enjoying the game -- Lefebvre was just a pawn in a much larger scheme; and pawns were always expendable. But he had much left to do before the game ended, and Anton Lefebvre still had a part to play. Then . . . then my young friend, you'll get your just reward. I promise you.

Anton turned away. "Coren Roh was my friend . . . his family were like -- were like my own. I can't -- I can't do this anymore. I won't. I want out -- I'm finished."

"Finished? I don't think so. I've held up my end of our agreement, Lefebvre. Your father's debts have been paid, with enough left over to ensure that your mother and sisters won't be turned out into the street . . . your family's standing has been restored. I've done what I agreed to and now you want to break your word? So much for your honor, Lieutenant."

Anton spun around, "Honor? I've paid for my family's restoration with the life of a man who treated me like a brother. I've damned myself for all eternity and you think I care about my honor. The gods themselves would piss on my honor!" He pressed his hands to his eyes and let out a weary sigh. "The deepest pit of hell won't be enough to punish me for what I've done."

The other man's voice was mocking, "So pious you've become, Lieutenant. Seems like only yesterday that you were damning Folken Lacour to hell instead of yourself." The voice quickly turned cold, "There are other forces at work here Lefebvre, forces greater than you realize. There is a much greater struggle going on here than you and your damned conscious . . . or you and your lust."

He pushed back his chair and stepped towards the other man. "Ah yes . . . what about the girl, Lieutenant? I know how much you want her -- how much you desire her. Who will be there to comfort her during her time of grief? Who will she turn to? Would you rather it be that upstart freak, Lacour? Or should it be dear Anton, the grieving friend? How much more believable your sorrow will be to her now."

Anton found himself involuntarily backing up a few steps until he felt the wall against his back. The man stood just inches from him. "Think about your mother and your sisters, Lefebvre. I can just as easily take back what I've given . . . and I can make it even worse, never forget that. Imagine going home one day to find your entire family gone -- without a trace. How would that burn in your guilty little soul, Lieutenant? You think you feel damned now -- you'll beg for the peace of hell before I'm through with you." Reaching into the folds of his cloak, the man brought out a large gold coin and flipped it through his fingers. "You are mine Lefebvre -- bought and paid for, body and soul . . . never forget it. Your service to me ends when I say so, not one minute before."

Leaving Anton, the man went to the door and opened it. "You look like you could use a drink, Lieutenant." Flipping the coin in Anton's direction, he laughed. "Have one on me." The coin hit the floor and spun before stopping at the young man's feet. The door closed with a barely audible click.

The cadet slid to his knees and covered his face with his hands. I'm damned to hell . . . how could I have been so stupid? Oh Gods, please help me!

There was a gentle knock and then the door opened. The serving girl looked startled at the sight of the young man kneeling on the floor. "S-s-sir? Are you alright sir?" Anton shook his head and started to rise. "Y-y-yes."

"Oh. Well . . . uh, this was ordered for you." She placed a glass of dark wine on the table and then stood patiently, as if waiting for something. Anton realized that she was waiting to be paid and he reached into his trouser pocket. Looking down, he saw the gold coin on the floor in front of him. Picking it up, he tossed it to the girl. "Bring me another. No . . . bring the whole damned bottle. No, make it two bottles."

The girl nodded, her eyes wide, "Y-y-yes sir!"

Anton picked up the glass, his hand shaking. A whole damned vineyard won't help me. Nothing can help me now. Coren . . . I'm so sorry -- I never wanted this. He drained the glass in two long swallows. May the gods have pity on my soul.