Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The Way of War ❯ Attack! Reydeen is in deep trouble! ( Chapter 1 )

*Welcome to random Dilandau Story theater. I am your Host.. Kokuei. Anyway, This is once again, another Random Dilandau story. I don't know where Dilandau's Chaos is going.. I'm working on another chapter as I work on this story. So anyway, please enjoy.. *

*Also, some other notes: I don't know the Geography of Gaia, so There are going to be some made up countries in this story, just so I can work with the story line and what not. Please don't flame me about it unless you can provide me with all the Geographic knowledge of Gaia that I need. Thanks a bundle. ^^

ANOTHER note: Escaflowne does not belong to me. It belongs to its original creators, Sunrise and whatnot.*

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Dilandau stood on balcony of his room, which gave a direct view of the ship below. He stared out over the vast waters, in anticipation.

Folken had sent him to deal with the inhabitants of Reydeen, who's leaders had broken a treaty made after Zaibach attacked, looking for some slaves to take back.

They had grabbed a few people, but not enough to replace the crop workers that had died of plague. They had agreed that they would stop attacking if Reydeen were to provide them with some more slaves..

Dilandau licked his lips. Kill the weak, and spare the strong for a life of turmoil and slavery. He could beat the going-to-be-slaves senseless if he wanted, just so long as they were able to work.

//Maybe I'll even grab myself a few extras, for myself.. //

He laughed, and left his personal deck, heading down to the poop deck. His elite were engaged in amiable conversation, something about the political structure of Asturia as compared to Zaibach.

"Attention!" Gatti barked in mid sentence. They all quickly assembled into a sloppy line, arms tight by their sides, eyes staring blankly ahead at whatever was in front of them.

Dilandau growled in frustration, and knocked Gatti in the jaw.

"Dammit! My men can't even get into a straight line without confusion! How the hell are you going to be able to stand up to a few backwater farmers?!"

Gatti fell to his knees, right fist supporting his weight in a crouch.

"Forgive me my lord.. " He said, not sure what else to say. Dilandau growled, and kicked Gatti in the face. He fell backwards onto the polished deck, now sporting two new bruises on his face.

He sighed, and walked down the line, to a somewhat tall boy. Blonde hair fell over his shoulder in mild locks. His curls weren't as accentuated as his brother Guimel's, but the length made up for it. He was taller than the rest of them. Dilandau looked up at him, and narrowed his eyes.

"What does the Coast Guard say about the weather tonight, Zion?"

"Sir, there is a storm heading this way from Reydeen, but it's estimated that at 02:00 it is supposed to head west, sir."

"How bad is it?"

"Sir, reports say that it gets worse at the center. We are only supposed to hit a light drizzle."

Dilandau nodded, and looked around the boat, wondering briefly if all his extra guards that Folken had provided him with were sleeping, rather than doing something useful like exercising, or bettering their combat skills..

He sighed, looking down at his feet.

"Dismissed." He said, and wandered off, bored to the point of tears. They hadn't brought their guymelefs with them this time, so it was a bit odd not running the routine system checks. There wasn't a decent training center on this ship, and it was a pain in the ass to wait for when the dining hall was empty, because it was almost always full..

There was the bottom of the ship, but that was so dank and horrible, it had been reserved for the captives.

He stared out over the vast, ripping waters. Sure enough, there was a dark, unwelcoming embankment of clouds heading their way. If it was bad enough, it would delay their arrival to the south coast of Reydeen..

He sighed, and walked off towards his quarters. He nearly got hard at the thought of so many lives in his hands. It was an exhilarating thought. He folded his arms in front of him, and wandered off, smiling brightly.

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Migel awoke, with the sun shining on his face. It was warm and welcoming; the sign of a new day. He sat up from his bed, which was simply a few sheets thrown on a harsh wooden floor with a thin and worn pillow. Around the room was scattered his meager belongings; a few sketches, some pencils, torn and ripped clothing, and a pair of ancient shoes in the corner that looked like they could rip if worn one more time.

There wasn't any sound through the rest of the house, everyone was probably still asleep. He smiled.

//I'll go out hunting, and bring back a few scrumptious catches or two. They would be so happy..//

he quietly slipped out of his bed, and threw on some of the clothing on the floor. It was ripped pair of thick, blue jean harvesting pants, which also looked like they would fall apart any minute. They were especially thick to keep random critters and deadly spiders from attacking as you harvested the fields. They had been mended many times, but Migel was grateful to have them. He slipped into the worn boots, ran through his hair with two fingers, and slipped out the house, barely noticeable.

It was somewhat chilly out, so he grabbed a sweater that his mother had made for him. It was a pale red, made of sheep's wool. It was kind of itchy, but It was better than nothing. He walked around the corner of the small house, to where all of the weaponry was kept. It was a meager selection; some hand made bows and arrows, a few rusted hunks of metal that his father called swords, and a few hatchets resting against the walls. He grabbed some of his fathers arrows, and examined each briefly, before slinging a small cylindrical basket over his shoulder, and plopping the arrows in. He grabbed the largest bow that his father had made, and it was still a little small for him. He was the tallest of the family now, his father said that he had gotten it from his grandfather, who had also been extremely tall.

He set off, out of the misty little village, towards the woods just east of the little farming city. To the south were the fields, and to the north, the mountains that always blew in the cold weather in the morning.

The forest seemed eerily still today. No matter how hard Migel strained his ears, he couldn't hear not one chirp, not one branch cracking under the weight of some animal's foot. It was fairly odd, but he shrugged the feeling off as a mere superstition.

He continued deeper into the woods, it was a good two or three hours walk before he would come across some real game anyway, so there wasn't much harm in worrying.

By noontime, the sun was beating down hard and relentless of those who dwelled beneath her. Migel slipped off the sweater, and hung it on a branch. He was wearing a somewhat new looking (but still somewhat tattered in overall appearance) light blue tunic. He sat to rest on a rock, and realized the pang of hunger in his gut. There were many edible fruits and nuts around him; he just wasn't sure which were the poisonous ones. He growled, and moaned something inaudible, suddenly realizing he should have thought his escapade through a little bit better. He tipped his head back, and stared at the sky, letting the gentle breeze caress his sweat slicken face. It was a wonderful feeling, the cool breeze on a hot day. He took in each breeze, as if they were his last breaths.

Suddenly there was a slight pounding sound off in the distance. Migel froze, thinking that maybe it was a herd of deer. He readied himself with bow and arrow, and found a place to hide behind the rock he had rested on. He sat in wait, until the pounding grew closer and closer..

As the animals creating the sound grew into view, Migel realized they were horses, and on them sat soldiers, in cruel looking armor that looked as if it could stand up to any of the natural disasters that mother nature had to offer.

Migel cowered, recognizing them as Zaibach soldiers. He had assisted in the war to keep their people free, by volunteering in the medical tents. He had helped many wounded Zaibachians. He narrowed his eyes.

//What do they want now?//

He stood, and got up onto the rock, trying to get a better look. They probably weren't here for him, and probably wouldn't notice them.

There were about 20 on horseback, all bearing swords on their hips. Migel frowned, and kneeled down on the rock.

They went speeding by, not noticing him, as he had predicted. Their leader, or so he seemed, wore a red over coat on top of his armor, it's hems and edges trimmed in gold. He looked especially cruel; wicked smile playing on his lips, bloodlust reflected in his eyes.

When they were well out of site, Migel had a sudden feeling of impending doom that he could not shake off. He grabbed his sweater, and ran back towards the village, as fast as he could go. His blood was pounding in his throat, and all he could think about was the well being of his family, and his little brother..

//Gods.. please.. protect them..//