Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Seth's Magical Adventure! ❯ End of the War ( Chapter 28 )

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Takahashi does, and he can't believe this story's ending so close to another one of my stories. Neither can I. But that's what we call timing.

 

The castle crumbled. As everyone aboard the Albatross looked on and watched, they saw the castle had been utterly, completely destroyed. Atemu watched as the outer walls slid, and then splashed into the ocean far below; the structure was falling even as the castle began to sail southeast, far from Egypt's own coasts. He couldn't believe for the life of him that Aeroglyph, his once-mighty ally, was gone now. But more importantly, neither Sith nor Seth had returned, either. As members of his personal court, their absence worried him a great deal. And when he had seen the fiery blasts that sent the hurtling castle into a sea of flames, he was sure they'd been caught in it. So many lives lost that day. It almost wasn't even fair.

 

“That little good-fer-nothin' destroyed our home!” Cydandilus screamed, stomping one foot, “An' she killed me niece an' nephew!”

 

“They can't be dead, can they!?” Malik asked in disbelief, looking up at his sister in terror. But Priestess Isis couldn't stand to look at him. She hadn't seen this outcome, but the damage had been too catastrophic. Even Espers had their limits. Malik waited for her, but when she didn't answer, he said, “No! I won't believe it! Knight Sith and Priest Seth wouldn't just die!”

 

“How could they have possibly survived that, though?” Shaddah asked, as the villagers around him gasped as another wall crumbled into the sea. The castle kept shrinking as it moved toward the horizon, but even here, the destruction was apparent. Atemu's eyes watered. It wasn't just Sith and Seth, either. Bakura and Sceppiro had been killed, too. He gripped the railing, his knuckles going from tan to white.

 

“My… my friends,” he said, “Damn it, I shouldn't have left them! What was this all for? What point was this?” Cyd simply patted him on the back as they watched the castle continue to crumble. The fire died down as it sunk closer to the water, but there was no mistake. Anyone who was inside the castle was dead. Atemu felt the old Esper shiver as he came to that realization. He took off his cracked goggles.

 

“They died fightin' as warriors, boy,” the Esper growled lowly, though even he seemed unconvinced with that comfort, “An' Rath couldn't have survived that. I'm guessin' she's a goner, too.”

 

“But what was the point!?” Atemu yelled angrily, turning to everyone assembled, “What in hell did this war even prove? Nesce was not our enemy, and it never was! We were allies! And one woman, one stupid woman, destroyed that! For what purpose!?” Everyone else backed away. The pharaoh wasn't someone they wished to anger, and they all knew that any answer, no matter the content, would anger his majesty even further. The only one crazy enough to try and answer was Cyd himself. He let out a deep breath. Atemu turned to him, eyes brimming with tears for his fallen friends.

 

“The point? Yer assumin' Rath had a reason other than vengeance, boy,” Cyd told him calmly, sadly, “There ain't no point to what she did. She didn't benefit from that war. No one did. I don't think she wanted us to, either. It ain't about point, though. Rath did it for herself, and that's the end of it.” Silence fell on them after Cyd finished. That had to be true; there wasn't much point for Egypt to wage such a war on Nesce. And vice versa, too. But still, the thought of such selfishness was too much. What on earth happened to make Rath become so uncaring? Atemu looked down. Only Sith might possibly know. And she had to be dead.

 

“Cyd, what happened to Rath?” the young king asked, and Cyd looked down at him, “What made her so hateful?” Cyd's lips thinned, and he looked up at the sky. That was a long story indeed. Rath was already over two thousand years old. But Atemu did ask, and it was clear he wanted to know. Cyd summarized.

 

“I'm gonna tell you this once, so make sure you listen,” he said sternly, “Some magic ain't supposed to be used, even though it's created. Rath made that mistake, and it made her crazy, boy. Sith's own mother died `cause she tried to stop Rath. Probably why Rath wants Sith dead, too, `cause she can't face that she killed the woman. An' Sith looks like her mother.” Atemu looked down. He never heard such a ridiculous reason to kill someone. Then again, he himself never murdered before. He would never understand why Rath would try so valiantly to kill her own family; he had thought she wanted the throne, as everyone else had. But as he watched the castle crumble to pieces, turning to ash as it hit water, he knew it clearly wasn't so. He took a deep breath. So many friends lost, indeed.

 

“What does this mean?” he asked, almost so absently that he hadn't expected any reply. Cyd's lips thinned further, and he looked toward the smoldering remains of his old castle. He doubted the Espers could survive any longer in this world now.

 

“Means we're all screwed now,” the old pilot said simply, and Atemu stiffened, “Ain't nowhere to go back to, not with Nesce ripped apart like that.”

 

“Surely the dragons can do something?” Mahaado intervened curiously, but Cyd shook his head, crossing his arms. What could Bahamut possibly do? The damage was more severe than anything else Nesce ever suffered. They'd be lucky if Nesce itself hadn't crumbled to dust; the castle was its main support, and Aeroglyph was considered older than time itself. Who knew what would happen to any world with the country utterly dismembered.

 

“Yeah, they can start by telling us we ain't got a place to live now,” the old Esper grumbled grumpily, eyes narrowing as he looked in the distance, “I think I'm seein' one right now.” Atemu turned quickly to look, too. It was small, far in the horizon, but he did see a flying creature. But one thing he noted was that he didn't feel the same overwhelming presence that he felt from either Bahamut or Tiamat. He squinted, as if that would help him to see it better; he couldn't make out any distinct markings. But it was flying fast, and now he noted it was coming from where the castle crumbled. His eyes widened. It couldn't have been Bahamut or Tiamat. They had retreated in opposite directions. But then… who was it?

 

A burst of searing fire erupted from the new dragon's mouth as they neared, though even at that distance, they were still quite far from the Albatross. Cyd moved the ship to its side, steering so the dragon would be forced to slow. He couldn't be certain it wasn't hostile. And the dragon was slowing, but it was too far to think the ship was a threat. Atemu's brow rose. The dragon shouldn't have been afraid; humans and Espers alike were no match for one, but this dragon was being cautious. Atemu saw that archers had taken aim at the creature. Then he saw they suddenly aimed for something else. Something had just flown off the dragon's back, and Atemu missed it. And as he turned to see what had shocked the archers, he saw that thing leaping for them. And it was going insanely fast.

 

The arrows were let loose before Cyd gave the shout to fire. The distant figure was more than enough to spark fear into the soldiers, given its incredible speed. But the arrows all missed, and whatever didn't was deflected with a sharp clang of steel. And the figure didn't slow from the distraction, either. Atemu knew at once who it was; there was only one person he knew who had that kind of aerial combat ability. His mouth dropped open. Sith couldn't be alive. She shouldn't be alive. But it was her. She was close now, her armored sleeves glinting blue in the sunlight. Except that she was wearing linen when Atemu last saw her. He blinked again. It couldn't have been her. She looked… different now. Yet still the same. And when she landed on the deck, sweeping a circle of wind as she crashed ungracefully, he saw she was wearing no linen from Egypt any longer. She was fully decked in Aeroglyphian armor. And she regarded him with amusement.

 

“I hope that your departure was an accident,” she said pointedly, but Atemu found he was speechless despite the silent accusation. Words couldn't express the relief he felt. His best knight, nay, his best friend was right there in front of him. And she was perfectly fine. He pulled her into a hug, ignoring the gasps from the crowds around them. It had been just too long a day for him. And he nearly lost Sith to madness. She chuckled and said, “Surely, you didn't mean to feed us to wolves, right?”

 

“Knight Sith, you have my most profound apologies,” Atemu told her sincerely, and then tilted his head, “But what do you mean `we?” Her brow perked quizzically as he let go of her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She looked more imposing in her new armor, he noted.

 

“Myself, Seth, Bakura, and my brother,” she reminded him with a grin, “The four musketeers, if you will.” Atemu shook his head. That was technically what they were now; whether any of them admitted it, it was their unwittingly combined abilities that thwarted Rath so magnificently again and again. And they survived the last battle together as well. But Atemu looked around and saw that, despite Sith's declaration, only she stood on the deck. He wondered if she left out one or two small facts concerning their escape. Such as not letting the others escape with her.

 

“I ain't seein' Arthos, Porthos, and Aremis anywhere,” Cyd commented sarcastically, tapping his foot as he stared at his niece, “Them other idiots ain't here, either, Sithy, so what happened?”

 

“They're here,” she told both the old Esper and the pharaoh, and jerked her head toward the dragon, “Sceppiro's bringing the other two. I decided to just tell you we're alive. And more of us are a little more than miffed with you, too.” Atemu snorted. He wasn't surprised, especially in either Seth or Bakura's case. Neither actually cared much for him otherwise, but he did abandon them for his safety. Even if it was against his orders. He shrugged. So be it. There wasn't much he could've done unless he wanted to die. And he felt he should've seen the battle out, albeit at a safe distance.

 

“Then is it possible Rath is alive as well!?” Mahaado suddenly asked in alarm. Atemu suddenly frowned. That logic wasn't entirely impossible; Sith and her team had been caught directly in the blast and they lived. Rath might be just as hardy. Sith's expression went grim now, and she turned back to look at the smoldering ruins of her home. Atemu saw a tear well up in her eye, but he didn't comment, nor did it fall. She closed her eyes.

 

“If she's alive, she's severely crippled, by my bet,” the woman told him frankly, uncrossing her arms and leaning on the railing, “She was amidst the flames. Not even an Esper can survive that for long. If she isn't dead, I may be able to finish her off.” Atemu smiled confidently. Sith could probably finish anyone off, should she choose. But then he realized her tone wasn't as confident as he felt. She sounded unsure. But Rath couldn't have so much power that she defied death… could she? Atemu shook his head. No, even Bahamut wouldn't have cheated Death like that. Rath wasn't that stupid.

 

“You sound most uncertain, lady Sith,” Karim commented from behind the young king, and Sith nodded accordingly. She showed them her right hand now; it was limp. Atemu's mouth dropped. How was that even possible? Had Rath done that to her? Surely, she had. No one else was strong enough.

 

“I have little feeling in my hand, my friends,” she told them sadly, and both Karim and Mahaado looked similarly concerned, as the latter held her hand gently, “I would not be so surprised if I lost it, for the nerve was worn much more than it could take.” Mahaado turned her hand over, and she barely felt it. It felt numb and stiff, as though it had fallen asleep. And it probably had, forever. Her brows creased as she said, “I refuse to give up my sword.” Atemu just laughed. That was like her: to be a stubborn idiot. He shook his head.

 

“You never change, friend,” he replied, and clapped her on the back, “You did well, Sith. Does this mean Rath's reign is over?” Sith grinned slyly and nodded, though at that point, it didn't matter. Nesce was ruined regardless, and there was nothing left to rule. And by the look on Cyd's face, he had already seen to tell that to the others.

 

“Hopefully, it is,” she replied, and again, that uncertainty in her voice nagged at the king, “For now, though, I'll ignore her. She will need time if she's stupid enough to pursue us, and I'm exhausted.” And that was the end of that, for she walked toward the cabin to take a rest. But Atemu wasn't convinced. He looked back toward where the explosion had happened; the castle was no longer floating. It was half-submerged in the ocean, the other half having crashed into the nearby shores far to the northwest. He couldn't see how Rath could salvage a thing from there now, but Sith seemed too unsure for him to ignore it. Was she still a threat? His brow rose as he wondered that.

 

“Sometimes, king, you worry way too much,” came Bakura's voice. Atemu turned quickly, and found he was relieved to see the thief was alive and well. He grinned, and the two clasped each other's hands for a moment, both seeming happy to see the other.

 

“So you believe Sith as well?” Atemu asked him, and saw that Seth and Sceppiro were on the deck as well. He wasn't sure when they'd arrived. It must've been sometime within the last minute, for he hadn't seen them beforehand. Bakura snorted, and shrugged as he looked toward the ruins himself.

 

“Not sure, but when has the good knight ever lied?” he asked, and Atemu understood his point. Bakura whistled as he looked upon the ruins, and added, “Damn, she did a number on Sith's home. Think anyone else will notice?” Atemu stared as though the man had two heads. That was a stupid thing to ask. Anyone who wasn't blind would see that Aeroglyph was no more. Atemu was sure even blind people might be able to figure out what happened to the once-mighty kingdom. The king just shook his head.

 

“No. I'm sure it's perfectly natural for a giant castle to fall right out of the sky,” he said sarcastically. Bakura just laughed, and patted Atemu on the back.

 

“Sarcasm doesn't suit you, pharaoh,” he commented, and Atemu just snorted. Sith often said that, too. They continued to look toward the ruins, Atemu still wondering at the unease in his knight's voice. Normally, Sith was sure of her victories. What was causing her such disquiet? Bakura obviously didn't know, and he doubted Seth would, either. He looked down. Sometimes, he wished he understood what Sith was thinking. If they were supposed to expect another attack, he wanted to know.

 

“As much as we all love to know that you two are best friends forever, we should probably think of running away,” Seth said, and this time both men turned to face him, “An explosion like that probably set off a chain reaction somewhere. I certainly don't want to get caught in the blast.” Atemu and Bakura exchanged worried glances, neither even thinking that something catastrophic would come from Rath's demise. Judging from Mahaado's expression, he was equally disturbed. He looked to Cyd.

 

“Egypt is not in danger, is it!?” he demanded. But Cyd grinned and leaned back, not even the least bit concerned for what would be his new home. He shook his head.

 

“We ain't even near that sandbox,” the old Esper told them smugly, “I gone an' veered us west, toward some continent I knew we wouldn't give a shit about. Egypt's gonna be fine.” Bakura's eyes narrowed flatly. As much as he was glad that Cyd actually thought ahead a little bit, he didn't like that the old fool was putting someone else in complete peril. But then again, he didn't like Cyd much at all. But he knew better than to state that, because Cyd still had a cannon. And no one could defend against one of those. Rath proved that one particularly well.

 

“I'm not sure whether we should arrest him for endangerment or just ignore him,” the thief whispered to Atemu. Atemu glanced toward the side, where most of his guards sat, polishing whatever was left of their weapons. Some of them also eyed the old pilot warily, unable to make the same choice, but for a different reason entirely. They all knew that Cyd was crazy enough to fire at them with said cannon. Never mind that it'd probably kill him, too.

 

“My men look ready to relieve themselves just by watching him. Do you honestly think they'd even try arresting him?” Atemu countered, and Bakura conceded the point. Then he just laughed. He couldn't blame them for being absolutely terrified. The old Esper really was off his rocker, and it wouldn't have surprised Bakura if the only person who could calm the man was Sith herself. It was almost ironic that she chose to rest right at that point.

 

“Good point. We'd be better off trying to push him overboard,” the thief replied with a casual shrug. Now it was Atemu's turn to stare flatly at the older man. That was a dumb idea, plain and simple, and in the king's mind, it was worse than making an arrest. Not only could Cyd fly, but if he managed to outrun his ship, which was entirely too possible with someone else steering, he'd probably shoot them all anyway. Their best bet was probably to just ignore the man. Atemu didn't say this, however. At that point, he hoped his expression spoke for him.

 

“Hey, considering that that old fool's the only one who can drive this deathtrap, I don't think we should really be pushing him off,” Seth interjected, his voice just about as flat as Atemu's stare. For once, his reasoning was enough to convince Bakura, who sighed heavily and looked over at Cyd. He was currently examining the cannon on deck to see if it worked, in case Rath really did manage to live. Bakura couldn't even see how she would. He certainly didn't trust that Cyd was examining it just to see his most prized possession. Who knew what the old fool was even thinking.

 

After watching everyone on deck for nearly an hour, Seth decided to retire to the cabin. Night was fast approaching, and he sorely felt he needed to rest. He slipped from the deck into the living room, and was more than a little surprised to see that Sith was sitting in a chair, a cup of some vile, brown liquid in her hand. Even from the door, Seth smelled that it was some form of alcohol. He didn't want to know how many cups she'd already drunk by then. But she didn't appear bothered much by his presence, as she pointed to a seat next to her. Not wanting to know how skilled she was while drunk, Seth obliged. For a moment, the two sat in silence. Then, Sith finally spoke, putting her cup down.

 

“Nice night, eh?” she asked, and Seth almost laughed. Of all the things she could've said, over any of the events that happened, that was something that seemed so mundane, so unimportant. He wasn't even sure if he had an answer. Knowing her, it was a trick question. He looked down at her cup.

 

“Should you be drinking after such a battle, knight?” he asked, more concern in his voice than he wanted to portray. Sith just half-grinned, lifting her cup and taking a sip. The liquid burned in her throat. Whiskey was never easy for her.

 

“A little bit of drink isn't bad, priest,” she replied, and leaned back in her seat, “I'm going to assume Sceppiro told you what we're going to be doing.” Seth blinked, wondering if he heard right. Sceppiro hadn't really spoken to him; the Esper king was too involved with planning something out with the pharaoh. Then it hit Seth that that very conversation was what Sith was talking about. She must've expected Seth to be part of it. To her disappointment, he shook his head, crossing one leg over the other as he sat.

 

“Not a word,” he told her easily, “Why? Are you leaving?”

 

“Not exactly, but we're in trouble,” she explained calmly, and when Seth's eyes widened, she said, “Relax. Not danger. But Nesce has collapsed. We don't have a home anymore. I'll be okay since I'm in service in Egypt, but my brother and my kingdom aren't as lucky.” Seth nodded knowingly. He knew where she was getting at. The Espers would most likely be living in Egypt as well, or even elsewhere should the situation call for it. That didn't seem so bad right then. It'd tighten their alliance, anyway.

 

“So your brother's seeing to a little bit of `life insurance,' right?” he concluded. Sith snorted in amusement. That was a rudely accurate description, she had to admit. She nodded, taking another sip of her beverage.

 

“It's standard procedure for kings, of course,” she joked, and then frowned, “Though I do worry about how this'll affect your world. Espers are not from this world. Our magic might cause a big rift, especially since there are so many of us.” Seth's lips thinned. There probably wouldn't be as many as Sith thought, depending on how many were killed in Aeroglyph. But he didn't state this. It'd only make the old knight angry, and Seth did have a mutual respect for her now. Why ruin it?

 

“If Rath hasn't destroyed our world, I don't think a bunch of friendly Espers would,” he commented, making Sith smile, “But I get your point. So, all of that stuff about other worlds? It's true?” Sith nodded, and looked down at the table distantly.

 

“Very true. This is one small world in a universe containing thousands. Possibly millions,” she replied grimly, “But that's not a secret.” If it wasn't, it was still news to Seth. He shrugged, looking out the window. Someone had lit a few lanterns on the deck; they glowed orange amidst the black sky, like tiny stars.

 

“Why our world?” he finally asked her, and Sith looked up, caught unaware with his question, “Why did she choose this world?”

 

“I don't think there's an answer for that, my friend,” Sith replied at length, and sadly, “I was the target, but if she wanted me powerless, she could've easily lured me to another world. My guess is, she felt this world was a suitable field. She probably felt that if this world crumbled, it'd break me apart, on the inside.” Seth glanced at her with worry. From that tone, it sounded as though that were the opposite of what was really going on. He shivered. Perhaps there was truth to Cyd's words; a bigger truth than Bakura had wanted to realize, on a scale Cyd hadn't understood yet. He spoke of `a place we wouldn't give a shit about.' This vaguely reminded Seth of those words.

 

“You don't care if this world breaks apart?” he asked her, “What about Atemu?”

 

“What of him?” she asked slyly, a brow rising curiously. Seth gulped, wondering if she guessed at what he was getting at, or if she somehow heard what Tiamat said before the battle. Or if she even knew herself. He decided to just jump right in and ask directly. It didn't matter if she laughed at him or not.

 

“Were you really going to marry him?” he asked her. Sith blinked, and then frowned. That was answer enough. But she spoke anyway, and she shook her head.

 

“I made it clear I wouldn't,” she replied calmly, and took a breath, “I've considered it, as I've said, but never for anything more than the prosperity of both sides. But now I see the choice would mean nothing. Egypt wouldn't prosper, and neither would Nesce, not anymore. There'd be little point and I doubt I'd be happy.” Seth wasn't sure if he should remind her that if Atemu asked, she'd be forced to oblige whether she wanted to or not. But Sith knew that, for she said, “He wouldn't do that. He knows better.”

 

“So he knew all along?” Seth asked. Sith shook her head again.

 

“No, but we're close friends. He knows that if he angers me, he'll have to deal with an entire race of angry Espers. He's not that idiotic,” she stated, but something told Seth even she had a little difficulty believing that, “Being king doesn't mean you get what you wish. He knows that, and I pray it was his father who taught him.” Seth's lips thinned, and he looked away. Not because he couldn't tell her it was Atemu's father that taught him, but because he couldn't remember his own father. And he certainly didn't want to know if he was the reason Seth was the way he was. Sith waited uncomfortably for him to respond, but he didn't. Finally, she shrugged, leaning back in her seat comfortably.

 

“So, what brings you in here, anyway?” she asked him, deciding it best to change the subject, “It's not because the company outside is bad.” Seth gave her a sidelong glance. He didn't have a reason, and to be honest, he didn't think he needed one. But now that he did think about it, coming in here and talking to Sith wasn't what he wanted to do. So… why was he doing it? Because he had to. He had to make sure she was okay. They weren't friends, but they were partners to an extent. And that's what partners did, whether he liked it or not. He grinned.

 

“I'm getting tired,” he replied simply, and Sith just snorted, “Being in war will do that, right?”

 

“I find it does,” she conceded the point with a shrug and another sip of her drink, at which she finally made a face, “But that's what drinking is for, I find as well. A good drink never hurts anyone, priest. Care for a cup?” Seth perked an amused brow; she had already said that, but he didn't mind the offer. He nodded, and she poured him a small glass this time. He sipped it as well. It was bittersweet, and burned his tongue a little. He decided he didn't like it, and put the glass down.

 

“So what do we do after this?” he asked her casually as she finished her whiskey. She looked up at him for a moment, and then smirked as she put her own cup down, crossing her arms. She looked just a little too smug for him as she tilted her head knowingly.

 

“We go back to our lives, I'd think,” she replied as the door opened, “Nothing much changed, if you ask me. We just don't have a kingdom to go home to, but we're all still alive, right?” Seth nodded, and looked over toward the door. Atemu and Bakura both came in, but no one else seemed to follow. Seth frowned. Had they overheard? He didn't know, but they each took a seat next to Sith. And neither looked particularly happy, either. She looked over at Atemu and asked, “What was decided?”

 

“Your brother's going to start a smaller settlement near the Nile until he recruits enough force to go to the ruins of Aeroglyph and lift it back into your world,” the pharaoh replied grimly, “But he wants you to go with him.” Sith hummed, but only looked up at the ceiling. She gave no further response, and it looked as though she expected that from her brother. She took a breath. That breath turned into several before she spoke again. And when she did, she sounded grim herself.

 

“Looks like I'll be playing mediator, then,” she stated jokingly, but her tone belied her words. Seth looked over at her, and this time he was worried. That meant she'd be doing a lot of traveling. Even with her wings, he wasn't sure she could keep that up for long. Egypt wasn't just big, it was hot, too. And he knew, over the years he'd know her, that she hated heat. Considering that Aeroglyph had been sitting near Nesce's northern coast, that wasn't even surprising.

 

“You're seriously considering working in both armies?” the priest asked her, raising a brow, “Knight, I believe in you, but be realistic. You'll burn yourself out.” Sith gave him her usual sly smile. In the dim light, it looked far more sinister than he thought it should. He made a note to ask Cyd to put more lights in the room.

 

“I never said I was going to live with Sceppiro,” she replied slyly, almost mischievously, “I'm still quite loyal to Egypt, and our alliance isn't broken. My job isn't yet done, priest Seth.” Seth's brow rose even higher with those words. That meant she'd be staying in the court. Where she was recognized as the best of the best, with or without her sword. Seth personally wasn't sure he should be happy for the protection or worried for his own life. He'd done enough to piss her off already. She looked at him, and nearly laughed at his expression. He seemed so terrified of her. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Ah yes, what a surprise that I like you all.”

 

“It's just that, I'd have thought with Aeroglyph destroyed, there was no more alliance,” Seth said quietly, twiddling his thumbs, “No kingdom means no allies in a war, doesn't it?”

 

“No, it just means there's no place to run when shit happens,” Bakura put in abruptly, and with good humor, “The only way an alliance breaks is if either half of said agreement is dead. And as far as we can see, Sith, Sceppiro, and the pharaoh are all breathing.” Seth wanted to tell the thief to shut his mouth, but underneath his sarcastic tone, there was truth to his words. As long as Atemu and Sith were alive, their alliance would last quite a time. Sceppiro's life would only add to it. Seth just nodded. Now he began to understand Claude's decision concerning Sith's life. She was a queen; she'd need allies sooner or later. At the very least, she'd make a good ally. Or a deadly foe, as in Rath's case.

 

“As soon as we reach the metropolis, we're going to hold a debate to where the Espers can live,” Atemu told Seth rather grimly, and the priest looked at his king with concern, “I'm not against it. But land isn't abundant, and everyone wants a piece. Sceppiro wants to make sure it won't interfere with anyone.”

 

“I don't see how it won't. His army's still one thousand strong!” Bakura exclaimed, shrugging one shoulder, “Unless he plans on living in the north Spire, he'll affect someone.”

 

“That's not too bad an idea,” Sith said to the thief, who looked over at her curiously, “That's the passage to what used to be Lion's Gate. It wouldn't be difficult for us to adapt to the colder environment there. And we could provide further protection for travelers. West of the old gate is the unknown continents. People do travel there, and there's no outpost for some time.” Atemu looked up, considering the knight's point. That was true enough, especially when it came to the warrior guilds along Egypt's western edge and beyond that. And the north was dangerous indeed; snow and ice weren't the only things that could kill the men of Egypt. But Espers weren't immortal, either.

 

“Who would protect the Espers?” he asked his knight calmly, “The north Spire ranges over three hundred miles strong from east to west, and nearly half that long from north to south. Getting to us in a time of need wouldn't be so easy.” But Sith didn't consider that to be a problem. She grinned, and her wings fluttered. Seth snorted; Espers could fly if they needed to. At least, most of them could. No wonder she hadn't brought up that particular problem before. Because it wasn't one.

 

“I believe past experience has told you we're good at dealing with a crisis,” she said courteously, with just a hint of too much amusement at her king's expense. Seth couldn't help but grin. She was probably the only one able to get away with a response like that. Atemu just waved it away, though. She had her own way of dealing with him as well.

 

“What of trade, then?” he asked her, changing the subject, “There's not much to be scoured from the ruins. What would you provide to travelers?” Again, that wasn't a problem to her.

 

“We're able weapon-smiths and we do cultivate food,” she replied seriously, crossing her arms, “And we do have highly trained warriors. I'd imagine protection and armories would be more than suitable? Given our enchanted weapons?” Atemu nodded to concede the point. Trade wouldn't be a problem for either of them. Well, not much of one. There was still one problem neither spoke of, and it was sitting right next to them. And its name was Bakura. Who seemed entirely too amused with the conversation in general, for he seemed to have been ignored entirely on the point of trade. And with his profession, that was just stupidity waiting to happen.

 

“You don't think I'd steal from you, do you?” he practically purred, when they both looked at him blankly, “Why, my king, I'm hurt!”

 

“Considering that you've stolen from my kingdom in the past, I think you're lucky we even allowed you in here,” Atemu told him flatly. He just laughed hysterically; the pharaoh didn't exactly sound too serious on that note. Then he shook his head, his usual cocky grin on his face as he leaned back in his seat, his white hair sticking slightly to the leather.

 

“Hey, I'm a king, too. I deserve to listen in on what's going on, especially when it impacts my men,” the thief pointed out. This time it was Sith's turn to give him a flat response.

 

“Being the king of idiots isn't something to be proud of, Bakura,” she said. That deflated his ego like a balloon. Mostly because it was true. Many of the thieves he actually did hang around with had less than satisfactory IQ scores. Lines of blue splashed across his flustered face.

 

“But I'd still like to know,” he whined, as if that were the only reason he should be allowed to listen in on whatever the king chose to speak about. And it wasn't like Atemu was demanding that Sith remove the wily thief, anyway. Sometimes, though, Seth wasn't entirely too sure of Atemu's judgment anyway.

 

The night past swiftly from that point onward. Sith and Atemu continued to discuss their plans over the predicament of the Espers, with Bakura more or less getting in their way about it. By that point, Seth had retired to his own room, listening in only when Sceppiro walked into the living room. From what he heard, the Esper king agreed to Sith's suggestions, though there would still be a conference to determine what aid was needed for the new settlement to be built in the north. It wasn't too bad a trade-off. More than half of the villagers would probably be willing to help out, and Seth knew Karim would join them, seeing as how Sith was his student. Or had been, three years ago. Loyalty ran deep with him. Now, however, dawn was quickly settling as the ship continued its eastern course. Cyd proved to be a swift pilot indeed; Seth wasn't even sure he had a few hours rest before he saw the orange glow of a sunrise, most native to his homeland. And with him, that never rested well.

 

When he forced himself out of bed, and toward the deck of the ship, he saw that they had already landed, and that only a few of the villagers were still asleep. Everyone else was already wide awake and waiting outside of the ship. Their losses had been great, Seth saw, but they weren't as bad as the priest had feared. They were still well over ten thousand strong on the human side; but there were less than a thousand for the Espers. Seth winced. That was a heavy blow, and aside from that, only three hundred other creatures from the other worlds remained. But no one complained about the dead. Anyone who survived were just thankful they had. Seth descended the ladder slowly, and jumped down, landing in the soft sands of the desert. It felt good to be home.

 

“Don't tell me I missed something,” he grumbled as he walked over to where Sith and Mahaado stood. Sith grinned at him; it wasn't a sight he wanted to first wake up to.

 

“We didn't plan on it,” she joked, to which he didn't laugh, “But you might wish to know that there will be a trial today as soon as we reach the gates into the metropolis.” Seth rubbed his eyes. It was too damn early to be dealing with that, he quickly decided.

 

“For what!?” he demanded grumpily, “What did Bakura do this time?” Unfortunately, the thief in question wasn't too far away from them. He heard the question. And subsequently defended himself from it. Rather aggressively, if Seth had to say so.

 

“Excuse me!? I did nothing!” Bakura declared in exasperation, “The trial's because Atemu doesn't want anyone crying over the lands north of the spire, idiot. That's where Sceppiro plans to build their new settlement!” Normally, Seth would've provided an equally annoyed response, but word of the new settlement interested him too much. Mainly because he knew that he would be involved, whether he wanted to be or not. He just shrugged, ignoring the anger in the thief's voice as he turned to Sith. She seemed amused with the thief's tone, personally.

 

“So everyone agreed you're definitely staying here?” he asked, referring to all of the Espers. She nodded, taking a deep breath as she turned toward the north. Normally, they'd see a small portion of Nesce floating in their world, but not anymore. All that greeted them was the far distant view of the ocean. Seth frowned. He would never get used to that.

 

“More or less,” she replied carefully, “This is more a formality than anything, though. Since it affects the entirety of Egypt at large, the pharaoh wants to give the people a chance to use their voices. Bit of a waste, if you ask me, because they don't really have a choice anyway. It's either we stay here or we head west. No matter what they choose, we're still in your world for now.”

 

“And just how long will that be?” Seth asked her, raising a brow. She gave a little grin.

 

“Depends on how long it takes to rebuild the capital,” she said, just a bit too smugly, “Could be a year, could be a thousand. Now let's go. They're heading out already.” And that was the end of that. Seth, Bakura, and Mahaado followed the older woman toward the army, where indeed the royal guards were leading them across the desert.

 

Just as Sith had said, as soon as the gates of the metropolis were thrown open, the guards led everyone toward the palace. By then, some of the crowd had separated, heading toward the Nile back to their own villages. Atemu had no objection; many of them had families that hadn't participated in the battle. But a vast majority had stayed, and the guards wasted no time. Sith had gone to the front end to direct the parade, and with her brisk command, it took little time to organize the crowds and move swiftly. By noon, they were already at the palace gates. Akunaden had come out and was already opening them by the time the first row of warriors appeared; Siamun had come out to greet them, and was pleasantly relieved to see that Knight Sith indeed lived, after all.

 

The old priest took over from there, leading first the pharaoh's court into the hall. The guards continued to lead the villagers, and the Espers took up the rear of the procession. By the time it was all said and done, the audience chamber was filled. Atemu took his place by the throne, and Seth was both relieved and a little annoyed to see Sith standing right beside the king. As usual, she looked like the core of authority. Right then, she most probably was. Atemu glanced at her, and then clapped his hands. Any clamor within the room ceased immediately. Everyone, human and non, looked at their king. He had their complete attention.

 

“It is to my understanding, people of Egypt, that the Espers wish to build a settlement in the northern expanse of our great desert,” Atemu began calmly, a small smile on his face, “I have readily agreed to this. Nesce has been our ally since my father's time, and I wish to keep that alliance strong. But my voice alone isn't eternal. This is a choice I should not make on my own. Therefore, I ask, if any have an objection, do speak on it. This decision affects all of you. Every man, human or not, has this choice to make. Make it wisely.” Sith nodded with approval, and one by one, everyone in the room began to mutter amongst themselves. Atemu waited patiently, but he couldn't help but feel just a little anxious over what his people would decide. Only one had the courage to speak up; it was Malik.

 

“Rath is dead, right?” he asked in a quiet voice, “I mean, she's not going to just come back, is she?”

 

“Yeah, we won't need to worry about any Espers killing us, will we?” another man asked, with a little more seriousness to his voice, “We have families. We can't risk safety if she's still alive.” Atemu paled a little bit. Sith hadn't confirmed whether Rath truly was dead. But he didn't need to say that. Sith stepped in at that point.

 

“Rest assured she isn't coming back,” the knight said grimly, “Aeroglyph Castle is in ruins, and not a soul survived if they were inside when it erupted. You are safe.” The words of the young pharaoh hadn't convinced them, but the words of their hero had. The man nodded and offered no other resistance, and Malik seemed put at relative peace. The villagers murmured again, the Espers remaining silent now. Then, another man spoke up.

 

“We think it's a good idea,” he said, “Having the Espers in Egypt would do us all some good. Especially in the north, where the winds are most brutal.” Many of the villagers agreed, and so the verdict was easily decided. Seth couldn't say he wasn't happy; though he didn't have entirely fond memories of the Espers, he was glad they had their allies. And, as he thought, many of the men agreed to help Sceppiro and the Espers to build their city, with Karim overseeing it. Sith would be joining them within two weeks, as soon as she was able to leave court. Bakura also volunteered, though that did bring some hesitancy from Sith. Seth didn't blame her; he wasn't entirely sure Bakura didn't have a second motive for offering his help. But in the end, the court went well. By evening, everyone was dismissed, and only Sceppiro and Sith remained of the Espers; Sith because she was part of the court, and Sceppiro because he still had much to discuss with Atemu. When it was all said and done, Seth escorted the knight out of the chamber, leaving the two kings to talk about business. At that point, many of the palace's inhabitants retired. They walked down the hall quietly.

 

“Busy few weeks, eh?” Seth commented, as they reached the entrance hall. Sith nodded, but she looked grim despite the good news. Seth stood and watched as she slowly began to ascend the stairs.

 

“Certainly will be, that's for sure,” she replied, and then turned and gave him a sly smile, “Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone.” Seth snorted. As if he needed that warning. He learned his lesson by then. He followed her up the stairs. It was just as silent as downstairs. And darker; almost all of the torches had been doused.

 

“You act as if I need the warning!” he cried, as they turned and walked down the west wing, toward the royal chambers. Sith laughed. Seth wasn't nearly as flustered, or annoyed, as he tried to pretend to be. It was clear in his voice. If they had been closer, she'd have probably ruffled his hair or given him a hug. She'd miss his bantering when it came time to leave. As they reached his chamber first, she settled for a clap on the back. It nearly sent him falling, but he managed to stay standing. She grinned again.

 

“That, my friend, is because you do,” was the sly reply. Then she left him at the door, walking down the hall. Seth watched silently until she was obscured by the darkness. He'd miss her retorts, that much he knew. Then he shook his head. He didn't just learn that he couldn't shirk his responsibilities. He learned that she really was his friend. And damn it, he'd actually miss her when it did come time for her to leave. She had said she wouldn't, but they both knew that, come Atemu's death, she would. Seth just snorted.

 

“Only you would be allowed to say that to me, knight,” he muttered. Then he went into his chamber and closed the door. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow was always another day, and tomorrow, he'd have much work to do. But that was the life of a high priest. It always would be. And right then, Seth was perfectly fine with that.

 

-----------------------------(End Chapter)

 

Aeroglyph is destroyed, but if anything, it made the alliance between Egypt and Nesce stronger. With the war ended, the only thing left is to see that the Espers are all right and have what they need to start the building of their new home. Will Seth escort Sith to the northern Spire once again? Will he shirk his job, as he had so long ago? And, how long will the alliance between Egypt and Nesce last? Find out next chapter, so click that Review button!