A Mercenary and A Nobleman

A/N: This chapter ended up a lot longer than I had originally planned, so I cut it short and will indulge in a little chapter redistribution. It is quite dialogue heavy, but I love the dynamic between these four characters. Thank you to everyone who reviewed (here and elsewhere). I’m glad you’re all enjoying it so far.

Jenny ~ your wish is my command! *waves magic wand* (How much per chapter?)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Tales of Symphonia….


A Mercenary and A Nobleman

Chapter 2

Zelos woke up to a sea of crimson. Startled, he lifted his head and was relieved to find that he was lying on a red pillow. Looking around he noticed the same shade in a blanket covering his lower body and in the simple curtain hanging in front of the window above him. Light streamed around the edges of the curtain, bathing the small room in a warm hue of pink. This was somewhat comforting but, even so, he was sure this wasn’t his own bedroom.

Twisting round, and grimacing at the ache in his back and legs as he did so, he sat on the edge of the mattress and placed his feet on the floor. His toes sank into a deep rug of glossy black fur. The rug was almost oval in shape, about three feet by four; the rest of the floor was bare wooden boards. The bed itself was a simple wooden frame, about four feet wide, occupying half the room. To Zelos’s left sat a simple nightstand with a shelf and opposite the bed stood a chest of drawers. The door was to his right. There was a faint smell of lavender in the air.

Curious, Zelos opened the curtains. He looked out onto a vegetable patch; at least, that’s what he assumed the square of neat rows of bunched leaves in earth was. At the far end a dense forest rose as the ground dropped sharply away. To the right he could see the fence of some sort of enclosure and, to his left, a circular bricked well, complete with a wooden roof and turn handle. How quaint, he thought. Where in God’s name am I?

Turning back into the room, he could now see that the walls and ceiling were panelled, or indeed built, with slats of a pale wood. Suddenly he felt very claustrophobic. It was time to find out why he was sleeping in a wooden shack in the middle of nowhere! He spied a pile of clothes on top of the chest of drawers and a small mirror hanging above it. Standing up, he just about made it to the wooden unit as sparks of pain fired off at the back of his head from the change in altitude. He stood, panting, leaning his arms against the surface and squeezed his eyes shut until the pain subsided. When he opened his eyes again he wished he hadn’t.

Looking up into the mirror he whimpered at the sight of his once resplendent features. His usually sparkling azure eyes were slightly dulled and bloodshot and his fine pale skin was marred by a fantastic bruise, vivid purple in the centre over his right cheekbone, and fading outwards to an ugly green tinge that spread to his lower eyelid and down to his swollen lip. As he tongued the inside of his mouth he felt a scab on the inside of his lip. He fleetingly recalled spitting out blood.

He was grateful there were no visible cuts but he still wasn’t sure he could walk around in public looking like this. With his right hand he gingerly felt the back of his head. Expecting to find his hair matted with dried blood he was surprised to find no more than a bruised lump above his right ear. His mind brought forth the image of a scarred face on its side and the recollection of a fist in his hair. What happened to me?

He picked up the white dress shirt from the neatly folded pile of clothes and shrugged it on before doing up the line of buttons beneath the ruffle that ran down the front. He pulled on the pale blue trousers and winced as he tucked the shirt in and pressed against undiscovered bruises on his back. Now he remembered lying in the dirt, curled up into a ball, as his back and legs were assaulted with sharp kicks. He finished doing up his trousers and sighed as he ran his hands through his long, wavy red hair. He wasn’t in the mood to see the full extent of the damage done to his beautiful body. As long as he could walk he’d find a way home, back to the sanctuary of his bedroom.

He frowned as he looked around the floor of the room. No sign of his boots. Maybe they were outside. He opened the door and found himself opposite another door in a small, wooden-panelled corridor. To his right, the corridor opened out into a relatively large living room, with rugs and chairs across the floor, and a large fireplace with a window either side on the far wall. There was another door to his right, and as he walked further into the room he became aware of movement at the far end and to the left. As he walked towards what looked like the main entrance of this…cabin…the living room opened out into a kitchen on his left. And standing in this kitchen, waving out of the window was a tall, slender woman wearing a long, apple-white dress. The dress was even paler than her long, shiny green hair which spilled freely down her back to her waist. Zelos averted his eyes from the deliciously round bottom as she turned around and looked at him with surprise.

“Oh, hello there! Good timing; I’m just about to serve dinner. You must be famished.”

All said with a disarming smile that seemed somewhat familiar to Zelos. The confusion on his face must have been evident as she continued to speak.

“Do you remember me? I’m Martel. My friend found you unconscious in the forest and brought you here. I treated your injuries and you’ve been asleep for much of the last day.”

“Martel…” Zelos murmured. “Uh…thank you. Sorry, this is really rude of me,” he said, shaking his head and adopting his most charming smile. “My name is Zelos Wilder. It’s an honour to be saved by such an angel.”

Martel’s smile widened and her green eyes twinkled. “That’s what you called me last night, too.”

Zelos raised his left eyebrow. Last night…?

“You weren’t very lucid. I don’t think you knew where you were.”

“Ah, I still don’t, actually.”

“Oh, of course you don’t. Well, this is my house. I live here with my husband, Yuan. Our friend, Kratos, found you nearby on the road through the forest. We’re about…ten miles north of Sottofooji here,” she said, referring to the large town at the foot of the Fooji mountains.

“So this really is the middle of nowhere?” Zelos sighed.

“Yep,” Martel answered, “and that’s why I like it here.”

At that moment, the front door opened and in walked a man wearing dark clothes. The floppy auburn hair and masculine face with eyes hidden caused Zelos to gasp with recognition.

“This is the man who saved you. He carried you all the way back here, you lucky thing,” Martel added with a sly grin, before turning away to busy herself at the kitchen table.

The man, seeing Zelos, pulled his fringe out of his eyes with one hand and walked towards him with a determined stride, a slight frown upon his dark features. Zelos’s eyes widened and he stepped back a little as the man’s hand reached up towards his face. His fingers were gentle as he held Zelos’s jaw and studied him intently.

“Beautiful…” he commented.

“Isn’t it just?” chimed Martel from across the kitchen. “That was the batch with arnica and chamomile.”

Zelos’s brows furrowed at this secret code but his eyes never left the man’s own dark, unreadable pair as his face was turned one way then the other. After what felt like an eternity he let go of Zelos’s chin and held out his hand towards him.

“Kratos Aurion.”

Zelos considered snubbing this man who had dared to touch him but remembered that he had found him, watered him and carried him for half an hour the previous day, when he could have just left him to die. He took the hand offered to him and shook it firmly. “Zelos Wilder.”

Kratos raised his eyebrows and enquired, “You’re from Meltokio?”

“That’s right, and I can’t wait to get back there.”

“You are displeased with Martel’s hospitality?” he asked quietly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zelos was taken aback by the sudden chill in this man’s demeanour – partly because he was surprised he could act any colder. “No, no,” he said quickly, “Martel’s been an absolute hunny.” He flinched as he felt his insides freeze from the icy glare. “That is to say, uh, she’s been very good to me, looking after me and…uh, I think she washed my clothes,” he said, looking down at his shirt, “and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Martel. Say, is that home baked bread?” Martel simply smiled as Zelos edged closer to the kitchen table in an attempt to distance himself from the scary man.

“She did wash your clothes. They were covered in boot prints when I found you.” Again, that deep, quiet intimidating voice.

“Really? Uh, well, of course I owe you a big thank you as well, K-kratos,” Zelos stammered.

“You owe me your life, Mr Wilder.”

Zelos’s eyes grew as wide as saucers at this last remark. Behind him, Martel chuckled. “Stop teasing him, Kratos.”

“As you wish.” Breaking his menacing stance he walked over to the table and picked up a piece of carrot from a bowl on the table before tossing it into his mouth. Martel playfully slapped at his hand and they both smiled as she tittered, “Silly.”

Zelos laughed uneasily and fought the urge to cower behind the maiden in an attempt to hide from this mystifying, and more than a little daunting, man. He was amazed at how much Kratos’s features were altered by that small, mischievous grin. He had to admit the guy was really very handsome.

Zelos glanced back to the front door as it opened again and he heard a dog bark excitedly. In strode a man with striking aquamarine hair tied back with a black barrette in a ponytail that fell down to his shoulder blades. Several strands of hair had loosened from the clip and fell in front of his right eye. Zelos’s gaze was drawn downwards as a ridiculously large green and white…wolf…padded into the house. Its back was level with the man’s hips and it lifted its big, shaggy ears as it bared its fangs and let out a low growl while staring directly at Zelos.

The blue-haired man held the animal by the scruff of its neck, as if to restrain it, and addressed a rather nervous Zelos. “You should come here and pet him, show him you mean no harm.”

“Touch…that?”

“Sure, he’s a softy really. Come on.”

Zelos walked slowly towards the beast, keeping his hands well out of reach.

“He likes to be scratched between the ears.” The man’s voice, not as deep as Kratos’s, was smooth and reassuring.

Zelos tentatively scratched the white fur with his fingertips and smirked when the growl became a happy whine. The deep brown eyes closed as Zelos rubbed more firmly. Stupid mutt, he thought. Looking up he found the man was watching him. He noticed that his eyes matched the deep turquoise of his hair. “You must be Yuan.”

“That’s right. And this is Noishe, our trusty guard dog,” Yuan said dryly.

“Zelos.” The two men shook hands and Noishe bounded across the living room before settling comfortably in front of the unlit fireplace.

“It’s good to see you walking around, at any rate. I take it nothing’s broken.”

“No,” Zelos answered. Only my heart.

Zelos was bitterly disappointed that Martel’s husband matched her beauty with his own. He was always willing to lend his own dazzling company to ladies whose husbands were lacking in that department. He was charitable like that.

“Okay, gentlemen. Time to wash up before dinner.” On cue Zelos’s stomach let out a loud growl. Of course he hadn’t eaten anything in more than a day.

“My sentiments exactly,” spoke Yuan as he walked over to his wife and placed a kiss in the crook of her neck, causing her to giggle. After Kratos had finished scrubbing his hands at the sink Yuan made his way there.

“I’m afraid we’ve only got cold meats and salad, since it’s such a warm evening,” said Martel as she placed a jug of water on the table. Zelos looked at the surface of the table, which was cluttered with plates of sliced meats, cheeses, bread rolls, bowls of crisp, fresh salads and jars of pickled vegetables.

“On the contrary, this is a fine spread,” remarked Kratos, seating himself. “You always spoil me when I visit.”

“Yeah, she lets me starve while you’re away, Kratos.” Yuan earned himself a flick of the tea towel Martel was holding.

Zelos moved to the now empty sink and washed his hands using the water pitcher and a bar of lemon-scented soap. After drying his hands he sat down at the last empty chair, opposite Kratos with Martel on his left and Yuan on his right. “It looks fantastic,” he offered. He wasn’t known for his culinary skills but he wasn’t really a fan of eight-course dinners with more garnish than substance. Food was to be eaten, after all, not merely looked at and cooed over. A sentiment obviously shared by Kratos, who was busy piling his plate high with food from every dish…except that with tomatoes on it, Zelos noted.

“Where do you live, Kratos?” Zelos asked bravely, as he helped himself to some cooked meat.

“Nowhere, really,” Kratos answered shortly.

Zelos, piling lettuce and salad vegetables onto his plate, was wondering how someone could live nowhere when Yuan explained, “He’s a travelling mercenary.”

“Oh, I see. That must be very…exciting.” Zelos stuffed his mouth with salad to prevent any more oh-so-astute observations from escaping.

“Humph,” Kratos grunted.

“So, you’re from Meltokio, Zelos?” Martel enquired.

Zelos nodded, his mouth still full.

“I’ve never been there. We’re from Sottofooji. We moved out here a few years ago,” she said, sharing a look with Yuan.

Zelos swallowed his mouthful. “You’d like it in Meltokio. It’s a beautiful place for beautiful people.” He beamed at Martel, who blushed slightly.

“It’s a pretentious city, for those with more money than sense.”

Zelos stared at Kratos, who nonchalantly continued to eat.

“Oh come now, Kratos,” Yuan chuckled. “It must hold some merit. You do get paid a lot more for the work you find there. You’re not complaining about that, surely?”

”Humph.”

“Well, we couldn’t afford to live there, that’s for certain.”

“What is it you do?” Zelos knew he shouldn’t ask this question, but he was running out of ways to make small talk.

“Well, Martel is a herbalist. She makes ointments and perfumed oils and other such things that women love. Actually, it’s due to her latest invention that your bruising has gone down so much. Your face was almost black yesterday.”

So that’s what Martel and Kratos had been talking about, earlier. Zelos beamed at Martel in appreciation while continuing to eat the delicious food.

“There’s a lady at the market in Sottofooji who sells them for me. Yuan takes a batch there for me every week.”

“It’s a modest income. Other than a trip to the market once a week we’re fairly self-sufficient, what with the vegetables, goats and chickens.”

“Yuan’s my hunter-gather,” Martel pronounced, grinning.

Zelos watched this subtle display of affection with fascination. In Meltokio husbands generally spoke for their wives when they couldn’t be trusted to say anything sensible.
On the rare occasion that a woman chose to speak on behalf of her husband it was usually met with polite titters and pitying looks from the gentlemen present towards the husband of said woman. Just one of the many reasons Zelos had vowed never to marry.

“That reminds me,” Yuan addressed Martel, “I’ve hung up tomorrow’s dinner. We caught a deer today. And Noishe has eaten; he caught a rabbit.”

“Clever boy. Not bad for Noishe, either.” Martel’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Even Kratos smiled a little at that comment.

“Well you’re welcome to go and catch next week’s meals, darling,” retorted Yuan, playfully.

“And you can clean the house while I’m gone, dear.” Martel’s smile was almost saintly.

“Okay, you win,” Yuan submitted. “I think Noishe should help out more around the house, though.” He was answered with a short, sharp bark from the living room. Both Yuan and Martel chuckled.

“What breed of dog is he?” Zelos asked, after swallowing his final mouthful. Both he and Kratos reached for the serving spoon at the same time and snatched their hands away, avoiding one another’s eyes. Zelos opted for more bread.

“We’re really not sure,” answered Martel. “Kratos found him in the forest many years ago, while he was still a puppy. His foot was injured.”

“You healed him, of course,” Zelos interjected, with a smile.

“Yes I did, actually. But this was before Yuan and I were married. Kratos looked after Noishe mostly until he decided to become a mercenary. Noishe was sort of a wedding gift from him, I guess.”

Kratos remained silent, studying his plate while chomping on his food.

“He really has grown big, though.” Martel seemed wistful. “Many people find him rather intimidating.”

Who; Kratos or the dog? Assuming the latter, Zelos expressed his agreement. “I can understand that.”

“But we know otherwise, don’t we, dear? He’s such a loyal dog, so insightful at times, and incredibly good company.”

Zelos glanced at Martel, then at Yuan. As they held each other’s gaze Zelos saw a sadness in both their eyes that he thought he shouldn’t be witnessing. Instead, he looked at Kratos, who sat completely still, his own features flickering with an unreadable emotion.

As if sensing Zelos’s stare Kratos looked up and placed both elbows on the table and his chin on interlaced fingers before asking the million dollar question. “Tell us, Zelos, just what it is you do for a living.”

Damn him to hell, thought Zelos. Sitting there calmly, Kratos’s dark eyes dared Zelos to tell his friends just how important his role in society was, knowing all the while that Zelos was born into the kind of wealth one could almost swim in. Zelos had a feeling the arrogant prick would try to show him up like this ever since he had recognised Zelos’s name, earlier. Just what was the guy’s problem?

Yuan looked up from his dinner, slightly alarmed at the sudden stand off between the two men.

Not one to lose his temper, generally, Zelos decided to try to save face in front of his hosts by finishing off Kratos’s joke for him. He added some more meat to his plate. “Well, as you know, in Meltokio we have far more money than the need to do anything sensible with it.”

“Touché,” muttered Yuan, not quite under his breath.

“And in school my only fortes were looking pretty, being charming and mathematics”, Zelos continued in the same conversational tone. “So, I recently decided to persuade my wealthy friends to part with their hard-earned cash by giving it to me.”

“How so?” asked Yuan, intrigued.

“Well, the latest craze among the debutantes is horse riding. But there weren’t any stables inside the city, at least not until I built one. Currently there’s only room for five horses other than my own, so I haven’t put any other stables out of business, as far as I’m aware. But it’s amazing how much more some people will pay so that their pretty young daughters don’t have to travel out to the boondocks in order to pursue their hobbies.”

“It’s amazing they’d let their daughters anywhere near you, Zelos.” Kratos was smirking, but his dark eyes now held a look, not so much of mirth, but of respectful amusement. Zelos called a silent truce. For now.

“I love horses,” sighed Martel, happily. “We have a beautiful white mare. You should meet her. How many horses do you own?”

“Just one,” Zelos replied, thinking of his chestnut beauty. “I learned to ride as a child, but never owned a horse because I was away at boarding school most of the time.”

“Was she pulling your coach yesterday?”

Zelos looked up at Kratos and dropped his fork as the memories came flooding back. The beating, the men, the knife, the girl…. “Milly…” he whispered.

“Are you okay, Zelos?” Martel was at his side, holding his arm. As he looked round at her he became aware of how much his hands were shaking. “You blanked out for a while. Here, drink this.” She held a glass of water to his lips. As he sipped slowly his shaking hands rose to cup the base of the glass ineffectually. “Just breathe slowly for a while.”

He bowed his head and took a few shaky breaths. When he closed his eyes all he could see was Milly’s frightened stare. He could feel tears start to form behind his eyelids.

“Is Milly your horse?” asked Martel, softly.

“No,” Zelos choked. He shook his head and cleared his throat. Looking back up at Kratos he asked, “Did you see any sign of a girl, when you found me?”

Kratos shook his head slowly, then met Yuan’s alarmed look.

“We must go and find her,” Zelos announced, standing up.

“Sit back down for now, you’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

Zelos didn’t need to be told twice as dizziness overcame him and he fell back onto the chair, Martel’s arm around his shoulders. He rested his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table, and fought back tears of exhaustion and fear. “We have to find her,” he sobbed.

“Zelos…” Kratos began. A look from Martel silenced him.

“What?” asked Zelos, looking up. “What do you know?” His eyes pleaded for answers. Kratos looked back and forth between Zelos and Martel. Eventually, Martel lowered her head, resignedly.

“Zelos, Yuan and I found your driver this morning. We buried his body.”

Zelos nodded. He remembered hearing the men talk about the driver’s body. That was when he had started to panic.

“We brought back what was left of your belongings and moved the carriage off the road. But there was no sign of a girl. Or a horse.”

Zelos waited for more. So far Kratos hadn’t told him any more than he already knew. Kratos shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes from Zelos’s beseeching gaze.

“Zelos, it’s unlikely that she’s still alive,” Yuan said quietly. “And even if she is,” he chose his words carefully, “she may wish she wasn’t.”

Zelos’s mouth fell open as the meaning of Yuan’s words dawned on him. As he gaped at Yuan’s remorseful face he remembered the greasy-haired man and how he had slid his tongue up the terrified girl’s cheek. He swallowed down the rising bile in disgust. “There were five of them,” he muttered.

The silence that followed was deafening, as each of them tried not to contemplate the horrors that Milly had probably faced at the hands of her attackers.

“I think I’d like to lie down for a while,” Zelos said as he stood carefully. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

“Let me help you to your room,” offered Martel.

“No, it’s all right. I’ll manage. Thank you for dinner,” he said, impassively, as he shuffled slowly out of the kitchen.

Once he reached the small room, he closed the door quietly and sat on the mattress. As he stared out of the window at the darkening sky, he bid a silent farewell to a girl who, at just sixteen, should have had so much more to look forward to in life. As tears began to slide down his cheeks he lay down on his side and curled into that protective ball once more.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, as he stared vacantly across the room, allowing the tears to flow freely. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, either.