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| 2008-02-26 13:29 |
| [FIC] Suikoden |
| Public |
| suikoden |
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Title: N/A
Fandom: Suikoden
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 907 words
Notes: OC. The one where the Tenkai is a girl. Takes place about a decade after Suikoden III, situated on a small manor holding in the vicinity of the Tinto Republic/Zexen in an imaginary tiny country.
For the fourth time since inheriting the manor, loud voices and the clash of steel startled her awake. Miriam bit down on a curse as she stumbled out of bed, groping around in the dark for her robe. The night chill went right through her thin nightgown, and the robe, when she finally found it, didn't do much to help. She briefly gave thought to her slippers, probably somewhere under her bed, but the noise outside was getting louder and flickering light was coming through the shuttered windows. Instead, she turned and ran out the door, her bare feet slapping against the cold wooden floor of the manor's hallways. She nearly skidded as she rounded the last corner before the balcony. There was something going on in the courtyard, she could tell that much already. The last thing we need is another attack right before our visitors arrive--
Miriam's thoughts flew from her head as she pushed open the double doors to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. From the looks of the scene below her, their visitors had already arrived ahead of schedule-- walking right into the the latest attempt on her life. The Grasslanders--they had to be Grasslanders, with that sort of skin and clothing, right?--and her own guards crowded the courtyard, surrounding a group of the now-familiar red-outfitted soldiers. Save the addition of the Grasslanders, it was a sight she'd become accustomed to. Which was why it took her a moment to figure out what was so strange. Then it hit her. They were all still, save for the enemy soldiers and a single figure in the center of the ring.
Who was taking them all on at once.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, Miriam stepped forward to the stone railing and stood on her tiptoes to get a better look. It wasn't one of her soldiers. No, she knew them all by sight at least by now. It was a Grasslander boy in bright, exotic clothes, his jewelry clinking as he all but spun circles around his foes. The battle was nearly over, it seemed--not that it could have lasted long, judging by the quickness and deadly grace with which he wielded the long knife in his hand. The light of the torches in the spectators' hands gleamed off the sweat on his dark skin as he turned and slit the throat of the soldier behind him in one clean movement.
"Hm, so our enemy seems to have gotten wind of our plans after all."
Miriam jumped, startled out of her fascination with the fight by the voice behind her. Clutching at her chest with one pale hand, she turned to face the newcomer. "It's not usually considered proper to sneak up behind someone, Mr. Silverberg," she managed.
"My apologies," the red-haired man said, managing to not sound in the least bit sorry. He joined her at the edge of the balcony, half-lidded eyes surveying the courtyard. Despite it being the middle of the night, he was fully dressed, she noted, suddenly aware of her own state of undress. A slight flush rose on her cheeks and she tried to pat her hair into something more presentable.
"What do you mean?" she asked, turning her gaze back to the boy and his opponents. In the time she'd looked away, he'd dispatched all but one, who he quickly knocked out with the hilt of his knife. He shouted something in a language she didn't recognize to the Grasslanders, who approached to drag the unconscious soldier off. Her own guards seemed to break out of a trance, following after.
Silverberg shrugged, looking immensely unconcerned. "I may have let it leak that we were entering negotiations with a Grassland clan." Before Miriam could find words to demand what on earth he'd been thinking, he continued. "Their reaction to that information has given us a little more insight into their plans, I think."
Not for the first time, she considered shaking the man. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He blinked. "You didn't need to know. Besides, I let Hugo know in my letter of the possibility of this happening."
"Hugo?" she asked, feeling more and more out of control of this entire situation.
"The Karayan Chief. I believe you were just admiring his skills?" Silverberg flicked a hand down below to the boy, who was now cleaning the blood from his knife.
Miriam's eyes widened. "What?!" she hissed. "But he's-- he hardly looks any older than I am!"
"Actually, I'm surprised that he does, in fact, look at all older than you." Moving on from this cryptic statement, he slid his hands into his pockets. "And I'll note that at your age, you are now the lady of a rather desirably-placed piece of real estate. Hence our entire problem."
"That's not--" Miriam broke off as she realized that they'd been spotted. The boy--Hugo, was it?--had glanced up to the balcony as though he was noticing it for the first time. His eyes skimmed over her, stopping on Silverberg. To her surprise, his face broke into a wide grin and he raised a hand in greeting. Silverberg returned the gesture, his usual lazy smirk changing into a more genuine smile. Once again, she found herself desperately confused. "I wish," she said, "that people would actually bother to tell me what's going on once and a while."
Silverberg snorted.
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