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almondinflowerThe Skylord, part 6/?
Length: Shortish chapter at about 1800 words
Notes: So. I was going somewhere with this fic. Remind me where I was going again? (a.k.a. oh man I bet there are punctuation mistakes in this one forgive me, and I offer gratitude and kudos for anyone who decides to offer improving suggestions re: my dubious English.)
Yamamoto was peeling grapes for Lambo when Lord Dino Cavallone fell face-first in the mud. Yamamoto heard a thud and splash first, and then, peering out the back doorway of the inn, saw the nobleman picking himself off the ground, spitting out gravel and rainwater.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Dino threw him a sheepish grin, one hand reaching up to brush muddy strands of hair out of his muddy face. “I'm okay. Just one of those clumsy moments, you know. And the ground's so slippery -- whoops!”
This time Yamamoto managed to catch hold of Dino's arm before he fell. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the Cavallone lord grabbing onto Yamamoto's shoulder with his other arm, which reminded Yamamoto's body painfully that it'd had two dozen blades stuck in it last night. Yamamoto flinched, wincing, and they lost balance together, sending up a spray of dirty water all over Lambo as they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
As Yamamoto lay there, half-stunned, he heard footsteps and voices approaching from the ends of the courtyard, and soon after found himself being gently hauled to his feet.
“Lord Dino, perhaps you should go indoors and have some lunch.” That was one of Dino's retainers, of which there were six surrounding them in a circle right now, all dressed in the same dark Cavallone livery. Yamamoto couldn't remember any of their names except for Romario, the physician who'd pulled the knives out of him last night.
“It's my responsibility to look after my horses,” Dino argued.
“Lord Dino. Please go inside.” Dino frowned at his man's tone, then sighed.
“All right,” he said; turning to Yamamoto, he asked: “Do you feel ready for lunch, Takeshi? Thank you for trying to help.”
“I wish I'd succeeded,” said Yamamoto, somewhat relieved that his wounds hurt so much. If they hadn't, he would have been well in the middle of a laughing fit by now. “Don't you think we had better clean ourselves up first? You're, er, quite a sight.” Dino was indeed a spectacle to behold -- hair the colour of sunlight, olive skin, expensive-looking riding coat, all damp and copiously soiled with brown streaks.
“You look just as bad, I'll have you know. Baths would be a good idea.” Dino turned businesslike suddenly, with that peculiar way he had of shifting the atmosphere around him. One minute he'd come across as friendly and silly, the next, he was...cool. Keen-edged.
At any rate, it was interesting to watch.
“I'll get someone to bring hot water up to your room,” continued Dino. “Come to the private parlour in about half an hour; we can have lunch there. You too, Lambo.” As he spoke he smiled down at the child, who was clinging to Yamamoto's right calf.
A tub of steaming hot water was waiting in Yamamoto's rooms when he went upstairs. Two terrycloth towels sat on the bed, neatly folded. Yamamoto undressed and then lowered himself into the bath with some difficulty, careful not to open the wounds that Romario had so carefully sealed with magic glue last night. Despite the steam, the water was just the right temperature to be comfortable, and he relaxed, resting his back against the end of the tub. He was more tired than he'd realised. It had taken Romario several hours to see to all his injuries, and afterwards Lord Dino had thought it urgent enough to tell him and Lambo the whole story, that all of them had ended up staying awake until past midnight.
The long-haired man and his companion with the flying knives were named Squalo and Belphegor. They were members of the Varia, the mercenary company that had led the duchy's armies to victory against the Giglio Nero a decade ago. As a reward they had been given a nothern city to rule over, a gift that had not been withdrawn even when Xanxus, the ruler of the Varia, had attempted to overthrow the current, Ninth Skylord. Xanxus had been punished by being encased in a tomb of frozen sky-flame, and placed on a high column outside the gates of the Vongola Palace. He still stood there, a significant tourist attraction for visitors to the capital city.
Now the Skylord was succumbing to illness, and the Varia were seeking to make Xanxus his successor.
“Is that allowed?” Yamamato had asked.
Dino had shrugged. “The magic chooses whom it wills,” he'd said. “We don't have the right to bar them from participating in the challenge, even if we could.” His expression darkened. “We do, however, have the right to keep them from removing all other Guardian and Skylord candidates.”
It hadn't taken Yamamoto too long to figure out what he was saying. “So. I'm guessing that Lambo's a Guardian candidate—and I am, as well.” When Dino nodded with a serious expression, he'd said: “I broke my sword when I was fighting Squalo. Do you know where I can get a new one?”
Dino's eyebrows had shot up. “Uh, I'm not quite sure that's our first priority.”
“If the Varia members come back, I won't be able to protect myself without a sword. Or Lambo.”
“I can protect myself,” Lambo had said indignantly, with a zap of lightning to Yamamoto's knees to punctuate his words.
One of the Cavallone men had spoken: “Milord Dino, if you'd assign some of us to safeguard Master Yamamoto and Master Lambo--”
“No, they're both right. It's a Guardian candidate's job to protect, not to be protected.” Dino turned to Yamamoto. “We'll get you a sword as soon as we can.”
That had been all the information Yamamoto got out of the Cavallone lord last night. Everyone had slept in this morning, and when Yamamoto had finally woke up, it was almost noon. Lambo had been bouncing up and down on the foot of the bed, asking to be fed grapes.
He got out of the bath, got dressed, and made his way to the private parlour on the ground floor. The door was ajar when he arrived; Yamamoto pushed it open, and walked in. He found the Cavallone lord sitting in a cushioned chair in front of the unlit fireplace. Dino appeared to be talking to himself.
“'Mukuro is a girl'. Is that meant to be a figure of speech?” Something small and yellow fluttered in Dino's lap. Yamamoto, upon examination, realised it was a small bird, sparrow-sized, perched on Dino's left thigh.
Dino noticed Yamamoto's arrival at about the same time, and stood up. “Takeshi! Come and take a seat. Lambo's already here,” he said, gesturing towards a table at the back of the room, where an array of food was laid out. A delicious smell wafted in their direction – meat and onion stew, it seemed like. Lambo sat at one end of the table, slurping noisily at a bowl of soup.
They took their seats. and began their meal. As Yamamoto was helping himself to bread and stew, the little bird landed on the placemat in front of Dino, chirping indignantly.
“Ah, I forgot about you. You must be hungry. Romario!”
“Yes, my lord?” The dark-haired man emerged from a doorway Yamamoto had not noticed existed.
“Could you get a bowl of water for Hibird? And some.. bird seed. If we've got any.” Dino looked quizzically at the bird. “What do you eat, anyway? I've never seen Kyouya feed you – ouch!” Hibird hopped back, letting out a series of satisfied-sounding cheeps, as a bright spot of blood appeared on Dino's left thumb. “Could you not resemble your owner quite so much?” Dino said reproachfully to the bird, which flew over to the back of an adjacent chair, and began warbling a familiar song.
“That's the Namimori city anthem,” Yamamoto said in recognition.
“Let me do the introductions. This is Hibird. He's a messenger for Lord Hibari Kyouya of Namimori.” Dino gave a wry grin. “Unfortunately, I only understand about three hundred words of Hibird-speak, which makes communication rather limited. But enough gets across.” His eyes turned serious. “Kyouya just sent me a message to say that Mukuro's trapped him in a cave in Kokuyou Marsh.”
“Rokudo Mukuro? The immortal?” Under other circumstances, Yamamoto would have been surprised at the mention of the legendary name – but the last few days had been one long series of improbable events.
Hibird chirped, drawing Dino's attention. “Understood. On no account am I to attempt a rescue. Tell Kyouya I don't have to be told something three times. Well, usually I don't. Stop pecking me, would you?” he added, as Hibird proceeded to bloody the opposite thumb and several more fingers.
“I have Hibird's bowl of water, my lord,” said Romario, who in the meantime had disappeared through the doorway and returned again. “And some top-grade bird seed.”
“Ah, thank goodness. Put them in that corner right over there." Dino pointed at the end of the table opposite to where he was sitting. "Go drink, Hibird. Eat,” he said to the bird, before turning to Yamamoto. “To be honest, I'd really like to rescue Kyouya, but we don't have the resources to do so at the moment. Plus I'm sure he sent Hibird here just to make sure we didn't go rampaging across the duchy trying to find him.”
“Which you were about to do, my lord.”
“Yes, Romario; I know. We'll have to go back to the original plan now, which was...?”
“To gather troops and and prepare for eventual battle with the Varia army.”
“Right. I did remember that. We were also asked to look for potential Guardian candidates and guide them to the selection site – that's where the two of you come in. And Kyouya too – I have no idea what we're going to to do if he refuses to become a Guardian. Cloud mages are as rare as desert mangroves.”
“Huh," said Yamamoto. "Interesting that you're not rescuing him, then.”
“Remember what we talked about last night? Guardian candidates are to protect, not be protected. Plus--” and it was there again, that quiet and dark and dangerous aura that emanated from Dino at the most unexpected moments, “I'd be sorely disappointed in Kyouya, if he couldn't get out of this fix by himself.
“I think we should be worrying about you instead. Rain swordsmen are nearly as rare as cloud mages. Only ones I've ever met are you and Squalo. Utterly wrecked the weather between the two of you, too; it took me half the night to get the storm to go away.”
Squalo Superbi. The man who had broken Yamamoto's sword.
Yamamoto knew what he had to do now.
Part 7.
Length: Shortish chapter at about 1800 words
Notes: So. I was going somewhere with this fic. Remind me where I was going again? (a.k.a. oh man I bet there are punctuation mistakes in this one forgive me, and I offer gratitude and kudos for anyone who decides to offer improving suggestions re: my dubious English.)
Yamamoto was peeling grapes for Lambo when Lord Dino Cavallone fell face-first in the mud. Yamamoto heard a thud and splash first, and then, peering out the back doorway of the inn, saw the nobleman picking himself off the ground, spitting out gravel and rainwater.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Dino threw him a sheepish grin, one hand reaching up to brush muddy strands of hair out of his muddy face. “I'm okay. Just one of those clumsy moments, you know. And the ground's so slippery -- whoops!”
This time Yamamoto managed to catch hold of Dino's arm before he fell. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the Cavallone lord grabbing onto Yamamoto's shoulder with his other arm, which reminded Yamamoto's body painfully that it'd had two dozen blades stuck in it last night. Yamamoto flinched, wincing, and they lost balance together, sending up a spray of dirty water all over Lambo as they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
As Yamamoto lay there, half-stunned, he heard footsteps and voices approaching from the ends of the courtyard, and soon after found himself being gently hauled to his feet.
“Lord Dino, perhaps you should go indoors and have some lunch.” That was one of Dino's retainers, of which there were six surrounding them in a circle right now, all dressed in the same dark Cavallone livery. Yamamoto couldn't remember any of their names except for Romario, the physician who'd pulled the knives out of him last night.
“It's my responsibility to look after my horses,” Dino argued.
“Lord Dino. Please go inside.” Dino frowned at his man's tone, then sighed.
“All right,” he said; turning to Yamamoto, he asked: “Do you feel ready for lunch, Takeshi? Thank you for trying to help.”
“I wish I'd succeeded,” said Yamamoto, somewhat relieved that his wounds hurt so much. If they hadn't, he would have been well in the middle of a laughing fit by now. “Don't you think we had better clean ourselves up first? You're, er, quite a sight.” Dino was indeed a spectacle to behold -- hair the colour of sunlight, olive skin, expensive-looking riding coat, all damp and copiously soiled with brown streaks.
“You look just as bad, I'll have you know. Baths would be a good idea.” Dino turned businesslike suddenly, with that peculiar way he had of shifting the atmosphere around him. One minute he'd come across as friendly and silly, the next, he was...cool. Keen-edged.
At any rate, it was interesting to watch.
“I'll get someone to bring hot water up to your room,” continued Dino. “Come to the private parlour in about half an hour; we can have lunch there. You too, Lambo.” As he spoke he smiled down at the child, who was clinging to Yamamoto's right calf.
A tub of steaming hot water was waiting in Yamamoto's rooms when he went upstairs. Two terrycloth towels sat on the bed, neatly folded. Yamamoto undressed and then lowered himself into the bath with some difficulty, careful not to open the wounds that Romario had so carefully sealed with magic glue last night. Despite the steam, the water was just the right temperature to be comfortable, and he relaxed, resting his back against the end of the tub. He was more tired than he'd realised. It had taken Romario several hours to see to all his injuries, and afterwards Lord Dino had thought it urgent enough to tell him and Lambo the whole story, that all of them had ended up staying awake until past midnight.
The long-haired man and his companion with the flying knives were named Squalo and Belphegor. They were members of the Varia, the mercenary company that had led the duchy's armies to victory against the Giglio Nero a decade ago. As a reward they had been given a nothern city to rule over, a gift that had not been withdrawn even when Xanxus, the ruler of the Varia, had attempted to overthrow the current, Ninth Skylord. Xanxus had been punished by being encased in a tomb of frozen sky-flame, and placed on a high column outside the gates of the Vongola Palace. He still stood there, a significant tourist attraction for visitors to the capital city.
Now the Skylord was succumbing to illness, and the Varia were seeking to make Xanxus his successor.
“Is that allowed?” Yamamato had asked.
Dino had shrugged. “The magic chooses whom it wills,” he'd said. “We don't have the right to bar them from participating in the challenge, even if we could.” His expression darkened. “We do, however, have the right to keep them from removing all other Guardian and Skylord candidates.”
It hadn't taken Yamamoto too long to figure out what he was saying. “So. I'm guessing that Lambo's a Guardian candidate—and I am, as well.” When Dino nodded with a serious expression, he'd said: “I broke my sword when I was fighting Squalo. Do you know where I can get a new one?”
Dino's eyebrows had shot up. “Uh, I'm not quite sure that's our first priority.”
“If the Varia members come back, I won't be able to protect myself without a sword. Or Lambo.”
“I can protect myself,” Lambo had said indignantly, with a zap of lightning to Yamamoto's knees to punctuate his words.
One of the Cavallone men had spoken: “Milord Dino, if you'd assign some of us to safeguard Master Yamamoto and Master Lambo--”
“No, they're both right. It's a Guardian candidate's job to protect, not to be protected.” Dino turned to Yamamoto. “We'll get you a sword as soon as we can.”
That had been all the information Yamamoto got out of the Cavallone lord last night. Everyone had slept in this morning, and when Yamamoto had finally woke up, it was almost noon. Lambo had been bouncing up and down on the foot of the bed, asking to be fed grapes.
He got out of the bath, got dressed, and made his way to the private parlour on the ground floor. The door was ajar when he arrived; Yamamoto pushed it open, and walked in. He found the Cavallone lord sitting in a cushioned chair in front of the unlit fireplace. Dino appeared to be talking to himself.
“'Mukuro is a girl'. Is that meant to be a figure of speech?” Something small and yellow fluttered in Dino's lap. Yamamoto, upon examination, realised it was a small bird, sparrow-sized, perched on Dino's left thigh.
Dino noticed Yamamoto's arrival at about the same time, and stood up. “Takeshi! Come and take a seat. Lambo's already here,” he said, gesturing towards a table at the back of the room, where an array of food was laid out. A delicious smell wafted in their direction – meat and onion stew, it seemed like. Lambo sat at one end of the table, slurping noisily at a bowl of soup.
They took their seats. and began their meal. As Yamamoto was helping himself to bread and stew, the little bird landed on the placemat in front of Dino, chirping indignantly.
“Ah, I forgot about you. You must be hungry. Romario!”
“Yes, my lord?” The dark-haired man emerged from a doorway Yamamoto had not noticed existed.
“Could you get a bowl of water for Hibird? And some.. bird seed. If we've got any.” Dino looked quizzically at the bird. “What do you eat, anyway? I've never seen Kyouya feed you – ouch!” Hibird hopped back, letting out a series of satisfied-sounding cheeps, as a bright spot of blood appeared on Dino's left thumb. “Could you not resemble your owner quite so much?” Dino said reproachfully to the bird, which flew over to the back of an adjacent chair, and began warbling a familiar song.
“That's the Namimori city anthem,” Yamamoto said in recognition.
“Let me do the introductions. This is Hibird. He's a messenger for Lord Hibari Kyouya of Namimori.” Dino gave a wry grin. “Unfortunately, I only understand about three hundred words of Hibird-speak, which makes communication rather limited. But enough gets across.” His eyes turned serious. “Kyouya just sent me a message to say that Mukuro's trapped him in a cave in Kokuyou Marsh.”
“Rokudo Mukuro? The immortal?” Under other circumstances, Yamamoto would have been surprised at the mention of the legendary name – but the last few days had been one long series of improbable events.
Hibird chirped, drawing Dino's attention. “Understood. On no account am I to attempt a rescue. Tell Kyouya I don't have to be told something three times. Well, usually I don't. Stop pecking me, would you?” he added, as Hibird proceeded to bloody the opposite thumb and several more fingers.
“I have Hibird's bowl of water, my lord,” said Romario, who in the meantime had disappeared through the doorway and returned again. “And some top-grade bird seed.”
“Ah, thank goodness. Put them in that corner right over there." Dino pointed at the end of the table opposite to where he was sitting. "Go drink, Hibird. Eat,” he said to the bird, before turning to Yamamoto. “To be honest, I'd really like to rescue Kyouya, but we don't have the resources to do so at the moment. Plus I'm sure he sent Hibird here just to make sure we didn't go rampaging across the duchy trying to find him.”
“Which you were about to do, my lord.”
“Yes, Romario; I know. We'll have to go back to the original plan now, which was...?”
“To gather troops and and prepare for eventual battle with the Varia army.”
“Right. I did remember that. We were also asked to look for potential Guardian candidates and guide them to the selection site – that's where the two of you come in. And Kyouya too – I have no idea what we're going to to do if he refuses to become a Guardian. Cloud mages are as rare as desert mangroves.”
“Huh," said Yamamoto. "Interesting that you're not rescuing him, then.”
“Remember what we talked about last night? Guardian candidates are to protect, not be protected. Plus--” and it was there again, that quiet and dark and dangerous aura that emanated from Dino at the most unexpected moments, “I'd be sorely disappointed in Kyouya, if he couldn't get out of this fix by himself.
“I think we should be worrying about you instead. Rain swordsmen are nearly as rare as cloud mages. Only ones I've ever met are you and Squalo. Utterly wrecked the weather between the two of you, too; it took me half the night to get the storm to go away.”
Squalo Superbi. The man who had broken Yamamoto's sword.
Yamamoto knew what he had to do now.
Part 7.
