Chapter 9: Okay, let's start over
Okay, let's start over. My name is Danaël... Danaël Anathos. I suggest you forget whatever the other guy told you. I'm the one who's going to tell you this story. To understand what happens next, we need to go back several months.
Three months earlier, Holytown, Fafnir's Guild headquarters:
Standing at six feet four inches tall, Lancelot looked rather puny as he paced back and forth in front of the front door. Behind him, in a single file, stood the others, ready to enter. He knew that royal messengers were already waiting for him on the other side.
"Your Majesty, you look well today. By the way, bad news... No, no, no, no." Lancelot muttered under his breath. "Your Excellency, everything is under control, no... nope...really no."
Lancelot buried his head in his hands before sobbing like a newborn baby. Behind him, his men tried to remain silent, knowing that even a snicker would surely be enough to set the master of the guild off. It must be said that Lancelot de Percedal was an imposing man.
He stood out for his stature, the stature of a pure knight, as they were described in the pre-symbiotic era. His square jaw and scarred face gave him a stern appearance. He had several scars on his lips and a burn mark that split his face in two, starting at the top of his forehead, cutting vertically across part of his nose before ending on his left cheek. It was true that his somewhat fearful and timid personality did not match his adventurous face, marked by various battles of all kinds. Lancelot removed his black velvet gloves and rubbed vigorously under his tear-stained eyes. As he rubbed, he left a slight red mark on his lower eyelids. The mark was visible on his clear, olive skin, shaped like a half-moon. Lancelot straightened up, throwing his long, curly black hair back in a theatrical gesture.
"Well... I'm going," he said, approaching the front door handle. "No, no, nope, I can't, I don't want to!" Lancelot changed his mind and tried to turn back, but someone behind him grabbed him by the ear.
"Ouch! Ouch, that's enough! Ella, I get it, you can let go of me now!"
Ella-Jane Asada, second in command of the Fafnir guild. She was known for... how to put it... her outspokenness and also her ability to stand up to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.
"I've let you whine long enough, Lance. It's time to go now," she said in a monotone voice.
Ella-Jane stood out for her attire. Unlike the rest of Lancelot's men, she wore her own version of the Fafnir guild uniform. The latter were dressed in light, shiny armor. The outfit was a polished gray, with the upper part from the chest to the shoulders consisting of a rigid gorget. This left them barely enough room to stretch their necks. The shoulder pads featured a row of three rectangular metal plates with rounded edges, taking on the shape of a shoulder.
These suits of armor were customized, so they had different shapes from one limb to another. The wings, which were a darker gray than the rest of the armor, complemented the shoulder pads. The breastplate blended in with the articulated plates, giving the armor a certain uniformity. These articulated plates were carved and attached to the rest of the armor in the shape of human muscles, an almost divine musculature. The breastplate, slightly pointed, was painted in shades of gold and gray, a painting worthy of being reproduced on a fresco. It was the emblem of the Fafnir guild.
At the arms, the rerebrace (upper arm protection), elbow pads, and vambrace (forearm protection) were made of much lighter layers of metal, ensuring greater mobility. The gauntlets were also made of the same material. Moving on to the hips, the weapon belt consisted of two black straps crossing over each other. These held in place the fauld, or armor skirt, which was grayish purple in color. The center of the fabric was adorned with the emblem of the Fafnir guild. This structure was supported by tassettes, pieces that protected the hips and thighs.
The lower part of the armor was cut similarly to the upper part, with the musculature of the legs clearly visible. To complete the ensemble, buckles and straps could be seen all over the armor, connecting each part to the others.
All this to say that Ella-Jane's outfit was very different. First of all, she wasn't wearing any armor or any other type of protection. She wore small black boots that didn't go above her ankles. Her pants were quite unusual, the same color as her boots, and only covered one leg. Her left leg was completely bare. In addition, these same pants had an opening on the front thigh that revealed the gray mini shorts in the colors of the Fafnir guild that she wore underneath.
On her upper body, she wore a tight-fitting, form-fitting fabric, again in the colors of the Fafnirs, with openings on the sides, cut like a swimsuit. In the middle of the fabric was the emblem of the guild. She was slightly covered by a black leather jacket that stopped at her ribs, this same jacket featuring an emblem, this time different from that of the guild. It was two hands crossed in a sign of prayer, painted blood red.
"Ella, I beg you, at least speak for me! Couldn't you at least do that for your beloved commander? No?" Lancelot cried as he clung to Ella-Jane's hips, kneeling.
"Let go of me, you fool! Do you realize how many resources we've lost with this whole affair? And I'm not even talking about us on the scale of our guild; this affair could affect the entire continent. After losing Durendal, getting our hands on another artifact of this power, just imagine..."
"But I know all that! I don't need you to lecture me!" whined Lancelot.
"Then shut up and be a man for once," Ella-Jane retorted sharply.
She pulled Lancelot by the ear before walking towards the door. Ella-Jane scratched the back of her head, her face irritated. She had large, blue, slightly slanted eyes. On her thin lips, a thin layer of gray-colored ointment was visible. This splash of color was more vibrant than the rest of her pale, monotonous face. A few strands of black hair fell across her face, and the rest of her hair was neatly tied back in a bun held in place by a hairpin.
The vestibule led to a tavern. Everything was made of wood, wood so polished that the walls gleamed. The entrance hall even had a bar and several tables, each seating nine people.
Ella-Jane's attention was immediately drawn to the center of the room. Three royal guards were waiting for them, and in front of them stood a young girl. She stood proudly, stoic, both hands resting on her sword, which was planted in the ground. The sword guard was black, and its blade bore three crucifixes engraved in a row.
Ella-Jane motioned for three men to accompany them inside, while the rest would wait outside for the time being. She let go of Lancelot, who immediately took refuge behind her. It was difficult for him to hide completely behind Ella and her five-foot-five frame.
"Commander Lancelot de Percedal, Captain Ella-Jane Asada, thank you for honoring us with your presence, finally..."
It was impossible to detect even a hint of sarcasm or emotion in this girl's voice. Her expression remained impassive. Ella-Jane didn't know how to react. She took great pride in her ability to gauge and adapt her behavior to the people she met. However, the girl standing before her was simply indecipherable. One thing was certain: Captain Ella-Jane knew the identity of this young girl. She wore the royal emblem on her chest, the Ordinal crucifix.
"Forgive us, Princess Jeanne, we had... how shall I put it, a slight setback."
Ella-Jane grabbed Lancelot by the back of his head, pushing him to the ground and forcing him to kneel with her. Jeanne de Résevi raised the index finger of her right hand before saying:
"Please rise; I am not here in my capacity as princess of the kingdom. Today I am but a simple messenger." She continued in an icy tone.
Indeed, Ella-Jane noticed that Princess Jeanne was dressed in the same white tunics as her royal guards behind her. Princess Jeanne removed her left hand from the guard of her sword before running her hand through her light brown hair. She rearranged the single braid on her head, tucking part of it behind her left ear. The braid fell in front of her left eye in a semicircle and was attached to the top of her head with a white barrette. Her eyes were the same color as her hair, light brown, and her skin was a shade darker. Her eyebrows were almost expressionless, appearing to be parallel to her eyeballs, straight as an arrow.