Project Reconnect- Chapter 2

Chapter 2



         Thanks in large part to the iPod, Niko knew it had been about a full day when guards came to take them from their cells. He’d tried to guess based on the content of the meals they were brought, but they were the same each time: meat, cheese and bread. Nothing special, but at least it wasn’t rancid or moldy.

         “Lord Holland,” said the knight who had, along with four others, accompanied the jailer to their cells, “Her Highness will see you now.”

         “Oh, good,” Niko said. “I was wondering if we would be here so long I’d get tired of waiting and break out. That’d be bad news for everybody here, right?”

         He couldn’t see his audience’s faces through their visors, but he imagined they’d all paled a bit at the thought of having to deal with that.

         “Well, let’s go say hi.”

         The procession came up from underground to the interior of a structure next to the Royal Guard’s barracks, a three-story stone building that itself stood a short walk from the castle proper. A completely enclosed hallway did connect the barracks to Rosen Castle, but the slate gray rectangle that was the soldiers’ quarters had entrances on each of its sides. As the group of seven men passed the southern door, a dozen or so knights all but tripped over each other as they streamed out. Their whispers weren’t loud, but both Niko and Nick could hear them clearly, all the same.

         “Is that him? He don’t look like no hero.”

         “Yeah. Where’s his armor? His twin blades?”

         “You don’t look like no knights without your iron, ya dolts. Why d’ya think he’d look the same without his?”

         “Cuz he’s a hero, and we’re just knights.”

         “Heroes are people. Just got harder, grimmer fates than the rest of us.”

         “But is it him? Anybody seen him before?”

         “All you shouldda seen him before in pictures. But yeah, it’s him. Looked just like the boy, twenty years ago.”

         “Why’s he gettin’ escorted like a prisoner?”

         “Think maybe you oughtta ask the Princess that?”

         “I’ll just keep wonderin’, thanks.”

         The conversation, held just below the constant rhythmic clanging of plate armor against itself, seemed to take forever, but it was over in seconds. The trip to the side entrance they’d been using took about two minutes; Niko had never thought about it, but he guessed the close proximity was for emergencies. Was it always that close?

         Inside the castle, things hadn’t changed much: a few new tapestries adorned the granite walls, and the ones he could see all related to the Lost War. The Frostroses, the royal family of Gaitra, had never been fond of extravagance, so the castle was rather simply decorated.

         Nicholas noticed that the few people they passed didn’t look directly at them, but stole long glances while attempting to look busy. Almost none of the rooms they went by were open, but he was surprised that quite a few of them were fully carpeted, rather than just having a central rug to stave off cold in the winters, like he’d read about in fantasy books.

         Speaking of which, the runner that muffled their steps was as long as the hallway, unbroken even as it branched off into various staircases. If he had to guess, Nick could only think of magic as being responsible for the lengthy, gold-tinged royal blue carpet.

         Blue was everywhere. In paintings and on standing sets of armor, dark and light shades were displayed. Once, Nick caught sight of what he’d come to realize was the nation’s standard: a solitary gold-lined pale blue rose on a field the darker blue of the carpet underfoot. It was rather beautiful, he thought.

         The knights led them up to the third floor, where every door was closed, but only one of them had lance-armed guards outside it. The procession stopped outside, and the knight who’d spoken before knocked. “The Lords Holland,” he announced, opened the door without waiting for a response, and led the two men inside.

         Niko recognized the room as one he’d been in before. It was where Eugenia had formally asked him to help her save the world with her. Now, after having spent the last day in the castle dungeon, it looked like a luxurious hotel room.

         The heavy atmosphere didn’t fit it.

         He and Nick sat in a pair of ornate white chairs inlaid with gold, facing a matching desk. Opposite them, in a similarly-styled but larger chair- very nearly a throne, Niko had always thought- Princess Gardenia Sahar Frostrose regarded them coolly. Hands steepled in front of her on the desk, the unmistakable feeling of an imminent interrogation was palpable.

         “Queen Eugenia is dead.” She delivered the statement bluntly, and though Niko had been expecting it, the words were still a punch in the face. Still, he searched the eyes of the young woman before him- so like Nia’s- for any signs that what she’d said was a falsehood, but there was nothing; behind her, Lord Regent Jerrid Grandif and Royal Guard Captain Anden Forey’s pained expressions corroborated her story.

         Niko did his best to straighten in his seat and take the declaration in stride, but the sigh he let out betrayed him. “Yeah, I had a feeling,” he said shakily, a forlorn smile just turning up the corners of his mouth.

         Only one person noted a twitch in the muscles at Gardenia’s neck.

         “How did it happen?”

         As she had the day before, Gardenia wore her mother’s ceremonial armor from when she was around the same age. It suited her, and made the feeling of this being an interrogation more complete… which is why she found it odd that Niko was so able to ignore that implication.

         “Illness took her suddenly some years ago,” Jerrid said, knowing he shouldn’t have spoken, but doing so, regardless. “It was swift; she didn’t suffer.”

         Not trusting himself to speak again, Niko only nodded.

         Silence fell over the room for a while as each of the five individuals struggled to find the next thing to say. Just as the Princess was about to tear into him, Niko broke the quiet, still not quite composed. “What about the others? I saw Madra, but…”

         Here, Anden took the lead. Having been a survivor of that battle, he knew he was safe enough to speak on the event with more authority than even the Crown Princess or her Regent.

         “Gram still lives, milord,” he said, and forced a grin. “He says he’s retired from battle, but takes every chance to use his blue mythril arm.”

         That earned an honest expression of surprise out of Niko. Mythril was rare enough, and wasn’t in favor with most beastmen, who claimed it was too light to be relied upon in battle. Blue mythril was beyond that: forged with the Blue Flame of Demons to be highly receptive to use as a magic conduit. Magic was even more shunned by the Beastman tribes, which put them at odds with Demons, a race that relied quite heavily on the mana-using skills. For Gram to have an arm made of the stuff was almost akin to renouncing his blood.

         Then again, Gram had always been the type to disregard such things. Niko allowed himself a bit of a smile and listened as Anden continued.

         “Your eyes did not deceive you. Madra and her kin were taken from us that day. Their remains were taken to the Forge. The sacred weapon ‘Madra the Iron Vein’ now rests in the Granite clan’s armory.”

         Dwarven tradition held that warriors were smelted into a new piece of weaponry or armor upon their deaths, their bodies mixed in with the metals they took with them into battle. The resulting work was invariably stronger than if the same thing had been made normally, which made the process coveted by other races; to date, however, only Dwarves had proven capable, leading many to believe it to be some sort of ability innate to the stone-dwellers.

         Usually, a clan’s exclusive smith would be given the task, but if the Gem Lords- the Dwarven kingdom’s council of advisors- saw fit, the masters of the Forge would do the honors. With a handful of exceptions scattered around the world, these were the greatest blacksmiths in Keiylam.

         “I’m sure it’s a fine mace,” Niko said, knowing that she would have been made into her favorite weapon. He also knew of its quality: Anden’s use of the phrase “sacred weapon” meant that the spiked club had acquired some sort of exceptional qualities through its crafting.

         The knight inclined his head in confirmation, then continued. “Despite his grievous wound, Duetto is in full health. His contributions that day were sufficient enough that he was allowed to leave the Assassin’s Guild, and as far as I am aware, he no longer takes part in surreptitious killings.”

         Here, Anden glanced at Princess Gardenia, who simply stared forward, her eyes on the returned hero. When she said nothing, he went on.

         “Lady Sihlbrie still lives, but I’m uncertain as to whether ‘alive and well’ currently applies. Our losses that day had a profound impact on her. Queen Eugenia did her best to help, but… it has been some twelve years since she shut herself away from the world.”

         Niko didn’t know how he felt about that. On one hand, he was surprised that it had affected her so much, as she’d claimed on many occasions that they’d all meant next to nothing to her. On the other, becoming a recluse definitely sounded like something Sihl would do. Still, it was sad to hear; maybe she’d welcome a visit from himself and Nick.

         Anden continued, listing the names of the six others that had accompanied them on that fateful journey, and Niko counted them up: including the two heroes in the room, thirteen were accounted for.

         And there was one glaring omission that even young Nicky Holland had noticed.

         “Anden?”

         “Milord?”

         Though the atmosphere had turned gloomy through the knight’s report, fond memories had made the listing bittersweet. Now, however, unease filled the room once more.

         “What about Loia?” Niko didn’t quite glare, but his gaze was intense.

         Both knight and Regent failed to look him in the eye. Nick, who had noticed his father’s mood worsening, shrank away some. Only Gardenia was unflinching.

         “I… I’m truly sorry, milord. Loia…” Anden clinched his fists together, muscles so taut that his whole body shook under the strain. “I failed to protect her.”

         In a flash of memory, Niko recalled the last time he’d seen the girl, right before he’d been transported back to his own world. Anden, crumpled atop ruined legs, had been cradling her in his arms; she’d looked to be resting.

         “Okay,” Niko said, too quickly. “Alright, then, Loia’s mother. How is she? It’s been eighteen years, but I should still-“

         “Lord Holland.” Jerrid cut the other man off. He’d spare both the Royal Guard’s captain and the Twin-Blade Hero all the pain he could by making it quick. “Lady Vertiche’s mother passed away. After hearing about her child’s death, grief overwhelmed her, and she took her own life.”

         Surprising even himself, a burst of laughter tore itself from Niko’s lips. “Guess I can’t do that, then,” he smiled mirthlessly. He sucked in a ragged breath, tried to smile again as he met the eyes of those around him, and failed. “Um, I, uh… give me a minute.”

         In the space they granted him, Niko sighed and shook his head. He chuckled, leaned forward to bury his face in his hands, and began quietly sobbing.



         Originally, Princess Gardenia had planned to… well, what had she planned to do?

         She knew full well that she couldn’t have held a baron- and a hero, at that- in the castle dungeon any longer than she did; other nobles would have something to say before too long, and that wouldn’t do at all.

         And she didn’t exactly want Niko Holland dead, either. Sure, she wouldn’t have been too upset if something did happen to him, but the Princess had no desire to be responsible for his death.

         She’d wanted him to suffer, though. For the anguish her mother had gone through, for the emasculation of her father, for her own struggles, Niko Holland and his son should have suffered.

         Watching the older man weep without reservation had tempered that… some. If she were being honest, she felt guilty about it, about using Loia’s memory in such a way.

         But that was done, now. And she couldn’t take it back or apologize; she couldn’t show anyone weakness like that, especially not the people assembled in the room with her. Of all the people in the world, they were last on the list of those who could know of her vulnerabilities.

         “Sorry,” Niko said when he’d calmed down. “Guess that last bit was just too much to deal with.” He forced a smile, his eyes still rimmed with red. “I should probably explain, huh?”

         Nick had never seen his father like that. He’d been appropriately sad when Nick’s grandfather- Niko’s father- had passed away, but this grief was something else. Perhaps not knowing the girl’s fate for twenty years was part of it, but maybe there was more to it than that.

         Niko took a deep breath, then blew it out again. “Nia- Eugenia- and I were in love; everybody here knows that. But marriage probably wasn’t in the cards for us, not after Prince Themi’s death.”

         “Why not?” Nick asked. Being from another world and having never had a reason to know, he was the only member of the audience who wouldn’t have been aware of laws and rules regarding royalty, so even Gardenia forgave him for asking.

         Regent Grandif answered. “Although nobility can, ostensibly, marry whomever they wish, members of the Gaitran royal family aren’t quite so free. Unless disowned, royalty must be wed to nobility, if not a member of royalty from another nation. Your father was made a lord by royal decree with approval from the House of Lords, and so he was eligible to marry Princess Eugenia.

         “Had Prince Themi ascended the throne, Princess Eugenia would have been free to marry him. However, as she became Crown Princess with her brother’s death, an additional stipulation- one which also would have applied to any potential mate for the Prince- came into effect: nobility marrying the Throne must not be recently established.

         “That is to say: a noble who is the first of his or her line could not wed our kingdom’s ruler.”

         Niko nodded. “Even though I was considered a hero at the time…” he shot a quick glance at Gardenia, who only stared back at him, “… it would have been a bit much to expect the House to change that rule just for us.”

         “I see,” Nick said, and he did. It might be hard to convince a bunch of nobles to allow an outworlder to be their king.

         “Well,” Niko continued, “it wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t get to marry who they loved, and it wouldn’t have been the last. For my part, I can’t imagine anybody who’d deserve to be by Nia’s side more than Lord Regent Grandif.” Though he and the other man shared a wistful smile, the Princess’ flinch didn’t go unnoticed. That had happened a few times now, or so he thought.

         “I was to be her cicisbeo, her paramour. And until their first child was born, Loia would be our child together.” He laughed at the memory. “Even we knew we weren’t old enough for that; she was more like an adorable little sister to us, but we doted on her as if she were ours, anyway.”

         Gardenia knew most of this. She’d made it something of an imperative that she learn the names of as many heroes of the Lost War as possible, especially those that were closest to her mother. She’d had mixed feelings when learning about Loia, the girl that might have been her older sister, if things had gone differently.

         Loia Vertiche had joined the war effort after the death of her father Merco. He’d been a swordsman of modest ability, but who’d held a tremendous sense of duty. He’d believed that every person should do all in their power to improve the world, and had apparently instilled that way of thinking into his only child.

         When she’d first joined, the then-eleven year-old had hardly ever used her Nature-based magic, and she still hadn’t been comfortable with blood or combat before the end. But she’d become a survivor, and had been on hand to recover a grievous wound Eugenia had suffered. After that, she’d found herself attached to the Princess’ group, which included six others, often called the Lucky Seven. They hadn’t been the only elites out fighting against the Lost Malefect, but they’d definitely made a name for themselves out on the battlefield.

         By all accounts, Loia had been a sweet girl, not suited for war, but persevering because it was necessary.

         “We knew what happened to her dad, so with as hard as she worked, we planned on making sure Loia never wanted anything. It was the least we could do, but…”

         Everyone could guess the rest: hearing that she had died, and her mother had summarily killed herself would have been tough for most to swallow. It was no surprise that Niko would be as devastated as he was.

         Anden had had far more time to come to terms with the young girl’s death, but watching his old comrade-in-arms break down had stirred up feelings of failure he’d thought he’d long ago buried. “My apologies, milord. If only I’d handled things differently…”

Niko shrugged. “The past is the past. No sense beating yourself up over things from twenty years ago. After all, if we had done our jobs, that last battle would’ve never happened.”

         Nick remembered being told about the incident in which his father and the others had cornered the Lost Malefect, but were unable to put an end to him. Nick knew the story: interrupted by the outbreak of an unexpected battle in Pannid, Fantal’s capital, their attempt to defeat the global threat was derailed more than a year before their next- and last- chance would come.

         The mood had gotten too depressing for Niko’s tastes. He slapped his thighs loudly and rose to his feet, stepping around and away from his chair. “Where are my manners?”

         In a single motion so quick it startled Regent Grandif, his left knee touched the carpet, left hand balled into a fist at his right breast, his head bowed. A breath later, Nicholas had duplicated the pose, a little less crisply.

         “The Baron Niko William Holland and the Honorable Nicholas Bernard Holland, at your service.”

         Gardenia realized, as did others, that she had been rude, and should have been embarrassed. Skipping such formalities wasn’t particularly regal.

         Despite being surprised just moments before, the Lord Regent recovered quickly. “You address Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Gardenia Sahar Frostrose.”

         “Rise,” she said after the expected pause, “and please, take your seats.”

         Niko did so, not intending to let up. “Thank you, Your Highness. Now, with formalities out of the way, now’s a good time to ask: why did Your Highness have us arrested?”

         Gardenia had never come up with a reason that was more acceptable than the truth, so she’d decided she wouldn’t come up with one at all. “I don’t have to tell you that.”

         Anden and Jerrid’s reactions didn’t go unnoticed, but they were also unneeded.

         “You may be the heir apparent to this nation’s throne, Your Highness, but even you don’t have the power to apprehend a noble without cause. There’s not a member of the House who would stay quiet after hearing about what you’ve done.” Niko was as deadpan with his statement as the princess had been when she told him the love of his life was dead.

         The seriousness struck home. Gardenia was well-liked by the general populace, but not all in the nobility were pleased with her. Some had tried, when her mother was sick or away from the country, to increase their own power. Eugenia had become too popular for their liking, especially within the military, and they feared she would weaken their positions, make the House obsolete.

         Gardenia didn’t have the same high approval among Gaitra’s soldiers as her mother, and not being engaged in a campaign to save the world meant she wasn’t quite as loved by the people at large. This meant there was less apparent threat from the princess, and also more room to push for an increase in their own power.

         In short: unjustly imprisoning a noble would be detrimental to her support among people she needed to have her back. Not that they could remove her from the throne she had yet to take, but…

         Well, if there was no lie to tell that could save her, why not try the truth?

         “I don’t like you, Baron,” she said testily, hands steepled before her on the desk. “Just the idea of you has been a specter haunting my entire life. You showing up has always threatened to upend this nation, even this world. Heroes come into this world to save it from a threat, and they either leave or retire after; what do you think your reappearance would herald? And that’s just on a global scale.

         “In regards to my country, you’re still very popular, despite having been gone for nearly twenty years. Popular enough that there might even be some who would support you as a candidate for the throne. That historical precedent exists, and it was not a pleasant point in time for Gaitrans.”

         Leaning forward, eyes narrowing, her voice lowered but no less audible, she continued. “We have only just met, but I have disliked you most of my life. People all around were absolutely certain that you would return; they knew you would come and take your rightful place in our kingdom and our world, and they acted accordingly. Some were dismissive when they should have been more attentive to those around them, and others cowered in fear of your return, failing to take the actions they should have.”

         Gardenia shook, her anger more potent in a whisper than it would have been at a shout. “You weren’t here.”

         The tension from before had returned with a vengeance. Nick wanted to defend his father, wanted to put this annoying girl in her place. He’d already forgotten a few times now that she was royalty, and could send him right back to that slightly uncomfortable dungeon cell, or maybe even have him executed. What kept him quiet, however, was how calmly his father was handling it.

         In the silence after her statement, Niko was pensive. She probably hadn’t lied, but most of what Gardenia had said was a setup for those last three words. You weren’t here. He knew what she meant, what he hadn’t been there for. Knowing he’d had no control over it hadn’t helped either of them come to terms with the fact that he had been gone for eighteen years.

         He could guess why she was so bothered by it. Somehow, her head was filled with ideals, romanticized versions of her world and the people in it. Surely the Twin-Blade Hero she always heard about would return to save her mother. Surely her father, chosen by that same hero, could perform those duties instead. It couldn’t be that none of the often talked about legends- many of whom still lived- were unable to heal one woman’s sickness. And if it were the case that they all were so powerless, then maybe they always had been. And maybe the people who believed in them were fools.

         Herself, included.

         Niko didn’t have a way to heal that damage, any more than he could have saved Nia from an illness no other healer could banish. He couldn’t even mend his own wounds. But maybe that was where he should start, if he wanted to help this princess be the queen she should be. And he did want to help.

         “You’re right,” he said, minutes having gone by since last anyone spoke. “I wasn’t here. Good and bad things happened, and I wasn’t around to be a witness or take part.

         “But I’m here now. And all I can do now is everything I can from now on.”

         If she hadn’t had good examples- if she’d been a royal in Hartrec, for example- Gardenia might have decided that he could suffer until she felt better; she entertained the idea, recalled that, while he may have been older, he was still a Hero, and determined the trouble wouldn’t be worth it. Aloud, she said, “I’ll expect nothing less than your all,” and the imminent crisis dissipated in three audible sighs of relief.



         “Can I see her?”

         That question had prompted a brief trip outside, to the Rose Pomander. The memorial garden, located just south of the castle, featured the symbolic markers of members of the royal family and others who were considered indispensable to the kingdom’s prosperity or survival.

         An entire section had been reserved for those who had given their lives during the Lost War.

         Loia’s cenotaph was right next to Eugenia’s. Like the others in the garden- and similar to the granite statue that had been erected near where the two outworlders first appeared- bronze figures bearing their likenesses stood on pedestals of marble; about a quarter the size of the average person, mana infused into the metal made them seem alive. Little motions that could have been breathing, eyes that shifted slightly, smiles that occasionally deepened: they were small movements, but together they produced a convincing enough facsimile of life.

         Niko looked at the two figures with fondness, but said nothing, and the others were content to let him visit in quiet. He had spent some time in front of the others, just reminiscing. When it came to Eugenia and Loia, however, he found himself regretting what could never be more than appreciating what had been.

         The weather was pleasant, and birds chirped from the safety of gently swaying bushes and trees nearby. It was all picturesque, fitting for the moment, and as Nick watched his father be tortured by his past a good ten feet away, he hated it. None of this had happened the way he thought it would, and though he was still happy to have come to Keiylam, their first few days weren’t exactly the adventure he’d thought they’d have. He shook his head and stared into the cloud-dappled sky. “Wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he muttered.

         Baron Holland heard the words and agreed. He reached into his pocket for the iPod again, scrolled through the list of thousands of songs. The one he’d settled on was one he’d hoped he’d never have to select, especially not so soon. When the three-and-a-half minutes were up, Niko found himself looking skyward as his son was. He wouldn’t cry again, not in front of others. That wasn’t what they needed from him right now.

         If he’d heard right, maybe it wasn’t what the world needed.

Keep Me in Your Heart- Warren Zevon