Story Sketches

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It was late and time for a certain blond Mazoku to be tucked into bed. The wet nurse had finished, pulling the strings together that held her white blouse in place. The tired woman with light blue hair smiled a little as she put her vest on. Baby Wolfram had fallen asleep at her breast, again, and seemed more than content. She tucked the yellow blankets around the baby and nestled his stuffed bearbee doll next to him. Wolfram was such a sweet and good natured child. If it just stayed that way, this job would be easy for the next few months.

She moved away from the crib and tried to avoid stepping on the numerous presents that had been stacked up neatly by the door.

Cecile's baby party for Wolfram's christening had been spectacular—glittering crystal and the best china. There had been little tea cakes, fairy cakes, and pudding for the ladies who joined her. The men busied themselves with drinks and huddled together in the hopes that they weren't expected to coo over the baby again and look like complete idiots for a second time. But, most of all, there were presents. Wolfram had received quite a lot of them: toys, soft blankets, rattles, burp cloths with monograms hand stitched, money, and clothes—just to name a few.

"G'Night little one," the wet nurse whispered and tiptoed out for her own bedroom next door.

A few moments passed and the door opened again—slowly this time. On the other side, there was no one. The doors in Blood Pledge Castle were known to swing thanks to the constant breezes outside this time of year.

A mist formed and crept into the room, fading gently as a shadow on the floor eased up into the air. The lines appeared first. Then, the form slowly took shape and color. It was the image of a handsome blond man, ornately dressed in blue with a ruffled collar that pushed up against his neck. His red cloak, lined in white fur, hung heavily off to one side thanks to the gold chains attached. His clothes seemed to float eerily as he stepped lightly towards the crib.

The door closed on its own.

They were alone together.

The blond haired man leaned over the crib, folding his arms and resting casually on the railings. A smile tugged at his lips.

The baby's emerald eyes opened and regarded him sleepily at first. As he was both full and his diaper dry, he felt content. A pudgy fist popped into his mouth. He gnawed on it thoughtfully, drool slowly making its way down Wolfram's left cheek. Briefly, Baby Wolfram wondered if this new stranger would make a good chew toy. He was teething and biting something hard might feel good.

"You really do resemble your ancestor, Rufus," Shinou murmured fondly. "Then again, he was my cousin." Strong, callused hands reached into the crib. "That makes us related, you know."

Shinou held the baby against him and took the chair that the wet nurse had been sitting in. Oddly, it was still warm. He noticed that the woman had some very comfortable cushions in it, too. And he wondered just how often she sat here because they were getting a tad—well—flat from her ample bottom. For a second, Shinou considered paying her a little visit in her dreams tonight just to give her the honor of meeting with him—maybe—if she turned out to be fair of face. If not, then, forget it.

Shinou sighed a little. Waiting all of this time for his soul mate, The Great Sage, to be reincarnated was getting a trifle dull. He thought about the wet nurse again. What little he did see of her as she was darting out of the room was actually…very…buxom, and very pretty. Yes, that was it. And if his sage had not been reincarnated just yet, it wasn't possible to "cheat on" someone before you actually met them again, right?

"Bah," Wolfram said testily, eyeing the blond stranger who was holding him. There was a bit of annoyance clearly evident on his round face. After all, he was the center of the universe. Everything revolved around him. And it was incredibly rude for this stranger to pull him out of his crib without giving him his full attention and telling him what a beautiful boy he was. "Bah! Bah! Ba-Bah!" he scolded.

"Good point," Shinou said to Wolfram.

The baby gave him one last suspicious look and popped a wet, pudgy fist back into his mouth. He chewed and made bubbles against it.

"You know," Shinou murmured, turning Wolfram in his direction and watching as emerald green eyes met his own blue ones, "we look so much alike, I could almost consider you being my son." He tickled the baby under the chin. Wolfram laughed at that.

"Well," he went on, "today you had a party. Right, Wolfram?"

The baby blinked at him, waved a slobbery arm, and then stared widely as he noticed that his arm was all slobbery. How did that happen?

"So, I have a gift for you, too." There was a bright, toothy smile aimed at the baby. Wolfram cocked his head to one side and stared at it. It kind of reminded him of his mother's smile, but much wider and with a whiter gleam to it. "I think you are going to like this gift. It's something that you will use your whole lifetime through. It will save the lives of the people you love, and it will make you awe inspiring to those not close to you. But, use it wisely. Respect it. And never let those close to you fear you."

He smiled again and held the baby closer. "You have no idea how much trouble I went through to make sure you would be born." With one hand, he rubbed the back of his blond head at that. The disheveled hair only made Shinou look more handsome.

Wolfram looked up to him. His babyish face seemed to say "Really?"

"You are of the world of the living. Your life is a straight line. You can't see what is to come. I, on the other hand, belong to a…a different world…a different kind of existence." He sighed a little. "My realm isn't linear at all."

The baby could feel himself being rocked gently. He liked it and said "Bah" again, leaning against the adult who was caring for him.

"Your heart is the key…the key to my salvation or, maybe, my destruction. But, that is yet to be seen." He took a short, huffy breath. "And, in the end, you'll probably hate me for it."

A tiny blond head looked up at him when his voice grew sad. Wolfram didn't like sad. Sad was no good at all. He kicked his legs a little and gave his best 'two bottom teeth only" grin. It worked. Shinou laughed at him.

"That's right. Your gift…"

With that, Shinou turned the baby away from him—resting the child's chubby bottom on his thigh. There was a wave of the hand and a wall of flame appeared before the pair.

Baby Wolfram stared at it. It was absolutely the most wondrous thing he'd ever seen—reds and golds dancing wildly before him. There was warmth and the slight distortion of his crib caused by the heat rising up into the air. The magical flame moved around them both, encircling the chair—creating a never ending ring.

"You are a fire wielder Mazoku. And you will be one of the strongest who has ever lived."

Enthralled, Wolfram reached his pudgy hands forward. "I knew you would do that." He watched the baby lean forward. But he didn't get too far with Shinou's hands around his middle.

Suddenly, much to Shinou's surprise, the baby leaned back, opened his right hand, and a small fire burned there—about the size of a flame on a birthday candle. Shinou chuckled and blew it out.

"Good boy!"

Wolfram glared and a large hand came down on his head, rubbing it affectionately.

"And, when the time is right, you will have one more duty that I will set before you."

The child stared up at Shinou again seeming to ask the question "Will I?" But, this time, his emerald eyes were full of mischievous sparkles—fires burned there now.

Shinou waved a hand against the wall of flame, making it bright with white light.

"In a little over eighty years from now, you will meet this person."

There was a sketchy, lined image of a friendly looking male—dark hair, dark eyes, black clothes—holding a sword that moaned and howled pathetically because he wanted to go back to his afternoon nap. The face then changed—suddenly framed by shoulder length dark hair and a more imposing form. The man turned toward Shinou and the baby. His face was set, determined.
"When you meet this one, he will need to prove to you that he is, indeed, the new maou. Do not give in to him lightly."

The baby watched the mature, dark eyed face—memorizing. The green fire in his eyes sparkled again.

"But once you do accept him as your maou, I want you to protect him," Shinou said, tucking a strand of blond hair behind the baby's ear. "Protect him until the day you are no longer of use to him. The day you die..."

Shinou picked up the baby again and put him back in the crib. "Remember this in your dreams. Forget it when you wake." He leaned against the railing again with arms folded. "And it is only right that you do so. Because, I've decided…he will be your twin flame…your soul mate." Shinou stroked the little face with his hand. "And your life will be hard, in ways no one can ever see but you." Shinou backed away from the crib. Without looking at the baby he said, "And I'm sorry for that."

The second the door closed, a certain blond baby's eyes welled up with tears.

"Waaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

Wolfram then hit a pitch that could break glass. His face was red and he was determined now that there would be no consoling him.
"Wolfram?" the wet nurse practically shouted, opening the door quickly. She'd never heard such screaming coming from him and wondered, briefly, if they'd need a healer.

Wolfram was still in his crib, clutching his bearbee doll and crying furious tears.

"Sweetheart, let me see you," she said, trying to remove the doll from his arms in an effort to examine the baby. Maybe he has a stomach ache? Colic?

The second she touched the doll, emerald eyes shined dangerously. He gripped the doll tighter and then it burst into flames.

"Oh, no!" the woman screamed. On impulse, she grabbed the flaming bearbee by the antenna and flicked it back further into the crib.

"What's going on?" a very young Gwendal demanded, rubbing a sleepy eye while wearing a white nightshirt and bathrobe. He was worried about his baby brother and he wanted a report on the situation right now.

Conrad, who was also in his white nightshirt, followed quickly with "Is he okay?"

"The baby…he just set the crib on fire!" The wet nurse gaped at the blond child in her arms. He was reaching out for the flames and giggling impishly.

A blond figure stepped quickly through the doorway. "I thought I heard..." Cecile chimed in, her black dress flowing behind her, "Wolfie!" She grinned broadly and clasped her hands together. She took the baby from the wet nurse and held him to her ample bosom. "Well done, Wolfram! You're a fire wielder Mazoku. And so young, too. This has got to be a record!" She swung Wolfram in her arms. The baby laughed and gripped her dress in his fat, little fists as she danced with him. "So proud! So proud!"

Gwendal eyed the display with a sudden sullen attitude. He stomped out of the room and came back with a bucket of water. "I really don't see the point of celebrating right now, mother. His crib's on fire." He heaved the bucket at the bed.

"And the curtains," Conrad chimed in.

"Right. Need another bucket. Back in a minute."

The wet nurse took that as a chance to sneak back to her room. She did it while passing a very disgruntled, water-toting, Gwendal in the doorway. People were beginning to gather in the hall, too.

"Well, I know what present to get Wolfram now," Gwendal said, sending a gush of water at the almost non-existent drapes.

Black smoke billowed up.

"What?" Conrad said with a slight smile as his baby brother opened his palm to show him a flame that would look good on the end of a matchstick.

"Marshmallows."

Looking back on it, it had to have been a hideous error in judgment and, had anyone—especially Günter—realized the possibility before hand, steps would have been taken.

The candles dimmed threateningly in their sconces and room felt cold: as though ‘sad’ was sadder and ‘dark’ was darker when she came near. She hovered in The Royal Throne Room several meters away from Yuuri. The only relief he had was that his black uniform had long sleeves, keeping him warm.

Yuuri turned to look over his shoulder. Conrad was still standing behind him, lost was his enigmatic smile, and Wolfram was to his right.

The double black tore his eyes away from the sylph and glanced at his accidental fiancé when he heard the rattling of a sword in its sheath. Wolfram was, obviously, on his guard and doing his best to calm himself but doing a bad job of it.

As unnerved as he was, Yuuri tugged Wolfram’s hand into his, which got him an astounded look.

“It will be fine,” Yuuri assured him in a private, hushed tone.

He got back a non-committal hum, green eyes returning to the woman who appeared to be solid from the waist up and black, smoky webs moving in slow motion from the waist down.

No feet.

Absolutely no feet.

Yuuri remembered stories of ghosts having no feet. So, maybe, this wasn’t as strange after all—somewhere, this was…maybe…normal?

The double black put a hand to his head for a second. No, there was no way this could possibly be normal. One minute, they were all sitting down to dinner and the next, a guard reported—her—in here. At least, he thought it was a “her” by the long, black curtain of roughly cut hair hanging down and the small, pert breasts on the lithe body.

“Um…What is your name?” Yuuri asked, trying to start a conversation with her. She simply shook her head and continued to pace in a large circle, confused and looking for something she couldn’t name. “Can you understand me?” He looked to the side where Günter was standing. “Any idea, Günter? You’re the languages expert.”

He shook his head as The Great Sage entered with Shinou perched on his shoulder, standing no taller than an action figure, in Yuuri’s opinion. “She’s a sylph,” Murata explained, coming forward.

“We knew that much,” Wolfram shot back, sounding a little harsh. He got a squeeze on the hand as a reminder and the blond backed down.

Yuuri fought off a smile. Lately, he had come to understand Wolfram a little better. Tiny gestures between the two of them, especially if unseen by others, had the greatest impact on him. So, instead of raising palms and pleading pitifully—which usually ticked off the ex-prince even more, Yuuri would giving a meaningful look or a small nudge to get his point across.

Now was one of those times.

“I will not let her harm you,” Wolfram vowed in an undertone, his glare at her backing up his words.

“I know, Wolf. I know.”

Shinou and Murata turned to the air spirit, born from alchemy. Shinou began to speak, his tone and accent changing dramatically as the phrases tumbled out. The only word, if Yuuri could call it that, which he could make out was “kasyãḥ” and the sylph replied “Kilda” in an unearthly voice.

“It can speak,” Günter whispered to Gwendal, horrified.

Wolfram suppressed a shudder again.

“Okay, your name is ‘Kilda,’ I take it?” Murata said with a nod confirming it. Shinou’s interest grew. He continued to speak, but the sylph seemed to barely hear him, eyes roaming the room, searching.

“Shinou, could you please ask her why she’s here. I mean, what does she need?” Yuuri said, taking Wolfram’s hand a little more firmly and tugging him closer to the throne.

The blond sliced a look in his direction but, otherwise, said nothing. He just assumed that Yuuri was as nervous as he was and wanted to draw comfort from each other.

The Original King looked back at Kilda and rubbed his chin as he thought out loud, “Just the kind of thing I wanted to know, too. She shouldn’t have been able to leave the void between worlds. And, by the look of her, I think she’s just as surprised as we are.”

Shinou asked more questions. Again, he spoke in the choppy, ancient tongue of old but with more purpose, more emphasis. But, she didn’t appear to understand, cocking her head to the side. So, Yuuri guessed that Shinou wasn’t as proficient as he was pretending to be or his accent was totally foreign and unintelligible.

Losing interest, the air spirit sighed a sarcastic “vipra” and continued her graceful pacing.

Shinou crossed his arms against his chest and countered with a haughty “sunya.”

And that got the air spirit’s attention. She stopped, visibly darkened for a moment, and the room took on a whirling breeze.

Gwendal turned to Günter with a “You know what to do.” If necessary, they would have to step in with shields (and, from years of research, Günter understood far more magic than he ever let on—being able to combine his powers with Gwendal to boost the magic he had being one tactic).

But, could they defeat a sylph even with a chibi Shinou in the room?

“She’s been summoned to this world,” Shinou proclaimed, “but she’s not pleased about it. Kilda’s looking for a way back, I believe.”

“And she’s suddenly ticked at you!” Murata pointed out. Why did Shinou’s arrogance always cause problems?

“Well, maybe, something was misunderstood…in translation,” he admitted vaguely.

“What’s the issue?” Conrad asked.

Murata readjusted his glasses with a finger. “She’s beginning to sound desperate which is never good when dealing with this type of spirit. Sylphs who stay in the material world have a nasty habit of being trapped and enslaved by dark mages.”

“Those magic weavers,” Gwendal gruffed, “are the most despicable…using any force, good or bad, for their bidding…seeking power above all. Mother’s proclamation that their activities were not acceptable within the borders of Shin Makoku brought an end to most of their activities, though.”

“But not all,” Günter pointed out, his voice quivering as Kilda approached, suddenly taking great interest in him. “Some still practice their dark arts in the battlefield ruins of the von Voltaire lands.

“And we shoo them out, first chance every time,” Gwendal defended hotly as the spirit hovered a tight circle around Günter. “And…would you stop doing that!?” He narrowed his eyes at her as Günter took on a fearful look.

Too bad Kilda took that as a challenge. She gritted her grey teeth back in defiance.

A sharp-nailed hand reached out. The sylph snatched Günter, wrapping her arms around him to hold him in place. It happened so fast, all he could do was stare at her with wide, bulging eyes. She placed a frigid hand against his cheek, turning his face towards her. Kilda’s mouth found his, kissing him savagely and with great need. The adviser visibly struggled, arms flailing.

And, then, nothing.

The sylph seeped deeply into Günter’s body and his hair darkened, becoming salt and pepper. The room burst with shouts. No one knew what to do or how to save Günter.

Gwendal tried to take him firmly by the arm but a vicious shock sent him backwards. He stumbled, almost falling onto his ass.

“The Hell!” he cursed at her.

Flipping his long hair back, the handsome adviser seemed vastly amused and looked around the room with new eyes—dark silver-grey eyes. “Your name is Yuuri…” Günter-Kilda pointed out in a tone that was both male and female. “Conrad…Gwendal…” His eyes turned to Wolfram. “Lord Brat.”

A chuckle.

“Wha!” Wolfram said, leaning forward with a clinched fist.

“Wolf!” Yuuri barked, fearful for Wolfram’s safety. If Kilda could do this, who knew what else she was capable of?

“Now, everyone,” Günter-Kilda said, with an unnaturally pleased tone, “I think we can all come together now…and work to help me find a way back…” The accent was foreign and thick—totally alien for him. “Your word…a contact of words… You will give aid, yes?”

But it sounded like an order, not a question.

“Or what…?” Gwendal growled, needing to know the worst. If he did, he could prepare for it. That was a soldier’s way of thinking.

“Or…” There was a brief laugh as Günter’s arm extended itself in Wolfram’s direction, fingers spread. The fire wielder’s sword left the scabbard all on its own—flying, rotating, and then hovering before him. The tip pressed against his chest. “Golden hair gets it…and it will be your fault.” Günter’s fingers laced themselves together, as a thought occurred. “Perhaps, it would be for the best to end him this way…with honor.”

As the breeze picked up in the room, the sword slowly pushed its tip through Wolfram’s clothing. He could now feel its cruel sharpness against his skin. And, once he did, Wolfram tried to let go of Yuuri’s hand. He would not endanger his king. If necessary, he would walk forward, allowing the blade’s tip to pierce through his own body and save Yuuri. That would give his brothers time to retrieve their king.

Green eyes grew hard.

“Stop!” Yuuri ordered, standing from the throne with panic clearly written all over his face. He took the hilt of the sword with both hands and gripped it tightly—trying to stop what Kilda was doing. “I know you’re desperate, but…stop!”

“I should not take the king’s toy, eh?” she asked darkly. “I’m sure he would scream beautifully.”

Yuuri tried not to take offense, knowing that the spirit was only using Günter’s knowledge and language to convey meaning. But the concept was totally off. “He’s not my ‘toy’. He doesn’t belong to me.” But in saying that, in defending their relationship, he could also see Wolfram’s shoulders sag. And Yuuri knew that he had to tell the truth before everyone. Because, if he didn’t, Wolfram would still die—but in another way, a more important way. “…Not a toy…but he is…mine.”

“Lies…” Kilda chuckled. “Günter tells me so…” But, she released her magic on the sword and it fell uselessly into Yuuri’s hands.

The young king sighed with relief as he held the sword. This evening was getting worse and worse. “I promise you that we will help you find a way to get…home.” He decided that this was the way to phrase it. “But, in return, you promise that you won’t hurt any of us at all…especially like this.”

Yuuri turned and came face to face with Wolfram. He presented the sword with both hands as he’d been taught. Knights and soldiers always deserved the respect of having a sword “offered up.” Wolfram, in front of everyone assembled, should have that reverence.

The blond Mazoku bowed in return, taking it and whispering, “Thank you, Yuuri.” But from the dead tone, Yuuri knew that Wolfram had seen this as an act to appease the air spirit. Nothing more. With a metallic sound, the sword was smoothly placed back in its sheath and Wolfram straightened his shoulders a little too stiffly.

“You’re welcome, Wolf.”

Yuuri turned and casually slung an arm around Wolfram’s shoulder, surprising him. Green eyes widened impossibly.

“But what you didn’t understand was that…I didn’t lie,” Yuuri explained, head bowed slightly as his cheeks tinged. “Wolfram is mine because he decided to be…because he chose to trust me and to wait for me to grow up a little more.” He hugged Wolfram with one arm, head leaning against his for a second. “And, for that, I’m totally grateful.”

Wolfram glanced in Yuuri’s direction and then bowed his head, too, hiding the blush that was coming to him. He had neither expected nor prepared himself to be confessed to in such an open way.

But Yuuri was always like that.

“So, please…” he went on “I’m asking you, as the king, to trust me and to accept my word when I say that we will help you get home.”

Murata and Shinou, by this time, had moved to a more comfortable position by the closest door. With arms folded, Murata leaned against the wall and Shinou, by extension, leaned against his cheek, also with arms folded. Though, with the Original King, the posture seemed more arrogant than fitting.

“And no more translating for you,” Murata hissed to Shinou under his breath.

“Because I’m a little rusty?” He pouted slightly.

“No, because you totally suck.”