I know, I need more romance. Or perhaps I don’t. I kind of feel sorry for Red, but he’s still young and maybe he’ll get over his promiscuity! *Laugh*
Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*
Chapter 21
Red headed out in a week’s time. Nothing had changed between them, and Lance did not expect it to, not yet. Red was still reeling after Milady, after all. A bitter smile curved his lips as he carefully slipped into his dragon armor – chain mail, perhaps. It was skin-tight, silversteel coiling over his body in silver magic. Protection.
Over it, he pulled on his Musketeer uniform, and belted on his sword, slipped the hidden blades into his clothing…
He was ready.
Red yawned as he looked around. It was the dead of night, and there was no movement. Why should there be?
He could have sworn he heard rustling, soft footsteps, but it was probably his imagination, wasn’t it?
Of course, that was when he noticed the subtle gleam of starlight off something metallic. It looked rather like the barrel of a gun. Red continued to sleep, but closed one hand around the necklace from Lance, the other around the pistol in his belt.
He did not have long to wait. The man determined he was asleep and crept up towards him, not even bothering to muffle his footsteps. When he was close, Red fired.
The man screamed as he clutched at his thigh. Leaping out of his blankets, Red drew his sword and pinned it through the man’s hand, the one holding the gun.
“Now, he said cheerfully, as he lit his lamp, “We can talk like civilized people.”
The man had wild gray hair, and a scar over his left eye. He did not look particularly impressive, but Red felt that the man had underestimated him. It was lucky, too, or his dead body would have been found the next morning with a pistol shot through the head.
In any case, he had to extract information. “Why did you try to kill me?” He was not particularly well off, indeed, his salary as a Guard was his only source of income…
The man spat at him.
Red narrowed his eyes, and the man suddenly moved, drawing a knife from his boot. Red barely had time to parry the wild blow before he felt his amulet heat up and … something strike the man.
The man fell to the ground, twitching. He did not move again. He was quite clearly dead. Red petted the amulet.
It was nice to be protected. However, about the man…
Red frowned, and began going through his pockets. He found a dice box, a purse containing fifteen hundred pokeyen, a few odd keys, and a letter.
That was important!
The letter
was written on rough paper in black ink, but as he read the words, he felt a
shudder pass through him. No doubt it was Milady!
On the plus side, it indicated
that Whitney had managed to escape to a convent, and she was now safe there,
away from the Cardinal’s plots. Thank the Lord.
But the information was frightening. It indicated that even here in Vermillion, she was reaching out to try and kill him. Why?
Was it revenge?
Was it because of the ring she had given him? But how would she know he held it? After all, he’d only shown Lance…. And Milady had mentioned nothing of him.
Then maybe she knew that he had seen the ‘R’! That was a dire secret indeed, and though – well, he was horrible at discretion, they all knew.
Red sighed.
What was he to do now? It was lucky that his friends would be moving out soon. The guards had been dispatched before the musketeers…
Until then, he would have to watch his back.
Three days later, Red was called by one of the suppliers. He found a crate of wine and a letter in unfamiliar handwriting. Reading the note, he discerned that it was from an innkeeper.
My dear
Monsieur Red,
Messrs.
Brock, Will, and Lance were a bit too free with their wine at my humble
establishment, so much so that the authorities had them confined to their
quarters for a week. They send you this in apology, and hope that you think of
them when you drink it.
Red raised an eyebrow, and then checked the wine. There were several bottles, all fine Anjou. Well, how nice!
He decided not to drink by himself though, that was no fun. Perhaps if anyone was throwing a dinner party tonight, he could contribute…
He stashed the wine back in his tent and went to go look for his commanding officer, see if anything was up.
Nothing was, so he said no more.
Sometimes, a siege was awfully boring. At least it would be over in a few months at most. They would starve the Houen-sympathizers out yet!
That night, they were just settling in for dinner when they heard hoof beats outside. All the men grabbed their weapons, expecting an attack, but the sound was coming in the wrong direction.
In fact, it was entirely the opposite.
Red’s eyes widened as he recognized the scarlet and gold livery of the Musketeers as they rode up. Now this was more like it!
His friends did not make any gestures, but as soon as they were out of rank and file they dismounted and congregated around him.
“So Red, how have things been?” Will asked politely.
Brock nudged him. “Any pretty girls in these parts?”
Will smacked Brock, and then turned a charming smile on Red. Red laughed. It was good to be among friends again!
Lance gave him a small smile, but said nothing. Red flushed and looked down. He brightened as he remembered dinner.
That at least would be nice.
The other men were more than willing and pulled up extra chairs for the friends. They were just pouring the wine, when Red remarked on its origin.
Lance frowned. “You say we sent you the wine? Red, I didn’t tell the innkeeper to send anything.”
“Nor did I.” Brock put in.
“I did not either, Red. May I see the letter?” Will asked it politely. As Red handed it over, Will frowned. “Red, this isn’t from Gaston! I recognize his handwriting, and this isn’t it. Don’t drink it!”
Red froze, the wine almost to his lips. Across the table, one of the guards gave Will a very injured look. He had already drained his glass.
Lance cursed as he flicked his blades into his hands and started murmuring in that unknown language of his. The guard cried out as he watched white lightning flicker in Lance’s hands for a few minutes, but fortunately, it saved him from death. He would have to abstain from wine and women for a month though.
“Milady.” Red gasped.
Lance nodded. “It seems that she’s raised the stakes. Tis no longer love, Red. Tis murder! She’s out for your blood.”
The other two stared. Brock was wondering just who this Milady was, and Will sighed. This was the reason he preferred long-distance relationships… and someone stable, like Karen.
Red did not say any more, and neither did Lance, as his eyes took on the faintest blue tinge.
The other guards finished eating quickly and exited, but none mentioned the knives, or the lightning, or any of the special effects. Brock broke the rest of the wine bottles, as he was sure they were poisoned.
Red wondered vaguely if Lance had been using magic again. He most likely had. Rumors would spread otherwise, and those could be dangerous.
“Lance, what can we do?”
Lance raised an eyebrow. Red colored. “I mean, what am I to do about Milady?”
“We cannot attack her, so we must weather her storms as best we can. Soon enough, she will lose her interest, or we’ll be dead.”
Red shuddered. Now more than ever, he wished he had never laid eyes upon her.
End Chapter
Completed 6/2/06
Sigh…
Red can be so reliant, can’t he? But then again, Lance likes to cuddle him and protect him and… yeah. I should write a fic where Lance buys Red as a pet.