Perhaps surprisingly, all evidence available indicates that the 
Sindar were very weak in magic for such an advanced race.  Instead, they 
focused their efforts on understanding and mastering the physical world 
around them.  Two arts have survived from their time, each revealing much 
about the Sindar mindset.
     Alchemy is the art of converting one substance into another, the 
process of changing the nature of things.  The wildest of legends claimed 
they could change base metals into precious, while more founded accounts 
tell of various formulations with exotic effects that they developed, from 
powerful medicines to powders that burned or exploded.
     Trickmastery, on the other hand, is the art of effecting change on 
the world through machinery.  Through complicated techniques known to 
modern Trickmasters by names such as 'gearing' and 'hydraulics,' machines 
could be constructed that moved giant blocks, pumped water through 
complicated channels, or even walked like a person.  Some few elite 
Trickmasters are said to even be able to grant a semblance of life to 
their creations using a Trick Rune, but, like the alchemical tales of lead 
to gold, this may be mere legend.

     -- From "Twilight of an Empire: Speculations on the Sindarin," by T. 
Harral


                Scrap Iron Productions presents 
               a Rocketarian Pictures production 
                in association with Improfanfic 
 
                   Suikoden: Distant Shores 
              started by Illyria and Todd Harper 
                    Part 20: Dying Embers 
                      by Scott Johnson 


     The mood was somber in the chambers of Prime Minister Sylas Ansuro, 
ruler of Lierstam.  His health had been failing for months, succumbing to 
tremors and respiratory infections, but the recent spate of cold, dreary 
weather had seemed to weaken him further.  His doctors had tended to him 
night and day, trying to preserve his health.
     And now, on this bleak morning, they had to admit they had failed.
     Only a few were privileged enough to be in his presence in those last 
hours -- his doctors, certain of his cabinet members, and his only 
surviving relative, his daughter Nereida.  In the days to come, rumors 
would spread widely of what was said in those last hours -- whether they 
were final endearments, hurried political instructions, or even a fierce 
feud.  But to the public at large, only one thing was certain.
     Sylas Ansuro, hero of the revolution and third Prime Minister of 
Lierstam, was dead.

     The news spread quickly, if erratically.  It came first to the ears 
of those who had been hoping to hear it for quite some time, though they 
now found it more inconvenient than they'd hoped.
     "Damnation."  Harod Tovias drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to 
keep his frustration in check.  "Thank you, that will be all."  The 
servant bowed and exited as Harod fumed.
     All this time the old man had hung on and it still hadn't been 
enough.  A few nice tricks had boosted Matteo's popularity significantly, 
but it was still a drop in the bucket compared to Nereida's.  And there 
was only so long he could stall the election.  Not long enough, barring a 
miracle.
     So.  It looked like either he was going to have to resort to drastic 
measures, or end up losing all the influence he'd worked so hard to build.  
Not to mention getting on the bad side of more than a few important 
officials who had been tacitly counting on him to quietly take care of 
her.
     But just how drastic would be enough?  A massive scandal of some 
sort?  No, he'd tried that, with the opals and the little girl in 
Rosemont.  She'd gone into it honestly and forthrightly, wanting the truth 
even if it damaged her reputation, and come out smelling like a rose.  
Tricking her into forfeiting the race?  No, as simplistically honest as 
she was, she wasn't stupid, and she'd know the consequences of resigning.
     Assassination?
     It was a big step, and one Harod wasn't sure he wanted to make.  
Having his brother work various mischief and dirty tricks that could 
possibly prove fatal to someone or another was one thing.  Actually giving 
the order to have a fellow Hereshan killed in cold blood was quite 
another.  She was a decent person, and could even just possibly be useful 
in the future.  If she had to be killed for the good of the country, so be 
it, but...
     And then he smiled.
     "Of course," he chuckled.  "If they liked it once, they'll love it 
twice."  His brother could be very inspirational sometimes.
     "Causton!"
     The servant reappeared in the doorway.  "Yes, sir?"
     "I need to meet with Ansuro's doctors.  Discreetly, of course.  And 
fetch me a sack of gold from the vaults."  He thought for a moment.  "Oh, 
and I'll need the services of Nathans."
     "The forger, sir?"
     Harod smiled.  "I believe he prefers the term, 'handwriting artist.' 
And after you've got all that set up, send a contingent of loyal guards to 
Councilwoman Nereida's house.  Tell them she's to be detained in the name 
of state security, under suspicion of high treason and assassination."
     As Causton bowed and left, Harod leaned back and smiled, already 
framing the events in his mind.  Just how much of her legendary charm 
would remain when the public was convinced she had killed her own father 
for political power?  After the doctors reported finding evidence of 
poisoning in their autopsy, and documents in her own hand were found 
ordering chemicals matching the effects... yes, this would turn out 
perfectly.
     After all, it had worked beautifully on Nevenheim.

     The news would not reach Lindael, capital of Heresha, for some days 
to come.  But that was not to say there was no drama there.  Or no grief.
     "So, tell me again," Alaric said.  "You're the greatest thief in all 
of Lindael, right?"
     "That's what they tell me," Shayera shrugged.
     "And you came up with a foolproof plan to break us into the central 
prison for all Lindael to meet with General Nevenheim, right?"
     "I wouldn't call it foolproof.  In my experience you can always find 
a better fool."
     "Okay, but a very good plan, right?"
     "Good as they get."
     "Right.  So where exactly does us standing in the middle of a 
courtyard in the pouring rain surrounded by guards with halberds and 
crossbows figure into it?"
     "Mostly into the part where I have yet another incredible spurt of 
bad luck, I think.  And they're glaives, not halberds."
     "Bad luck?  You call this 'bad luck?'  Not, say, catastrophic 
miscalculation or anything like that?"
     "Not really.  You should see some of the other scrapes I've gotten 
into.  I mean a couple dozen guards isn't good, sure, but it's nothing 
compared to, oh, a flock of ghost eagles, or the house you're working on 
dropping into a three-story-deep sinkhole while you're inside."
     "This sort of thing happens a lot, then?"
     She tapped the scar running under her eyepatch.  "Didn't get this by 
running perfect jobs, you know."
     "And yet people call you the best."
     "Never really understood that, myself.  I mean, sure I'm good, but 
then there's stuff like this.  I think it's because I'm always getting out 
of these jams, and it makes a good story.  Nobody ever stops to think that 
I'm always getting into them, too."
     "Wonderful."


     "Madam?"
     The drawing room was tinged by the gray light of morning, slanting in 
through the curtained windows.  A woman, dressed in elegant simplicity, 
sat next to the window, hands folded in her lap, staring out into the fog 
with quiet melancholy.
     "Madam?  There are some gentlemen from the Ministry of State Security 
here to see you.  They seemed quite insistent."
     She turned away from the window with a sigh.  "Thank you, Catherwood.  
You may show them in.  If you could prepare some hospitality..."
     The elderly butler bowed.  "Consider it done, madam."
     The guard captain was a young man, fair-featured in his own way, ill 
at ease with the task given him.  He offered a small salute to the woman 
before him, out of respect if nothing else.  "Councilwoman Nereida.  I 
apologize for having to intrude in your time of grief."
     The woman nodded.  "Captain... Holden, was it?  I believe you were in 
charge of security for the Weavers' Guild dinner last month."
     "You do me honor by remembering," he said.  He took a deep breath.  
"Councilwoman, I'm afraid I have orders to take you into custody.  It 
seems some irregularities have arisen in the matter of Prime Minister 
Ansuro's recent... illness.  They apparently require you for questioning."
     Nereida nodded, seeming unsurprised by the request.  "I see.  Whose 
office specifically am I to be reporting to?"
     "Vice-Chancellor Malik's First Assistant, I believe.  A Mr. Tovias."
     "Of course."  She began to stand, supporting herself on the arms of 
the overstuffed chair.
     "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about this, Councilwoman.  I've 
always had the greatest respect for your career, and I'm sure this is just 
a misunderstanding."
     "Thank you, Captain.  And I'm quite sorry about this, as well."
     He blinked.  "Pardon?"
     A moment later, he received an elbow to the stomach.  Followed by the 
heel of a palm to his chin.  As he staggered back, trying to assess the 
situation, he saw Nereida finish rising into a fighting stance, sad 
determination in her eyes.
     His jaw worked soundlessly for a few moments.  Finally, he managed to 
call out, "Squad, assemble on me!"
     "I'm afraid the gentlemen are otherwise occupied," Catherwood replied 
from the next room.  He resumed serving his own brand of hospitality to 
the guests, aided by a rather large quarterstaff.
     "Councilwoman...?" the captain said incredulously, too stunned to 
even draw his sword.
     "I do apologize for this.  But there are things going on here you 
know nothing about.  And I can't let myself be used like this.  There's 
too much I still have to do."
     And with a spinning kick, she knocked him out.
     She caught her breath, adjusting her skirt back into a more decorous 
position.  "It would seem Matteo's supporters finally decided to strike 
directly.  Catherwood, when you're finished in there, could you pack my 
traveling supplies?"
     "I've already taken the liberty of preparing a few essentials, 
including your copy of _The Precepts of Conflict_," Catherwood replied as 
he twisted the staff to smack into the skulls of the two remaining 
soldiers.  "They are in your chambers, in the tan leather knapsack.  It 
seemed prudent when these gentlemen arrived.  I have also lain out a set 
of traveling clothes.  I recommend the red scarf with that outfit."
     "Very good.  When you're done, gather the staff and tell them that 
any who wish to stay on can meet me in Rosemont when the scrutiny is off 
of them.  Then bring the carriage around."
     "Of course.  I presume, naturally, that you have considered how your 
enemies will make your flight appear?"
     "Yes, it won't be good for my reputation.  But staying to be arrested 
and put through a rigged trial would be far worse.  I have family in 
Rosemont -- I can make better plans from there."
     "Very good, madam.  All will be in readiness directly."
     Nereida knelt down next to the captain and arranged him to lie a bit 
more comfortably.  "And I hope you can forgive me for this.  I have a duty 
to my country... but I regret that it involved hurting you."


     "So there were four of them in total?"  Adele looked at herself in 
the mirror, adjusting her dress uniform slightly.
     "Yes, Lieutenant Malespoir.  Two of them we captured at once, while 
the other two managed to make a run for it before we got them.  They're 
all in the cells now."
     "Very good.  But why are you reporting this to me?  I'm going to be 
late for the briefing on the White Tiger bandit situation as is."
     "You asked that you or Commander Davon be informed of any information 
on the situation with General Nevenheim, and from what we've been able to 
gather, the intruders were trying to reach her."
     "What?"  Adele turned on the guard, suddenly intense.  "You're sure 
of this?"
     The guard nodded.  "We haven't been able to get much more out of them 
than that.  We've identified one of them as a local criminal, and another 
as just possibly being a former Heimdall cadet, but that's as far as we've 
gotten."
     A cadet?  That nagged unpleasantly at Adele.  But she couldn't pay 
attention to that now.  She had to understand why criminals would be 
attempting to reach General Nevenheim.
     If she'd really been guilty, of course, it would have been obvious.  
An escape attempt, clumsily executed.  But the General was innocent, of 
course, and had no accomplices or conspirators to attempt a break-out.
     But what of the real conspirators?
     It made sense.  Either they had planned to kidnap her, to cast more 
suspicion on her, or perhaps even assassinate her, to prevent her from 
speaking in her own defense.  It suddenly hit Adele that she'd lost track 
of how Davon's investigation was going.  She'd been so busy lately taking 
care of the General's commitments that she'd almost forgotten about the 
proceedings.
     Well, now she had the chance to do something about it.  "I want to 
question the prisoners.  One at a time -- the cadet first.  We'll get to 
the bottom of this soon enough."
     Yes.  She had to clear Aisha's name.  That was the only thing worth 
thinking about right now.


     Rosemont had once been a fortress town, built around a defensive 
border post.  Then during one of the periodic border squabbles that had 
plagued the two nations for so long, Hereshan troops had seized the fort 
and burned it to the ground, leaving only gutted portions of the main keep 
and a few sections of wall standing.
     Since then, the town had built over and around the site, turning it 
into a market district.  The traces were still clear if one knew where to 
look.  Here, a three-story building was braced by an old wall.  There, 
part of the main building had been converted into a dozen different shops.  
Tavia, Reid, and Alyssa walked through the heart of it all, on their way 
to a residential area just on the far edge of the district.
     "Everyone looks so worried," Tavia observed.  It was a clear, sunny 
day, and yet most of the people in the streets were, walking briskly, not 
looking at anyone else, as if trying to get to cover as quickly as 
possible without making a scene.
     "They've got reason to be," Reid replied.  "Lierstam's always been 
deeper into political intrigue than Heresha, or so the gossip goes.  And 
with the Prime Minister ill, and the whole mercenary army business that's 
been plaguing us from this end, there's doubtless been more than the usual 
maneuvering.  It could be that they're worried about it."
     "It could also be that they're worried about just who's going to get 
the nod if Ansuro dies," Alyssa added.  "The frontrunner's okay, from all 
I've heard, but there's a real brute of a guy who's in the running, too.  
Or something.  I haven't been keeping perfect track of the political 
situation."
     "It's something, though," Tavia said.  "Since we're so close to the 
border, we should probably keep track of the situation here.  It may 
affect us someday.
     Reid nodded, then changed the subject.  "So, what do we know about 
this guy who's making the 'elevator?'"
     "I've heard a little about him," Alyssa replied.  "His name's Cerus 
Cole, a professional inventor.  Supposed to be a bit touched in the head, 
but aren't all those genius types like that?"
     "I'm sure the reputation is exaggerated," Tavia said.  "Look isn't 
that the address coming up?"
     The house was small and old-fashioned, with the only possible sign of 
eccentricity being the small notice saying 'Clocks Repaired' in one 
window.  Tavia stepped up to the door and knocked.
     "Marionette!" a voice bellowed from inside.  "Get that for me, would 
you?"
     The door opened, to reveal a rather fetching young woman.  She 
curtseyed to them, smiling distantly all the while.  In fact, her 
expression didn't change even in the slightest.
     It took a moment to realize that it was because she was made of 
polished wood.


     Adele ran a hand through her hair and leaned against the table, 
frustrated.  "This is getting us nowhere."
     Seated behind the table, Daniel shrugged as best he could with his 
hands shackled behind him.  "You're the one insisting on it.  You're not 
going to get anything out of it, so you really should just spare yourself 
the frustration."
     Adele glared at him.  "We are aware that you were a cadet at the 
Heimdall academy before its fall.  With a few days of searching, we should 
be able to trace your movements and find out who you are working for.  But 
that would be time-consuming, and use agents who could best be used 
elsewhere.  And it would mean we'd have to keep you imprisoned for a much 
longer period of time.  If you could explain exactly why you were 
searching for General Nevenheim, this would be a lot easier for you, and 
the government would be most grateful."
     Daniel stifled a laugh.  "Forgive me for saying so, but the 
government can go take a flying leap for all I care."
     Adele's eyes narrowed.  "A suspiciously rebellious statement."
     "So what if it is?"
     "So that would imply connections to some seditious group that was 
operating near Bristow after the Heimdall incident.  And the only one 
known is..."  Her eyes widened.  "Of course.  The rebel army." 
     "Would you be even the least bit inclined to believe me if I denied 
it?"
     "Quiet," Adele snapped.  The army.  The army Tavia was in.  Which 
meant that the people who had tried to kidnap or kill the General...
     Tavia.  It always came down to Tavia.  No matter how hard she tried 
to put her out of her mind...
     She realized her fist was trembling.
     "Guards!  Take the prisoner away.  I have... I have business to 
attend to."
     Yes.  Now she knew what she had to do.
     It was so clear.


     "She's... she's amazing," Tavia said, unable to take her eyes off the 
animated doll now passing around the tea.  An amazing machine -- and more 
than a bit disturbing.  Behind her, Alyssa and Reid were just as 
transfixed.
     "She's an old man's folly," Cole said dismissively.  He'd come out of 
the workshop a few minutes after they'd arrived, wiping his hands on a 
greasy rag.  He was getting on in years, with round glasses and wild white 
hair.  "A limited array of predetermined movements, no voicebox, no real 
thought even.  Just a semblance of life, courtesy of the Trick Rune."  He 
showed the back of his right hand to her, where a complicated rune was 
etched.
     "I've never actually seen a Trick Rune before," Alyssa said.  
"Doesn't it have something to do with, um, toys, wasn't it?"
     "If that's what you use it for.  Really, it works with any kind of 
mechanism.  Makes it work better, move more freely... if you're good 
enough, it can even help create something like this thing here."  He 
patted the clockwork girl on its shoulder.  "It's one of the few runes the 
Sindar were known to use.  Nowadays, it's the basis for the whole art of 
trickmastery -- you know, clockworks and the like."  He looked at the doll 
and sighed.  "My daughter left me some time back -- differences of 
opinion, you see.  And I got the fool idea into my head that having a 
semblance of her around would be more comforting than being alone.  
'Course, now looking at the Marionette just reminds me of how alone I am, 
but it'd be a waste to destroy it now."
     "Oh."  Tavia couldn't quite think of what to say about that.
     "It's a pretty impressive piece of work all the same," Reid said.  "I 
mean, even just making something that can move for itself and walk around 
is..."
     Marionette placed the teapot back on the tray, lifted it, turned to 
walk into the kitchen, and tripped over a footstool.  Tea and crockery was 
sent flying everywhere with a huge crash, along with a few of the 
clockwork girl's wooden limbs.  Her head rolled along the floor, bounced 
off a chair, and came to rest against Tavia's foot, smiling up at her 
blankly.
     "...anyway, the tea's very nice," Reid finished weakly.
     "Don't pay it any mind."  Cole crouched down and started gathering up 
pieces of the machine.  "Just lost coordination between its eyes and legs.  
Happens all the time.  This'll only take a moment to fix."  He pulled out 
a wrench and started reattaching the limbs.  "So, enough small talk.  What 
brings folks like you out to see an old man like me?"
     Half an hour's worth of explanations later, Marionette was complete 
again, and Cole was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  "Can't say the 
politics make much difference to me.  But having a chance to actually test 
my elevator designs -- now that'd be a treat.  Maybe work out an outside 
one on a slant for the slope of the mountain...  Yeah, I can see it being 
an interesting challenge."
     "So you'll join us?" Tavia asked eagerly.
     "Mmm... Maybe.  If you can do just one thing for me."


     "So what normally happens to your companions when things go wrong 
like this?"  Alaric just couldn't leave the topic alone, probing it like a 
sore tooth.
     "Depends.  Sometimes they get out okay, too.  Sometimes they get 
caught again on the escape.  Once or twice a couple guys I've been with 
were maimed. Oh, and there was that one time everyone got infected."
     "Infected?"
     "Don't ask."
     "Yes, for all our sakes, please, don't ask," Kyrina snapped.  Being 
locked in a cramped cell with only a small window, showing only stormy 
sky, was wearing on her nerves, and having Alaric asking stupid questions 
constantly wasn't helping any.
     There was a clanking sound from outside, as the door to the cell 
block was unlocked.  A guard stepped in, with Daniel close in tow.
     "Daniel!  Are you all right?" Alaric asked.
     "Nothing bruised but my pride," Daniel replied grimly.  "Though I 
think I may have let a little more slip than I should have."
     "Brilliant."  Shayera sight, then gestured to the guard.  "Hey could 
you come over here for a second?"
     The guard paused in the act of unlocking the cell door, eyes narrowed 
in suspicion.  "What's this all about?"
     Shayera walked over to meet him.  "Not much.  I'm just gonna knock 
you out and take your keys, and the whole 'oh, help, somebody's sick' 
routine is so demeaning, you know?"
     "Bwuh?"  The guard's confusion quickly turned to surprise and then 
unconsciousness as Shayera reached through the bars, grabbed his collar, 
and jerked his head into the iron bars.
     "I swear, they get stupider every time."  Shayera quickly unlocked 
the cell door and went to work on Daniel's manacles.  "I think they select 
for it when it's time to hire new guards."
     "We have to move fast," Daniel said, rubbing his wrists to work some 
circulation back into them.  "It'll only be so long until someone comes to 
see what's taking this guy so long with me."
     "Right.  Which is why we're gonna split up.  You and the nuisance go 
secure our escape route.  Clear out any guards on the way back to the 
wall; make sure the rope's still in place.  The girl and I will go find 
the General."
     "Nuisance?"  Alaric couldn't decide whether to be amused or extremely 
annoyed.
     "Hey, don't rile yourself.  This could end up being one of those 
times we all make it out okay.  Pretty lucky, eh?"


     "Commander Davon!"  Adele strode down the corridors of Saints Castle 
briskly, a new purpose in her step.  Davon turned from his impromptu 
meeting with a courier to greet her with a smile.
     "Lieutenant Malespoir.  How was the briefing on --"
     "I need you to arrange a meeting with the judiciary committee 
overseeing General Nevenheim's case."
     Davon blinked, realigning his train of thought.  "What's the matter?  
Adele, I've told you, we're working on finding the culprits as fast as 
possible.  In fact, we've got a promising --"
     "I've found them," she said flatly.  "It was the rebel army, trying 
to destabilize the government and behead our military machine.  The 
evidence I obtained in interrogation just now should be enough to 
authorize a military strike against them.  If we're lucky, we may be able 
to get the General released under supervision to lead the campaign."
     "Wait, wait, wait."  Davon's mind was racing frantically, trying to 
stay one step ahead of Adele.  "Aren't you jumping into this a little 
fast?  I mean, let's just take this one step at a time..."
     "We've been taking this one step at a time since the assassination 
attempt, Commander.  Now we have a clear course of action to strike at the 
traitors.  And I'll be damned if I let her... let them get away with it 
this time."  Her body shook for a moment, her fists clenching hard enough 
to turn the knuckles white.  Then she snapped out of it, and stalked off 
down the corridor, towards the judiciary wing.
     This, Davon realized, could be trouble.  Strong trouble indeed.


     Aisha Nevenheim looked up from the book she was reading at the sound 
of a scuffle in the hallway.  She knew that she only had a few guards, 
more for show than anything else, but she also knew she wouldn't have 
gotten far trying to escape, even if that was a reasonable course of 
action.
     At her best guess, someone was trying to make the option seem more 
reasonable.
     She set aside the book as a key rattled in the lock of her door.  
"You've got five minutes, girl," a muffled voice said on the other side.  
"Make it count.  I'll watch the door."
     A dark-haired woman in simple leathers slipped through the door, 
shutting it behind her quietly.  She took in the room with a quick glance, 
then faced General Nevenheim, straightened, and saluted quickly.  Aisha 
returned the salute, bemused.
     "General Nevenheim, my name is Kyrina, of the Crescent Freedom Army.  
I've come to help you escape from here.  If we hurry, we can..."
     "Escape?  Hold on there.  What makes you think I'd want to escape?  
Especially into the hands of a rebellion that no doubt would love a 
hostage of my status."
     "Not a hostage.  General, we've come to offer you a position in our 
army.  We're in desperate need of a talented strategist, and from 
everything we've heard, you're an intelligent and noble person.  We want 
you to come over to our side, to help save Heresha from itself."
     "There is the matter that I am innocent of all charges, that I have 
allies who know this, and that they are working to prove it." 
     "Do you actually think they'll be allowed to bring up the evidence 
fairly?  If you really are innocent, you have to know that the most likely 
people to do this to you are political rivals, and they'd be able to 
influence the courts if they can put you in here."
     Aisha raised an eyebrow.  "I can't be confident of that.  There's any 
number of people who would like to see the Hereshan military crippled.  
Including yourselves, perhaps?"
     Kyrina shook her head.  "Even assuming we wanted to stoop so low, how 
would we do it?  We're not such a large movement yet that we have 
infiltrators in Saints Castle or anything.  Even just trying to break you 
out of here is straining our resources."
     Aisha quirked a smile.  "Which would suggest that joining you would 
be possibly futile, then." 
     "No revolution starts strong.  We need good people on our side, to 
make it possible.  People like you."
     "Mmm."  Aisha acknowledged the point noncommittally.  She thought for 
a moment, looking off into the distance.  Finally, she came to a decision.
     "I think your goals are noble, and you obviously believe in them.  
But I also don't think I could support them."
     "But..."
     "It's not that I'm opposed to revolution on principle.  I helped to 
lead the Crownbreaker War, you know.  And I don't think the government is 
perfect -- Runes know I've seen it from too close for that.  But I think 
you're condemning it far too fast."  She leaned back and sighed.  "The 
Crownbreaker War was, what, ten years ago?  Compare that to how long the 
monarchies lasted.  It takes time to adjust to an entirely new form of 
government.  We're still trying to work out the problems, find ways to 
avoid corruption and abuse of the system.  But I have confidence we can do 
it.
     "If your revolution succeeds, if the republic falls, what do you plan 
to put in its place?  And how do you plan to stop the same old problems 
happening, and some new revolution coming to overthrow you a decade from 
now, in yet another costly and bloody war?"
     "I...  I've actually been thinking about that myself, a little," 
Kyrina said.  "We've been concentrating more on winning the war, but 
Senrou had thought about that a lot, too, before he... was killed.  He saw 
some problems, like too many layers of bureaucracy, and too much distance 
between leaders and the people, and said..."
     The door popped open, and Shayera stuck her head in.  "We've got a 
dozen guards coming down the corridor.  Time to move."
     Kyrina looked from Shayera to Aisha.  "But -- I haven't --"
     Shayera stepped in and grabbed her by the arm.  "Either we get out 
now or they chop our heads off and lock us in the deepest hole they got.  
Maybe not in that order."  She eyed Aisha.  "You coming, General?"
     "I'm afraid not," she replied, resting her hand casually on her book.  
Weighty enough to improvise as a club or shield, should the intruders 
decide to press matters.
     Shayera shrugged.  "No skin off mine.  Pleasure meeting you, then.  
Maybe we'll run into each other again, if I get lucky enough to get tossed 
into a cell like this sometime."
     And they were off.
     Aisha let the tension drain from her, slumping into her chair.  An 
interesting encounter... that had left her with much to think about.

     Not many towns could boast a large public library.  The concept had 
been introduced in the days after the Crownbreaker War, as a means to 
educate the public as a whole, and better prepare themselves for the 
responsibilities of choosing their leaders and guiding their government.  
Rosemont was fortunate enough to have one of decent size -- only one 
story, but still the size of a modest house.
     At the moment, it was lightly occupied.  At the front desk, an 
elderly woman, her white hair in a bun, looked up at Tavia over her 
glasses as the trio entered.  "May I help you?"
     "Possibly," Tavia said.  "We're looking for a lady by the name of 
Celia, the chief librarian here..."
     "That would be me."  She took off the glasses, closed the book she'd 
been reading, and looked critically at Tavia.  "What brings the leader of 
the so-called Crescent Freedom Army to my humble library?"
     Tavia swallowed.  "You recognized me?"
     "I keep an ear out for news from the border.  And your description is 
fairly distinctive.  I don't think you have to worry about most people 
recognizing you -- there's too much happening on this side of the border 
to worry about yours."  She polished her glasses on a small handkerchief.  
"Actually, I have a niece who's been following your career with great 
interest.  She has some pretty harsh things to say about your lack of 
strategic focus, mind you."
     "Really?"  Tavia shook her head.  First things first.  "We've come to 
ask a favor of you.  A fairly large one, I'm afraid."
     "We're trying to convince a friend of yours, Mr. Cole, to install one 
of his inventions at our castle," Reid explained.  "He's amiable, but he 
said, well..." 
     "He said he was in the middle of a ten-year-long chess game with you 
that he didn't want to drop," Alyssa cut in.  "So he'll only come if you 
do."
     Celia blinked.  Then she chuckled.  "That old coot.  I should have 
known he'd try something like this."  She waved a hand dismissively at the 
trio's confused expressions.  "This isn't about the game.  If it were, 
you'd think he'd make a move more than once every three months.  He cares 
more for your cause than he's letting on, I think.  And this isn't about 
me, or him, really.  He's trying to draw in some important figures to your 
side, and he knows I'm the key to that."
     Tavia blinked.  "...Is that a yes?"
     She shook her head.  "I'm too old to be traipsing across the 
countryside, dodging border patrols and fighting another war.  I was 
around for the revolutions, you know.  And I owe a lot of loyalty to this 
country, and to my family.  Which means I can't..."
     The bell at the door rang as it opened and shut.  The woman entering 
set down her bags, turning towards the desk.  "Aunt Celia, I need your 
help.  Matteo's faction has..."
     And then she stopped.
     For the first time, Tavia Reinschild, former Heimdall cadet, leader 
of the Crescent Freedom Army, was face to face with Nereida Ansuro, former 
councilwoman for Lierstam's fourth district, future strategist of the 
aforementioned army.
     It was one of those moments when history holds its breath.
     Which was rudely shattered when Alyssa punched Nereida in the face.


=====

Author's Notes:

New Stars:
     Cerus Cole: Chisou Star (Earthbound Running)
     Marionette: Chisyun Star (Earthbound Quickness)
     Nereida Ansuro: Tenki Star (Heavenly Opportunity)
     Catherwood: Chiyou Star (Earthbound Sorcery)
     Celia Ansuro: Chisui Star (Earthbound Completion)

     I was a little worried about this chapter, not least because time 
slipped away from me far too much before I could get a decent start on it.  
There were also a few plot issues I thought might be worrisome.
     Barring a dramatic turn next episode, Aisha's not joining up yet -- I 
do think she'll make a good member of the army, but I also think there's a 
lot of potential in having her face Tavia across the battlefield at least 
once.
     I also worried that people might have problems with Marionette, but 
she's rather less impressive than Gadget (a.k.a. Karakuri-maru) from 
Suikoden 2 in all but looks.  (At least Gadget wasn't accident-prone.)
     I've placed Nereida in a rather important position -- the Star of 
Heavenly Opportunity, and thus one of the most important people save Tavia 
herself.  Shu and Mathiu were both in charge of long-term strategy and 
some battlefield tactics for their armies, and thus arguably controlled 
the flow of the war entirely.  Whether Nereida will do the same... well, 
that's up to future authors.
     Thanks to everyone, and looking forward to the future of the story.

-- 
Scott Johnson |
zagyg@io.com  |        This space intentionally left blank.