Cloths of Heaven
(i)
Chloe couldn’t believe how still Aya sat across from him. He was like a statue, his hair roughly cut about his face and his braid gone. The only sign of injury on him was a split lip. He wore livery from which the insignia had been ripped, and the dark linen made him look pale. He wore a satin sash about his waist, that was the same colour of violet grey of his eyes, but a black ribbon about his arm for mourning. He wore a single golden pendant from his right ear and he looked that he might at any moment shatter into a thousand brittle pieces. Chloe wanted to get up, to dismiss the soldiers and notaries, the squires and the champions and enfold his arms about Aya, to hang himself on that brittleness in the hope that such a display might bring him a moment’s comfort. It was clear that Aya, however, felt no pain. He reacted like an automata, a beautiful clockwork doll, different from the man who had left him.
It was apparent to all that both Crawford’s bride and the Nemesis’ favourite had been locked away as the terrible ice descended over him. Where the gathered nervously sat drinking or talking amongst themselves. Aya sat as still and silent and porcelain.
Behind him, eschewing the seat he had been offered, stood Free. Unlike everyone else, even Chloe, he wore no livery, just a tight fitting black vest and a pair of loose trousers that ended a midshin. Rather than boots he wore sandals.
Schuldig had return to Aya’s side and now sat beside Yohji and the two were talking quietly amongst themselves with quiet but rather telling looks at Aya as they did so.
Ken sat between Yuushi and Reiichi polishing the claws of his bugnuks as intently as he could to avoid looking at anyone.
The representative of the Elders of Esset, a small unctuous man who continually wiped at his nose, he kept looking at Aya’s manservant, and the purple haired girl sat on the floor beside him, with a look of absolute horror. The one eyed man, who Schuldig had called Farfarello, seemed to ripen under his feet. His hair was bleached, but the detail that Chloe noticed above all others was that he had filed his teeth to points. Chloe was glad that the man was controlled.
“On behalf of King Mamoru of Inabayama and Naoe of Eressea, and the army gathered by my husband in their name,” Aya’s tone was absolutely passionless as if he practiced his lines. “In the interests of Inabayama.”
“Daryiia,” Yuushi corrected, “Inabayama fell with the towers.”
There was a metal cup in Aya’s hand that he had been rolling around, he slammed it down on the table with enough force that it snapped the stem. “Inabayama,” he corrected, “where the goddess laid to rest her bones after creating the world, where she bathed the sweat from her skin in the waters off the Fujimiya estate, where each of the kings, even before the ascension of the Takatori, raised a tower in her honour. That Inabayama fell was inevitable, and possibly even necessary,” he paused, there was no expression in his voice, “the elimination of the nobles, even of my parents, I understand, to avoid raising an army against you in their name. As a Fujimiya trained in warcraft I understand completely, but as a man I cannot forgive, but you pulled down the towers.”
Chloe could not believe how Aya had changed he was utterly emotionless, like a doll.
“If you thought that by pulling down the towers that you would demoralize the people then you made a terrible mistake,” he paused, “Eressea gathered the refugees in Mamoru’s name and like me we were angered by the sacrilege. I am the Lord Fujimiya, last of my house, and descended from the goddess herself, born to serve Inabayama, and I will do what I can to restore the towers.”
“What is it you want for Inabayama?” Reiichi asked.
“I do not ask that the Nemesis rescind its control over Inabayama,” Yuushi snorted, “but I do ask that you install Mamoru as viceroy, to restore its name and let us rebuild the towers.” He stopped. “The people of Inabayama gathered with you against a common foe this is all we ask in exchange.”
“As my favourite,” Chloe said calmly, “you could ask anything of me, for nearly two years you could have begged this of me,” Chloe said, “and yet you did not. There was a time I would have given to you this kingdom. Do you ask me as Aya Fujimiya, champion on Inabayama, or as Aya, favourite of the Nemesis?” For a moment an emotion flickered across Aya’s face as quickly as a butterfly beating its wings, then it was gone. “There is nothing in this request I would have been disinclined to give you.”
“Perhaps,” Aya said, “but this drove me from my husband and I would not have had it bring a rift between us.”
“I will restore Inabayama as a viceroyship,” Chloe said calmly, “give Layla over to us for trial.”
Farfarello laughed, it was a dry humourless sound. “No,” he said patting her head patiently.
“The Elders of Estet would like her returned so she could be punished for her failure.” The nasal representative of Estet offered,
“She is not for sale,” Aya told him firmly, “she is being held for the murder of Lord Crawford, my husband, and her fate is for Naoe to decide. She has been brought around to this and no one can guard her better than Farfarello.”
“That,” Chloe said, “I do not question, but my people will demand such a prisoner to bring to trial for war crimes.”
“I’ll make her suffer,” Farfarello grinned, “she’ll even enjoy it.”
“We don’t question that,” Ken offered, “But the people demand a public execution, options a lifetime of slavery can’t offer.”
“Slavery,” Farfarello barked out a laugh, “my lovely Kitten, are you my slave?”
“No,” she answered calmly, “you protect and love me.” Her voice was animated and joyous, and she had beatific smile like a saint. She wore the same liberated livery as Aya, but Farfarello wore Eressea’s crest.
“If you must execute someone,” Aya said looking at the Estet representative, “he is sat there.”
The representative swallowed and visibly paled.
“We have a woman in prison in Atzara, for attempting to murder her own son,” Reiichi said, “Tsuji, she was slated for execution, we will try her in Layla’s name, this will appease all concerned.”
“But,” the representative protested.
“Farfarello,” Aya said quietly, It was a command. Farfarello turned and embedded the rim of his cup in the man’s chest but then twisted it, killing the man outright, Aya looked over as the man toppled from his chair, “thank you, he was annoying me terribly.”
For a moment Chloe was horrified that the Aya that he loved could be so callous, but reminded himself that the unctuous man was unnecessary and that Aya’s grief was new and raw and that he would behave in different ways because of it.
Ken looked over at the man lying dead on the floor, “death by tea cup,” he said “interesting.” Then he turned to Aya, “so will you be returning to Atzara with us?”
“No,” Aya answered and everyone at the table, except Layla turned to look at him. “I am the last of the Fujimiya, I am descended from the goddess and I must do my duty by Inabayama, even if it destroys me.”
Chloe stood up, “leave us,” he said, they left but both Yohji and Schuldig looked to Aya first but left at his nod.
Chloe moved around the table to stand beside Aya, “Will you not return to me?”
Alone Aya’s expressions were slightly less guarded but still as hard as stone and his eyes were like chips of freckled granite. “Mamoru needs me, not as the Nemesis’ favourite, or as Crawford’s bride, but as a Fujimiya, there’s no one else.”
“I know,” Chloe said, “just promise me,” he started. Aya’s kiss was commanding and silenced his desire to speak.
“It’s not meant to be, love,” he said, “we belong to different states that both require different things of us.” He pressed Chloe’s palm to his cheek. “It’ll be alright,” he said, “we’ll see each other sometimes.”
Outside the tent Free stood at the door with his arms crossed, “will you return to Inabayama?” He asked Yohji and Schuldig both nodded. “He will need us,” he continued, “he is not the kind of man to realise that there is a place for him apart from his duty.”
“Do you not belong to the Nemesis?” Yohji asked.
Free’s smile was sinuous, “I am Free.” He answered.
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