In the Name of Justice: Chapter XXX
May I just say how much I loved writing the middle scene of this chapter.
Chapter XXX
Tears
The first droplets were just beginning to fall as Justice stared, wide-eyed, at the figure. Gideon was completely still, motionless aside from the thin stream of blood that continued to creep down his jaw and drip from his chin. The man was half-expecting him to suddenly move again, to lash out with his knife and take them both by surprise, but nothing happened.
He had done it.
He had actually done it.
Slowly, Justice reached out a trembling hand and wrenched the sword from the tree, watching as the body fell to the floor in a heap. Gideon's hair fell over his frozen face - a face which even in death held the slightest of smirks. As long as he lived, Justice would be satisfied if he never saw that face again. He tutted in disgust as he bent down and picked up the double-bladed knife that had dropped to the ground.
“What are you going to do with it, Your Majesty?” asked Blanche.
Justice turned the hated weapon over in his hands before burying it deep in the ground at Gideon's feet. “Who knows?” he said dryly. “Maybe someone will find it one day and pull it out.”
It was difficult for Justice to feel anything as he looked down at the figure propped against the tree. Relief, perhaps, though there was no satisfaction in the scene, no feelings of triumph, like when he'd removed the sword for the first time. All he wanted to do was leave this place as quickly as he could.
The next word that fell from Blanche's mouth was enough to make him do just that. “Wilderness.”
Justice’s eyes widened - he'd almost forgotten about the Guardian. With one last look at Gideon, he picked up the sword and allowed Blanche to lead him away from the forest.
The rain was at full strength now, the thin branches of the trees providing little cover against the heavy droplets that pounded the ground. As his adrenaline faded, Justice became aware once again of the pain in his shoulder and chest. What's more, his back had begun to sting again - he must have re-opened the wound during the fight. Either way, he tried to push them to the back of his mind as he pressed forward and broke the line of trees.
Wilderness was lying on his back in the open ground, a single figure blurred by the rain. When Justice first saw him, his heart leaped in his chest, fearing the worst; but as he drew closer, he was relieved to see his chest moving gently. There was a heartbeat as well - weak, but still detectable amid the rain.
Blanche fell to her knees beside him, taking his hand between his own and hugging it to her chest. Slowly, Wilderness allowed his eyes to ease open. He turned them to her. “B-Blanche,” he whispered through quivering lips. His eyes travelled to Justice, who had just knelt down beside the girl. Then he snapped them shut and winced in pain.
Justice scanned his body up and down, pausing when he reached the bloody area around his stomach. As carefully as he could, he pulled back the material to reveal the knife wound, as raw as if it had been made within the minute. The Guardian gasped in agony as it was exposed directly to the rain, his hand tightening into a fist by his side.
“You’re so beautiful, Blanche,” he mumbled between pained breaths. His hand slid through hers to stroke against her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “I was selfish… I’m sorry…”
“No!” When she spoke, Blanche’s voice was weak, as if she were on the verge of tears. “You have done nothing but good for me, Master. You’re going to get through this.”
A small laugh escaped Wilderness - a laugh which quickly broke apart into coughing. For the second time, he turned his eyes to the black-haired man. “You'll look after her, w-won't you?”
Justice longed to leap up, to tell Wilderness that he would be there to oversee it himself, but he had learnt long ago that there was no use in fooling oneself with fruitless hope, so he merely nodded in response. The rain pulled his hair together in thick clumps over his face, though he paid little attention to it now.
Seemingly satisfied, Wilderness lay his head back in the mud and closed his eyes. “You will make a magnificent king,” he said. “I-I'm so sorry, Justice…”
His words were cut off as his body lurched all of a sudden. His mouth fell open, but only a strangled gasp came out. For several moments, he remained twitching on the ground, before his eyes eased shut and he fell still at last.
“M-Master?” whimpered Blanche. When no reply came, she repeated it. Justice knew that her words were falling upon deaf ears, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. The numbing feeling that had pulled at him when he'd killed Gideon was spreading fast, as though his insides were being swallowed up by it.
A muffled shriek brought his attention back to Blanche. The girl's face was pressed into the Guardian's chest, her hands clutching at the amber folds of his clothing. Agonised sobs shook her shoulders - the sound was enough to make Justice shudder. His mind flicked back to the moment in the field, the moment he'd watched Gideon plunge his knife into Wilderness' body, then thrust him aside as if he were a piece of dirt clinging to the blade. If only he had been able to catch him in time - maybe then, he would not be in this position…
Justice’s fingers tightened into fists. Even in death, Gideon was able to cause so much pain. It sickened him.
“No.”
The word was solitary, definitive. How could Justice let this happen? Like a flickering candle, his mind flashed through the sword, his father's words - Fight! - and Blanche. He had stood and watched as Gideon stole her away from him, done nothing as she was murdered in front of his eyes.
Well, this time would be different. He wasn't going to stand by whilst another person died. Not this time.
With a new sense of urgency to drive him, Justice bent over his wrist and dug his teeth into the flesh. Pain stung him, but he took no notice of it, tearing deeper and deeper with his fangs until he could taste blood, thick and fast. Blanche raised her head to stare at him with wide eyes, pulling back so that he could hover his wrist over the Guardian's face.
“This is the blood of Schwarzschild.” Justice watched as the red liquid dripped from the wound into Wilderness' mouth. When nothing happened, he slipped a hand beneath his head and forced his wrist against his lips. “My blood contains the original elixir of all vampires, the blood of my father, and you will drink it! Damn you!”
The aggression in his own words took Justice aback slightly, but he cared little, pushing down hard so as to transfer as much blood as he could into Wilderness' mouth before the wound closed. For a moment, he thought he felt lips twitching against his skin. He pulled back slightly, only to see the Guardian as still as he was before.
Yet there it was again. Something moist brushed lightly against his wrist, as though it were lapping up the blood accumulating there. Then, slowly, Wilderness' lips closed around the wound.
“Yes, that's right.” Justice's heart was pounding as he eased his hand into a more accessible angle. A low noise, halfway between a sigh and a moan, made its way from Wilderness' chest, his whole mouth sucking at the cut with every degree of strength he could summon.
There was a silence that seemed to draw on for hours. The rain was finer now, falling like a thin mist over the field; a droplet slid off Justice's nose and onto his hand, making him shiver, yet still he carried on. All the time, his attention remained on Wilderness' heartbeat, a low, irregular pulse - weak, but still alive.
Then, slowly, Wilderness' eyes flickered to life.
For a few moments, he just lay there, staring up at the sky. Then he shifted position slightly, so that he was able to prop himself up on one elbow.
A whimper escaped Blanche's lips, and she dove forward to wrap her arms around the Guardian's shoulders; when she cried this time, her sobs were those of joy. It was impossible for Justice, too, to deny the sense of relief that flooded him. Slowly, he cleaned away the remaining blood from his wrist with a loose piece of clothing and eased himself to his feet. His eyes scanned the field. The rain blurred the environment, making seeing anything a task within itself, yet he was able to pick out the outlines of two figures a short distance away. He regarded them briefly, when something caught hold of his ankle. He looked down to see Wilderness staring up at him, a weak smile upon his face.
“Thank you.”
Justice's expression softened as he knelt down beside Wilderness. The Guardian's hand lifted to his level, and he took it firmly. Through their joined hands, Justice could feel the gentle pulse of blood through the vampire's vessels - his blood. The thought was somewhat of a comfort to him, to know that after a lifetime of taking lives, he had finally been able to give something back. And Wilderness… He would be able to live on, because of him.
Justice allowed his eyes to catch the Guardian's. For a moment, he thought that Wilderness was going to say something, but it was only then that he realised no words were needed - the exchange of looks was enough. Chuckling softly, Justice gave the Guardian's hand a gentle squeeze before straightening up and turning to Blanche. “You'll look after him, won't you?”
The girl paused, then nodded, a small smile lighting her face. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Justice nodded slowly in response. The rain was beginning to slow now, the droplets thinning against his face. His eyes ran along the field again until they latched onto the vague figures; then, gathering the sword in his hands, he began to walk.
What he saw, however, was enough to make his heart leap in his chest.
Carbuncle stood in the mist, and before him was a slightly taller figure, dressed all in black - Dreizehn. The king had one hand on the other's shoulder, and looked as if he were speaking, though the deep tones of his voice were too soft for the man to detect.
Justice could hear the sound of his own heartbeat as he approached. What he must have looked like he didn't know: mud-soaked, bloody and drenched with rain from head to foot. He'd neglected to take notice of it before, but now that he was standing, he began to realise just how cold he really was; truly, it was as if the water had managed to sink beneath his skin and seep through to his core.
Dreizehn turned to him as he approached, eyes glowing the faintest shade of red. Even when he dropped into a bow, Justice could feel them piercing him.
“Or perhaps it is I who should be bowing to you.”
The words shocked Justice somewhat, so much so that he was forced to look up. Dreizehn's lips were pulled into a tight line, yet despite that, his expression was soft, and once again the man felt the unfamiliar jolt of his heart at the sight. He shot a brief glance at Carbuncle, who was standing a few steps away: whether it was from the ever-thinning rain or his own tears, Justice couldn't tell, but the fire vampire's pale complexion was broken up with patches of raw pink beneath large, moist eyes. Either way, it wasn't difficult to tell that any tears shed were those of joy.
“I have been selfish, Justice,” said Dreizehn. “All the years I spent dormant were ones I neglected my kingdom, and it is only now that I realise how much of a mistake I have made.” He shook his head slowly. “And that is why I am leaving my throne to you, my son.”
Justice spoke out immediately. “But Father, you're alive now! Surely you can step up again? Marthiel needs you…”
Yet Dreizehn only shook his head again. For a moment, Justice thought he saw the slightest hint of a smile pull at the king's lips, but if such a thing did appear, then it quickly faded as he placed a warm hand on his son's shoulder and stared straight into his eyes. “My time on the throne has passed, Justice. I would not leave it to you if I did not believe you capable of taking on something so profound.” He paused for a moment to turn his head slightly. “That is, of course, if you wish to.”
Justice considered the idea. A whole kingdom under his name, the role of watching over Marthiel as its ruler… Surely he would have accepted right away, but something held him back. Was Dreizehn really prepared to hand him everything so quickly? Truly, the king was no fool, yet the whole idea daunted him to the point that nothing else could.
Despite everything, though, the words that fell from his mouth were final, definitive. “I do.”
This time, the smile that graced Dreizehn’s lips was warm, his hand gently caressing his son's shoulder. “You will have the Knights to look over you.” Then, to the fire vampire, he added, “Look after your cousin, Carbuncle. Guide him well.”
'Cousin'? For a moment, Justice thought he had misheard his father, but as he looked at the fire vampire, he began to recognise similarities. The shape of the nose, the eyes, the jawline… There was no mistaking the likenesses between Carbuncle and Dreizehn's faces - his face.
How it had taken him so long to realise it he didn't know.
All of a sudden, Justice was pulled from his thoughts as Dreizehn leaned forward and took him up into his arms, just like he had back in the forest. The king's robes wrapped around him like a blanket, warming his frozen body, comforting him to his core.
“And now,” whispered Dreizehn, “I shall become your sword.”
Justice allowed his eyes to slide closed as he soaked up the warmth that enveloped him. Dreizehn's heartbeat was pressed against his own, though he could feel it fading, as if he were falling into a deep sleep. Still, he didn't fight the sensation - if he were to choose, then he would remain here in his father's arms for as long as the night would allow.
Yet when he opened his eyes, Dreizehn was gone.
It was an odd sensation, but somehow, Justice could almost feel his father's arms around him still as he stood. Slowly, his eyes settled upon Carbuncle: the fire vampire wiped his cheek with his thumb, and when he looked up, his lips held the smallest of smiles. Justice had never seen him smile before, but now, he could see what a beautiful expression it was, how it softened every inch of his face.
Cousin… All at once, Justice felt a strong pull towards the fire vampire. He watched as he bent down, picked up the sword from the ground and held it in his hands for several seconds. He ran his fingers lovingly over the tip before stepping forward and holding it in front of the man.
Only when Justice took it into his hands did he realise it was glowing.
The illumination was brief, like the fading heat of metal once it has been tempered, but the sight of it brought comfort to Justice. This was his father's legacy - or rather, he was now. He sighed and gripped the blade tightly as he looked up at Carbuncle. For a moment, he considered saying something out loud, but in the end, decided simply to allow the silence to continue.
Because after all that had happened, words were irrelevant.
*
Judas awoke with a start.
A dull pain spread through his head, making him wince. Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed it to his temple, just as the memories came flooding back to him. Hadn't he been with Gideon whilst he faced up to Justice? And then… His hands clenched into fists by his side. That girl had left him here. A quick check told him he hadn't received any significant injuries, though his bow was missing, and his muscles ached.
Grunting to himself, he sat up and studied his surroundings. The forest stood on his left, and to his right and front was the field. A thick mist hung over the ground, evidently born of the rain that had soaked his whole body whilst he laid unconscious. He shivered. Where was Gideon? If he were to take a guess, the vampire would still be in the forest now - it was just the case of finding him that posed the greatest issue.
Judas was just about to stand up, when all of a sudden, three figures emerged from the mist. At first, he thought that they were Gideon's men coming to retrieve him, but as they drew closer, he began to pick out details: the movement of the garments, the outlines that were far beyond the simple cloaks worn by his comrades. These were no normal beings by any means - and Judas realised, with a shiver, that he might just know who they were after all.
“Well, well, well,” said the middle one in melodic, sliding tones. “Look who it is - the rat that escaped the fire.”
The angle at which they stood obscured their faces to a certain extent, though Judas knew he was in danger. When he tried to back away, however, the hard sole of a boot landed upon his lower leg, crushing it into the ground.
“Please,” he begged, “You can't do this. Please... Ah!”
His words were cut off as the pressure on his leg intensified, causing his face to contort in pain. When the voice sounded this time, it was from the figure on the right - a redhead, by the looks of it. “What do you think, Rafaga? He did say please, after all.”
“Hmm, perhaps.” As he spoke, the central vampire, Rafaga, continued to bear down upon the man's leg with his boot. Judas' eyes were watering with the agony, a low, tortured moan sounding from his lips. Surely his bone couldn't take much more of this - if the pressure increased any further, then he was certain that it would snap.
Desperately, Judas turned to the figure on the left, the only one who hadn't spoken yet. He was a small man, with blue clothing and blond hair - perhaps he would be the one to see some sense in the situation.
“Y-you're Guardians, aren't you?” Judas stammered. “You don't drink blood. You can't hurt me!” The revelation probably would have been enough to make him laugh with relief if it were not for the pain. Yes, that was right: he knew enough about the Guardians to be aware of their commitments. He would not die here… That much was sure to him.
“Indeed, it is true,” mumbled the blond. “We must stand by our word, as nobles of the vampire hierarchy.”
A small laugh escaped Rafaga's lips. Judas could have just mistaken it as a trick of the moonlight, but he thought he saw his eyes glisten in the darkness. “Yet then again, no-one else is around. Surely it wouldn't hurt to make one exception to the rule…”
The blond returned with a smile. “Precisely.”
Judas' heart was in his throat. He watched, horrified, as Rafaga leaned towards him - slowly, as if his purpose were to taunt. His hand reached out to push him away, but was seized by the blond. His grip was mechanical, crushing the hand of the thrashing man until the knuckles cracked against bone, and blood was running down his arm.
The sound of screaming continued long into the night.
*
The rain had completely passed as Justice sat down, finally, at the edge of the forest. The canopy had provided little protection against the weather, and thus the ground was sodden all over, though the man had managed to locate a small patch of drier ground beneath a particularly thick set of bushes, and it was there where he had decided to rest for the time being.
Carefully, he sat back and rubbed at his shoulder. The wound still stung in the cold air, though the pain was merely a dull throb at the bottom of his mind now, and like his back, he was sure it would begin to heal in time. The blade had split his clothes in several places. No doubt he would have to invest in some new outfits the next time he visited a trading town - a tunic, perhaps, or maybe something more elaborate. Because despite his new role as king, Justice was certain that he would always remain true to the simpler aspects of life, just as he had before.
It wasn’t long before he was joined by a second figure. Blanche looked exhausted as she made her way through the field towards him. Once sitting, she let out a small sigh before turning to the man by her side. “Wilderness is with Whiteley and Rakina right now - they’re helping him back to the others. Apart from him, nobody has been seriously hurt.”
Justice nodded slowly. “What about the vampires? Gideon’s men?”
“Fled, Your Majesty - every last one of them.”
The man couldn’t help but smile triumphantly like that. Indeed, they had won - there was no doubt about it. The way the news was worded as well led him to wonder just how true to their master the soldiers were - surely a loyal servant would stand and fight until the very end? Either way, it was no worry to him now. It was over.
He almost jumped, however, when Blanche wrapped her arms around his chest. For a moment, he merely sat there, but then he returned the gesture by draping his arm over her shoulder and holding her tightly. Despite the temperature, her body was warm against his own.
“Did Gideon do this to you?”
Blanche seemed to know at once what he was talking about. At this distance, it was no difficulty for Justice to pick out the subtle change in scent, the way the wounds on her neck had healed to leave the skin pale and flawless - an ability possessed only by a vampire.
“No,” she said simply. “I did it to myself.”
“What?” Justice turned so that he could lock eyes with Blanche. In his mind, he began to run through all the times he had been present with her in the past. Surely he would have noticed if she had passed into vampirism?
The girl’s eyes widened in shock, and her words were rushed as she stammered, “I-it was in the tavern, whilst you were unconscious. I know I shouldn’t have, but I stole some of your blood whilst you were sleeping. And then, when Gideon took my blood in the clearing…”
“He completed it.” Justice finished the sentence for her.
Blanche stared at him, an anxious expression on her face. “You’re not angry, are you?”
Angry? No, of course he wasn’t… In fact, it was difficult for Justice to put his finger on exactly what emotions he could feel. Gradually, he looked back at Blanche, and was surprised to see that her eyes were moist with tears.
“I know it was selfish and deceitful of me,” she said softly. “But when I saw your wounds - what Gideon had done to you… I’d been watching you, ever since the moment you came out of the castle with the Guardians by your side, and I knew at that moment that I would do anything I could to protect you. Because I know it’s only been a few days, but…” She paused. “But I can’t imagine a life without you, Your Majesty.”
Justice was shocked, struck frozen by her words. His mind flicked back to the shed outside Briar’s End, where he had watched in helplessness as Blanche was torn away from him, and then again in the clearing. For as long as he lived, he never wanted to experience something like that again.
And that was when he realised how fast his heart was beating.
It was a strange concept for him to grasp, but he felt himself repeating the girl’s words in his head as though they were his own. In just a few days, he had been through so much, stared death in the face so many times he had lost count - if it were not for Blanche, he would most likely be dead by now. Truly, he couldn’t imagine continuing without her. The idea was so simple to him now.
Because I love you.
Slowly, Justice leaned forward and placed his mouth against her cheek, catching the taste from the tears that clung there. He remained still for a few moments before gently sliding down and capturing her lips with his own. Blanche froze, a time that seemed to draw out into an eternity, but then her shoulders softened, and she allowed herself to melt into the embrace. Justice’s eyes closed. His land lifted to caress the girl’s jawline and draw her closer. The sound of her heartbeat resonated through him as clearly as if it were his own, as though the two of them had become one in that moment.
When the time finally came for them to break apart, Justice made sure to keep his hand in place against Blanche’s cheek. Her eyes were soft as she stared into his, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “Your Ma-”
“You needn’t call me that.”
For a moment, she was silent, but then her expression fell apart, and this time she really did smile. “Justice.”
It was a word the man had grown up with, heard countless times, yet the sound of it on Blanche’s lips was enough to send shivers down his back. Chuckling softly to himself, he allowed the girl to brush the curtain of hair from his eyes before pulling her forward for another kiss.
All around, the mist was beginning to clear, giving a new light to the field and forest it bordered. If seen like this, one might think it to be quite beautiful, a strange sort of contrast to the battlefield it had been before. Or perhaps it had always been that way. Because this was a world without order, a world where creatures of the night roamed free. This world needed a king.
At the man’s side, the sword began to glow, anticipating the moment when it would be raised again in the name of a new ruler.
In the name of Justice.
Next Chapter →
Chapter XXX
Tears
The first droplets were just beginning to fall as Justice stared, wide-eyed, at the figure. Gideon was completely still, motionless aside from the thin stream of blood that continued to creep down his jaw and drip from his chin. The man was half-expecting him to suddenly move again, to lash out with his knife and take them both by surprise, but nothing happened.
He had done it.
He had actually done it.
Slowly, Justice reached out a trembling hand and wrenched the sword from the tree, watching as the body fell to the floor in a heap. Gideon's hair fell over his frozen face - a face which even in death held the slightest of smirks. As long as he lived, Justice would be satisfied if he never saw that face again. He tutted in disgust as he bent down and picked up the double-bladed knife that had dropped to the ground.
“What are you going to do with it, Your Majesty?” asked Blanche.
Justice turned the hated weapon over in his hands before burying it deep in the ground at Gideon's feet. “Who knows?” he said dryly. “Maybe someone will find it one day and pull it out.”
It was difficult for Justice to feel anything as he looked down at the figure propped against the tree. Relief, perhaps, though there was no satisfaction in the scene, no feelings of triumph, like when he'd removed the sword for the first time. All he wanted to do was leave this place as quickly as he could.
The next word that fell from Blanche's mouth was enough to make him do just that. “Wilderness.”
Justice’s eyes widened - he'd almost forgotten about the Guardian. With one last look at Gideon, he picked up the sword and allowed Blanche to lead him away from the forest.
The rain was at full strength now, the thin branches of the trees providing little cover against the heavy droplets that pounded the ground. As his adrenaline faded, Justice became aware once again of the pain in his shoulder and chest. What's more, his back had begun to sting again - he must have re-opened the wound during the fight. Either way, he tried to push them to the back of his mind as he pressed forward and broke the line of trees.
Wilderness was lying on his back in the open ground, a single figure blurred by the rain. When Justice first saw him, his heart leaped in his chest, fearing the worst; but as he drew closer, he was relieved to see his chest moving gently. There was a heartbeat as well - weak, but still detectable amid the rain.
Blanche fell to her knees beside him, taking his hand between his own and hugging it to her chest. Slowly, Wilderness allowed his eyes to ease open. He turned them to her. “B-Blanche,” he whispered through quivering lips. His eyes travelled to Justice, who had just knelt down beside the girl. Then he snapped them shut and winced in pain.
Justice scanned his body up and down, pausing when he reached the bloody area around his stomach. As carefully as he could, he pulled back the material to reveal the knife wound, as raw as if it had been made within the minute. The Guardian gasped in agony as it was exposed directly to the rain, his hand tightening into a fist by his side.
“You’re so beautiful, Blanche,” he mumbled between pained breaths. His hand slid through hers to stroke against her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “I was selfish… I’m sorry…”
“No!” When she spoke, Blanche’s voice was weak, as if she were on the verge of tears. “You have done nothing but good for me, Master. You’re going to get through this.”
A small laugh escaped Wilderness - a laugh which quickly broke apart into coughing. For the second time, he turned his eyes to the black-haired man. “You'll look after her, w-won't you?”
Justice longed to leap up, to tell Wilderness that he would be there to oversee it himself, but he had learnt long ago that there was no use in fooling oneself with fruitless hope, so he merely nodded in response. The rain pulled his hair together in thick clumps over his face, though he paid little attention to it now.
Seemingly satisfied, Wilderness lay his head back in the mud and closed his eyes. “You will make a magnificent king,” he said. “I-I'm so sorry, Justice…”
His words were cut off as his body lurched all of a sudden. His mouth fell open, but only a strangled gasp came out. For several moments, he remained twitching on the ground, before his eyes eased shut and he fell still at last.
“M-Master?” whimpered Blanche. When no reply came, she repeated it. Justice knew that her words were falling upon deaf ears, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. The numbing feeling that had pulled at him when he'd killed Gideon was spreading fast, as though his insides were being swallowed up by it.
A muffled shriek brought his attention back to Blanche. The girl's face was pressed into the Guardian's chest, her hands clutching at the amber folds of his clothing. Agonised sobs shook her shoulders - the sound was enough to make Justice shudder. His mind flicked back to the moment in the field, the moment he'd watched Gideon plunge his knife into Wilderness' body, then thrust him aside as if he were a piece of dirt clinging to the blade. If only he had been able to catch him in time - maybe then, he would not be in this position…
Justice’s fingers tightened into fists. Even in death, Gideon was able to cause so much pain. It sickened him.
“No.”
The word was solitary, definitive. How could Justice let this happen? Like a flickering candle, his mind flashed through the sword, his father's words - Fight! - and Blanche. He had stood and watched as Gideon stole her away from him, done nothing as she was murdered in front of his eyes.
Well, this time would be different. He wasn't going to stand by whilst another person died. Not this time.
With a new sense of urgency to drive him, Justice bent over his wrist and dug his teeth into the flesh. Pain stung him, but he took no notice of it, tearing deeper and deeper with his fangs until he could taste blood, thick and fast. Blanche raised her head to stare at him with wide eyes, pulling back so that he could hover his wrist over the Guardian's face.
“This is the blood of Schwarzschild.” Justice watched as the red liquid dripped from the wound into Wilderness' mouth. When nothing happened, he slipped a hand beneath his head and forced his wrist against his lips. “My blood contains the original elixir of all vampires, the blood of my father, and you will drink it! Damn you!”
The aggression in his own words took Justice aback slightly, but he cared little, pushing down hard so as to transfer as much blood as he could into Wilderness' mouth before the wound closed. For a moment, he thought he felt lips twitching against his skin. He pulled back slightly, only to see the Guardian as still as he was before.
Yet there it was again. Something moist brushed lightly against his wrist, as though it were lapping up the blood accumulating there. Then, slowly, Wilderness' lips closed around the wound.
“Yes, that's right.” Justice's heart was pounding as he eased his hand into a more accessible angle. A low noise, halfway between a sigh and a moan, made its way from Wilderness' chest, his whole mouth sucking at the cut with every degree of strength he could summon.
There was a silence that seemed to draw on for hours. The rain was finer now, falling like a thin mist over the field; a droplet slid off Justice's nose and onto his hand, making him shiver, yet still he carried on. All the time, his attention remained on Wilderness' heartbeat, a low, irregular pulse - weak, but still alive.
Then, slowly, Wilderness' eyes flickered to life.
For a few moments, he just lay there, staring up at the sky. Then he shifted position slightly, so that he was able to prop himself up on one elbow.
A whimper escaped Blanche's lips, and she dove forward to wrap her arms around the Guardian's shoulders; when she cried this time, her sobs were those of joy. It was impossible for Justice, too, to deny the sense of relief that flooded him. Slowly, he cleaned away the remaining blood from his wrist with a loose piece of clothing and eased himself to his feet. His eyes scanned the field. The rain blurred the environment, making seeing anything a task within itself, yet he was able to pick out the outlines of two figures a short distance away. He regarded them briefly, when something caught hold of his ankle. He looked down to see Wilderness staring up at him, a weak smile upon his face.
“Thank you.”
Justice's expression softened as he knelt down beside Wilderness. The Guardian's hand lifted to his level, and he took it firmly. Through their joined hands, Justice could feel the gentle pulse of blood through the vampire's vessels - his blood. The thought was somewhat of a comfort to him, to know that after a lifetime of taking lives, he had finally been able to give something back. And Wilderness… He would be able to live on, because of him.
Justice allowed his eyes to catch the Guardian's. For a moment, he thought that Wilderness was going to say something, but it was only then that he realised no words were needed - the exchange of looks was enough. Chuckling softly, Justice gave the Guardian's hand a gentle squeeze before straightening up and turning to Blanche. “You'll look after him, won't you?”
The girl paused, then nodded, a small smile lighting her face. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Justice nodded slowly in response. The rain was beginning to slow now, the droplets thinning against his face. His eyes ran along the field again until they latched onto the vague figures; then, gathering the sword in his hands, he began to walk.
What he saw, however, was enough to make his heart leap in his chest.
Carbuncle stood in the mist, and before him was a slightly taller figure, dressed all in black - Dreizehn. The king had one hand on the other's shoulder, and looked as if he were speaking, though the deep tones of his voice were too soft for the man to detect.
Justice could hear the sound of his own heartbeat as he approached. What he must have looked like he didn't know: mud-soaked, bloody and drenched with rain from head to foot. He'd neglected to take notice of it before, but now that he was standing, he began to realise just how cold he really was; truly, it was as if the water had managed to sink beneath his skin and seep through to his core.
Dreizehn turned to him as he approached, eyes glowing the faintest shade of red. Even when he dropped into a bow, Justice could feel them piercing him.
“Or perhaps it is I who should be bowing to you.”
The words shocked Justice somewhat, so much so that he was forced to look up. Dreizehn's lips were pulled into a tight line, yet despite that, his expression was soft, and once again the man felt the unfamiliar jolt of his heart at the sight. He shot a brief glance at Carbuncle, who was standing a few steps away: whether it was from the ever-thinning rain or his own tears, Justice couldn't tell, but the fire vampire's pale complexion was broken up with patches of raw pink beneath large, moist eyes. Either way, it wasn't difficult to tell that any tears shed were those of joy.
“I have been selfish, Justice,” said Dreizehn. “All the years I spent dormant were ones I neglected my kingdom, and it is only now that I realise how much of a mistake I have made.” He shook his head slowly. “And that is why I am leaving my throne to you, my son.”
Justice spoke out immediately. “But Father, you're alive now! Surely you can step up again? Marthiel needs you…”
Yet Dreizehn only shook his head again. For a moment, Justice thought he saw the slightest hint of a smile pull at the king's lips, but if such a thing did appear, then it quickly faded as he placed a warm hand on his son's shoulder and stared straight into his eyes. “My time on the throne has passed, Justice. I would not leave it to you if I did not believe you capable of taking on something so profound.” He paused for a moment to turn his head slightly. “That is, of course, if you wish to.”
Justice considered the idea. A whole kingdom under his name, the role of watching over Marthiel as its ruler… Surely he would have accepted right away, but something held him back. Was Dreizehn really prepared to hand him everything so quickly? Truly, the king was no fool, yet the whole idea daunted him to the point that nothing else could.
Despite everything, though, the words that fell from his mouth were final, definitive. “I do.”
This time, the smile that graced Dreizehn’s lips was warm, his hand gently caressing his son's shoulder. “You will have the Knights to look over you.” Then, to the fire vampire, he added, “Look after your cousin, Carbuncle. Guide him well.”
'Cousin'? For a moment, Justice thought he had misheard his father, but as he looked at the fire vampire, he began to recognise similarities. The shape of the nose, the eyes, the jawline… There was no mistaking the likenesses between Carbuncle and Dreizehn's faces - his face.
How it had taken him so long to realise it he didn't know.
All of a sudden, Justice was pulled from his thoughts as Dreizehn leaned forward and took him up into his arms, just like he had back in the forest. The king's robes wrapped around him like a blanket, warming his frozen body, comforting him to his core.
“And now,” whispered Dreizehn, “I shall become your sword.”
Justice allowed his eyes to slide closed as he soaked up the warmth that enveloped him. Dreizehn's heartbeat was pressed against his own, though he could feel it fading, as if he were falling into a deep sleep. Still, he didn't fight the sensation - if he were to choose, then he would remain here in his father's arms for as long as the night would allow.
Yet when he opened his eyes, Dreizehn was gone.
It was an odd sensation, but somehow, Justice could almost feel his father's arms around him still as he stood. Slowly, his eyes settled upon Carbuncle: the fire vampire wiped his cheek with his thumb, and when he looked up, his lips held the smallest of smiles. Justice had never seen him smile before, but now, he could see what a beautiful expression it was, how it softened every inch of his face.
Cousin… All at once, Justice felt a strong pull towards the fire vampire. He watched as he bent down, picked up the sword from the ground and held it in his hands for several seconds. He ran his fingers lovingly over the tip before stepping forward and holding it in front of the man.
Only when Justice took it into his hands did he realise it was glowing.
The illumination was brief, like the fading heat of metal once it has been tempered, but the sight of it brought comfort to Justice. This was his father's legacy - or rather, he was now. He sighed and gripped the blade tightly as he looked up at Carbuncle. For a moment, he considered saying something out loud, but in the end, decided simply to allow the silence to continue.
Because after all that had happened, words were irrelevant.
*
Judas awoke with a start.
A dull pain spread through his head, making him wince. Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed it to his temple, just as the memories came flooding back to him. Hadn't he been with Gideon whilst he faced up to Justice? And then… His hands clenched into fists by his side. That girl had left him here. A quick check told him he hadn't received any significant injuries, though his bow was missing, and his muscles ached.
Grunting to himself, he sat up and studied his surroundings. The forest stood on his left, and to his right and front was the field. A thick mist hung over the ground, evidently born of the rain that had soaked his whole body whilst he laid unconscious. He shivered. Where was Gideon? If he were to take a guess, the vampire would still be in the forest now - it was just the case of finding him that posed the greatest issue.
Judas was just about to stand up, when all of a sudden, three figures emerged from the mist. At first, he thought that they were Gideon's men coming to retrieve him, but as they drew closer, he began to pick out details: the movement of the garments, the outlines that were far beyond the simple cloaks worn by his comrades. These were no normal beings by any means - and Judas realised, with a shiver, that he might just know who they were after all.
“Well, well, well,” said the middle one in melodic, sliding tones. “Look who it is - the rat that escaped the fire.”
The angle at which they stood obscured their faces to a certain extent, though Judas knew he was in danger. When he tried to back away, however, the hard sole of a boot landed upon his lower leg, crushing it into the ground.
“Please,” he begged, “You can't do this. Please... Ah!”
His words were cut off as the pressure on his leg intensified, causing his face to contort in pain. When the voice sounded this time, it was from the figure on the right - a redhead, by the looks of it. “What do you think, Rafaga? He did say please, after all.”
“Hmm, perhaps.” As he spoke, the central vampire, Rafaga, continued to bear down upon the man's leg with his boot. Judas' eyes were watering with the agony, a low, tortured moan sounding from his lips. Surely his bone couldn't take much more of this - if the pressure increased any further, then he was certain that it would snap.
Desperately, Judas turned to the figure on the left, the only one who hadn't spoken yet. He was a small man, with blue clothing and blond hair - perhaps he would be the one to see some sense in the situation.
“Y-you're Guardians, aren't you?” Judas stammered. “You don't drink blood. You can't hurt me!” The revelation probably would have been enough to make him laugh with relief if it were not for the pain. Yes, that was right: he knew enough about the Guardians to be aware of their commitments. He would not die here… That much was sure to him.
“Indeed, it is true,” mumbled the blond. “We must stand by our word, as nobles of the vampire hierarchy.”
A small laugh escaped Rafaga's lips. Judas could have just mistaken it as a trick of the moonlight, but he thought he saw his eyes glisten in the darkness. “Yet then again, no-one else is around. Surely it wouldn't hurt to make one exception to the rule…”
The blond returned with a smile. “Precisely.”
Judas' heart was in his throat. He watched, horrified, as Rafaga leaned towards him - slowly, as if his purpose were to taunt. His hand reached out to push him away, but was seized by the blond. His grip was mechanical, crushing the hand of the thrashing man until the knuckles cracked against bone, and blood was running down his arm.
The sound of screaming continued long into the night.
*
The rain had completely passed as Justice sat down, finally, at the edge of the forest. The canopy had provided little protection against the weather, and thus the ground was sodden all over, though the man had managed to locate a small patch of drier ground beneath a particularly thick set of bushes, and it was there where he had decided to rest for the time being.
Carefully, he sat back and rubbed at his shoulder. The wound still stung in the cold air, though the pain was merely a dull throb at the bottom of his mind now, and like his back, he was sure it would begin to heal in time. The blade had split his clothes in several places. No doubt he would have to invest in some new outfits the next time he visited a trading town - a tunic, perhaps, or maybe something more elaborate. Because despite his new role as king, Justice was certain that he would always remain true to the simpler aspects of life, just as he had before.
It wasn’t long before he was joined by a second figure. Blanche looked exhausted as she made her way through the field towards him. Once sitting, she let out a small sigh before turning to the man by her side. “Wilderness is with Whiteley and Rakina right now - they’re helping him back to the others. Apart from him, nobody has been seriously hurt.”
Justice nodded slowly. “What about the vampires? Gideon’s men?”
“Fled, Your Majesty - every last one of them.”
The man couldn’t help but smile triumphantly like that. Indeed, they had won - there was no doubt about it. The way the news was worded as well led him to wonder just how true to their master the soldiers were - surely a loyal servant would stand and fight until the very end? Either way, it was no worry to him now. It was over.
He almost jumped, however, when Blanche wrapped her arms around his chest. For a moment, he merely sat there, but then he returned the gesture by draping his arm over her shoulder and holding her tightly. Despite the temperature, her body was warm against his own.
“Did Gideon do this to you?”
Blanche seemed to know at once what he was talking about. At this distance, it was no difficulty for Justice to pick out the subtle change in scent, the way the wounds on her neck had healed to leave the skin pale and flawless - an ability possessed only by a vampire.
“No,” she said simply. “I did it to myself.”
“What?” Justice turned so that he could lock eyes with Blanche. In his mind, he began to run through all the times he had been present with her in the past. Surely he would have noticed if she had passed into vampirism?
The girl’s eyes widened in shock, and her words were rushed as she stammered, “I-it was in the tavern, whilst you were unconscious. I know I shouldn’t have, but I stole some of your blood whilst you were sleeping. And then, when Gideon took my blood in the clearing…”
“He completed it.” Justice finished the sentence for her.
Blanche stared at him, an anxious expression on her face. “You’re not angry, are you?”
Angry? No, of course he wasn’t… In fact, it was difficult for Justice to put his finger on exactly what emotions he could feel. Gradually, he looked back at Blanche, and was surprised to see that her eyes were moist with tears.
“I know it was selfish and deceitful of me,” she said softly. “But when I saw your wounds - what Gideon had done to you… I’d been watching you, ever since the moment you came out of the castle with the Guardians by your side, and I knew at that moment that I would do anything I could to protect you. Because I know it’s only been a few days, but…” She paused. “But I can’t imagine a life without you, Your Majesty.”
Justice was shocked, struck frozen by her words. His mind flicked back to the shed outside Briar’s End, where he had watched in helplessness as Blanche was torn away from him, and then again in the clearing. For as long as he lived, he never wanted to experience something like that again.
And that was when he realised how fast his heart was beating.
It was a strange concept for him to grasp, but he felt himself repeating the girl’s words in his head as though they were his own. In just a few days, he had been through so much, stared death in the face so many times he had lost count - if it were not for Blanche, he would most likely be dead by now. Truly, he couldn’t imagine continuing without her. The idea was so simple to him now.
Because I love you.
Slowly, Justice leaned forward and placed his mouth against her cheek, catching the taste from the tears that clung there. He remained still for a few moments before gently sliding down and capturing her lips with his own. Blanche froze, a time that seemed to draw out into an eternity, but then her shoulders softened, and she allowed herself to melt into the embrace. Justice’s eyes closed. His land lifted to caress the girl’s jawline and draw her closer. The sound of her heartbeat resonated through him as clearly as if it were his own, as though the two of them had become one in that moment.
When the time finally came for them to break apart, Justice made sure to keep his hand in place against Blanche’s cheek. Her eyes were soft as she stared into his, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “Your Ma-”
“You needn’t call me that.”
For a moment, she was silent, but then her expression fell apart, and this time she really did smile. “Justice.”
It was a word the man had grown up with, heard countless times, yet the sound of it on Blanche’s lips was enough to send shivers down his back. Chuckling softly to himself, he allowed the girl to brush the curtain of hair from his eyes before pulling her forward for another kiss.
All around, the mist was beginning to clear, giving a new light to the field and forest it bordered. If seen like this, one might think it to be quite beautiful, a strange sort of contrast to the battlefield it had been before. Or perhaps it had always been that way. Because this was a world without order, a world where creatures of the night roamed free. This world needed a king.
At the man’s side, the sword began to glow, anticipating the moment when it would be raised again in the name of a new ruler.
In the name of Justice.
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