Categories > Anime/Manga > Kyou Kara Maou > 50 Years Gone
Changes in the Castle
1 reviewIn which Yuuri gets a better idea of just how much has changed.
0Unrated
Chapter 2: Changes in the Castle
By the time they made it through the heavily-fortified (and yet rather run-down-looking) main gates at Blood Pledge Castle, Yuuri had come to two conclusions. The first was that he definitely needed to either get used to riding horses again, or find a better way to travel around Shin Makoku now that he was back. The second, more urgent of the two was that these people really didn’t believe him when he said he was the Maou, and it didn’t seem that they were just arguing over a technicality, either. In fact, they seemed to have no clue who he was. Not even his name had gotten their attention -- his repeated attempts at telling them that he was Yuuri Shibuya had just earned him a sharp jab from his current guard and a gruff order to shut up from the group’s leader. Yuuri could understand not being treated as well as when he had actually been the Maou, but this was a bit much, at least in his mind. Little did Yuuri know that it was about to get worse.
They arrived at the Castle without any fuss or fanfare to greet them (Yuuri felt a twinge of disappointment that there was no Gunter rushing to greet him with his plaintive and somewhat desperate cry of “Heika!”) and Yuuri was roughly pulled from his horse. His guard turned out to be a tall, hulking man who would have made even Yozak look a bit dainty. He was none too gentle either, and Yuuri winced when the man’s hands closed around his already-bruised arms with a vice-like grip. “Are we bringing him to the throne room now?” the guard asked.
“No,” the group leader replied. “Too much else going on. He goes in the dungeon for now.”
“What?” Yuuri exclaimed. “You can’t put me in the dungeon! I’m --”
“The Maou. Yes, we heard you the first time, and the second time, and every time after that.” The rather small being that was the leader of this pack of guards sauntered towards him, bringing the masked face within inches of his own. “Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true. We’ll deal with you later. But right now, there are more pressing issues. Take him away!” And with that, the figure swept off towards the entrance to the castle, while Yuuri’s guard and one of his companions dragged the young man in the other direction, to the Castle’s dungeons. Yuuri had never been down there before. In his time as Maou, the dungeons had never been used, and Gunter saw no reason to include said dungeons in his lessons or Castle tours. He had mentioned them once, in reference to the large number of prisoners kept there during a massive war far in the past, but that was it. Yuuri was not looking forward to becoming more acquainted with the place.
To his relief, he was the only prisoner there. To his horror, the place was pitch-black, dank, stank of mildew and the scent of filth that someone had struggled to clean away but had never managed to completely get rid of, and appeared to be filled with rats. Yuuri normally liked rats. Well, the ones sold in pet stores, anyway. They were clean and cute and tended to be friendly. But dungeon rats were a whole other matter entirely. His time as Maou had taught him that many of the animals in this world were very different from their counterparts on Earth. He sincerely hoped that would be the case with the dungeon rats.
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Three days of darkness, dampness, coldness, terrible food (when he had any at all), no baths, and fending off dungeon rats later, Yuuri’s captor appeared, followed by two of the hulking men who had been in the group that found him. Said captor was still swathed in layers of velvety fabric and had a mask firmly in place, making it impossible for Yuuri to tell if he was dealing with a man or a woman. At this point, though, he didn’t really care. He just wanted out of the dungeon, and it looked like he was about to get his wish.
“You. Come with us. Time for you to be questioned.”
Yuuri scrambled to his feet as the leftmost guard removed a ring of jangling keys from his belt and opened his cell. The masked figure beckoned for Yuuri to follow, adding, “Don’t try anything clever. I am very well trained in the use of swords and in the use of my own special majutsu, and I will not hesitate to use either on you.”
“Er, right,” Yuuri said, gulping a bit. “Where exactly are we going?”
“To the throne room. You will be questioned there.” The trip took place in silence, with Yuuri’s guards holding his arms loosely (as though to remind him of what they could do if provoked) and his captor leading the way. When they emerged into the sunlight, Yuuri had to blink and squint for a bit before his eyes adjusted. Finally, though, he was able to get a better look at the small figure walking assuredly before him. The velvet covering the person’s body was a deep midnight blue, though the belt holding the sword had a few silver buckles here and there to break up the color scheme. When the figure turned to look at Yuuri and make sure he was behaving, he noticed a few strategically placed marks of silver and grey on the mask as well. It would have been pretty, he supposed, had it not been connected to the one responsible for throwing him in the dungeon and making him so nervous.
The finally arrived at the heavy and familiar throne room doors, which the cloaked figure pushed open with ease before leading the way inside. “He’s here, Mother. The man who claims to be the Maou.”
Someone inside the room snorted, and Yuuri looked up in the hopes of seeing a familiar face. His guards let go of his arms, their cloaked leader stepped aside and began fiddling with something near the mask, and Yuuri finally had a clear view of the room and its occupants. His eyes flew immediately to the throne, where he knew his successor would be sitting. His first thought was that surely Gwendal would be sitting there, as Gwendal was more than qualified to rule Shin Makoku. But then he remembered that his captor had mentioned a “Mother,” and that Gwendal could be described as many things but “motherly” certainly wasn’t one of them. And indeed, Gwendal was nowhere near the throne. One either side of the throne stood two young woman, both tall and slender, both with fiery brown eyes, but one with hair of a deep, rich brown and the other with hair like gold. They frowned at Yuuri with identical looks of incredulousness. The woman sitting on the throne between them was definitely showing signs of being just past middle age, but she was also the kind of woman who wore her age well. Each tiny wrinkle and grey hair made her look just that much more regal and beautiful. Yuuri suspected that, even without her thin golden circlet, her elaborate black gown, and her obvious ease in the throne, he would have pegged her as nobility at the very least. Somehow, the fact that she was his successor didn’t surprise him. Beside her sat a young man, his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and his brown eyes (so much like the Maou’s eyes and the eyes of the women flanking her) fixed on Yuuri’s face as though it contained the answers to all the questions in the world. Though he was sitting, Yuuri guessed he would be about average height, and he looked rather muscular.
And then, finally, a familiar face. Standing behind the brown-haired man, arms crossed over his chest, sparkling green eyes glaring daggers at Yuuri, was one of the men the young former Maou had wanted to see with all his heart for years. “Wolfram!” Yuuri shouted, and without a second thought he leapt forward and ran towards the other man.
His impetuousness nearly cost him his life, for he had been so distracted by the sight of his former fiancé that he had forgotten about his captor, who had vanished off to the side. But the velvet-clad figure suddenly appeared before him again, mask clutched in one hand and sword brandished in the other, the lethal tip a mere millimeter from Yuuri’s bare throat. He barely had time to register the brilliant green eyes and tumble of rich, loose brown curls falling over the cloaked shoulders before his hulking guards tackled him to the ground. The room was filled with shouts of “The bastard’s attacking the Prince!” and “Get the Maou out of here!” and even “Dammit Odelia, I can take care of myself!” before a new pair of hands found Yuuri’s arms and yanked him out of the pile.
“QUIET!” Someone shouted from near the throne. Silence fell on the room, broken only by Yuuri’s labored gasps. That voice had sounded familiar…
“You alright, kid?” Another voice, also familiar, coming from the person holding his arms. Yuuri looked up, and as the new person let go of his arms he took a step back in shock. The face was lined, the hair’s brilliant orange color had dulled and was slowly turning grey, but there could be no mistaking his old friend.
“Yozak!” Yuuri exclaimed. “What…why…I’m so confused…”
“As are we.” Yuuri looked up towards the throne to see who had spoken, and felt his breath hitch in his chest. Yozak was showing signs of his age, certainly, but he still looked healthy. This speaker, though…Yuuri thought he was Gwendal, but had he not just heard the man speak he would have been hard pressed to reach that conclusion. Gwendal seemed to have shrunk since Yuuri last saw him. His skin had taken on a terrible pallor, and his hair (once almost as dark as Yuuri’s) was heavily streaked with white.
“Gwendal…” he whispered.
“Are you sure it’s him, Yozak?” Gwendal asked, ignoring Yuuri’s words for the moment.
“I don’t care what Yozak thinks,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I’m certain it’s Yuuri. He hasn’t changed much in all these years, has he?”
The woman stepped into view, and this time Yuuri was sure his heart skipped a beat or two. She was much taller than he remembered, a little on the heavy side, and her thick and wavy hair was just a bit longer, but Yuuri could still see the little girl he had known in her eyes. “Greta? My goodness, you’ve grown up…”
“Well of course she has. You’ve been gone a very long time, and things have changed a lot in all those years.”
Everyone turned their attention to the woman on the throne, who was watching Yuuri with great curiosity on her noble features. She rose and left the throne, gliding down the steps and coming to stand before Yuuri.
Yuuri studied the somewhat short woman for a moment, then let his eyes dart to Gwendal, Yozak, and the young men and woman gathered in a knot beside the throne. His captor -- apparently a woman, and apparently named Odelia according to the Wolfram look-a-like -- looked rather annoyed. The others just looked curious and a little confused.
“How…how long have I been away, exactly?” Yuuri finally asked.
“Too long,” Greta said.
“Fifty years, to be exact,” Gwendal added.
“Oh, I see. Not too long at all, then,” Yuuri said before fainting dead away.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Yuuri woke up to a terrible, strong smell assaulting his nose, and he jerked away from it before even opening his eyes. He finally cracked his eyes open the tiniest bit possible and squinted up at Greta, who was leaning over him and waving the Shin Makoku version of smelling salts under his nose. “Ah, ok, I’m awake,” Yuuri grumbled, reaching up and gently pushing her hand away before sitting up and rubbing his head.
“Are you alright?” Gwendal asked from behind him.
“Yeah, I think so.” Yuuri blinked up at the sea of strange faces staring down at him. All of them, even Greta, were almost completely unreadable to him. Well, except for two…the young man who looked so much like Wolfram, and his velvet-clad captor whose name (if he had heard right) was Odelia. “Someone needs to explain what’s going on, though.” He looked around, expecting to see Gunter or Conrad, the people who would normally take charge of explaining strange things to him, but they were still nowhere to be seen. For that matter, Wolfram hadn’t made an appearance, either… “Hey, Gwendal…where’s everybody else?”
“I assume you’re asking about Conrad, Gunter, Wolfram, and Cheri-sama,” the older mazoku said. Yuuri noticed a tinge of sadness in Gwendal’s voice, but before he could say anything, the other man continued on. “Gunter, Conrad, and Gunter’s daughter Gisela left on a mission two years ago, and have not yet returned. Wolfram is very ill at the moment. Cheri-sama…Cheri-sama is dead.”
Yuuri blinked up at him, mouth wide open in shock. “What…dead…and Conrad…but…why?”
The sound of fabric rustling drew his attention to his other side, where the current Maou had come to kneel beside him. “Many things can happen in fifty years, Highness,” she said. “When you left, this place was plunged into chaos. It was thought that the arrival of the new Maou -- of me -- would help things, and for a while that was the case. But within the past few years, things have taken a turn for the worse again, and we do not know what to do.”
“But then, why am I here? I’m not Maou anymore…”
“You must be here to help us,” Yozak said. “And trust me, kid, we need all the help we can get.”
Yuuri shook his head in confusion. “I don’t even really know what’s wrong, though.”
The Maou placed a hand on his shoulder. “You will. Tomorrow, I will explain everything to you. But for now, it is getting late. You can take a bath before bed, if you wish, and I can have my daughters bring you some food. We sent the servants back to their homes after Wolfram fell ill, but Ilaria and Idonea are quite good cooks when they put their minds to it.” The blond and brunette woman who had been standing by the throne both nodded. As though on cue, Yuuri’s stomach rumbled, and the Maou gave him a small smile. “Right then. Ilaria, Idonea, the former Maou needs some food. Ahren,” she continued, turning her attention to the brown-haired young man standing beside the two women, “please take his Highness to the bath, and make sure he has everything he needs. Elric, prepare a room for him.” The blond who looked like Wolfram nodded and strode from the room, headed to who knew what part of the castle. “Oh, and Odelia, there’s no need for you to remain on alert. Go get into something more comfortable.”
As the man called Ahren took Yuuri’s elbow and began leading him from the room, Yuuri took one last look at the young woman named Odelia. She was watching him with great curiosity on her pretty face, but Yuuri could still sense that she would be a dangerous one to mess with. He could only hope he wouldn’t run into her again anytime soon.
By the time they made it through the heavily-fortified (and yet rather run-down-looking) main gates at Blood Pledge Castle, Yuuri had come to two conclusions. The first was that he definitely needed to either get used to riding horses again, or find a better way to travel around Shin Makoku now that he was back. The second, more urgent of the two was that these people really didn’t believe him when he said he was the Maou, and it didn’t seem that they were just arguing over a technicality, either. In fact, they seemed to have no clue who he was. Not even his name had gotten their attention -- his repeated attempts at telling them that he was Yuuri Shibuya had just earned him a sharp jab from his current guard and a gruff order to shut up from the group’s leader. Yuuri could understand not being treated as well as when he had actually been the Maou, but this was a bit much, at least in his mind. Little did Yuuri know that it was about to get worse.
They arrived at the Castle without any fuss or fanfare to greet them (Yuuri felt a twinge of disappointment that there was no Gunter rushing to greet him with his plaintive and somewhat desperate cry of “Heika!”) and Yuuri was roughly pulled from his horse. His guard turned out to be a tall, hulking man who would have made even Yozak look a bit dainty. He was none too gentle either, and Yuuri winced when the man’s hands closed around his already-bruised arms with a vice-like grip. “Are we bringing him to the throne room now?” the guard asked.
“No,” the group leader replied. “Too much else going on. He goes in the dungeon for now.”
“What?” Yuuri exclaimed. “You can’t put me in the dungeon! I’m --”
“The Maou. Yes, we heard you the first time, and the second time, and every time after that.” The rather small being that was the leader of this pack of guards sauntered towards him, bringing the masked face within inches of his own. “Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true. We’ll deal with you later. But right now, there are more pressing issues. Take him away!” And with that, the figure swept off towards the entrance to the castle, while Yuuri’s guard and one of his companions dragged the young man in the other direction, to the Castle’s dungeons. Yuuri had never been down there before. In his time as Maou, the dungeons had never been used, and Gunter saw no reason to include said dungeons in his lessons or Castle tours. He had mentioned them once, in reference to the large number of prisoners kept there during a massive war far in the past, but that was it. Yuuri was not looking forward to becoming more acquainted with the place.
To his relief, he was the only prisoner there. To his horror, the place was pitch-black, dank, stank of mildew and the scent of filth that someone had struggled to clean away but had never managed to completely get rid of, and appeared to be filled with rats. Yuuri normally liked rats. Well, the ones sold in pet stores, anyway. They were clean and cute and tended to be friendly. But dungeon rats were a whole other matter entirely. His time as Maou had taught him that many of the animals in this world were very different from their counterparts on Earth. He sincerely hoped that would be the case with the dungeon rats.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Three days of darkness, dampness, coldness, terrible food (when he had any at all), no baths, and fending off dungeon rats later, Yuuri’s captor appeared, followed by two of the hulking men who had been in the group that found him. Said captor was still swathed in layers of velvety fabric and had a mask firmly in place, making it impossible for Yuuri to tell if he was dealing with a man or a woman. At this point, though, he didn’t really care. He just wanted out of the dungeon, and it looked like he was about to get his wish.
“You. Come with us. Time for you to be questioned.”
Yuuri scrambled to his feet as the leftmost guard removed a ring of jangling keys from his belt and opened his cell. The masked figure beckoned for Yuuri to follow, adding, “Don’t try anything clever. I am very well trained in the use of swords and in the use of my own special majutsu, and I will not hesitate to use either on you.”
“Er, right,” Yuuri said, gulping a bit. “Where exactly are we going?”
“To the throne room. You will be questioned there.” The trip took place in silence, with Yuuri’s guards holding his arms loosely (as though to remind him of what they could do if provoked) and his captor leading the way. When they emerged into the sunlight, Yuuri had to blink and squint for a bit before his eyes adjusted. Finally, though, he was able to get a better look at the small figure walking assuredly before him. The velvet covering the person’s body was a deep midnight blue, though the belt holding the sword had a few silver buckles here and there to break up the color scheme. When the figure turned to look at Yuuri and make sure he was behaving, he noticed a few strategically placed marks of silver and grey on the mask as well. It would have been pretty, he supposed, had it not been connected to the one responsible for throwing him in the dungeon and making him so nervous.
The finally arrived at the heavy and familiar throne room doors, which the cloaked figure pushed open with ease before leading the way inside. “He’s here, Mother. The man who claims to be the Maou.”
Someone inside the room snorted, and Yuuri looked up in the hopes of seeing a familiar face. His guards let go of his arms, their cloaked leader stepped aside and began fiddling with something near the mask, and Yuuri finally had a clear view of the room and its occupants. His eyes flew immediately to the throne, where he knew his successor would be sitting. His first thought was that surely Gwendal would be sitting there, as Gwendal was more than qualified to rule Shin Makoku. But then he remembered that his captor had mentioned a “Mother,” and that Gwendal could be described as many things but “motherly” certainly wasn’t one of them. And indeed, Gwendal was nowhere near the throne. One either side of the throne stood two young woman, both tall and slender, both with fiery brown eyes, but one with hair of a deep, rich brown and the other with hair like gold. They frowned at Yuuri with identical looks of incredulousness. The woman sitting on the throne between them was definitely showing signs of being just past middle age, but she was also the kind of woman who wore her age well. Each tiny wrinkle and grey hair made her look just that much more regal and beautiful. Yuuri suspected that, even without her thin golden circlet, her elaborate black gown, and her obvious ease in the throne, he would have pegged her as nobility at the very least. Somehow, the fact that she was his successor didn’t surprise him. Beside her sat a young man, his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and his brown eyes (so much like the Maou’s eyes and the eyes of the women flanking her) fixed on Yuuri’s face as though it contained the answers to all the questions in the world. Though he was sitting, Yuuri guessed he would be about average height, and he looked rather muscular.
And then, finally, a familiar face. Standing behind the brown-haired man, arms crossed over his chest, sparkling green eyes glaring daggers at Yuuri, was one of the men the young former Maou had wanted to see with all his heart for years. “Wolfram!” Yuuri shouted, and without a second thought he leapt forward and ran towards the other man.
His impetuousness nearly cost him his life, for he had been so distracted by the sight of his former fiancé that he had forgotten about his captor, who had vanished off to the side. But the velvet-clad figure suddenly appeared before him again, mask clutched in one hand and sword brandished in the other, the lethal tip a mere millimeter from Yuuri’s bare throat. He barely had time to register the brilliant green eyes and tumble of rich, loose brown curls falling over the cloaked shoulders before his hulking guards tackled him to the ground. The room was filled with shouts of “The bastard’s attacking the Prince!” and “Get the Maou out of here!” and even “Dammit Odelia, I can take care of myself!” before a new pair of hands found Yuuri’s arms and yanked him out of the pile.
“QUIET!” Someone shouted from near the throne. Silence fell on the room, broken only by Yuuri’s labored gasps. That voice had sounded familiar…
“You alright, kid?” Another voice, also familiar, coming from the person holding his arms. Yuuri looked up, and as the new person let go of his arms he took a step back in shock. The face was lined, the hair’s brilliant orange color had dulled and was slowly turning grey, but there could be no mistaking his old friend.
“Yozak!” Yuuri exclaimed. “What…why…I’m so confused…”
“As are we.” Yuuri looked up towards the throne to see who had spoken, and felt his breath hitch in his chest. Yozak was showing signs of his age, certainly, but he still looked healthy. This speaker, though…Yuuri thought he was Gwendal, but had he not just heard the man speak he would have been hard pressed to reach that conclusion. Gwendal seemed to have shrunk since Yuuri last saw him. His skin had taken on a terrible pallor, and his hair (once almost as dark as Yuuri’s) was heavily streaked with white.
“Gwendal…” he whispered.
“Are you sure it’s him, Yozak?” Gwendal asked, ignoring Yuuri’s words for the moment.
“I don’t care what Yozak thinks,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I’m certain it’s Yuuri. He hasn’t changed much in all these years, has he?”
The woman stepped into view, and this time Yuuri was sure his heart skipped a beat or two. She was much taller than he remembered, a little on the heavy side, and her thick and wavy hair was just a bit longer, but Yuuri could still see the little girl he had known in her eyes. “Greta? My goodness, you’ve grown up…”
“Well of course she has. You’ve been gone a very long time, and things have changed a lot in all those years.”
Everyone turned their attention to the woman on the throne, who was watching Yuuri with great curiosity on her noble features. She rose and left the throne, gliding down the steps and coming to stand before Yuuri.
Yuuri studied the somewhat short woman for a moment, then let his eyes dart to Gwendal, Yozak, and the young men and woman gathered in a knot beside the throne. His captor -- apparently a woman, and apparently named Odelia according to the Wolfram look-a-like -- looked rather annoyed. The others just looked curious and a little confused.
“How…how long have I been away, exactly?” Yuuri finally asked.
“Too long,” Greta said.
“Fifty years, to be exact,” Gwendal added.
“Oh, I see. Not too long at all, then,” Yuuri said before fainting dead away.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Yuuri woke up to a terrible, strong smell assaulting his nose, and he jerked away from it before even opening his eyes. He finally cracked his eyes open the tiniest bit possible and squinted up at Greta, who was leaning over him and waving the Shin Makoku version of smelling salts under his nose. “Ah, ok, I’m awake,” Yuuri grumbled, reaching up and gently pushing her hand away before sitting up and rubbing his head.
“Are you alright?” Gwendal asked from behind him.
“Yeah, I think so.” Yuuri blinked up at the sea of strange faces staring down at him. All of them, even Greta, were almost completely unreadable to him. Well, except for two…the young man who looked so much like Wolfram, and his velvet-clad captor whose name (if he had heard right) was Odelia. “Someone needs to explain what’s going on, though.” He looked around, expecting to see Gunter or Conrad, the people who would normally take charge of explaining strange things to him, but they were still nowhere to be seen. For that matter, Wolfram hadn’t made an appearance, either… “Hey, Gwendal…where’s everybody else?”
“I assume you’re asking about Conrad, Gunter, Wolfram, and Cheri-sama,” the older mazoku said. Yuuri noticed a tinge of sadness in Gwendal’s voice, but before he could say anything, the other man continued on. “Gunter, Conrad, and Gunter’s daughter Gisela left on a mission two years ago, and have not yet returned. Wolfram is very ill at the moment. Cheri-sama…Cheri-sama is dead.”
Yuuri blinked up at him, mouth wide open in shock. “What…dead…and Conrad…but…why?”
The sound of fabric rustling drew his attention to his other side, where the current Maou had come to kneel beside him. “Many things can happen in fifty years, Highness,” she said. “When you left, this place was plunged into chaos. It was thought that the arrival of the new Maou -- of me -- would help things, and for a while that was the case. But within the past few years, things have taken a turn for the worse again, and we do not know what to do.”
“But then, why am I here? I’m not Maou anymore…”
“You must be here to help us,” Yozak said. “And trust me, kid, we need all the help we can get.”
Yuuri shook his head in confusion. “I don’t even really know what’s wrong, though.”
The Maou placed a hand on his shoulder. “You will. Tomorrow, I will explain everything to you. But for now, it is getting late. You can take a bath before bed, if you wish, and I can have my daughters bring you some food. We sent the servants back to their homes after Wolfram fell ill, but Ilaria and Idonea are quite good cooks when they put their minds to it.” The blond and brunette woman who had been standing by the throne both nodded. As though on cue, Yuuri’s stomach rumbled, and the Maou gave him a small smile. “Right then. Ilaria, Idonea, the former Maou needs some food. Ahren,” she continued, turning her attention to the brown-haired young man standing beside the two women, “please take his Highness to the bath, and make sure he has everything he needs. Elric, prepare a room for him.” The blond who looked like Wolfram nodded and strode from the room, headed to who knew what part of the castle. “Oh, and Odelia, there’s no need for you to remain on alert. Go get into something more comfortable.”
As the man called Ahren took Yuuri’s elbow and began leading him from the room, Yuuri took one last look at the young woman named Odelia. She was watching him with great curiosity on her pretty face, but Yuuri could still sense that she would be a dangerous one to mess with. He could only hope he wouldn’t run into her again anytime soon.
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