|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 26, 2010 1:03:20 GMT -5
Dropping his hat on the hook on the back of his door, Gilbert glanced at the small mirror that was propped up on his desk in the corner of the room. His hair, as always, was choppy and somewhat messy, but still managed to fall around his face in a way that framed his pale skin almost perfectly. Bright crimson eyes reflected the curiosity that danced in the back of his mind as he tugged absently at the cravat around his neck. His lips twitched in annoyance as it was straightened, and a nagging voice in the back of his mind questioned him once again of why be bothered to wear it. Because Roderich wants you to... he answered himself silently.
It wasn't that he hated cravats so much as he didn't see the point, and they made him uncomfortable. After his less than happy childhood, having something that bound him by any means (especially the wrists and neck) made him tense and skiddish. They simply hung there like a napkin someone forgot to move and, for the most part, they looked a bit ridiculous. Granted, some people, like his master, managed to pull off the look his fine. After all, the only person he'd ever see successfully tie a cravat properly on the first try was Roderich, and the Prussian had often wondered if this were an admirable or somewhat pathetic trait.
Regardless of the reason, the brunette noble was the only person in the world who Gilbert would willingly put on a cravat for, and if Roderich demanded that he wear "fancy" clothes, then he would. After all, he was the young noble's personal attendant and guard; his job to please, though the factor of money had been set aside at least two years previous. Now he was simply at the other male's side because he wanted to be; his own personal mission and job. Tiring though it was at times, the albino could never find reason to complain or find reason to leave.
A loud chime filled the room, making Gilbert jump slightly as he glanced at the large grandfather clock to his left. Eight more rings followed shortly after making the Prussian frown slightly. How on earth had he allowed himself to lose track of time. He should have reported to Roderich almost an hour ago. It had been something of a ritual he started himself: Every night at eight he would prepare a pot of the brunette's favourite tea and a light snack for the other to enjoy. Usually, unless the brunette asked for something, his duties ended at eight in the evening and he would retire to his room until it was time for Roderich to retire to bed (around ten in the evening) and assist him with the normal nightly rituals. Sometimes (after eight), he would join his Austrian master in the study while the other read or the music room where it would be the piano (which Gilbert would sometimes accompany with a flute or violin.)
"I'm late..." he muttered with a sigh, running a slender-gloved hand through his hair. "Bet he thinks I nodded off or something." Tossing his navy-blue coat and sword onto his bed, the silverette quickly exited the room and made his way toward the kitchens. Late or not, it would feel awkward if he didn't follow through, and it almost felt like a betrayal if he didn't.
It only took the Prussian a few minutes to gather the tea and a slice of cake, and soon, he was walking quickly down the hallway with a tray in hand. His gaze momentarily drifted outside as he passed a window and a small frown tugged at his lips. The wind was much stronger than usual today and the clouds were packing in. During the daylight hours, it had been much grayer than normal, and the air had felt slightly thicker, holding the promise of rain. A small rush of satisfaction shot through him as his earlier instinct to tell all the maids to shut the windows and been correct, and he allowed himself a small smirk. The awesome me is never wrong~ I should ask Roddy for praise.
When he reached the door to the study, Gilbert pushed the door open slowly and peered inside, grinning when he saw a familiar wave of brunette hair. He was never wrong when it came to finding Roderich when he needed to, a trait that he had acquired sometime over the past six years that he was quite proud of (and often awed the other staff members of the home.) The door was shut silently behind him as he crossed the room with almost no noise at all, pausing just behind Roderich's chair. "No piano tonight, young master?" he asked with a cocky grin, setting the tray down beside the Austrian's open book. "I thought you were gonna be glued to that thing all day. You're obsessed, you know."
Pouring a cup of tea, Gilbert placed the cup on a saucer and removed it and the plate of cake off the tray, setting them both on Roderich's desk before pushing the tray out of the way. A gloved hand extended itself and picked up the brunette's, bowing as he kissed the back lightly. It was another habit he'd picked up over time. While hand-kissing wasn't unheard of in his home country of Prussia, he had put fourth the effort to learn as much about Austria as he could. Customs from the brunette's home country seemed to be important to his "master", and thus, they were important to the silverette as well. Though, while he wouldn't admit it, the greeting was more-so an excuse to show the noble affection he knew he couldn't otherwise. As a servant, his personal feelings were, and had to be, thrust aside. So he took what he could get. "So, what are we studying tonight, young master? Something fancy and fru-fru, again?"
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 27, 2010 1:29:15 GMT -5
Tedious. That was the best word the Austrian could think of to describe how his days had passed. He had to take great care with everything he did; whether it was out of justifiable concern for his well-being or flat-out paranoia, he truly no longer cared. The bandits of the underground where his father had spent his last days gambling his inheritance away were getting more and more bold, and it was all Roderich could do to keep himself from relocating altogether. Luckily for him, they seemed to want him alive, not that this knowledge helped him relax any.
Instead, the bolder they got, the more paranoid Roderich became. Although he was not in the military, his father's prestige had earned him several soldiers who were stationed around his home in case the bandits decided to attack him on his own soil, it did not make it impossible for one or two of the more cunning ones to slip past their defenses. Luckily, ever since he'd been attacked the first time, Roderich kept his sword on him at all times, so he wasn't caught off-guard, but even more fortunate for him was the existence of his Prussian bodyguard.
Gilbert had been hired to protect him when he was eighteen. The silverette came into his service just after his father died; apparently, the Colonel had known Gilbert and Frederick before his death, and had asked the albino to look after his son should anything happen to him. Lo and behold, after the first attack he appeared at the Austrian's side, his deadly shadow. And there he had stayed for the past six years. It was because of him Roderich was still alive; he had no doubts about that.
So, when the two bandits snuck onto his property and cornered him in the gardens, it was Gilbert who saved his life once again... but not before one of the men said something interesting.
'We know about the airship... and we want it.'
It is all very well that he knows about this airship, Roderich had thought at the time, because I certainly don't.
The more he thought about the exchange in the gardens, though, the more he wondered; all these years, the brunette assumed they had been after him to pay off his father's monetary debts. But... what if what they were really after was something valuable his father had won instead? It certainly made more sense...
Not knowing where to look for this information, Roderich started with his father's accounting books. He'd hardly looked at them when the man died, so maybe if he took a closer look? He found the files in a folder, along with the book itself. The information was dull, but he kept his sharp focus, looking through each line for anything that would give him a clue as to what he was looking for.
Just as he was about to give up out of sheer frustration, he heard Gilbert speak from behind him, and the silverette's sudden appearance almost made him jump. "You're late," he observed simply as the other poured a cup of tea for him. He had been hoping the albino would arrive on time tonight of all nights... while Roderich had an uncanny attention for detail, it was much more difficult for him to put everything together. He had all these puzzle pieces, and no way to make sense of them. With Gilbert's help, though, he knew they would figure it out. Briefly, Roderich mused over the idea that he and the silverette themselves were like puzzle pieces, the way they fit together so nicely, complimenting each other's' abilities and making their two sides whole.
...but that was neither here nor there and for the moment it could be forgotten, easily dismissed in the face of the information he held in his hands. He felt Gilbert take his hand in the customary way, and he felt himself inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment of his actions before he returned the appendage to its previous position once it had been released. "I'm reading through my father's old accounting books. One of the bandits from the other night said something interesting to me before you silenced him." Of course, by this Roderich meant "before you killed him," but he was much to proper to use such morbid language.
Turning slightly, the brunette lifted his head to meet his guard's crimson gaze. As always, he was effected by those burning eyes the same way he had been for years, but he dismissed the feeling quickly, the same way as he had with his puzzle-pieces thought from before. He simply did not understand the feeling, and had no time to waste figuring out why his breath would catch in his throat the way it did, or why his chest felt heavier every time his eyes met the albino's. "He said something about an airship... that they know of its existence and desire it. I can only assume he thinks I have one in my possession, which leads me to believe my father gambled for more than money before he died. But I can find no evidence of such a thing. It is perplexing..."
Violet eyes held crimson captive, Roderich's gaze unfaltering as he waited for the Prussian to speak; what he really wanted was guidance. Surely Gilbert would be able to think of the solution he was missing.
---------
Aww, did you mention the hand-kissing thing because of my comment last night about that still being common in Austria? XD
Also... I hope how I wrote Gilbert coming to work for Roderich was alright. I remembered that you said it couldn't just be random, so yeah. There. XD
One more thing... the soldiers stationed around Roddy's house. This is how the military learns about the airship/cloaking device and they're the ones who go after him. Nothing like being chased out of your own home, huh?
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 27, 2010 9:25:32 GMT -5
The foreboding feeling that Gilbert the silverette had felt upon walking down the hallway slowly began to ease away. Listening to Roderich's voice had always had a therapeutic-like effect, and the calmer he was, the better he could do his job. His gaze briefly left the brunette's to brush over the book on the desk as his lips twisted in displeasure at the mention of 'silencing' the people who had attacked previously. While he had no regrets about protecting his "master", killing her never been something he took pleasure in. Bandit or not, they were still just as human as he was, and he ripped their life from them. From their families. How was he to know if one of the bandits was just a father trying to provide? How was he to know if a pirate had only turned to stealing to find a means of paying for money for his sister's illness? How was he to know if attacking was only a job that, like himself, he had been hired for just so there would be food to eat that night?
That's life, he reminded himself silently. Survival of the fittest. The old man taught you how to fight without killing, and you swore on both your honour and his that you would only take a life if there was no other way. You tried reasoning with them, so don't feel pity. They were the ones stupid enough to keep trying after you threatened them. Despite the self-reassurance, the Prussian couldn't help the guilt that tugged at the back of his mind and opted to move his gaze back to the Austrian's. The violet eyes calmed him, regardless of the rush of unknown emotions they made him feel. No matter what he did, or how much blood covered his hands, the brunette had always given him a look of welcome and gratitude. As long as Roderich was alive, Gilbert could assure himself that he wasn't just a heartless killer, and that the lives he took were for the better good of keeping this innocent one alive.
"An airship, huh?" he grinned, moving to Roderich's right as he sat atop the desk. "Seems like the sort of thing that'd be pretty hard to misplace. You sure your old man didn't just talk a lot of shit and say something stupid when he was drunk? I've never seen anything like that around the manor." The mental map of the Edelstein mansion Gilbert had put together over his six years of surface was something he could be proud of. He knew every door and hallway, including the hidden passages and traps. It was easy for him to get from Point A to Point Q faster than anyone else, as he knew the shortcuts and fastest means of getting where he needed to go. However, in all his late-knight patrols in which he'd acquired this map, he'd never seen anything that might lead to a ship of any form.
Glancing at the desk, his eyes raked over the accounting book once more before he frowned. The accounting books had been kept in the library. Granted, they were place in a locked bookshelf, but that didn't change the fact that something seemed off about where they were looking. "You sure there's something in those?" he asked, picking the book up without bothering to ask. "I mean, this is just some old accounting diary. So he spent some money. If this 'airship' is such a big deal, do you really think your old Military-Papa would leave information about where to find it in something that could easily be stolen?"
With a soft sigh, he tossed the book back down onto the desk's wooden surface and regarded Roderich with one of his rare serious looks. He knew better than to talk about the subject that had come to his mind, but it made more sense than anything else he could think of. "I know you don't want to think about it," he began crossing his arms, "but... I think we both know that the best place to be looking is your old man's study. He kept everything locked up tight in there, and the room has no windows. No one else went in there but him... so doesn't that seem a more awesome to hide information about an airship other people might want? Maybe he kept a diary. Sure as hell helps me keep my head on straight--the awesome can get overbearing sometimes, you know. Writing it down helps." ----------------- Technically, I was going to have him do that anyway, just to get Roderich flustered. >w> I just threw in that it was Austrian after you mentioned they still do it in Austria. Because I'm silly like that~
Gilbert's story of hire was fine, I didn't really have a set one other than who he was working for, so it's all good.
As for the soldiers... Gilbert doesn't like them anyway. XD That's why he's a mercenary. He doesn't trust the pirates or the military.
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 27, 2010 10:46:26 GMT -5
"You sure your old man didn't just talk a lot of shit and say something stupid when he was drunk?"
At those words, Roderich felt his lips quirk up into a small smile. It certainly would not be unlike his father to do something like that; the man let his pride run away with him when he was sober. Roderich could only imagine what he was like while drunk. But that didn't sit right with him... "I'm sure my father has a long history of tall tales, but that doesn't explain why they would be so adamant to catch me for six years. Why waste the time on pure speculation? They must have proof."
Turning back to the accounting book on the desk, the brunette adjusted his glasses before gesturing to it. "I never really looked at this after my father died; only enough to pay off the legal debts my father owed. I never looked into his illegal gambling debts." Roderich began his explanation slowly, trying to map out his thought process while managing the myriad different thoughts running rampant in his mind. It was obvious that there would be nothing written here about an airship... but he'd only been looking for clues.
"I assumed that is what the bandits were after; at first, I didn't believe there could be an airship either. However..." Flipping the book back open, Roderich pointed to a page with several highlighted passages. "My father didn't owe them much money. Not enough to warrant chasing me for six years and sending their men to die." Turning his gaze back to Gilbert's, Roderich pushed the book closer to him so he could see it better in the waning light. "There is no other explanation."
Now that he had proven to himself that there was more to the frequent attempts by the underground to kidnap him, Roderich knew he would have to follow the silverette's advice and dig deeper. The study was the most obvious place to look, especially since that was where his father had spent all his time when he wasn't out drinking and gambling. It had to be in there...
Standing after giving the albino a few moments to review the book, in case he could find something Roderich had missed, the Austrian stood. "I won't be able to rest tonight unless we at least begin searching through his study," he began, turning and heading to the door, knowing without a doubt the other would be right behind him. "...I have an ominous feeling," Roderich admitted softly, one hand coming to rest at the sword on his hip, reassuring himself of its existence.
As he left the room and headed to his father's study, Roderich found himself walking much closer to Gilbert than he normally did, hyper-aware of his surroundings. Even though he was in his own home, something didn't feel right, and he took great comfort in having his companion so close to him. The sudden urge to reach for the silverette's hand almost overwhelmed him, but he fought the impulse; he was being no better than a child afraid of the dark.
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 27, 2010 15:25:01 GMT -5
As he felt Roderich press closer to him, Gilbert unconsciously slowed his pace to match the brunette's better. His features softened into something much gentler than their normal cocky expression and he found himself walking just a little closer than normal himself. The office in question was a short distance from his own room, and he found comfort in knowing that he'd be able to stop and grab his own weapon before entering. The feeling of foreboding that Roderich had so easily quelled was returning and he wanted his sword as soon as possible.
"Hold on," he murmured as they passed his door. "Wait here... don't move, and shout if you see anything move." A quick glance up and down the hallway assured Gilbert that there was nobody around, but he couldn't ease the feeling that they were being watched. Something isn't right... he thought as he disappeared inside his personal quarters. The sword was grabbed first and tied quickly to his belt before he pulled his coat on and stepped out of the room with hat in hand.
The rest of the walk to the study was completely silent, the only sound broken by the soft clap of Gilbert's boots (as they did have a slight heel--which were manly, thank you very much) and the occasional twitch of his sword. Every few seconds his eyes would dart toward the nearest window. Watching, waiting for any form of movement, anything that might indicate a threat. "Walk faster," he commanded in a quiet tone, placing a hand on Roderich's back as he urged the young noble forward.
No time was wasted in Gilbert opening the door and pushing Roderich inside. He shut the door behind him with a snap and locked it, spinning around once as he looked for any hidden figures. White-gloved fingers flexed around the handle of his sword and he walked forward slowly, allowing more more than two feet of space between himself and the other. "...Look quickly. Find a diary first... if it has a lock, I can pick it. Small ones are easy. Just move."
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 27, 2010 19:37:33 GMT -5
Sensing Gilbert's apprehension, Roderich suddenly felt justified in his paranoia. As he was ushered down the hall, the albino's hand on his back felt like it was burning, even through the heavy layers of his clothes. Quickening his steps until they reached the study, it was all he could do not to run. Adrenaline was coursing through the Austrian making him jittery.
When they finally reached the room and he was ushered inside, Roderich stumbled around the unfamiliar room, searching for the lamp in the dark. Finding it and lighting it quickly, he set it on the desk and immediately began looking through the drawers of the desk. The brunette was smart enough to know that what he was looking for would not be in an unlocked drawer, but he looked through them anyway, shuffling through the papers quickly.
Pausing for a moment as his eyes darted around the room, he wondered where else whatever information on the airship his father had could be. Briefly, he remembered a small safe his father had brought in the room shortly before he died that Roderich never saw again. "...its in the safe. He brought a safe in here about a month before he died." Standing, his eyes scanned the room again, wondering where it could be hidden. "Where might he have hidden it?" he murmured, half thinking aloud to himself, still scanning the room.
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 27, 2010 22:32:15 GMT -5
"I hope you mean the diary," Gilbert said with a playful grin as he slowly began to walk the perimeter of the room. "Unless it's a model of an airship, I doubt even the awesome me could get something like that to fit." The joke was corny at best, but the silverette's goal wasn't to make the other occupant of the room laugh so much as ease the tense atmosphere inside. Something was coming, something bad, but for the life of him, the Prussian didn't know what it was. He hated when things got like this; his senses on full alert with no visual sign of threat. It made him uneasy, and when he was uneasy, he missed things... and missing things risked Roderich's safety. Which was bad.
Continuing around the room, he carefully looked at each object as he passed it, trying to find something, anything unusual that might lead to the safe in question. Deception and detection had always been strong points for the albino, but, according to Roderich, this man had been a master of all he did, very much like his own Fritz, and there would likely be little to no clues for finding what they wanted. The fact that he was already on high guard and trying to pay attention to the room at large was doing nothing to help him. It was only a matter of time before--
Whump!
A low groan filled the room as Gilbert slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. His forehead throbbed in pain from it's sudden impact with the floor, and a quiet string of mixed German and French curses tumbled from his lips. "Fucking carpet, who--" the protests died off as Gilbert quickly turned around and pushed the carpet aside, letting out a small cry of triumph when he saw a handle. Grabbing it, the albino pulled the wooden barrier up with a swift jerk of the wrist, revealing the door of safe lying on it's back. "How cliche and unawesome," the silverette muttered, looking up with a grin. "Hey, Roddy... This what you're lookin' for? Guess your old man wasn't as clever as I thought. Under the carpet... really. Guess the obvious stuff is the last you'd expect if you were a top-notch theif."
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 27, 2010 23:30:54 GMT -5
Rolling his eyes at Gilbert's half-joke, he nonetheless felt somewhat calmer about the whole situation. Nothing about the past few days had been normal for him, so having the silverette at least acting normal helped somewhat. He was about to tell the Prussian to be serious, but before he could get the words out, his companion tripped over the rug, flipping the corner up and landing face-first on the ground.
Feeling as paranoid as he did, the Austrian immediately worried that someone had somehow injured the albino. Even though it made no sense, given that they were the only two people in the room and it was impossible for someone outside the room to hurt him, he was still on edge. However, when Gilbert sat up mostly unharmed, the breath he'd been holding escaped his lungs and he hurried around the desk, intent on helping him up until he saw the safe set in the floor.
"Christ, father, you really were paranoid," he muttered, looking at the safe for a moment more before looking around the room. "Where would he keep the combination..." he wondered aloud, his eyes darting around the room as he thought. Roderich's eyes came to rest on an old photograph of his family when he was a child. It seemed irrelevant at first, but as his eyes rested on his mother's face... he knew.
"Gilbert, would you mind moving over for a moment?" he asked softly, kneeling and brushing his hand over the lock. Praying he was right, he slowly turned the knob, holding his breath.
8...15...56...
Pulling on the handle, Roderich closed his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding as the door swung open. "Thank Gott..." Reaching in, he pulled out a small book with a lock, a folded schematic, and a few other papers. Wordlessly, he held the diary out to Gilbert to deal with the lock, unfolding the schematic. Eyes widening, all he could do was stare at it. There were notes written in the margins, pointing to each place on the airship. Roderich could barely understand it, but it was proof... he had an airship.
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 28, 2010 0:12:46 GMT -5
"Paranoid, maybe, but definitely overly careful..." Gilbert frowned as he was handed the diary and stared at the small lock that kept it shut. To be expected, it was stronger than the standard diary protection, but not at all hard for him to break. Seconds later the diary was being thrust back into Roderich's hands as the albino took the messy schematics for his own observation. He was, by no means, a mechanical expert, but he'd learned a decent amount of understand of machinery through Frederick.
His master had been, in the greatest sense of the word, a genius. There was seemingly nothing the elderly man hadn't been able to do, and the Prussian had respected him for it. There was no teacher in the world he would have rather had and, while he wished the old man was there to help them now, he couldn't help but feel grateful he'd manged to learn as much as he did.
The mechanical map was easy enough to understand, and from it, the albino was quickly able to understand where the ship's cockpit was, how to get it on and moving, and where the controls for something labeled "cloaking device" were. That made Gilbert frown. While he wasn't up to date on the mechanical market, to his knowledge, things such as cloaking devices didn't exist. Invisibility was merely a myth, a scientists dream, but according to this, whatever ship it may be, was capable of pulling it off. Mein Gott, he thought silently, not wanting to worry Roderich any more than the brunette already was. Just what in the hell was his dad up to?
"You find anything good?" he asked, peering over his master's soldier to see the diary. "Looks like the nifty blueprints prove the ship is real, or at least the design is. Looks like a pretty awesome piece of work, but it must be a bitch to operate alone. Otherwise your old man would have done something with it." Standing up, the Prussian froze as he heard a scuffling noise out in the hallway. His body tensed and he placed a hand on his sword, slowly walking toward the door as he prepared to spring on anything or anyone that entered. His instincts were screaming and kicking into overdrive as he leaned forward and pressed his ear against the wooden door, but the moment he had, something told him it was the wrong thing to do.
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 28, 2010 0:42:47 GMT -5
Flipping through the diary, Roderich came to the entry he needed; the night his father won the ship and where it was located. Shaking his head, he belatedly responded to Gilbert's words, his eyes scanning the page. "He died before he could have done something with it, anyway. According to this, he had it less than a week." Just as he got to the part he needed, Roderich heard Gilbert shift, drawing his eyes away from the page. He immediately shut the diary and tucked it into his pocket, along with the schematic and whatever else he'd taken from the safe in the inside pocket of his jacket; he knew where the airship was now, and if someone was after it, they didn't need to know he knew.
Shutting the safe door quietly and kicking the rug back into place, the Austrian stood and rested his hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. But before he could draw his weapon, the door was violently kicked open, knocking into Gilbert and sending him hard into the wall. The brunette saw nothing but a blur of black before someone had backed him into his father's desk. The lamp wobbled, and Roderich cried out in surprise at the sudden movement. Something solid connected with his stomach, causing him to double over in pain before a hand fisted itself in his hair and pulled up, forcing him face to face with his attacker; one of the military guards that had been stationed around his house.
Staring in disbelief, the Austrian struggled to breathe, winded from the blow to his stomach. Before he could even blink again, searing pain tore through his side as the soldier drew his sword; as close as they were, it was impossible for the blade not to cut him unless the man moved back, which was something Roderich doubted he would be doing anytime soon. "You've found it then, hmm?" the man hissed, pressing the sword against his neck. Over his shoulder, the brunette could see two other soldiers in the room, their focus on Gilbert. He knew the Prussian could take on several men at once, but these men were highly trained soldiers. It wasn't that he didn't have faith in his companion... he just couldn't help but worry for his safety.
"Give us the information and we'll consider sparing you. If not, you'll both die, slowly and painfully," the man warned, tightening his grip on Roderich's hair. The noble shifted his violet gaze back on his attacker and managed a sneer.
"I will give you nothing, traitor," Roderich spat, nearly regretting his words as the blade pressed closer to his neck, the soldier pinning him to the desk growling in annoyance.
"If you will not give it, I will take it," the soldier growled, bringing the hilt of his sword up to crack against Roderich's temple. Fortunately for the Austrian, he had been more or less expecting that, and was able to turn his head enough to avoid being knocked unconscious, but the blow was enough to bring him to his knees.
For a moment, the brunette feared Gilbert would have a third soldier on his hands, but his attacker instead began tearing through the contents of the room, searching for the diary. Glad he'd had the foresight to put it and the schematic away before they noticed he had it on him, Roderich watched the soldier through misty eyes, reaching down to prepare to draw his sword again once his vision stopped swimming. "Where is it!? We know you have it; it's taken long enough for you to figure it out. Where is it, Edelstein!?" the man roared, rounding on Roderich once more.
This whole time... they've known about the airship... they've just been waiting for me to do the dirty work and find it for them, he thought, his eyes dimming slightly against the pain. His gaze flickered to the Prussian and suddenly, he was seized by dread. They've needed me alive... until now. They'll kill us both for this information... Gil doesn't deserve this. He's just my bodyguard...
The thought of watching the Prussian killed before his eyes brought back another surge of adrenaline. Of course, he wouldn't just lay there and let himself be killed either, but there was something overwhelming about the thought of Gilbert dying that made him spring into action. Drawing his sword as he stood, he swung his arm out in front of him, aiming at the soldier's legs. The first blow made the man stumble back and, still stumbling to his feet, Roderich slammed the hilt of his sword into his stomach, sending him reeling.
He wasn't at the right angle to dodge the second blow the soldier was able to land on him, this time on his upper arm. The sword felt like it almost went through his entire arm, a loud whimper of pain escaping his lips as the sword was pulled back. Luckily for the noble, it wasn't his dominant hand; he was able to block the next attack. Even though he was in pain, Roderich's mind was sharpened by adrenaline and the sheer will to live. He wasn't as strong as his opponent, but he was able to dodge each attack. Relying on his stamina and agility, the Austrian finally found his opening and he took it, thrusting the sword between the soldier's ribs. Twisting the sword with a flick of his wrist, he withdrew the sword as the soldier fell.
Turning away, unable to look at the man he'd just killed, Roderich rushed to Gilbert's aide; of course, he'd been able to deal with the two men, and the Austrian was relieved to see he was mostly uninjured. He did what he could to help, and when he was sure the soldiers were all dead, he immediately went to the bookcase and began pushing against it. "This used to be a servant's bedroom; there's a passage behind the bookshelf. It'll take us to the kitchen. We can go out the back... help me before the rest of them come!"
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 28, 2010 10:17:21 GMT -5
For the second time that night, a groan fell from Gilbert's lips as he felt himself knocked backward as something heavy and very hard slammed into his front. As he hit the ground, the Prussian could only be grateful that he'd had the urge to put his hat on before entering. It had softened the blow, if only slightly, but it was enough to cut his recovery time in half, allowing the silverette to pull himself clumsily to his feet and stumble backward against the wall as he reached for his sword blindly, knowing where to find the hilt.
"Bastards..." he snarled under his breath, blinking rapidly as he tried to will his vision back into focus. It was hard to concentrate with the various whirling of colours and shapes, but years of training made up for the lack of proper sight and he shut his eyes, using his ears to block out the various shuffles in the room to pinpoint the movements of the soldier closest to him... to his dead right. He wouldn't have time to draw his sword and work out a swipe, so he didn't, waiting until the last second when the soldier was closer before pulling his blade out quickly, slamming it into the area where he knew the solar-plexus to be.
A breathy moan reached his ears and with a satisfied smirk, the albino brought the hilt of his blade downward upon the man's head and opened his eyes in time to watch in satisfaction as the man crumbled. A 'swish' filled the air as Gilbert threw his blade out to block an oncoming attack from the fallen man's partner, before he jumped backward and placed a foot on the unconscious soldier's back, murmuring something quickly under his breath in German before giving his wrist another quick flick as the tip of his blade easily opened the back of the man's neck. Normally, Gilbert would have felt pity for killing a man while he was down, but the threat they held to Roderich's, as well as his own, life kept it from surfacing.
Another'swish' and moan of pain left Gilbert with the advantage as he moved in for the final kill, but a whimper of pain stopped everything. Roderich! His gaze shifted momentarily toward the brunette as something icy ran down his spine. Blood. Roderich was hurt. He hadn't recovered in time to stop one of them from hurting Roderich. His master--
The thoughts stopped as a blade narrowly missed his face and sent him stumbling several steps backward. He needed to get to the noble. Now. As he turned his attention to the second soldier, he heard more noise from the other end of the room and prepared himself for a quick finish, but before he could so much as move, Roderich had joined his side and he instantly felt himself calm. Bleeding or not, the brunette was alright, and that in and of itself was enough to keep him from losing control. His focus returned to the soldier at hand, and before he knew it, their combined force had caused the man to fall.
Sheathing his blade, Gilbert quickly crossed the length of the room when Roderich called for his assistance and moved the bookcase aside with ease. Leaving the passageway open would only be ab obvious marker of where they were going, and thus, was a problem. He waited until Roderich was fully inside before turning around and pulling the bookcase back into place as best he could from the inside and turned around. The passageway was dark, but he was used to such conditions and he could see enough to move. On instinct, his hand flew out and met Roderich's, carefully leading the brunette down the passage as he drew his sword once more, ready to attack at the slightest threatening movement.
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 28, 2010 15:29:03 GMT -5
The darkness of the passage felt crushing almost the instant Gilbert sealed the entrance off again. There was no telling what was waiting for them in the dark, and the brunette could hardly see his hand in front of his face, let alone whether or not anyone else was there. After the bookshelf was moved back in place, the Austrian felt a hand close around his and it calmed him down almost immediately. The Prussian would not let any harm come to him, and he was strong enough to defend himself, too. He was safe with Gilbert...
As they escaped through the servant's passage, Roderich was grateful that he had never given the soldiers any information about the interior of his home, as their job had nothing to do with it. This meant that the rest of the soldiers, who had likely been waiting just down the hallway in case he and the silverette managed to escape, would have no idea where they were headed. If they could manage to get out of the house without being detected, they would have a chance at escaping without getting anymore injuries.
The passage to the kitchen was a long one, and as they continued on in the dark, the adrenaline in Roderich's system waned and the pain from the gash in his side and the stab wound in his arm flared up. Both injuries were still bleeding openly; the brunette could feel the blood against his fingers as he put as much pressure as possible against his side. The gash was deep, that much he knew, and the more he thought about it, the more sickened he became.
They were close to the kitchen, probably no more than three rooms away when the blood loss and pain caused the noble to stumble forward a few steps, his side hitting the wall, using it to help support his weight. Groaning softly in pain, Roderich flinched and forced himself to put more pressure on the wound, trying to ignore the dizziness. He knew they were far from safe, and that giving in now would be a death sentence. The Austrian had too much pride to let two mostly superficial wounds be the death of him. Pausing only momentarily to take a breath, he lifted his head and began walking again. "I'm fine," Roderich said as smoothly as he could, his voice slightly hoarse as he spoke, trying to assure his companion.
It only took a few more steps to reach the end of the passage, and the brunette could only hope they were alone. When Gilbert pulled him into the kitchen and they headed to the back door, Roderich stifled a cough, hoping to hide the severity of his injuries until they could be safely worried about. "The airship is in an underground bunker my father built before I was born. There's a switch behind that panel that will open it and raise it up; I can only imagine he remodeled it to fit the airship," Roderich explained, doing his best to keep his breathing even.
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 28, 2010 15:48:35 GMT -5
The walk through the passage had, much to Gilbert's pleasure, been easy. The kitchens were completely empty when the finally arrived, and the silverette couldn't help but send a silent plea of thanks toward the servants who had been more punctual than normal tonight. As he turned to face Roderich to see what panel he was talking about, something in the Prussian's stomach twisted as he noticed the trail of blood that ran along the floor where the brunette had walked. He had known Roderich was injured but to the extent of how bad those injuries were... he hadn't imagined this. Shit... he won't make it to the ship at this rate. I can't do anything for him if he passes out from the bloodloss. I'm not a doctor
Glancing around the area, Gilbert grabbed two of the freshly cleaned towels off the counter and quickly hurried over to the brunette, folding the first into a neat square which he pressed against the injury while he used the other (much longer) to tie it around the brunette's waist as tightly as he could. "Don't complain about comfort," he murmured, looking satisfied (though only slightly) when the makeshift bandage didn't fall apart. "We'll figure out something better when we get on that ship of yours. Just hold on a little longer, and keep focusing on me. We can do this." Had the situation been any less serious, the silverette would have insisted they stop long enough for him to treat the injuries, but the thought of risking more by keeping still was more than enough reason for him to accept the towels in place of actual bandages. For now, at the very least.
Crimson eyes shifted toward the panel Roderich had mentioned earlier and he moved toward it, glancing over his shoulder nervously. The panel was on the other side of the room and Roderich was far too close to the windows and door for his liking. Anyone could break into the room while his back was turned and he really didn't like the idea of that. Still, if he didn't move, that would only prove another problem. That meant he'd have to deal with it.
Taking a deep breath, he sprinted to the other side of the kitchen and pressed the required button before turning back around. His sword was still clutched tightly between his fingers, enough so that the feeling in his hand was starting to go numb. They needed to get out of here. Now. A low rumble started to fill the building, and, for a brief moment, Gilbert thought he had hit the wrong switch... until it occurred to him what was happening. To Roderich's right, the wall had split in two and opened into a passage way that had most certainly not been there a few weeks prior. Wherever the ship was being hidden, the hatch that kept it hidden was opening.
That left them only minutes to get to it.
"Roddy, we need to--fuck!" Before he could finish the sentence, something outside the window moved. Someone was outside. Someone knew where they were... and someone was about to attack. "Shit!"
|
|
|
Post by Roderich Edelstein on Sept 28, 2010 20:01:24 GMT -5
When Gilbert turned around, Roderich immediately knew he had failed in hiding his injuries. He could keep himself together long enough to get to the airship, he knew, and he desperately did not want them to lose valuable time making a fuss over his wounds. "Gilbert, I'm find, really, I-" he began when the Prussian approached, but his words fell on deaf ears as the other used the kitchen towels as a makeshift bandage. The noble hissed softly as the material was pressed against his side and tied tightly in place. The pressure was more constant, at least, to help stop the bleeding, but it did nothing for his pain. Leaning against the counter top as he struggled with another bout of dizziness, all Roderich could do was be as alert as possible.
As Gilbert moved across the room to lift the panel and raise the ship from where it was hidden, Roderich kept scanning the doors and windows diligently, prepared to warn the other should an attack come. He caught the movement outside just as the silverette did, and on instinct he moved away from where he was, toward the passage that had opened to his right. The bullet that would have hit him in the forehead sailed past the Austrian and embedded itself in the wall. Shards of glass from the broken window rained in on them, a particularly large piece grazing his cheek, leaving a long cut in its wake. Grimacing at the pain from his movements, he nonetheless scrambled for the passage, catching Gilbert's wrist and pulling him along. "There's another panel on the inside to close the passage; it won't stop them, but it will buy us some time," he instructed as they entered the narrow hallway, eyes darting to find it.
He could hear the sound of the soldiers breaking into his kitchen, and Roderich made a split-second decision upon seeing an unlit torch laying next to a small canister of oil. Seeing the panel on his side of the wall, the noble stooped down to retrieve the torch and oil, quickly lighting the torch as he stood. "The panel is right here. Get ready to close it when I tell you to," Roderich ordered, heading back to the entrance. The soldiers were climbing through the broken windows, but he had enough time. Without wasting time to think about what he was doing, the noble threw the oil into the kitchen, watching it splatter over the floor and counter.
With only a moment's hesitation, he flung the lit torch out after the oil and took a step back into the passage, half turning to face Gilbert. "Close it!" he instructed, recoiling from the heat of the fire that already spread. Watching the Prussian press the button that would put another barrier between them and their assailants, Roderich didn't notice that one of the soldiers had tumbled through the window and raised his gun regardless of the flames edging toward him. His injuries and dizziness made him move slower than normal, and he wasn't able to move from the door as the soldier fired.
The door that blocked the passage from view did not close very quickly; whether it was rusted or slow from being unused or simply not designed to shut quickly, it did not close in time to prevent the bullet from making contact with Roderich's shoulder, narrowly missing his collarbone. Gasping in shock at the sudden impact, the brunette took a step back from the force of the bullet before collapsing completely. They were safe, for now, with the fire and the heavy door between them, but Roderich could barely breathe, his vision blurry. He'd already lost too much blood and they were quickly running out of time. "Gil... bert..." he spluttered, reaching for the Prussian, his breathing becoming more laboured than it was before as he struggled to stand, to move... anything but lay vulnerable like he was.
|
|
|
Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Sept 28, 2010 20:42:51 GMT -5
In all the years he'd known Roderich, Gilbert had never once failed in his duties to keep the brunette safe--and he had numerous scars scattered about his body for proof. Protecting the Austrian noble had always been his top priority, and it was the brunette's safety that came before his own, regardless of the dangers any wound might entail. He prided himself on it, and happily showed off his talent to anyone who dared a try at hurting his master--after all, he couldn't fail. He simply couldn't... but now... now...
Everything had happened so fast that it left the Prussian's brain struggling to keep up. In all the twenty-four years he'd been alive, not once had he felt as lost as he did right then. It was as if someone had suddenly switched the sound of the world off and all that was left was the slow-motion fall of Roderich before him. The muffled shouts of the soldiers stuck beyond the door in the hot inferno fell on death ears as he darted forward and dropped to his knees, not so much as a flinch crossing his features as the fabric of his pants were ripped by the hard concrete. His lips moved, but no sound came out as he struggled to keep himself under control. The scent of iron filled his senses and gave the albino and overwhelming sense of nausea.
This couldn't be happening. It shouldn't be happening. He was supposed to be better than this; stronger. It was his job, his duty, to keep Roderich safe... and he'd failed in every respect of the word over the time-span of only a few hours. The means left of which he'd yet to fail was... No, he told himself sternly. Don't think about that. Concentrate on now and slow the bleeding.
Tugging the read clock from his shoulders, he didn't bother to check if the movement had ruined his jacket as he carefully pulled Roderich into a sitting position and began to tie the fabric around the brunette's shoulder in yet another makeshift bandage and sling. The silverette's hands had started to tremble slightly, but he bit his lip and ignored it, pulling the other close to his chest. "Just hold on, young master..." he said quietly, brushing the hair from Roderich's face. "Just hold on. You can do anything you want right now, just don't fall asleep, ja? Concentrate on my voice. Shout at me, insult me... hate me. I don't care. Just don't fall asleep."
Wincing at the sound of his raspy voice, Gilbert carefully lifted Roderich into his arms and took a step backward. He could hear the faintest shouts on the other side of the door and they likely only had minutes--perhaps seconds--before the passage would be opened again. The ship was their only hope. "Just keep listening to me... I'll have you help soon. I promise. The awesome me will never let you down." He turned and sprinted down the hall, babbling endlessly in German about anything and everything he could think of. What the ship looked like, how big it was, what was on it, how they controls worked... anything.
As he ran, it was only the sound of Roderich's breathing that managed to drown out the voice hissing in his mine. Failure... it murmured. You failed. You couldn't protect the one person important to you in your pathetic life. You deserve to be back with those Russians, to have them tormenting you, torturing you. You have no place as a bodyguard. You've failed yourself. You've failed Frederick. You've failed Roderich and your little brother. You're a failure... useless.
No... Gilbert protested weakly, pushing the voice as far back as he could. I haven't, I didn't... I-I'm too awesome to fail. He'll live. I'll make sure of it. I... he...
And he kept running, praying that the end of the passage was close.
|
|