The Alliance - 1. Chapter 1

Alexandre Di Coteau sat in the field, wistfully looking down a hill at a mass of flowers that ranged from a deep plum to bright red, and every color in between. The reds and purples were outlined by black, or what looked like black. In reality, the stems and leaves of the flowers were a dark green, that only made the overgrown plants look like they were patriotic to Nabius. Bitterly, the general’s son squinted at the ground and ripped up a handful of flowers to reveal a patch of black, wet earth below. Just like everything else in this damned country. The more black and red he saw, the more Di Coteau knew that he would never escape a life plunged into the depths of those grisly colors. Red, for the power in our hearts and veins, and the remembered blood of our valiant fallen. Black, for the stealth that we possess, and our fearlessness in the darkest of times. Alexandre thought this saying would be more appropriately revised to “red, for the blood we shed, and black, for the color of our souls,” but that did not matter. He was one in hundreds of thousands in Nabius, and national values had always suited him well.

In the Nabian region, might and power were the only things of value. A strong or dangerous person was more worthy of living than a weak one. Nabius was a strong nation, and the weakness that surrounded it was revolting to the people and leaders. Thus, the war began years ago. Though Nabius had rarely ever seen peace in its entire existence, many of its neighbors had before the war. Landlocked, Nabius was just off-center of an island continent, bordering Ironia to the west, and Tomacia to the north and east. South of these three great nations were inconsequential, small provinces that were governed by regional kings and leaders. The provinces boasted little to trade and sell, and the soil was not good for growing in most areas. Because they relied on the three greater nations for their livelihoods, many provincial lords and monarchs had bent the knee to Nabian invasions early on. Of course, Nabian forces never often occupied any of these small kingdoms or towns once they were conquered and pillaged. They simply weren’t worth holding, and their uses did not to extend beyond blooding new soldiers or extracting small pockets of wealth. Alexandre's uncle was involved in the tribal politics of some of the area, but that was about the extent that he knew of the area. Some of the port towns were still held in the interest of trade with some of the other great kingdoms, but Nabian interests truly were in expanding rule throughout Ironia and Tomacia.

It was not purely in the interest of conquest, but unity, that the general leaders of Nabius sought dominion over the two great territories. Rather than primitive systems of kings and queens whose children could take over rule without qualification, Nabius pushed for a climbable ladder of power. Those with ability reached command. It was quite simple. Thus, Nabius was the only of the great countries to lead by military rule. There were thirteen great generals, each of whom commanded one region of the black and red country. They represented the thirteen swords that pointed inwards to form a circle on a black and red banner that was the standard of Nabius.

One area of Nabius bordered both Ironia and Tomacia both, at the northernmost part of the country. The Di Coteau family, headed by powerful generals each with dangerous and legendary feats to their names, governed the three regions that comprised this zone. These were critical to the defense of the nation, as a breach in these upper regions could result in a charge down south to the Nabian capital. Nabius was vaguely pear-shaped, and the uppermost part of the country was vulnerable to attack from three different sides. Thus, the most prolific generals were given control of the regions that made up the tip of the nation.

Darion Di Coteau was the general of the northernmost portion of the tip, the larger of the three regions. His brothers Damien and Devan completed the trio, and the family held one of the most significant chunks of land in Nabius. Feared and respected by all under his command, and continuously aided by his equally ruthless brothers, Darion was able to execute pointed moves on the field of battle and struck hard each and every time he made moves in the game of war. He rose to power when he was only 24, after being appointed to fill in the place of an aging general that had lost some of his command. The council of thirteen appointed him in recognition of his feats on the battlefield with Ironia. By all Nabian standards, there could not be a more deserving man. Darion Di Coteau was enormous. At 6’2, he was of an average Nabian height – his body mass was what distinguished him. With thighs the size of small trees and arms strong enough to lift a medium size man by the throat, General Di Coteau ensured that nobody could look him in the eye without fear. His kill count was prodigal, and he took pride in needing custom armor to accommodate his hulking size. By the time he was 40, he had conquered all adjacent Ironian regional lords, and at one time or another had each of their heads displayed on pikes among the walls of his manor. Most of them he had collected himself.

By Nabian standards, Darion Di Coteau had not been disappointed by his only son Alexandre, either. Though General Di Coteau had originally been disgusted by the size of his offspring once he reached puberty, he eventually came to realize that Alex was a dangerous and to-the-point warrior. His being a mere 5’9 did not hinder his skill with a blade, or any weapon for that matter. In fact, Darion came to find that his son had almost no emotion, and eliminated enemies in quick, lethal bursts of steel that made him proud. There was no prouder moment than when Alexandre single-handedly took down an Ironian regional king at the age of 17. By slipping past a host of guards undetected and leaving a bloody path of men with slit throats in his wake, Alex had been able to secure a kingdom that was distracted with a small, sacrificial troop of Nabian soldiers that feigned attempting to breech a weakened wall. The plan had been Alexandre’s entirely, and it had worked with great success. Actually, both of General Di Coteau’s children were prodigal. Much like her older brother, Talia Di Coteau was smaller than the average Nabian, but was likely just as worthy of Nabian power. Though she was still in academy training, Talia’s ability to seduce and retrieve information were impressive. They were only equaled by her abilities as a warrior and assassin. Talia had been the youngest Di Coteau to master several weapons at the age of 14 in accordance with academy guidelines – she could hit one hundred out of one hundred throws consistently with daggers, her weapon of choice.

Thinking fondly of how he could use his children in the upcoming year, General Di Coteau sat at his massive black desk, pleased to be able to simply look over some correspondences for the day. When his study doors slammed open and Alexandre strode across the marble floors directly towards the colossal desk, the General frowned. Looking at the icy expression on his son’s face, General Di Coteau’s eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on a dagger under the desk.

“Father,” Alexandre said.

“Yes?” came the gruff reply.

The two men, one 47 and the other 19, faced off in silence. They looked similar, both with pale faces, black eyes, and black hair. The general boasted two lines of silver that flowed smartly from just above his ears to the back of his head. His hair was slicked back in typical Nabian fashion, unlike his son. Alexandre was not large, but was still muscular in a lean sort of way. His hair was soft and did not usually get pushed backwards off of his forehead except in formal events. Instead, his silky black locks were free and unruly, bangs ending in a graceful curve that flipped up as it flowed to the left. Alexandre’s face was just as stony as his father, though his dark eyes shone with an intensity that was often unnerving to people. It was with those eyes that the cold teen had looked on so many as he took their lives, bolstering his kill count and showering himself in Nabian glory. His delicate yet lethal and – almost – innocent features were marred by the slight downturn in his eyebrows, the result of a scowl at the patriarch of the family.

Darion suspected that he knew what this was about, as he had just given his son a marriage order. He was to marry an Ironian noble lady, aged 16. Marion Monciet was the daughter of King Irving Monciet, who had controlled a northeastern Ironian region. This, of course, was before Alexandre had captured and destroyed it. The people there were discontent with the Nabian treatment of their late king, and grudgingly accepted Nabian occupation. In forging this marriage, Darion could solidify his hold over the region of Ironia that his son had so quickly claimed after graduation from the academy.
The two stared, neither willing to break the silence. Eventually, Alex gave in.

“I slew her father and brother.”

One eyebrow cocked, Darion asked “and…?”

Narrowing his eyes further, Alexandre looked across the desk at his father.

“She is taller than me. It is an embarrassment.”

“Your natural height is an embarrassment” the older man replied coolly. Looking back at the papers on his desk, Darion clearly expected his son to leave. After several moments silence, Darion noticed his son was still there. “Was there something else?”

“I prefer the company of men to women,” Alexandre replied.

The two sets of charcoal eyes locked once more, and General Di Coteau merely said, “I see.” The room was completely still. Neither man moved, and Alex briefly wondered if he should be prepared to defend himself. After several more moments of cold silence, General Di Coteau continued. “If I would have known, I would have made a better match for you, according to your preferences. However, this pact is final. You do not have a say in the matter, and it is essential that you go through with this marriage in order that our grasp on the Monciet region is secure. Though it pains me to pledge my son a woman as defeated as Marion, I have no doubt you will do your duty to the black and red banner. She can also provide you with children, though I’m not sure your… physical attributes... are worth passing on. Perhaps in a few years, once the people have been settled, you can set her up to have an accident. Then you may choose a match in a stronger partner, one whose alliance does not leave you the sole defender of your household.”

Seething, Alexandre mulled over his father’s words in silence. Any sound he made would have bounced off the marble floors and walls, upsetting the dangerously balanced atmosphere existent between father and son. How was he supposed to deal with a weakling of a bride, and calm a people that knew nothing of power or strength? Ironians didn’t even keep track of those they had killed. For all he cared, his wife could have an “accident” on the day of their wedding. However… his father was not to be tested. Disobedience was punishable by death. Though he doubted this was a possibility for the son of a general of the thirteen, he did not think he could beat his father in combat and therefore did not test his limits. Eyeing the monstrous war axe that his father kept on display near his desk, Alexandre's features twisted into an expression of rage.

“I’ll be in the bloodlilly fields if you need anything else father” he spat out with a glare. Abruptly, he turned on his heels and strode across the massive study out into the main hall, slamming the doors behind him. As he walked, the black cloak he wore billowed around his spiked boots. Darion frowned. He did not like the idea of his son frolicking in the floral fields on the property, even if they were ones that could be crushed to make a lethal poison.

***

After turning through a door that led to the outdoors, Alexandre stopped and leant against a marble pillar, one of many elaborate structures that covered the outdoor courtyard walkways in the middle of the manor. He looked down at the ground, frowning as his forehead touched the back of his hand, which was in turn resting on the pillar. He knew that his life was resigned to the customs of black and red, but he had hoped in marriage, just maybe…

“Bad news?” a sweet and cruel voice purred. Alexandre turned around and was met with the gaze of Talia Di Coteau. As was the custom in Nabius, Talia’s hair was maroon, the color of blood. Most Nabian citizens had black or red hair, and those that didn’t chose one of those colors to transition to. Normally, Talia allowed her hair to fade, and left it a pale pink color. That, or she had her dye made from only the palest bloodlilly petals. It served her well, bringing out her emerald eyes that were framed in heavy black make-up. All in all, this young woman was beautiful.

Alexandre looked her up and down, noticing that she was wearing a dress of all things. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate, braided pattern at the back, and onyx studded it in many places. Her bronzed skin was marred by a single, shallow cut on her left cheek. Alex assumed that his sister had gotten it during some kind of exercise at the academy. That was normal – the attire was not. Talia had delicate features, full pink lips, an attractive body, and was the desire of most every man in the manor. Most stayed away from her though, as she typically donned the black, lightweight mail and scale-plate of a Nabian assassin and would undoubtedly not hesitate to get back at anyone she felt that had wronged her. Violently.

“Why are you dressed up?” Alexandre asked. The kitten that was his sister looked him over again, speculating and calculating.

“I am being presented to a suitor today. The General intends to match me for marriage, much like you. I can see that you recently found out about your own pairing.” She paused. “I have no doubts he will withdraw his offer after our meeting, though.” She smiled, revealing gorgeous white teeth befitting a queen.

Alex laughed. “Good luck,” he said to the woman who was two years his younger, but his equal in height.

He knew that she was probably right. Even being her brother, Alex sometimes had difficulty in determining whether or not Talia was more likely to plant an axe in his face or a kiss on it. No suitor would be a match for her. Though if a man could not best his daughter in unarmed combat, Alexandre doubted that General Di Coteau would allow for his daughter to match with him anyway.

Sighing at his sister’s luck as she walked swiftly toward the office he had just come from, Alex moved towards the bloodlilly field. Rethinking his route, he remembered that new imports of prisoner-of-war slaves from recent battles on the eastern Nabian-Tomacian border were arriving to be assigned for work around the manor. He decided that he would stroll by the slave encampment instead, and see if there were any worth using as training partners. At the very least, there might be some to cull from the ranks. That wouldn't be a fun task per se, but after the day Alex was having, he thought he might release a bit of tension. The encampment was considerably far removed from the main manor, requiring Alexandre to move across the main lawn of the place. After walking through the outer gate of the grey marble building, he turned to the left, down a rocky path that led towards a clearing near the entrance of the forrest. To his luck, several of the men and a few of the women were in the slaves’ combat arena, being tested for their skills with wooden swords, axes, daggers, mauls, and spears.

Quietly, Alexandre perched on the viewing bleacher behind the master-at-arms for the castle and the head slave master. Smirking, he realized that the two had not even noticed his approach.

Turning his gaze to the current match, he watched intently.

The taller woman in the arena was good. She was huge, coming in somewhere around 6’2 or 6’3. When the slave master shouted for the two in the arena to hurry up with the fight, she stalked over to the small man in the corner of the arena, who was crouched over in fear. Alexandre noticed the man shaking, and it looked as if he may have wet himself on the sand. Pitiful, he thought. This man had likely never seen a single fight in his life.

When the bulky woman turned to express her confusion at what to do with this opponent, the slave master simply yelled “GET GOING!” The woman sighed, and picked up a cudgel lying amongst the fake weapons rack. Her muscular arms brandished it well, and Alex could tell that she had been trained in the use of clubs. In an instant and with a loud crack, it was over. Two slaves came to drag the small man’s unconscious body out of the arena. The woman turned and took a seat on a nearby bench, amongst several other slaves that looked like they had been a mixture of farmers and warriors. In all likelihood, Alex thought, they had been at some chokepoint and were captured as one big lot. Hopefully the farmhands will be more useful than they are in the arena.

Bored, the master-at-arms called “NEXT! You and you.” Two men stood, and both turned to face the slave master. Alex nearly stood himself, gazing openly at one of the men. In every sense of the word, he was attractive. Very Tomacian, but very attractive. Alex looked up at the man, who must have been 6’3 or 6’4. His light brown hair looked soft to the touch occasionally fluttering at the pick-up of the wind. It had just a slight wave to it, and was only complimented by a smattering of similarly colored freckles across the cheeks and bridge of the nose. Bright blue, Tomacian eyes glanced at Alexandre, and his lips were set in a soft line. Beneath that, Alex noticed a hard, muscled torso and large arms that looked like they had definitely seen combat. The man had a scar on his left forearm, and he looked nervous but powerful when he met Alexandre’s eyes. It was almost like this slave knew who he was… but maybe the fact that he was wearing red and maroon clothes of the nobility helped with that.

“Master Di Coteau! I’m so sorry, we didn’t notice your approach!” the slave master said nervously, obviously expecting some kind of reprimand.

From his higher step on the bleachers, Alexandre looked down with a distracted “That’s quite alright, Gibson… I would like to see these men fight.”

“Of course sir,” the man replied. “You two. At it. Now.”

Now THAT is the kind of person for me to marry, Alex grumbled internally. The man was powerful and dealt devastating blows, but was not too slow either. He seemed lean enough to dodge quickly, and his parries were good. After having the slave master make him display his prowess with all of the other weapons left on the wooden rack, the young Master Di Coteau was decided.

“You there, what’s your name?” The slave turned to face him, and Alex held his breath.

“Carli – Carlin, sir.” The smaller man looked him over with a critical eye, and turned towards the master-at-arms.

“Have Carlin in my practice courtyard tonight. This man may shape up to be a worthy practice opponent.” Alexandre turned to face the attractive man, slightly frowning. He knew that he had taken on enemies much larger and likely much more dangerous before. Most of them were not alive to confirm. Glancing again at the larger man, Alex hoped that he wouldn’t disappoint. “I hope.”

“Right away sir,” the proper gentleman that was the master-at-arms replied. Jamison Hadeaux had trained Alexandre since he was a child, and the man was a whiz with every weapon imaginable. It was only after Alex had turned 14 that he had outgrown his old tutor and needed more advanced and lethal guidance. This, of course, was in addition to the training that the Nabian academy gave daily in the art of war.

Satisfied that his detour had turned out to be somewhat of a success, Alex turned to move towards his favorite spot in the bloodlilly fields with only a quick glance behind at the slave. Startled, he turned around with narrowed eyes. He could have sworn that he saw the man named Carlin give him a confident, even condescending smirk. By the time he looked back, Gibson and Hadeaux had the man engaged, and Carlin seemed oblivious to Alexandre’s whereabouts. Alex’s mood darkened and his black eyes smoldered. Another impetuous look like that, I’ll cut that handsome grin right off of your face, he thought.