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     “I’ve got it!” Chieko bounced enthusiastically. “Pictures! Just draw pictures!”

     “Pictures…” Kazuki’s face screwed up with concentration. “Yeah… I can draw pictures.”

     “Great! We should get started.”

     Chieko and Kazuki were crouched over notebooks, gripping pencils, and preparing to start on some heaven-sent correspondence with their families.

     The night before, Yukiiae had been surprised to find the GelbFaust crouched beside a tree stump, sniffling miserably and wiping her face on her sleeve. The sight of the unfailingly cheerful girl in such a state shocked the Decameron. For a moment, she could do nothing but stand unnoticed in the darkness. Finally, compassion overwhelmed her, and she moved closer, saying,

     “Chieko, what’s the matter?”

     The GelbFaust started and whipped around, forcing a smile.

     “Nothing really.”

     Seconds later, a sniffle gave her away, and she was unable to check the tears that filled up her eyes.

     “I miss my dad!” she wailed.

     Yukiiae crouched down beside the distraught Chieko. A moment later, the GelbFaust was crying onto her shoulder. They remained that way for a couple of minutes, Yukiiae lapsing into a role she was quite accustomed to. It is a Decameron’s duty to aid the suffering, heal the wounded, cure the ailing. She whispered soothing, formless words while Chieko cried herself dry.

     “I’m sorry,” the GelbFaust whimpered finally. “It’s just… just, he must be so worried and sad. Maybe he thinks something really bad happened to me. I don’t… don’t want him to feel that way. He’s a good dad. He doesn’t deserve to suffer.” The tears returned momentarily. “All he has is me and my brother. He never even blamed me when mom died. I know he misses her. Now what if he thinks I’m dead, too?”

     Yukiiae was silent for some time, then smiled down upon Chieko.

     “I can help you.”

     “How?” sniffled the GelbFaust, wiping her face on her sleeve once more.

     “If you write a letter to your father, I can have it delivered for you.”

     “But Harata said we can’t send letters. The HeadHunters will trace the post.”
     “We won’t send it by mail… not regular mail, anyway.”

     “Do Decameron’s have their own mail?”

     “You might say that. Kind of like air mail.”

     “But… but letters don’t fly.”

     “No, but our mail carriers do,” Yukiiae said with a laugh.

     “What, like birds? Birds can carry mail?”

     “Yes, Chi. I can ask one of the birds here to carry your letter to Mianuus.”

     “Wow, really? Really, really? I can send a letter to my dad?”

     “Yep.”

     “Thanks, Yukiiae! Gee, I wish I could do cool stuff like talk to animals. Did you hear about that crazy ‘soul-walkie’ thing Blue can do?”

     And so, Chieko’s cheerfulness was fully restored. The following day, she announced her plan to write a letter to anyone who would listen. That was when she learned a very startling thing about her companions. Most of them had no families… or no contact with their living relatives.

     She’d known better than to ask Harata, who’d already told them he didn’t know anything about his origins, but most of the others had reacted with a coldness she couldn’t understand.

     Ayame had simply smiled a far-away smile and said ruefully,

     “My family is gone, Chi. My parents… died… when I was a child.” She’d looked at Mina then, a momentary seething anger visible in her velvet brown eyes.

     “I don’t know where my parents are,” Blue had said. “They gave me away to my master when I went to study in the temple. I have never spoken with them since. Perhaps I have siblings somewhere… or perhaps not. It is not for me to know.”

     “But… don’t you miss them?”

     “Our time together came to an end. It was a parting of joy, rather than sorrow. I must move through my time with a focus on greater things. All relationships are temporary, after all.”

     He truly did not seem disturbed that his parents had given him away, as one might do with an old possession, no longer useful. As usual, his face betrayed no emotion. Chieko turned to Takaeyama.

     “How about you?”

     “I don’t… we don’t… No, they don’t want to hear from me… not anymore… not for… a long time.” His voice was choked, and he looked only at his hands in his lap, hands that twitched with nervous energy. Then, apparently overcome, he stood up and stalked away into the trees.

     “Sorry…” Chi said to the space where Takaeyama had been sitting.

     She’d approached Mina next, passing Keisuke on the way. As she passed, she glanced at him, and he looked up.

     “I heard you talking to those two,” he jerked his head toward Blue. “Don’t ask me. My parents are dead. Good riddance to them… and you will be, too, if you drag their memories from the abyss again.”

     “OK.” Chieko found it difficult to repress a shudder. The Angemal gave her the creeps, no doubt about it.

     Mina had laughed at her, looking up only momentarily from her book.

     “No thanks, kiddo. Rather not.”

     Kat had given her an icy look, then stated in her very coldest tone,

     “I don’t think it would be wise to contact any of my circle, although I thank you for asking.”

     Sighing, she sought out Kazuki.

     “Yeah, I want to write to Marii, and Riku, and Natsuno!” The Pantagruel’s enormous smile broke out like the sun shining through clouds. “I can tell them about being a Champion, and about you guys, and everything! I bet they wonder where I am.”

     It wasn’t until they sat down to work on their letters that Kazuki remembered that he could neither read nor write… and his wife was equally illiterate.

     Camp was a far more comfortable affair after their stop at the Decameron outpost. Yukiiae had provided tents and bedrolls, lightweight backpacking stoves and dishes, food, and water filters. She’d even given better fitting clothes to Ayame, and a pair of hiking boots to Kat.

     The Empirian had at first considered refusing the gift. Who was she to take handouts? A quick glance at her ruined shoes and a memory of the painful, throbbing blisters on her feet forced her to change her mind. Is this what I’ve been reduced to? She asked herself for the millionth time. How many days must pass in which I’m forced to eat my pride as my breakfast?

     Now she sat around the lantern, another handout from the Decameron, only vaguely listening to the meeting going on around her. Meetings were always tense, each Champion seeming to have his or her own agenda. Harata’s ideas were constantly bordering on the radical, his continued scorn of Clan Codes and boundaries causing more strife between the Champions who already held deep mistrust for one another. It could be argued that some Champions were adjusting better than others to the “new regime”. Chieko seemed able to talk to anything with ears, and had finally convinced Ayame to cease calling her “miss”. Blue, in his constant, stoic manner, did whatever Harata bade him without complaint. Kazuki, though with entirely different motivations, did the same.

     Others did not find the relaxation of ages old boundaries so easy to swallow. Keisuke was the most vocal of the opponents to Harata’s radical ideas. He terrorized the other Champions regularly, threatening his revenge. Mina scoffed and questioned in her cynical way. Kat herself found it difficult to accept her role within the group. While it seemed such a beautiful idea- all working together equally toward the greater good- it was impossible to go against the principles which had held up the structure of her world. Though her lonely spirit ached for the comfort of warm companionship, her wounded pride continued to force her to stand apart.

     Miserably, Kat attempted to focus on the business at hand.

     “And so, we’ll be moving south pretty soon,” Harata was saying. “This brings up a serious logistical problem.” He looked around at the assembled Champions, pausing for a beat. “The south is highly populated. It’ll be easy for the HeadHunters to track us down, as we’re sure to be spotted.”

     “So, what do you suggest we do, ‘Fearless Leader’? Shall we give up on the idea of traveling to Kinumi?” Mina’s voice was cold, as was the laugh that followed her words.

     “No. We have no choice but to travel overseas, and for that we’ll need Chieko’s yacht. I propose, instead, that we prevent ourselves from being turned in.”

     “And how are we going to do that?”

     “We need to rally people to our cause. When I was arrested in Mianuus, the police enforced a Media Gag. They were afraid of what would happen if the people found out that a Clanless Diasminian had been discovered. People will know, will find out, that the time of the Legend has come about. We can use their fervor to our advantage. If we are merely criminals in their minds, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn us in… but we are not criminals. When they know the truth-“

     “And how do you intend to tell them? Do you plan to go door to door in every town? ‘Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but I’m the Clanless… so please don’t tell the cops I’m here, ok?’” Keisuke joined Mina in sniggering.

     “I intend to hold a press conference.”

     The Champions were silent, staring at Harata.

     “You what?” Mina blurted eventually.

     “I got the idea from Chieko’s letters. If we can communicate to the Media, we can call a press conference. We can let people know about us. Sure, not everyone will believe, but-“

     Hysterical laughter cut through Harata’s words. For a moment, Keisuke seemed unable to repress himself, roaring away coldly. Finally, wiping tears of mirth from his frigid, ink-black eyes, he said,

     “By the gods, you are such a fool! Please, by all means, alert my Clan to our whereabouts. The Angemal cry for your blood, ‘Clanless One’,” the Commander’s voice dripped sarcasm. “The wolves will descend upon your motley little collection of ‘Champions’ and annihilate you all. When that day comes, Clanless, let me assure you, I will not die in dishonor!”

     Harata sighed, his already taxed patience with the Angemal depleting even further.

     “Yes, Keisuke, I am aware that alerting the Media will also alert the Angemal. I am also aware that when we face the HeadHunters again you intend to betray us.” There was a gasp from Chieko. “I let the consequences lie on your head. We need people to harbor us. No one will unless we make it known that we are Diasminion’s Champions. My plan is not without risk, but I believe it’s better than allowing each county we cross to remain a bed of snakes!”

     Chieko stood up as soon as Harata had finished, her wide green eyes laid imploringly on the Commander.

     “Keisuke, you can’t!” she cried out. “You won’t really b-betray us, will you? You- you can’t!”

     “I care very little for what becomes of this little enterprise. I can do whatever I will, and I am content to let the ‘consequences’ be what they may.” Chi felt Keisuke’s eyes bore holes in her own, dark things burrowing into her mind.

     “B-but-“

     “Chieko,” Harata’s voice was firm, “let it be. If he has chosen his path, we’ll do nothing to dissuade him.”

     Slowly, the GelbFaust sank down into her place. She looked dully at Blue, who had begun to speak.

     “This is a very risky plan, Harata. Keisuke is right. If we meet with the Media, the Angemal are sure to learn of it. The Media has a… uh, relationship with the Clan. Without a doubt, the HeadHunters will be informed.”

     “I- I think,” began Yukiiae timidly, shrinking from the faces that turned to look at her. “It’s not such a bad idea. People always look for something to believe in. From- from what I’ve seen, people will want to believe.” She pointedly looked away from Keisuke, who was glaring at her with malice. “The HeadHunters are going to find us anyway. At least, that’s what you said.” She turned then to the Commander, matching his stare of hatred with one of defiance. She could not hold his gaze, however, and looked away, shivering.

     “I think Harata’s right, too,” piped Chieko in an effort to be helpful. “I think people will want to believe in us.”

     “The Pantagruel will,” stated Kazuki, a devout gleam in his eyes.

     “Takaeyama, what do you think?” asked Harata, turning to the Corduran. “Your Clan makes up the Media, doesn’t it?”

     “I don’t know what my Clan will do,” he said without emotion. “I don’t know them.”

     “You’ll have to be very convincing, Harata,” Blue stated. “The Media may not want people to think you are truly the Clanless.”

     “I’m going to get some help. At least, I hope I am.”

     The Champions all looked around at one another. Help? What help?

     “Kat,” the Clanless addressed the Empirian suddenly, “you have a lot of experience working with the Media, don’t you?”

     “I- I wouldn’t say a lot, but… yes, quite a bit, I suppose. You’d turn to me for help, then?”

     “I need you. You’re the only one who’d know what to do.”

     Kat was silent, pondering. My help? Suddenly, the idea of being needed, being truly indispensable, warmed within her. Here was this man, this powerful, fierce man, begging for her aid. It was true- none of the others would be able to handle the Media. She knew she could. The Empirian realized she’d have to make a choice. Where does my allegiance lie? She looked up at Harata. He’d promised to protect her. He’d use his physical strength to keep her safe… Here was her chance to repay that vow, to use her own skill to protect him from the vultures that lay in wait. However… were she to do that, she’d be condoning his ideas. I have a responsibility, she thought. I am the true leader here. Daughter of the First Order gazed unflinching upon the Clanless son, saying coldly,

     “I’ll need to consider it.”

     “Alright,” Harata answered, exhaustion creeping into his voice, “I can understand that.” No, I can’t. “Here’s what we’ll do. Should Kat agree to help, we’ll have the press conference. If not, we’ll just take our chances in the south. I guess that’s it for tonight.”

     The Champions rose and scattered, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Chieko gazed at Keisuke, her innocent heart easily read in her expression. You can’t, she thought. Please. The Commander, shooting one last venomous glance at Harata, strode off into the trees. The others went to bed, or seemed to.

      I’m scared, Yukiiae told Kinjal. I’m so scared.

     You don’t have to do this, you know.

     Yes, I do. You heard what he said. Maybe, if I-

     He could kill you.

     I know that, Kinjal! You’re not helping.

     Do what you will, then. We rabbits know better than to play with wolves.