Divided World Chapter 7
By: Ketsurui


Trowa ran his fingers through his bangs and released a deep sigh.
It had been a day since he'd thrown the foreign prince, Quatre, out of his
home, and he'd felt guilt eating away at his mind ever since.
*What I did was right,* he told himself again and again, but there
was still that lingering feeling that he'd wronged the man.
*In any case, it wouldn't have mattered how I'd treated him, since
I'll never see him again.* Trowa rubbed his temples, feeling a headache
blossom. *Hopefully, things won't get any worse.* The young Lord Barton
looked up when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in."
Jocasta strode in. "Trowa," she whined, wringing her hands, "Father
and I need to speak to you immediately"
*Now what? My lands aren't big enough? We demanded too much for her
dowry?* "I'll be there momentarily." *Hmph. Hoping gets you nowhere.*
* * *
"You're what?" Trowa demanded, incredulous. "You're terminating our
engagement?"
Lord Vulpes nodded slowly and said "my daughter told me about your
little affair with that foreigner."
The brunet felt a sharp pang in his stomach. *Wonderful, and I
didn't think I could feel any worse about Quatre.* "What are you talking
about? How dare you accuse me of such things!" As he spoke, his mind was
racing wildly. *This is it. I'm going to lose my title and my lands, I'll be
ostracized, I'll have to wander or, Divine Beings forbid, become a servant...*
"She saw the man lay hands on you two days ago, and even kiss your
body." The older nobleman indicated, who sobbing loudly.
*Kiss? She must have added that for effect.* "That was-" he began
to explain, but stopped when Lord Vulpes held up a hand.
"Jocasta asked that I didn't tell anyone, since she did like you very
much, but I cannot allow your engagement to continue; I'm not going to take
the chance that your perversion would be passed onto *my* grandchildren." He
ignored the angry tightening of Trowa's face and continued "we'll tell your
father we received a better offer for my Jocasta. You are dismissed."
* * *
Trowa walked down a cobblestone sidestreet, his hands clenching and
unclenching at his sides, back rigid. He was hoping to avoid anyone who would
see his obvious anger, and try to exploit it.
*They won't tell anyone. Perhaps, but one of them might
"accidentally" let slip a few very obvious hints, even though I have done
nothing!* He sighed. *At least I am not promised to that insane witch
anymore; every cloud has a silver lining.* A rock bounced against the street
ahead, and he looked up to see an elderly woman trying to lead a donkey, who
had all four hooves firmly planted into the ground.
"Can I be of some assistance?" He called, unsure of why he felt the
need to help. When no reply came, he began walking closer, repeating his
question.
The old woman looked up at him and said "Ah! It is the young master
who doesn't believe in fate! Though perhaps it is fate that brought us
together today!" She cackled briefly, then hocked and spat on the road.
*The tarot reader.* Groaning, Trowa asked 'What are you doing here?"
"The cards told me something disturbing last night; I'm leaving
town, and I suggest you do the same, young master." She tugged at the bridle
and, amazingly enough, it moved.
*Leave town? And go where? What complete nonsense!* "I'll consider
that. One thing, though; your reading proved false. Nothing in my life has
changed, save for losing my fiancee." *Which I am thrilled about.*
The tarot card reader scrambled onto her beast, scrawny legs
flailing with the effort. When she regained her breath, and her dignity, she
drew herself up and dramatically said "The dawns holds infinite
possibilities. Know this: before the next twilight, you will find yourself so
lost that you'll never find your way back home."
Trowa snorted inelegantly. "Have a safe trip, old woman."
"And to you as well, young master!"
"But I'm not going anywhere!" The nobleman yelled as the woman road
away. "Unless you know something *else* I don't!"
"If I told you, it would spoil the surprise!" Her cackling could be
heard long after she was out of sight.
"As crazed as an old hound," Trowa murmured, smiling to himself.
Looking around, he spotted a lavish temple and began walking towards it,
thinking his mind could be eased by talking to one of the Religious Leaders.
Frowning, he paused before the bottom step. *No. I'm not in the
mood for the self-depricating blather they call prayer.* Running a hand over
his ponytail, he turned towards home as darkness fell around him.
* * *
That night, Trowa had a dream.
In his dream, he was standing in a circular room, the walls lined
with doors. They all looked the same, plain and painted white, save for the
one directly before him, which was the deepest blue and locked, while the
others stood ajar.
Finding a sword in his hand, Trowa immediately began hacking at the
door, pushing and kicking the wood to make a hole big enough to step through.
Another lay before him, and beyond that, another, each harder to break
After what seemed like a dozen doors, Trowa let himself fall to the
floor, panting and sweating. He was ready to give up, his arm too heavy to
swing his weapon, when he looked up to see what looked like a mirror just
inches from his face.
*Not a mirror,* he told himself as he stood to inspect it *but
simply pane of glass.* Curving a hand and placing it over his eyes, he looked
into the glass, but couldn't make anything out.
"Are you ready to see?" An ethereal voice asked.
"Yes, show me," Trowa replied. As the words were spoken, it was as
if a curtain was lifted. When he looked this time, he could see a
white-shrouded figure.
*I must know who it is!* Holding his breath, he pressed his palm
against the surface, eyes widening when it passed through. Shaking, his
fingers closed around the veil that covered the face and tore it away.
Blue eyes opened, and their owner smiled. "Hello, Trowa."
"Quatre! How do I get you out of here?"
Quatre's fingers brushed against Trowa's palm slowly. "There is
only one way; you know what it is."
Nodding, Trowa withdrew his hand and retrieved his weapon from
where he'd dropped it. Gathering his remaining strength, he swung the blade,
watching the glass shatter.
* * *
Trowa sat up, brushing away hair that had stuck to his sweat-soaked
face. *A meaningless dream,* he assured himself *because I was thinking about
him earlier.*
A little shaken, the nobleman pulled a dressing jacket on and left
his room with the intention of wandering the halls until he was tired enough
to sleep again. As he walked, he felt a slight rumbling under his feet.
Frowning, he stopped. *What is that? We don't get quakes in this part of the
world...*
A piercing scream rang out rang out in the still night air,
followed by a flash of fiery lightly.
Greatly alarmed, Trowa ran towards the front door to investigate,
but was knocked off his feet when his entire home shook. *What is going on?!*
There was a loud splitting sound, and Trowa only time to see the wall falling
towards him before his world was enfolded in a dark, bloody cape.
On To Chapter 8

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