Well, hello there, it's been a while ne? :) Uff, well here's something new. . . it is a 'Prisoners' sequel technically, but as I said, you don't have to read it to figure this fic out.

Now, there is a catch - since I don't completely know where I'm going with this one, or if I'm going anywhere at all, I need YOU to review and tell me do you want to read more. So please, don't be shy to hit the REVIEW button. No point in writing if no one's reading ne?

Dear Feye, this is the reason I had no time to read your new fic - that will be corrected now. Thank you for patience and everything. ah you already know all I want to say. :)

Ah to all the sweet ppl who reviewed 'Regret' - thank you very, very much! *transforms into a groovy butterfly and flies happily away*

Nope, don't own Esca or any of its characters

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NOBODY SAID IT WAS EASY

"NANI!?"

If Gatti were among his comrades now, he'd put up a bet; 10 to 1 that glass items standing on the table will be shattered by the end of this conversation. He was already surprised the thin delicate glass containing wine didn't crack from sheer power and annoyance in his commander's voice. Only, Dilandau was beyond annoyed; he was outraged and Gatti was here alone, with only see-through sheet of paper between him and Dilandau's glare.

Knowing he's walking on ever-thinner ice as seconds passed, the second-in- command cleared his throat before turning eyes back on the report he held up -

"Respecting the Duke of Freid's dying wish, prince Chid and the Freid court handed over the Sealing Sword to Zaibach as requested. With that ends every need for further hostilities. . ."

"I heard what you said the first time baka!"

Gatti, unnerved by threatening edge in his commander's words, struggled to keep his voice even -

". . . You are to accompany Vione to Mystic Valley and, from this moment on, dealing with Escaflowne is solely concern of my two agents and their guymelef units. . . "

In one swing of an arm Dilandau snatched the scroll from Gatti's grip and threw it against the wall with all his might. Gatti was left with mouth open and ripped remains of paper still in hands and in front of his face, as he watched the scroll somehow appear across the room, slam against a wall and slide down into hungry flames of an open fireplace.

"How DARE you!"

The Slayer mustered courage for furtive glance in Dilandau's direction; he wasn't referring to him. The captain, wide-eyed and fuming, deadly glared at the devouring fire and what was left of the paper scroll and its wooden frame.

"Uragirimono. . . (traitor)" - he softly mouthed, captured by miniature inferno. For couple of seconds nothing in the room could be heard apart from quiet cracks the fire made in gluttonous dance. As soon as the flames consumed paper and died down, Dilandau moved as released from spell, his brain again calculating coldly and efficiently. The moment of solemn praise had ended and issues of more practical nature had to be taken care of.

"You are next!" - he lowly growled like a promise of another feast to fire as he turned back to his subordinate. Gatti snapped to attention, making a conscious effort to keep his gaze up. He assumed Folken's decision would irk his captain, but this was far worse than he had expected. Personally, he was relieved the fighting ended with no casualties among the Dragon Slayer unit for it was clear the emperor Dornkirk would spare no man, be it his or the enemies' soldier, to get what he wanted. Gatti silently prayed for strength to survive this last truly dangerous encounter with his leader.

It was more and more obvious that lately Dilandau was driven by and listened only to own raw instinct of revenge rather than to general Adelfos or Folken's orders. It was a fact Dilandau never even bothered to hide but the Slayers, loyal in every way, did their best to keep it all 'in the family'. Of course, Folken was no fool. Gatti felt he'd breathe a lot easier once the elite's services were no longer required and they were allowed to leave the Vione and supervision of Folken's keen eye. He hoped Dilandau wouldn't do anything rash but, knowing his commander, he also knew Dilandau would find no price too high to mend his wounded pride.

Pale as a ghost, Dilandau paced in caged-predator strides back and forth before Gatti, seemingly taking no notice of the soldier. The second- in-command recognized the meaning of that body language; the captain was far from being contempt. And worse yet - he seemed to have a plan.

"Yes!" - Gatti flinched in surprise when Dilandau finally turned ignited eyes towards him. "To hell with Folken and his orders! First, we're going after that scum. . . .".

Gatti inwardly wondered whom exactly did his captain have in mind. List of people that had crossed his path grew considerably since this war started, not that it was ever short to start with. The second-in-command guessed it though, the moment Dilandau raised a hand to his right cheek.

"No more. . ." - he pushed through teeth to no one specific - ". . . no more will that bastard be allowed to live." He was replaying the moment of his greatest shame and loss in mind, feeling forever disfigured, uneven skin through thin leather of his black gloves. Sensation of terror he experienced when a razor-sharp, cold sword tip hacked its way through his own flesh, now relived, made his fist clench so hard the leather seemed to shriek in pain. There was simply no death agonizing or slow enough for Van that Dilandau could think of.

"B- but sir" - Gatti hardly believed he dared to open mouth - " we are specifically ordered to stay. . . "

"Iikagen ni shinasai! (that will do!)" - Dilandau barked out only few inches away from Gatti's face, but the soldier took it stoically and a wise move he made. Glaring straight in dark sapphire eyes for two long seconds to assure the second-in-command he'll tolerate no further interruptions, Dilandau finally moved away. "After that" - he continued if firm, cold voice - "we're returning to Vione, to pay that traitor Folken back."

From Dilandau's point of view Folken was an accomplice to Van's unforgivable crime - Strategos literally handed his bratty brother the sword! Not to mention his treason of Zaibach empire was solely bad enough for capital punishment. Dilandau didn't want to be bothered with accusations and trials; he'll simply save everybody some time and make it look like an accident. The pale man grinned; the great Strategos will soon experience that fences of Vione's hanging bridges aren't what they used to be.

"And after we deal with him, we have another traitor to take care of. . . That devil woman!" - for the first time Gatti agreed with his captain. He still remembered, too vividly than he'd like to admit, that incident between Ryuu and Miguel he unintentionally witnessed. One of his own Slayers to be seduced by an opportunistic merchant of her kind! Since she left, Miguel was somehow just not the same. Gatti still didn't get a chance to 'talk' to him about stupid ideas the Slayer might be getting, postponing everything after the war's over. Now, he thought he'll just skip the talk and take the pleasure of killing her in front of Miguel's eyes. That ought to teach him some lessons about priorities and win Gatti approving glances from his commander.

Gatti faintly smiled, too faintly for Dilandau to notice, as the blue-eyed Slayer watched him with unhidden awe. His commander and his methods taught him so much. Gatti only hoped he could one day be just like Dilandau-sama was now; a perfect soldier.

"Go get the men! I want them in 'melefs and ready in 15 minutes!" - Dilandau ordered, grinning widely. He could already feel the smell of scorched meat and melted metal, and every nerve in his body turned hypersensitive in a blink of an eye. "Tell them to drop everything and go!"

"Yes sir!" - Gatti connected boots and turned on heel to leave. As he was waiting for the door to open, from behind came Dilandau's vioce -

"Don't worry, this will be far simpler even than a practice session. Tell them they'll be back in time for dinner." - although Dilandau laughed throughout the last sentence, Gatti couldn't help hearing an ominous tone in his voice. The second-in-command shook irrational cold dread off and rushed to Slayers' dormitories. His Lord always knows best.

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(Setting: episode 14. The Dragon Slayers unit, led by Dilandau, is flying to intercept Escaflowne.)

Gatti: Commader! Commander Dilandau!

Dilandau: What is it?

Gatti: Miguel, sir. . .

Dilandau: What of him?

Gatti: He broke the formation, sir, and is headed north in full speed. . . He's not responding to any of my calls sir. Should I go after. . .

Dilandau: No! We have more important things to take care of first! Leave him! . . . Maybe his 'melef malfunctioned or something. . . We'll deal with that later. . .

Gatti: Yes sir!

By the look on Miguel's face when he reported Lord Dilandau's plan to the Slayers, Gatti knew Miguel would make some kind of trouble. He didn't guess he'd go this far and this soon though. Baka! Selfish fool! Gatti could bet his balls that Miguel's guymelef didn't malfunction nor did his navigation system break down or any of that crap. Miguel did this purposely and he just had to desert them when Lord Dilandau needed him most! The blue eyed Slayer clenched teeth - 'Dammit Miguel, you'll pay dearly for this!'

As the flying units rushed towards their target, a single thought led on minds of Dilandau's elite soldiers - make their captain happy. 'Yes my Lord. . . ' - Gatti inwardly promised - ' . . . I will bring you Van's head no matter the cost. Today, you will smile again. My life for you!'

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"No, no, NO!" - Dilandau pushed his red guymelef with full power forward, staring over shoulder at scaffold that used to be a peaceful mountain plane until few minutes ago.

'What happened? WHAT WENT WRONG!?' He didn't dare to call their names anymore, knowing - dreading, there will be no answer. Escaflowne didn't follow having been brought down by a mysterious force, but that somehow wasn't Dilandau's gravest concern at the moment. He felt fear, but not the controlled, reasonable emotion - instead, what he experienced was raw, unfiltered urge to run and hide in the deepest, darkest hole he could find. Shaking hands barely held the mecha above treetops and sweat was starting to blur his vision.

Dilandau could smell his own fear.

Such a feeling. . . . such a horrible, familiar feeling. He didn't even know he had it in him; until now, until he remembered. A sudden impulse turned his hand and guymelef, off the course. He cannot go back to Zaibach! It is no safe place to run to! Dilandau was far beyond comprehension of possible consequences his unauthorized and disastrous conduct could provoke there. No, he remembered it was Zaibach that created and inflicted that basic fear and pain in the first place!

"Noooo. . . . " - Dilandau moaned like he begged the haunting memories not to return. The impulse to curl up in fetal position finally prevailed and he let the controls go, desperately trying to push away mecha's lid and get out. The lack of free space started to suffocate him; it was an unbearable feeling of being imprisoned he just couldn't deal with anymore. He was lucky the 'melef was not high above ground when it started falling and that it crashed on trees that cushioned its fall. Dilandau got out, ran a few meters before he fell down to hands and knees, feeling he'll throw up.

As fresh air silenced vertigo in his head, Dilandau sat and deeply inhaled - of course there was nothing to throw up since he couldn't remember when was the last time he had eaten a decent meal. He glanced over at his trashed guymelef.

"Fuck! That one doesn't look operational" - he quietly commented, feeling like a complete idiot for losing himself like some rookie or a panicking woman. Angrily running fingers through hair, he looked around to check the Sun and two Moons. There were enough hours of daylight to get somewhere civilized on foot, if he knew where to go. Luckily, he remembered to have seen, through haze of terror as he fell, something resembling a town near by, to the north.

Irritated, he walked over to still steaming crashed unit to see if there's anything left worth taking. He couldn't believe he'd have to go on foot to some dirty little town and ask, no - demand, for somebody to take him back.

"Such a nuisance this whole. . . " - then he remembered how and why he really got here and coldness started to find its way back into his hearth.

"Munousha (incompetents) . . . all of you. . . " - Dilandau sounded unconvincing as he took the sword off his side and cut a piece of guymelef's giant cape to serve him as a long cloak. He didn't want to think about what happened because he didn't want to fight the sickening feeling once again. All he knew was he couldn't afford to collapse in the middle of nowhere with all sorts of wild animals and thieves sneaking around. Moving would help him focus on something else and so, he started walking through thick vegetation.

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By the time he reached the suburbs, it was already dusky. It had taken him longer than expected, much longer. Dilandau didn't feel hunger or sore feet; all he cared about right now was a horizontal, undisturbed place to rest. It occurred to him along the way that he had no money with him, but his temperament was so dulled by shocks and effort he lived through that he just couldn't care about anything anymore. Any floor would be as good as his satin bed right now.

Having found a quiet little, dead-end back street, Dilandau leaned his back against the wall and let his body slide down. The sword clinged attracting attention as it hit the floor somewhere underneath the long fabric he wrapped around himself, but the silver-haired man was already half-asleep, keeping hood low down over his face.

The first thing he felt was somebody's hands roughly frisking his clothes, looking for money pouch.

"What the hell!?" - Dilandau somehow managed to get his feet underneath him before receiving a rock-hard fist straight in face. He saw it but with muscles so strained and tired to barely stand, he had no chance of dodging it. He got hit and for a moment everything went bright white, then red - until he discovered he was kneeling on the floor and that redness was blood from his own nose.

"So, we have a fighter here" - a man's voice above him laughed, but with no warmth. "I thought you were just an ordinary drunken beggar in rags when I saw you slumbering in the corner. You do smell of vine my friend" - the foreigner laughed on, looking at the entrance of the street to see if there were any unwelcome onlookers.

Dilandau held his jaw, moving it left - right to see if it's been dislocated or even more severely injured. He found he could talk and that was a good thing. . . or not?

"Fuck you!" - he raised enraged red eyes and glared at the hooded, unshaved face laughing from above. Man's expression changed to frown in a second. Dilandau went for his sword, forgetting he had an improvised cloak on top of his uniform. Ironically, he thought it would make him look unsuspicious and actually help him. The man raised foot and kicked Dilandau under ribs with knee. It hurt like thousand hells and the already kneeling solder started falling face down.

Dilandau managed to get palms between him and ground, and was just able to balance so, on palms and knees, and try to get some air into his system. Something in front of him clinged, but all sounds were muffled and reality far as he fought for breath. Even if he could have found strength to open eyes and try to see what was going on, it wouldn't have helped much since the hood fell over his silverish head, almost to the floor.

"Well, well, well" - the man's voice seemed distant and unreal - "some quite nice piece of jewelry you have there my boy." His eyes lit up as he picked Dilandau's fallen tiara - "This looks like gold! And what is this stone? A ruby, . . . or a pyrope maybe?"

Dilandau tried to say something but when he opened mouth, bright red blood trickled down to stone the street was paved with. This cursed day just couldn't get any worse. Maybe it's better to die here, like a dog, than having to eventually look back and face . . .

"What do you think you're doing?" - a third voice abruptly ended both Dilandau's inner and robber's stream of thought. The ruffian turned to street entrance -

"Look lady, this is nothing of your concern so why don't you just go back to your kitchen. . . "

"Give it back" - the woman didn't bother to let the robber finish. Dilandau on the floor desperately tried to work some way out of here while his torturer's been distracted, but in his state any plan working seemed like a miracle. At least, crookedly he grinned, he'll live a few seconds longer that that foolish woman.

"P-put that down miss, you might hurt. . . " - the man's voice trembled in surprise and. . . fear? Dilandau could hardly believe what he was hearing, but was too drained to lift head and hood to check out what was really going on.

"Give it back!" - this time her voice was not just an imperative; it was a clear threat.

"Now look. . . " - not even letting him finish the sentence, the woman 's small crossbow made a quiet 'click' and an arrow took hood clean off the man's head. As the fabric fell down his back with tiny arrow still protruding from it and his mouth dropped open, she nimbly and skillfully placed another one in weapon in her hand and aimed again, this time lower - right between the man's eyes.

"Deeds, not words!" - the voice was cold and uncompromising. The robber, having no real alternative, dropped the tiara and ran past the woman like he's seen a devil. She quietly snickered looking after him then walked toward half-broken figure. Genuinely she thought it was some old man but after hearing the robber mentioning expensive jewelry, she couldn't help wondering what would some rich woman be doing here, wrapped in ragged fabric. The long cloak looked as if it had been half-burned, torn, driven through mud and kilometers of forest.

Moving her dark hair from face, she knelt in level with the hooded head. Whoever it was, he or she surely needed some help; small puddle of blood on the floor grew, slowly but stubbornly with every drop. The body figure of the person hidden by fabric clearly wasn't female though, and presence of a piece of jewelry on the spot suddenly sparkled uncertain unease in the dark- haired woman.

She started pulling hood up with one hand, as the other reached for the telltale tiara on the floor.

"Sir are you alri-. . . . . . . . oh shit. . " - she recognized him before his face was fully revealed. The second the silverish hair that hung freely was visible, her heart skipped a beat. This was just not happening.

"You. . ." - was all Dilandau managed to whisper before blanking out cold.

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Ufff, have to end a chapter somewhere :). Please review cos I need to know if you're interested in further developments. Arigatoo