L' Chevalier De La Malchance
By Rob Barba

_La Fillette Revolutionnaire Utena_ (_Shoujo Kakumei Utena_, _Revolutionary
Girl Utena_) characters are owned, trademarked, and etc. by Chiho Saito and
a whole bunch of other people.  Of course, I'm not one of them.  Which is a
shame, really.  I think it would be nice to have some sort of profit in what
I do, as would you all, but I suppose that's not likely to happen, is it?
But I digress....

Other intellectual properties belong to their respective creators/owners.
I'd tell you what they were but I'd like it to be a surprise.  I will give
you one example, though: _The Cantebury Tales_ copyright, etc. Geoffrey
Chaucer, who has been dead for at least a few years now and is not likely to
complain about the use of his work herein.  ^_^

SPOILER WARNING: this series takes place after the end of the whole
series...and I mean the *whole* series, though there are no plans to use
elements of the movie.  If you are familiar with only chapters 1 ~ 13 of the
series (Vols 1 ~ 4 of Software Sculptors' videos), then you may want to take
a backseat on this one.  Otherwise, enjoy.

Additional Credits: Sword and Duelists' canticles courtesy of _The Utena
Encyclopedia_ (http://www.duelists.tj)

@}>---`---,----

"Tell me who admires you and loves you, and I will tell you who you are."
-Charles Augustin Sainte-Beauve


@}>---`---,----
Une:  And So It Comes to Pass

Paris, France
March 09, 200X

    The warm atmosphere of the restaurant was fine, despite the bitter cold
of the spring rain.  It was a dreary and empty day in the city, the cloudy
sky adding new shades of gray to the aged dinginess that was Paris, France.
Though the weatherman had claimed that it would clear up by mid-morning,
that turned out to be a sham.  It had grown so dark, one could scarcely make
out the Eiffel Tower as it sat in the distance, watching over the city not
unlike one of Notre Dame's gargoyles.
    Fortunately, the chosen location, an elegant restaurant in the
Champs-Elysées district, was a suitable compensation for the weather. Les
Saveurs l'Hiver was a beautiful dining experience, one that most tourists
tended to avoid because of the rather significant size of the bill.  They
had an excellent wine cellar, and the service was beyond compare.  Oriel
thought it almost a decent compensation, not only for the weather but also
the fact that her longtime associate was running late once more.
    Oriel was a stunning woman in middle age.  Despite the stresses of her
life, she managed to keep her looks and figure, all without a care in the
world.  Her classically beautiful face was clear of age, and setting her
perfect cobalt-blue eyes and cyan-shaded hair.  Dressed in an elegant dress
and furs, she was the perfect picture of poise and cool at the table.  One
might figure her to be a model or an actress, and certainly not what she
truly was.
    Oriel turned to a rather nondescript man seated next to her.  "Where is
that blasted woman?  She is always so damn late to these meetings, Hervé.  I
can never understand why she cannot ever--"


    "--make it to these meetings on time," a voice announced behind her.
Dropping into the seat next to her and across from Hervé, was a woman far
younger than Oriel, and possibly far more beautiful.  She had long amethyst
hair and eyes that were a startling blue-green, though they were covered
behind a pair of eyeglasses.  Her skin was a honey brown that seemed as warm
and kind as her personality.  Her face was indescribable, a beautiful
mixture that hinted at possible Oriental ancestry somewhere in her
bloodlines.  She wore a turtleneck, sweater, and black jeans--something
typical for the young woman.
    "About time you showed up, Rose," Oriel said.  "I took the liberty of
ordering the usual for you."
    "Why thank you," Rose intoned in gratitude.  "I would have been here
earlier, but I had to run an errand for my employer."
    Oriel nodded, lifted a glass of wine to her lips, taking a brief sip.
"And just how is Chevalier?"
    "As well as can be expected, I suppose," Rose said in a vague,
disaffected manner.  "He's performing a task for other clientele at the
moment, so I'm having to do a lot of personal errands for him.  He can be so
demanding sometimes, you understand."
    The older woman nodded.  "That I do, Rose, that I do.  But as much as I
enjoy chatting with you, time presses me to be more expedient."  She leaned
forward and said, "My employers would like to contract your, um, 'agency',
for a special operation, one that requires a slight deft touch that your
employer has."
    Rose gave a warm smile, though Oriel knew the girl well enough to know
the truth of that smile.  "And what does the French Intelligence Directorate
want with the world's best thief?  Could it have something to do with the
Guerre du Monde?"
    Oriel sighed.  "I should have known you'd figure it out--five years
we've worked together, and you never cease to amaze me, Rose."
    "So, your government's still determined to hunt down every member of
that organization?"
    "Rose, they blew up the Louvre, killing 700 people and destroying a
third of the building, several priceless statues and paintings, chief
amongst them the Mona Lisa.  My daughter and granddaughter were among those
killed in the blast.  The French government wants to see Guerre du Monde
brought to justice.  I want them dead."
    "I'm sorry to hear that, Oriel.  You have my condolences.  I know what
it's like to lose a loved one."  Rose's voice was sincere and true, and when
Oriel's eyes looked into Rose's, there was no mistaking that the girl had
once been witness to something very terrible.
    "Thank you, Rose.  I appreciate your caring."  Oriel bent down, reaching
into her purse and pulling out a sizable envelope, handing it to Rose.
"Well, as you may already know, the Guerres are now working on global plans.
In the past few days, every NATO capitol has been placed on a higher
security level, and some of the other nations, such as Russia, Australia,
and Japan, have also taken extra precautions.  The Guerre feel that the time
to start their global agenda is soon...very soon.
    "As our current assessment goes, they are operating a local cell from
the Streissen Building in downtown Munich, Germany.  We have reason to
believe that the Mondes are planning their latest terrorist attack from the
74th floor of that building--Munich is within striking distance of not only
France, but a German air force base, a Canadian air force base, and an
American army base.  However, because of the delicate situation, German
security forces are hesitant to seize the building, and because this is NATO
territory, the Americans and British would hardly launch attacks on it.
    "Allied satellite photos confirm that there is an enemy presence on the
74th floor of that building, but where on that floor is uncertain.  Our
analysts think that it may be the entire floor that is occupied.  We also
have reason to suspect that the pertinent data--maps, rosters, and the
like--is in a computer on that floor, as well as maps and such."
    Rose gave another of her beguiling grins.  "And you want Chevalier to
sneak in, steal the data, and sneak right out, handing the data to you,
right?"
    Oriel nodded in the affirmative.  "Once the data has been handed over to
us, it will be sent to NATO Headquarters in Belgium for further
investigation.  But as for Chevalier, we will do everything we can to
minimize the threat to him.  While he is attending to his mission, the
Americans will be staging a diversionary raid on the Guerre training camp in
Algeria."  At this moment, the meal arrived, and the three entrenched
themselves in their meals.  Feasting on a small quiche, Oriel added, "Guerre
du Monde is looking at targets other than France, so we must be proactive in
our cessation of their activities."
    Delicately picking at her own meal of duck l'orange, Rose sighed and
said, "This is going to be extremely dangerous for him."  The woman took a
small calculator out of her back pocket, and tapped a few numbers into it.
"Hmm.  That's going to be very dangerous, indeed."
    Oriel cleared her throat in a dainty cough, then said, "Our government
is willing to pay Chevalier the sum of ten million, half of it up front."
    Not batting an eye, Rose asked, "Euros?"
    "Francs, actually," Oriel replied smoothly.  "Overseas department
francs, from Nouvelle Caladonie."
    Rose *tsk*ed.  "I'm afraid it will have to be American dollars, or my
employer won't take the case."
    "Dollars?"  Oriel arched a slim brow.  "That's a bit much for this,
Rose."
    "So is asking Chevalier to walk into a deathtrap and wander out with
information that you have no proof is there."
    "He would be doing the nation of France a great service," Hervé said,
speaking up for the first time.  "Because of the current political
situation, no NATO country can afford to get involved with chasing terrorist
cells unless we have proof.  We need that proof without leaving too big of a
mess, and that will take the best cat-burglar in the world to obtain it."
    "And it would take a miracle to deal with the problem you place before
him.  I'm sorry, but it remains to be seen that such an issue would have to
be dealt with by professional troops, not Chevalier."  Rose took a sip of
her wine.  "What you're asking is a bit more than the usual request."


    Oriel sighed.  "Rose, I feel I must be frank.  Iolanthe was the finest
daughter anyone could have, and when she and little Adrienne died in the
blast, I felt so helpless.  They were my children, Rose--I know you have no
children yet, so you cannot understand what that means."  For a rare moment,
Oriel's iron composure was shattered by a lone tear trailing down her cheek.
"I retire from the agency next month after years of devoted service to my
nation.  I have Iolanthe's youngest daughter Yvette living with me, but how
can I look her in the face and tell her that I failed to bring her mother
and sister's murderers to justice?"  Oriel paused for a dramatic second
before adding, "I will throw in two million of my own money--in dollars--if
that's what it takes."
    Rose reached over took Oriel's hand.  "I see.  So is this truly about
justice, or revenge?"
    Hervé spoke for Oriel.  "Justice, no matter what."
    Rose nodded.  "I see.  In that case, Oriel, keep your millions and use
it for a college fund for Yvette.  I shall talk to Chevalier about taking
the commission for ten million francs."
    "But a minute ago you said he never would!"
    "This is a situation that requires justice.  This is not a normal
situation, and he wouldn't treat it as such.  He's not French, and while he
won't care for doing this for France, he would do it for a woman crying out
in help."
    Oriel lost her composure again as she gasped, "What?  He won't do it for
France, but he'll do it for justice?"
    Rose said, "Yes.  If you find that odd, let me explain, by way of a
little story:

    "Once upon a time, many years ago, there was a little princess who was
very sad, for her mother and father had died.  Before the princess, appeared
a travelling prince on a white horse.  He had a regal bearing and a kind
smile.
    "The prince wrapped the princess in a rose-scented embrace and gently
wiped the tears from her eyes.  'Little one,' he said, 'growing up alone in
such deep sorrow--never lose that strength and nobility, even when you
become a young lady.  I give this to you to remember this day.  We will meet
again--this ring will lead you to me.'
    "Perhaps the ring was an engagement ring.  Perhaps.  But the young
princess was so impressed by him, that she vowed to become a prince herself
one day.
    "But was that really such a good idea?"

    At this point, Oriel was about to speak, when Rose took a breath and
continued.

    "And many years later, the faux-Prince found herself in a battle she
never wanted, engaged to a person she didn't expect--betrothed to the Rose
Bride, the container of the Sword of Dios, which many duelists fought to
possess--both the sword and the Bride.  Nonetheless, though she knew not why
she fought, the faux-Prince struggled on valiantly and victoriously.
Eventually, she found a reason to fight: not for the Revolution of the
World, as so many other duelists had, but for the Freedom of the Bride, to
give that girl her own destiny...to free the Bride from the arcane slavery
she was in.
    "Eventually, the faux-Prince met her true Prince, only to discover that
it was a lie, that the Prince was nothing more than a Prince of
Make-believe.  Though the faux-Prince later sacrificed herself to save the
Rose Bride, she derided herself as a faux-Prince, a sham, a fakery.  But by
her actions, she proved to be truly what she aspired: a Prince amongst
Princes.
    "One of those there was a contemporary of the faux-Prince, now a true
Prince.  The Prince inspired that person with a sense of justice and
morality, a sense of heroism and honor.  That person swore to become a
knight, Chevalier, and to fight for all that would be right.  For if a
Prince can sacrifice for all, so too, must a Knight, in the name of the
Prince.
    "So in the end, the princess becoming a prince was not only a good idea,
it was the only thing that could have been done."

    As Rose quieted, Hervé, overcome by the awe of the story asked, "And
what was the fate of the rest?"
    Rose answered in a dreamy voice, "No one knows what happened to the
Prince, for she disappeared.  The Prince of Make-believe and the other
duelists continued to strive for the power of Revolution, denying the
truth--that they would never have that power.  The Rose Bride and the
Chevalier left in search of the Prince, determined that they would be
reunited someday.
    "That was a decade ago, and they've never forgotten the Prince.  Though
they stopped actively searching years ago, they have never given up hope
that they will be reunited with their friend on some shining day."
    Oriel gave a small smile.  "I suppose you're the Rose Bride, then,
Rose?"
    Rose gave a cheerful grin.  "I was, once.  I suppose someone else now is
the Rose Bride.  But yes, I am she who was protected by the Prince."  Rose
was about to say more, but there was a musical chime that suddenly sounded
from her watch.  Looking at it, she said, "Well, I must be going.  I have
personal affairs to attend to.  I trust that you will make the usual
arrangements."
    "Yes, of course.  Thank you, Rose.  I appreciate your assistance in
winning the talent of Chevalier."
    Rising from her seat, she replied, "No thanks is needed.  The Chevalier
would thank you, in fact, for a chance to right such a terrible injustice."
Bidding her compatriots a farewell, she stepped out of the restaurant, into
the street as a gentle rain began to fall.


    Walking to where she parked her car, Anthy Himemiya stared through the
rain of the Parisian sky and the tears that gently fell down her face.  "Oh,
Utena," she whispered, "will I ever see you again?"  The only answer Anthy
received was the gentle patter of the rain as she climbed into her Renault
and sped off into the distance.

@}>---`---,----

    A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of her small home in the
Parisian suburb of Créteil.  From her home she could see both the skyline of
Paris, and the equally stunning skyline of Disneyland Paris.  Stepping out
of her car, she wasted no time in rushing inside the house, in order to get
ready for her newest caper.
    As she walked down the primary hallway of her home, as always, she
stared at the pictures of her world, whether real or imagined.  Anthy
Himemiya, a girl with a mother from Monaco and a Japanese father.  Her
mother, related to the royal family, which made her and her brother royalty.
Her father, who she'd never known, who'd died shortly after her mother did,
leaving her in the care of her brother Dios.  Dios, whose dark and twisted
nature made him become Akio, forging the Rose Signet Code and all it stood
for.
    Of course their true natures were older than that, older than time upon
time itself, but the truth of it was that the magic that made her and her
brother who they were also made for a convenient covering of that, giving
them a normal existence while shielding a truth that was rather impossible
to comprehend.  Lies were, after all, much easier and less strange than the
truth.  Let the world believe that she was as young as she appeared.  It was
easier that way, anyway.
    She moved away from those frames, only to concentrate on one farther
away.  Nestled at the end of the hall, it held a place of honor, being the
most important picture of all....
    Tenjou Utena.  The only person that truly cared about Anthy.  Sure,
Saionji and Miki had been in love with her at one time, but only Utena had
gone the distance to free Anthy from the prison that was her own self.
Tenjou Utena, who disappeared while freeing Anthy despite Anthy's own
betrayal, and Utena's claim of counterbetrayal.  Tenjou Utena, a girl who
wanted to, and in the end, succeeded in becoming a Prince.  It was Utena who
sacrificed herself for Anthy's sake ten years ago.  It was Utena who gave
Anthy the courage to smash her shell, becoming the chick to leave its egg.
    Anthy ran her hand along the picture of ten years ago.  In it, both she
and Utena were still 14 (at least Utena was, at any rate), happy and
carefree and not knowing of the dark days that would befall them later on.
Not knowing that Anthy would spend five desperate years running around the
world trying to find her friend, the only person who really gave a damn
about her.  During that time, she'd done some less than savory things, and
as a result, no one really knew that Anthy Himemiya was not only Rose, the
assistant of Chevalier, but Chevalier himself, the world's most notorious
cat burglar.
    Anthy wasn't sure when she became the less-than-ideal knight, but she
knew why she chose the name: if Utena had become a prince in order to save
the Rose Bride, Anthy would become a knight to quest and search for her
noble prince.  Of course, real knights weren't notorious thieves, but then
again, the world was different than what Anthy Himemiya had first thought it
to be.
    Anthy wiped the tears from her blurry eyes.  She was 24 now (or so her
identification said), living far way from Japan and Ohtori Academy, far away
from the inane stupidity and warped honor of the Rose Signet Codes and all
they stood for.  In leaving on her own and moving into the world, Anthy had
developed her own sense of honor and code of morals, and that was where
things now stood.  It didn't matter that Anthy's eventual path took her in a
direction she could never have expected: that of a roué, a lady-thief; the
important part was that she was free to make that choice, not a slave puppet
to someone who could have dictated such a decision to her.
    Besides, Utena would tell her not to cry, that she was there for
her...Anthy could almost hear the words in her mind.  Kissing the picture,
she said, "Someday, together....  Someday I'll find you, Utena.  I promise."
Adjusting the picture, Anthy moved off into the hall.  She had a few hours
to get her things packed and ready to stay a few days in Munich.


    "Anthy," a voice said as Anthy entered the kitchen, "did all go well for
your meeting today?"  Seated over by the table was a young girl, no older
than eight.  She had blonde hair, red eyes, and freckles.  To some degree,
she bore a resemblance to the duelist Juri, though there was clearly no
relation.  Sitting on the table itself was another acquaintance, this one
much older.  He sat there, wolfing on butter cookies as though there was no
tomorrow.  Stopping momentarily, the animal chirped a pleasant sounding "chu
chu," before continuing on its eating mission.
    "Oh hello, Mireille, Chuchu.  How are both of you today?"
    "Well, I had a quiet day at school, my teachers feel that I am doing
well, though they keep complaining that I wear a boy's uniform.  Is that the
proper thing to do?" she asked.
    Anthy smiled.  "Normally, no.  But for people such as us, yes.  The
Prince rarely wore girls' clothing, and in the end, everyone realized that
it wasn't her style.  I rarely wear girl's clothing anymore, for it is not
my way, either.  As followers of the Way of the Prince, so you too must
follow the path."  After a second, Anthy added, "But only if you choose to."
Anthy had long swore that any bonds present would be ones of love and
loyalty, not a slavery of any sort--she would die before she allowed such.
    Miri nodded in affirmation, then continued.  "As for Chuchu, I can't say
I know what goes through his head."  As if to ensure that, the monkey took
four of the cookies and ate them whole, seemingly changing his body shape
from swallowing them.
    Anthy softly giggled at Chuchu's antics.  "Well, as to school, you must
keep up with your studies if you are to be my squire someday.  I have faith
in you, Miri.  I have faith that you will succeed.  But take care never to
blindly believe what others say, for they will lead you into a rose-scented
trap."
    Mireille was puzzled.  "When you say that, do you mean yourself as well,
Anthy?"
    Anthy sighed.  "Yes it does.  Though I will try to never lead you
astray, there may be times when I might be led astray myself--it has
happened before--and it will be up to you then to see through the illusion."
Anthy bent down and kissed the girl on the forehead.  "You will do fine,
Miri.  Just never give up on your faith."
    "So how did you meeting go?" Miri inquired once more.
    "I will have to go to Munchen for a few days," Anthy replied.  "The
government would like me to do something there in regards to...a problem
they're having."
    "Is it with terrorists?"
    Anthy gave her charge a puzzling look.  "Where did you learn that?"
    "I worry about you, Anthy," the girl replied sincerely.  "I don't want
you to get hurt."
    "Don't worry.  I won't."
    "How long will you be gone?"
    "I think about a week, in order to gauge their strengths before I go and
take that which the government so desires."
    "Are you leaving tonight?" the girl asked.  "I hope not.  I was hoping
that we could go to the movies."  There was a hopeful light in her eyes, but
there was also a sad certainty that Anthy would be leaving.
    Anthy saw it, and remembered a time when she was like that as well, cut
and drifting.  Certainly that was why she took this street urchin under her
wing and gave her a life.  Anthy was an older sister figure to the former
street urchin, though she treated her far better than her role models: the
Kiryus, the Kaorus, and her own brother--she suppressed the shudder on that
one.  If anything, she used her relationship with Utena as an example, at
that idea worked wonderfully.  Speaking softly, she said, "What movie is
it?"
    "Um, _Star Wars, Episode III_.  It just arrived in the theatres last
week," the girl replied.
    "What time does it start at?"
    "At the Cinéma du Champs at 8 pm."
     "Good.  We have time to have a nice dinner at Planet Hollywood."  At
the mention of that, the girl's eyes lit up like sparkling rubies.  "I can
wait until tomorrow to go; it's important, but not so important that I can't
take time off to spend with you two."
     Miri leapt forward, knocking over Anthy from the force of the hug.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Anthy!  I love you!"  The pair hit the floor,
while Chuchu ignored them and continued to eat.
    Anthy groaned softly, then mussed Miri's hair.  "Hmm...maybe I should
just start calling you 'Wakaba'."  Seeing the lack of comprehension in the
younger girl's eyes, Anthy said, "Never mind," even as she laughed at her
own joke.

@}>---`---,----

Munchen (Munich), Germany
14 March, 200X

    Five days later, Anthy sat atop the Remedios building in downtown
Munich, perched like a beautiful gargoyle for the fifth straight evening.
She was there, staring through night-vision binoculars at the 74th floor of
the neighboring Streissen complex, the only floor where there seemed to be
much action at this time of the morning.  There were guards that paced up
and down the length of the floor, and there were various security items, all
of which she had either dismantled or fooled.  At her side, a laptop was
currently feeding looped video information to the outdoor videocams, and she
was fortunate there were no laser readers or motion detectors.
    To add to their stupidity, she'd discerned that the equipment that she
needed was, amazingly enough, near where she would have to enter the floor.
It was in the middle of the hall, where people were carrying maps and Zip
discs and such into the room.
    ((Amateurs, or overconfident,)) Anthy snorted. ((I've broken into other
places that were more of a challenge.))  However well-prepared a terrorist
organization they might be, they didn't have any sort of talent whatsoever
for the skills of defending themselves against a well-trained professional
thief like her.  She watched through her NVBs for a couple more minutes just
to ensure the precision of the guards' patterns, then set down her gear.  It
was time to go to work.
    Stripping off her leather jacket, she checked everything to ensure that
all was in place.  Her black cargo pants held various items tools of the
trade that would get her through whatever situation that she was in.  Her
top was nothing but a typical sleeveless tubetop that would allow her
unrestricted movement.  She took off her eyeglasses, slipped them in the
pocket of her jacket, then took out a container for soft contacts.  Popping
the disposable lenses in place quickly, she paused for a second to make sure
that the last few things were in place, in particular her lone defensive
weapon.  Finally she slipped on a backpack that would be both her way in and
out of the building.
    That having been done, she walked to the other side of the roof of the
Remedios building, turned, took a deep breath, and sprinted towards the edge
she'd been at previously.  As she reached the end, without any apprehension,
she leapt off into the starry darkness of the Munich night.  About halfway,
she reached the zenith and began to fall, with the chance that she would
miss the 74th floor...and hit the pavement below, eight seconds from now.
Instinctively, she did a roll in the air, and reaching into her pocket,
pulled out a small, cylindrical device.  Hitting a button on the side, the
cylinder fired a spike with a rope attached to it, which firmly embedded
itself in the building's façade.  As the rope paid out from the backpack she
wore, she began to brace herself for the landing against the side of the
wall.
    The second her feet hit the side of the building, she wasted no time in
beginning to scale up towards the 74th floor.  ((Dropped down to the 70th.
That's not so bad; I suppose I could be in worse straits.))  She was lucky,
as the wind was pretty non-existent tonight, despite the elevation that she
was currently at.  Under normal circumstances, it would have been near
impossible, but the lack of wind resistance made the motion all that much
smoother.
    Hand over hand she began her climb, foregoing the use of her legs since
she wanted a lower profile.  Finally reaching the bottom of the window, she
checked her watch.  ((Ten minutes to go before the patrol comes by.))
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small, computerized item, about
the size of a beeper.  Placing against the window, she patiently waited for
a few seconds while the scanner worked on the functional codes to operate
the emergency window locks.  A second or two later, and she found herself
climbing into the window, while detaching the section of line that got her
there and fastening it against the side of the building via a spray
adhesive.  Just before entering, she attached a few more things as
additional security measures.
    Not bothering to check her watch, she moved as sleek and quietly as a
panther on the hunt, in search of her rather electronic prey.  Whipping
around the corner, she silently bolted for the room in the center, the only
room that apparently was in the center of the hall.  Judging by how the
floor was arranged, this room must take up about half of the interior space
of the floor.  Oddly enough, the door wasn't locked, which was rather
stupid; even if they weren't expecting something like this, a group should
be wary of subterfuge from within.
    ((Oh well, their loss,)) she decided as she turned the handle and let
herself into the room.


    What was revealed in the room was nothing less than stunning.  The room
was so pitch black, that Anthy thought for a second that she'd entered a
cave instead of a large room. Something felt oddly familiar about this
place, a sort of déjà vu that didn't quite jibe with reality, but she
ignored it after a few more seconds, instead focusing on the lone landmark
in the room: a desk framed by a halo of rose-colored light streaming from a
spotlight in the ceiling.  There was a large, round shape against the far
wall that Anthy could barely make out, but it wasn't too clear, so she
ignored it and made a move for the desk.
    Anthy approached the desk and looked at the laptop.  It was streaming
some sort of rapid data onscreen, faster than her eyes could follow.  She
let it flow for a few more minutes before stopping it with a quick tap of
the cursor button at the bottom of the butterfly keyboard.  As it stopped,
she idly noted that the display language was familiar, but she was too busy
to pay too much attention to that.  From her cargo pocket she pulled out a
portable hard drive and attached it to the laptop, beginning a download
sequence that would hopefully be finished before whoever had the computer
running returned.  If not, she would have to deal with him.  Idly her hand
went to where she usually kept her defensive weapon.  It was capable of
killing, but she never used it in that manner.  Such actions and thoughts,
even for someone outside the law as she, were clearly unthinkable.
    Torturous minutes went by as both portable drive and laptop hummed and
buzzed together in a choral duet, the blinking data access lights of the two
mated items becoming a symphonic, hidden code between lovers of a sort.
Faced with nothing to do other than to watch as the data downloaded from one
locale to another, she watched the screen as the data scrolled by at
blinding speeds, gazing at a technological mosaic of pixels and binary as it
did the molecular dance of technology.
    Then, as the DOWNLOAD COMPLETE button flashed on her portable drive, she
yanked it off, and began to head back the way she came.  Unfortunately for
her, fate was not as kind as had been on the way in, and she stepped on a
pressure plate that she'd just managed to miss on the way in.


    As the lights suddenly came on with a bright flash and a startled Anthy
cursed her own damned luck, she realized that they had no external defense,
mainly because this room was the only one that needed to be defended.  That
computer was daisy-chained in defenses, with only one clear path to it that
she managed to walk on in blind luck. Well, no time to self-admonish now,
she realized.  She would have to do that later--assuming, of course, there
was a later.
    Instinctively, she bolted towards the exit and ready to face opposition,
when something caught her attention--something startling enough to halt her
in her tracks.  Now that the room had been illuminated, she could see
exactly where she was, and what she was looking at completely stunned her in
a manner that had shook her to the very core of her being.
   The room that she was in was designed to be in the shape of the Duelists'
Arena, the floor being a gray and ash marble design of the Rose Sigil.
    ((Guerre du Monde?  Related to End of the World?)) she mentally gasped.
That couldn't be.  No way.  However, this was not the time to debate
possibilities, and as footsteps approached, she began to formulate escape
ideas in her head.  Whipping off her backpack in one smooth motion, she
raced back to the laptop, grabbed it and shoved both portable drive and the
computer into it, figuring that if she was going to go for it, she may as
well go for the gold.  Slinging the backpack back on, she raced for the door
just as it was opening.
    As the two guards burst in, they didn't bother asking and just
immediately opened fire, the room filling with the ozone stench of tracers
and the loud burp of automatic fire.  However, Anthy expected this and had
already hit the floor, sliding towards them.  In one move, she bowled one
over, then as the other dodged back, kippuped to her feet and let him have
it with a palm strike to the chin.  Before the second one recovered, she
turned and delivered a sharp kick to the head, putting him out as well.
    Two down, however many left to go.
    Racing out the door, she bolted out into the hall, dashing towards the
right.  She knew that they might be expecting her from that area, and that
from her studies of the blueprints, taking a right would offer the least
amount of resistance.  Jumping out the window right now would leave her as a
target for the few seconds it would take to make it to a safe zone on the
other building, so that plan was shot.
    However, it could still serve as a wonderful diversion.  Reaching for
her watch on her left wrist, she clicked a couple of buttons on the
underside in quick succession.  As she reached the corner, she could hear
the footsteps of dozens racing up in the direction of the window...
    ...as the limpet charges went off, imploding the window towards it
sending a spray of safety glass everywhere and causing the diversion she had
so hoped for.  As the vacuum effect commenced, two of the guards were sucked
out into the open air without the benefit of an eventual safe landing.
Additionally, the blast had also shredded Anthy's rope, stopping their--and
her--only means of escape.
    Or so they thought.  She wasn't that dumb.  Running the schematic
through her head, she opened the stairwell door with a shove and instead of
racing down the steps, which would take time, vaulted out into the vacant
center of it.  Free falling down fifteen flights, she twisted and caught the
railing, feeling a bone-jarring landing as she held on.  She pulled herself
up just as she heard a *"THERE SHE IS!"* punctuated by the lion's roar of
more gunfire raining down on her position.  She didn't stick around long
enough to see if they were following, instead opting for the door.


    Running down the hall, her footsteps clattering loudly against the
high-gloss marble floor, Anthy took one turn and headed for the service
elevator at the end of the lobby on this floor...
...and walked right into a trap.  Standing in front of her were several
inconspicuous men of all ethnicity and walks of life, all made in a uniform
image courtesy of black suits and enough hardware to perforate every
centimeter of her body.  Before them stood a man with short violet hair and
a lupine look in his almond-colored eyes.  He wore a white suit, and had a
golden rose pin on his jacket--the Rose Sigil.  He also grasped a polished
wooden cane in his hand, obviously a weapon of some sort, though it was too
early to tell what sort of weapon it was, whether knife, gun, or club.
Little matter, she thought, as he'd probably brandish it in her direction
anyway.
    "Little thief, I will be generous to you today," he spoke, his voice
cloaked by Dutch accent, "if you return what you have stolen, we will be
merciful and let you live.  You cannot know the true value of what is on
that hard disc, and we can ill-afford to let you go with such a treasure."
    Anthy bluffed while she ran a stratagem through her head: "Perhaps
you're willing to pay me the price my employer would."
    The man laughed gracefully, as though she was telling nothing more than
a pleasing joke.  "Oh, miss, I'm sure we couldn't afford as much as whatever
government is paying you."
    She gave a graceful shrug and replied, "Well, I'm afraid I can't turn it
over to you, then.  A working girl has got to earn her cash somehow, you
understand."
    Her opponent laughed gently and replied, "Well, miss, I'm afraid you
won't be able to retrieve whatever payment they were offering you."  Taking
his cane in hand, he whipped off the wooden portion, revealing a sharp,
glistening rapier.  "It seems your time has come to an end, madame."  Easily
sliding into the stance of a master fencer, the gentleman grinned.  "It is
such a shame that I must kill you now."


    Anthy stood there, arms akimbo, leaning on one leg and appearing to be
amused at the challenge.  After a second, she straightened herself and said,
"I think not."  Taking her hands, she raised them up towards her heart.

"O Roses of the noble castle..."

   A flare of light appeared between them, seeming to plunge into her body,
burrowing into her heart.  Those around her stood, transfixed by the
dazzling display of arcane power that was dancing before them.

 "...O Power of Dios that slumbers within me..."

    The light grew brighter and strobed, as though it was placing itself in
tune with Anthy's heartbeat.  From no clear location, the air began to fill
with the spray of petals and the cloying scent of roses.  A microcosm of
stars, or motes of mana, the molecules of magic, danced to and fro in the
room, an acrobatic display of fireflies in formation.

"...Harken unto thy master and reveal to us..."

    Without missing a beat, she plunged a hand into the light, into her own
chest.  The light, now spraying forward like a geyser, appeared to be as
some sort of gateway to another realm, a far-off place or a corner of
another dimension, perhaps.  Withdrawing her hand, she pulled out a long
sword as a spray of rose petals swirled around her, caught in a vortex that
started and ended from nowhere.
    Raising the blade to the air, the light dissipated, though some sparks
raced along the edge of the sword, reaching the top and exploding in a
pyrotechnic display of ebullience.  Holding that blade a lot like a holy
talisman, she sang out the final words of her chant,

*...the power to revolutionize the world!*"

@}>---`---,----

Ohtori, Kyushu, Japan
March 14, 200X

    Thousands of miles away in a prestigious academy in central Japan, the
bells on the northern spire of tallest school building began to toll.
Silent for about a decade, every head on the campus turned as the bells
pealed once more out into the world.  Created with no easy way to reach
them, the bells were not controlled by mechanical or manual means.  Some
said that it was just a recording; others said it was magic.  But there was
no mistaking the movement of the bells and the fact that they were singing
aloud on this bright day.
    On the northern end of the campus, a woman in her mid twenties walked
towards an unknown destination.  From the manner of her dress, she was
obviously a member of the faculty.  A little bit along her way, she
approached another woman her age, also a member of the faculty.  The pair
met in an open walkway, in front of a red marble fresco of roses and vines.
    "Have you heard?" one asked.
    "Have I heard?" the other replied.
    "Do you know?  Do you know?"
    "Know of?"
    "The bells!"
    "The bells?"
    "Yes! The bells!"
    "The bells that are singing, the bells that toll?"
    "The bells that have not pealed since a long time ago."
    "Why do they toll?"
    "Perhaps it is time."
    "It is time?"
    "It is time, and the puppets draw near."
    "And will they dance once more for the master that holds the strings?"
    "It is all a matter of who controls the red strings."
    "The red strings?"
    "Yes, the red strings."
    "Do you know?"
    "Do you know?"
    "Do you really, really know?"

@}>---`---,----

    Anthy slid comfortably into a kendo stance, holding her blade at a
forward angle, ready for combat.  The katana seemed to vibrate with power,
more like a living thing than a weapon.  And in a sense, it was.  She'd
learned a long time ago that the Sword of Dios, still within her after so
long, could never be at her beckon call.  It was an extension of her soul,
the part of her that she could not control.  In short, the Sword was not so
much a weapon as a slave collar for Anthy, and as long as she retained the
blade within herself, she would remain free.
    But six years ago, during a botched operation in Vienna, she was set
upon by a pair of thugs that were not just interested in retrieving the
stolen jewels she had, but something a little more personable.  Feeling no
desire to be raped by anyone, much less those two, she canted the old spell
that would bring forth the sword, but this time, she reached in to grasp it
herself, feeling that if there was anyone who had a right to control of that
sword, it would be her.  What she pulled out was not the Sword of Dios, but
something she'd long since named the Sword of Roses.
    By appearances, the Sword of Roses had the appearance of a collector's
weapon, a piece of art to be hung on a wall and never used.  A Japanese
katana, the entire sword, from the tip of the tsubo, to the edge of the
blade, was a highly polished gold, making it fantastically valuable.  The
tsubo itself was bound in a dusty rose-colored fabric, the guard ironically
a hollowed out version of the Rose Sigil.  On the pommel was a ruby engraved
with the Sigil, the same as which rested on her ring.  In truth, however,
she'd learned that the golden metal of her sword may as well have been
invincible, as there were few things that she found that the blade couldn't
penetrate.
    Looking at her opponent, she flashed her foe a smile, the grin a
composite of a wolf's predatory grimace and a genuine roué's smirk, as she
said, "And I think we are ready."


    The look of the blade did not go unnoticed.
    "So, our little footpad seems to be armed, and with a blade that bears
the Sigil," her opponent replied.  "You are not entirely who you appear to
be, madame."  He bowed gracefully.  "If I may be so bold as to ask of your
name?"
    "I am Chevalier," she replied, "and I wonder what you know of the Sigil
and what it stands for.  Now, then, sir, may I inquire as to you?"
    "Ah yes, you may, my Chevalier de la Malchance," he replied, earning a
baleful look from Anthy.  With a flourish, he bowed towards the young woman.
"My name is Wilhelm Van Dressen, but you may call me Wil, and I shall call
you to your grave!"  With that, he pounced towards Anthy, rapier darting
forth.
    Anthy merely flicked her wrist and blocked the blade in one easy motion.
Catching Wil's blade in an easy motion, she parried him away, then struck on
her own, slashing the blade in a furious dance that the young man had to
hustle to keep up with.  Sparks flew as the blades clashed in a sword combat
that enveloped many different styles.
    Feinting back, Anthy moved to her left and performed a reverse-handed
slash that brought her blade towards Wil's hands, a move that he was forced
to step away from.  Leaping back a foot or two, he snarled in a semi-jovial
tone, "My, you are good, miss.  It will truly be a shame to kill one such as
you."
    Anthy merely squinted her eyes like a lion on the hunt and moved in for
a second round of attacks.  Charging forward, blade in hand like a sunbeam,
she moved in for a strike.  All around her, the guards that had fought her
stared, mesmerized by everything she'd done so far.
    Wil himself knew that he was in for a challenge and not by an errant
person running around with a pigsticker.  Seeing her move, he followed suit,
picking up speed and racing towards her in a jousting strike, both
combatants headed towards a point where only one would win the day.

    He was expecting a serious challenge.

    She would give it to him.

    Just not in the manner he expected.

    A few feet from where they would connect, Anthy bounded into the air and
spun like a ballerina in flight.  Coming out of her turn, she noted that Wil
had not expected that and stared at her with complete confusion.  Seizing
her advantage, she came down on splits, golden blade slamming against
surgical steel and slicing through it with the efficiency of a laser though
paper.  There was the clang as the severed half of Wil's blade clattered
against the floor, giving Anthy all the distraction she needed.  The second
she hit the deck, she executed a foot sweep on her astonished opponent,
dropping him against the floor, where his head impacted against the tiling,
knocking him out.
    Knowing that wasn't going to be enough to keep them busy, Anthy
scrambled back to her feel while the guards were still off kilter, and
taking a couple quick steps, vaulted over one side of the ring of thugs,
while pulling something out of her pocket and releasing it.  The chemical
balls scattered in the air and crumpled as they impacted against whatever
they hit, producing heavy amounts of smoke, giving the young woman the
perfect cloak under which to escape.
   Footfalls tapping rapidly on the pavement as she ran towards the stairs
at the other end of the lobby, she heard someone cough, *"GET HER!"* as the
staccato rumble of gunfire began to sound off behind her again.  Turning
when she needed to and swinging her blade for what it was worth, she was
able to parry the few rounds that had come perilously close to hitting her.
But she couldn't do more than that if she was to escape.
    Reaching the end of the hall, she met up with another guard with a
shotgun.  The guard pumped once, then roared, *"DROP IT OR I DROP YOU,
BITCH!!!!"*  To prove her intent, the woman turned the gun to the air and
fired once, expelling the dozens of small balls into the ceiling, before
pumping it once more and leveling it at Anthy...
...who was already reacting.  As the woman had turned to fire it into the
air, Anthy reached into her pocket, producing another weapon to be used
against her opponent.  Despite what she was and what she had been, Anthy
never wanted to cross the line at killing.  People lived short lives, and
people in shadowy businesses tended to live even shorter; Anthy wanted no
part in being the one to do the shorting.  Retrieving her weapon, she
flicked her hand out, releasing it against her enemy.
    The matte black yo-yo lashed out, slamming against the woman's hand,
causing her to drop the shotgun; it clattered against the floor but
thankfully did not go off, as it landed pointed in Anthy's direction.
Flinging her sword away, she buried it almost to the hilt in the marble
wall, before coming up against the woman, who was rushing for the shotgun.
Dashing in close, she brought her knee up, nailing the woman in the chest.
As she gasped for air, the thief brought a chop down on the back of her
neck, taking her down.
    Finally at the stairs, Anthy retrieved her sword and slipped it into the
holding loop she sewed onto her pants for such an occasion; she didn't dare
banish it back within her, as she still might need it.  As she opened the
door, she got the shock of her life: the door that was marked as a stairway,
was in fact a janitor's closet; the blueprints had been outdated!  Looking
at the elevator at the other side, she saw that the cars were on the ground
level; they were probably turned off right now due to her situation, anyway.
    The small army of hired guns was headed her way, and there would be no
chance for a second escape, this time.  There were not many options outside
of fighting, which was suicide; trying to hide, which was pointless; and
trying to climb down the elevator shaft, which would make her a sitting
duck.  Right now, her fate was slipping slowly out...
    ((Slipping slowly out?))
    She looked to the window, which gave a scene of downtown Munich in all
its beauty.  She looked at the shotgun, which was still loaded and hadn't
fired.
    An idea germinated in her head, and as she plotted it, she grinned.

@}>---`---,----

    Wil ignored the thrumming in his head.  Damn the gods, but that woman
was a challenge!  First she managed to get into a heavily-guarded building,
grabbed his personal data terminal, then proceeded to outfox the majority of
the building's security detachment.  When finally cornered, instead of
capitulating, she used some sort of arcane magic and summoned a sword out of
nowhere.  She easily defeated him, a master swordsman, as though he was
nothing, and completely vexed the security.  But most important of all, she
acted as though she somehow knew about all of this--not just the building,
obviously, but more so who the Guerre du Monde was, and what they portended.
    Could she be a rogue member, perhaps?  A person, disillusioned with the
cause, turning against us?  She doesn't seem as though she would ever be a
part of our struggle, and yet there is too much symmetry in what I've seen
to discount that thought so easily.
    The smoke from her distraction was still present in the air, masking
which way she'd gone.  She could theoretically still be here, amongst them,
and simply walk off while their backs were turned.


    The roar of a shotgun went off in the distance, and without hesitation,
Wil ordered his men into the fray.  If he could catch that woman, maybe he
could find out a little more about her.  There was a burning question about
her that needs be answered, and the only way to feasibly do so would be to
get her.  Hopefully, she hadn't been killed in that shotgun blast and--
    Reaching the window, he noticed a sight.  The guard who wielded the
shotgun was still holding it, but was getting off the floor in a dazed
state; likely she hadn't expected the kick of the weapon--from the petite
size of the guard, who gave her such a gun, anyway?--and it likely knocked
her flat on her rear.
    But the rest of the story was told by the window, or rather, the lack of
one.  On what was left of the glass, there was a bit of blood, red, speaking
a sonnet of death.  It was so apparent that the woman had died, failing to
achieve her goal.
    It was so transparent that this was possibly a fake.  Wil didn't have to
look down to guess that; likely he wouldn't be able to see the impact of the
body from this high up, anyway.
    Turning to his men, he said, "Let us get to the ground level.  I won't
believe what I see until I see a body and the smashed bits of our stolen
goods.  Only then can I be confident that our little footpad did not meet
with success in her goals."  As he and his men piled into the nearest active
elevator, Wil thought oddly, that it was a shame that she might have died in
her attempt.
    She was, after all, quite fetching, and surely the most exotic thief
he'd ever come across.
    Pity, that she might have met such an ignoble end.

@}>---`---,----

    ((This has got to be,)) Anthy decided, ((the most exhilarating thing
I've done in a while. Not that I intend to do it again, but it does come in
handy.))  Clinging onto the blade, she slid down the side of the building at
breakneck speed, the blade buried to the hilt into the granite and concrete
of the Remedios building and cutting through it like a hot blade through
soft butter.
    She'd gotten the idea from an American comic that Miri loved reading.
Anthy smiled to herself, thinking that under normal circumstances, the idea
would be completely off-base. But then again, if it was good enough for Luke
Skywalker, then it was good enough for Anthy Himemiya.  Stifling a laugh,
she wondered if George Lucas had ever intended people in real life to act
like his Jedi Knights. ((But then,)) she thought, ((he probably never met a
Duelist, either.))

    It was madness.
    It was suicidal.
    It was something that no sane person would do whatsoever.

    Needless to say, it worked like a charm.

    Though the windshear buffeted her, it was actually assisting as it was
keeping her towards the face of the building somewhat, preventing gravity
and other forces of physics from making this into a one-way trip...not that
such a possibility still wasn't there. A huge groove would be seen in the
side of the building tomorrow, but considering the damage also included
several blown out windows and a small fire on the 74th floor, things could
be worse. She was actually rather surprised that no police or fire
department had responded to her little show. Admittedly, they were
supposedly ready to storm the building, but true professionals would cover
all the bases.
    Right around the fifth floor, she let go of the sword, aiming for the
field of flags that were just below. She wasn't afraid of losing her
soulsword, as it would come back to her--it always did. Still moving at the
speed of a cannonball, she flipped herself so she would be diving, and as
she reached the flagpoles, grabbed one and vaulted between the various ones
that ringed the building, trying to slow down her speed and maneuver to the
other side of the building. They were sure to be looking for a body, and so
it wasn't safe to stick around here.
    Once she reached the other side of the building, she built up speed by
circling several times, then flung herself across the street, taking time
only to grasp a traffic light and slide down it. Hitting the ground, she
bolted into the darkness, hoping that she hadn't been seen. Grateful to be
alone in the alleyway, she stripped off her clothing, then reached into her
backpack and pulled out a clingy, micro-mini dress, with matching shoes,
purse, and a straight-hair pink wig, smiling at that last touch. Within a
few seconds she changed, sliding laptop and portable drive into her purse.
They'd be looking for a thief, not some party girl coming home from a
nightclub.
As a last touch, tapped a couple of buttons on her WatchPC. Within ten
minutes, the incendiaries she'd left with her stuff on the building and the
one she tossed in with the clothes she just disposed of, would ignite and
destroy all evidence. She wouldn't be around to deal with it, though.
    Walking in the direction of the nightlife district, about five blocks
away, Anthy mentally filed all the information of what she'd seen tonight.
Something from her past seemed to rise up from nowhere, and she'd want to
know if said past was seeking her out.

@}>---`---,----

    Running out of the building, Wil and several of the guards saw no trace
of a body at all. They'd been expecting pavement pasta, but instead had the
sidewalk no dirtier than it was usually. The corpse had apparently gotten
the best of them, and gotten away clean in the process.
    Who was she? Wil thought, very intrigued by the woman.  She mind burned
with the question.  This was clearly no mere woman, no simple footpad.
There was far more to her than met the vision of loveliness that she
extruded.
   Laughing much to the confusion of his subordinates, Wil went back into
the building.  He had to report this to the upper echelons of the Guerre du
Monde, and perhaps they would have an answer to the enigma of this femme
roué.  He gave himself a secret smile and went into the elevator.  He needed
a drink, and perhaps one of the pliant female assistants that usually sat
around the office, bringing new meaning to the term personal assistants.
    Oh, what a day this had been!  But as he licked his lips in anticipation
of the hunt he would surely have against this woman, a new truth arose:
((Oh, what a hunt this shall be!))

@}>---`---,----

Brussels, Belgium
March 16, 200X

    "Here's the information you asked for, Oriel," Anthy replied as she
handed the older woman a laptop.  Though it was a different computer, the
hard drive from the original was contained in it.  Additionally, a few
DVD-RAMs were also handed over, which had the copied information that had
been on the portable drive.  Lastly, was a videotape of the original
computer shell, the portable drive, the PC used as the transfer interface,
and the DVD-RAM writer all being set ablaze and melted into smoky steaming
puddles of metal and plastic.  It was needed, both women knew, to satisfy
Oriel's superiors.  Oriel knew that Rose would neither need nor want copies,
and Rose repeated that Chevalier would never doublecross a client unless he
was doublecrossed first.
    In return, Oriel handed Rose a Minidisc.  "On this are the access codes
to the deposited account.  As per your request, it was deposited in the
Cayman account instead of the Swiss one.  As always, the French government
disavows your existence-- " a pointless statement, since the French really
had no idea who Oriel worked with, anyway, "--and denies any cooperation
with any internationally wanted criminals."
    The two women were seated in a little bistro in downtown Brussels, only
a short distance away from SHAPE, the main headquarters for NATO.  This had
been designated as their meeting point long ago, as many operations that
Chevalier had done for France had ended up here at the little
    Anthy nodded.  "So, what's next for you, Oriel?"
    The woman smiled.  "Well, I have a nice little chateau in Bordeaux that
I've always cherished.  I think I will be settling down there to raise my
granddaughter and write my memoirs.  That should be good for a few chuckles
amongst the well-learned in intelligence circles."  Taking a quick drag from
her cigarette, she added, "And what of you, Rose?  What do you plan to do
with the money?"
    Rose shrugged.  "I'll take my commission as always, and place the rest
in Chevalier's accounts."


    Oriel took one more drag from her cigarette and tamped it out, then
stared at Anthy for a few minutes.  Finally, she took a sip of her espresso
and looking over the brim of her cup, said, "We're done, you know, Rose.
You don't have to play this game of hiding anymore.  I don't intend to tell
anyone that you're really Chevalier as well as Rose."
    Anthy blinked.  *That* wasn't expected.  "You know?" she asked.
    "Young lady, do you know how many years of service I have had with my
country?  More than you can imagine, I'm sure."  Oriel reached inside purse
to reach for another cigarette, then thought better of it.  "I have been
with French Intelligence for fifty years now. I may look like I'm only in my
fifties, but I'm what one would call a 'well-preserved' lady--my real age is
77.  I've lived a long life.  Long enough to have a daughter, and watch my
daughter have children.  I've been very lucky.
    "Why am I telling you this?  Well, Rose, the sort of job that you do?  I
did it in the French Resistance in the Second World War.  I was the one who
scaled the walls and entered Vichy and Nazi buildings to get the information
that our troops needed.  They called me 'L' Revenant'--The Ghost--because
they could never, ever catch me.  I suppose I was lucky; in those days, they
didn't have the automated equipment that they have now.
    "Rose, I know that you have, by a rough estimate, some 75 million in US
dollars saved up.  You're young, what--in your early, maybe mid-twenties?
We are not at war, there is no reason to risk your life, especially when you
have a daughter."
    Anthy gasped.  How much did Oriel know about her?  Was she being traced?
She fought down a trace of panic.
    Oriel saw the flicker of fear in Anthy's eyes and in a calm voice, tried
to soothe the young woman's fears.  "Rose...Anthy...I know just about all
there is to know about you because I wanted to make sure you were safe.  Not
because of our working relationship, but because I see a lot of me in you.
You like to take risks, as though you're searching for something, and you're
willing to do whatever it takes to get it.  I was lucky because in my day,
there were less obstacles to get to the goal.  Nowadays, though, there's far
more to it than what appears.
    "You have a wonderful daughter, Mireille.  She doesn't deserve to lose
her mother because of an accident.  I had no such responsibilities like that
when I was your age.  Who will care for her if you were to die, Anthy?  I
know that you already leave her at home during your assignments.  What will
she do if you never come home?"
    Anthy didn't have an answer for that, but instead hung her head in
shame.  She'd focused on her jobs to pay for her search for Utena, so much
so that she'd gotten herself in a mobius that left Miri out of the equation.
She treated Miri very much like a little sister, but was that right?  Miri's
plea to her from two weeks ago was the plea of needing someone in her
life--the very selfsame cry that Anthy had made once, even though it had
been a different set of words.
    ((What am I doing?  My God, I'm becoming like...like....))  She wasn't
sure how to equate it.  Not really even aware of it, her eyes were welling.
((I took Miri off the streets because I wanted to give her better than what
the harsh world was giving her, and instead all I've done is put her in a
gilded cage!  I'm no better than....))  A sob escaped her lips, and she sunk
her face into her hands.
    ((I want Miri to have a better life than the streets. That's why I took
her into my life.  But what is the cost?))  Anthy shivered, and the tears
began to flow freely.  ((I know the cost.  I either end my search for Utena,
or I doom Miri to half-care, and the chance that I could die, leaving her
with nothing.
    ((But am I willing to give up on Utena?  I've searched for her for ten
years now!  But does that give me the right to make Miri suffer for my
mistakes?
    ((No.  Utena would never forgive me--*I* would never forgive myself--if
Miri were to suffer because I'm too busy tilting at windmills to take care
of a young child.  I'd be treating Miri little better than Nanami treated
Mitsuru way back when.  That's not fair to her, and she doesn't deserve
that.))
    Crying a river of tears, Anthy choked on her own words: "Oh, Miri, I'm
so sorry...."


    "There there, child, don't you worry.  No harm has been done to your
young child yet."  Oriel reached into her purse and produced a small travel
box of tissues.  "Here you are.  I know how you feel; I feel that way for
losing my own child.  Don't let it happen to yours."
    Anthy took the tissues gladly, putting them to use immediately.  Between
sobs, she said, as though asking for confirmation, "It's time I retired.
It's time I took care of Miri."  Silently, she added, ((and time I gave up
on searching for Utena.  I'm sorry, Utena, but it's something I have to do.
I only hope that you'll understand.))
    "Yes it is, Anthy.  Yes it is."  The older woman gave a smile that
seemed beatific and enlightening; a female Amida Buddha dispensing wisdom.
"Go.  Go from here, child.  No one knows who you really are, and I will take
your secret to my grave.  If you truly love that child of yours, this must
be the final mission of Chevalier, Anthy, the final task of Rose."  Rising
from her seat, Oriel made ready to leave. But before she did, she gave Anthy
a card.  "If you ever need help, give me a call."
    "I will, thanks."  Anthy then added, "I'd offer the same, but I don't
believe I'll be living in the same place.  I think it's time I settled down
somewhere."  With a knowing grin, she added nonchalantly, "Besides, I'm sure
you'll be able to find me anyway," punctuating her words with a mischievous
wink.
    Oriel went to the sidewalk as a nondescript Seat pulled up; Hervé was
behind the wheel and waved to Anthy, which she merrily returned.  Reaching
for the rear passenger door, she said, "Well, no offense meant by this,
Rose, but I hope we never meet again.  But I would hope to see Anthy again
soon."  Opening it, she said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Anthy, I have my
granddaughter to take care of...just as you have young Miri."


    Moving like a rocket, Miri raced up towards and into Anthy's arms.  "Oh
Anthy!" the girl chirped for joy.  "Mr. Hervé said that you're going to be
coming home for good, and never leaving!  Is it true?  Is it?"  Anthy's
response was to hug the child closer, watching as Orielle and Hervé drive
off into the distance, towards the new day.
    As Anthy watched the car head down the street, she felt oddly at peace.
While it was true that she'd just given up on her lifelong dream, she was
embracing her future.  That future belonged to the child that Anthy held,
and though the chances were that she would never see Tenjou Utena again, she
felt that the crimson-maned woman would approve.
    Holding Miri close to her, she whispered, "It's true, Miri.  I'm done
with my work now, and I'll never be leaving home again.  I also have a
surprise for you."  As the girl backed up a bit to look at Anthy, she asked,
"How would you like to be my daughter?"
    The girl's face lit up.  "Really, Anthy?"
    Anthy couldn't help but smile.  "Don't you mean, 'Mother?'"  The
response to that was a strong hug from the girl, as she joyfully giggled.
Holding her soon-to-be daughter in her arms, Anthy Himemiya said, "I love
you, Miri.  And I'll always be here for you.  I promise."

@}>---`---,----

Somewhere in Europe
March 16, 200X

    The ancient castle was dark and foreboding.  There were few lights in
this ancient palace, somewhere in the continent, and from the looks of
outside, there wasn't much around it, either.  Though the castle was in good
repair, it was maintained in its original mediaeval condition, dank and
musty, windowless and chilly.
    From somewhere in the castle, though it wasn't clear, as the acoustics
of the place were incredibly sharp, Gregorian chants haunted the whole of
the manor.  A dozen voices, in unison, chanted something that, while
certainly was not written by neither the Church of Rome or those of Luther's
split, was just as ancient, and perhaps even more so:

"If the egg's shell does not break, the chick will die without being born.
"We are the chick; the egg is the world.
"If the world's shell does not break, we will die without being born.
"Break the world's shell!
"For the sake of revolutionizing the world!"

    In another part of the castle, there was a particular room that had far
more of an importance than any other.  The room was usually bare, save for a
small round table and a score of candelabras that were the sole illumination
of the room.  The table was made of a polished pure marble, with unmovable
round stools made of the same material, all engraved with the Rose Sigil on
their tops.  The candelabras, each a meter and a half in length, each held a
single tallow candle that was about a meter tall; the black metal holders
were designed to look like the sprawling, twisted shape of rose vines
climbing towards the sky.
    Currently, the room was occupied.  A half dozen people sat at one end of
the table, their faces and forms hidden by black, shapeless robes.  At the
other end of the table, stood Wil, dressed in similar robes, though not
wearing the cowl.  Looking at them each in turn, he said, my lords, that is
my report.  I have no idea who this Chevalier woman is, but it is clear that
she knows of us.  She could be a threat to what we mean to accomplish."
    The one in the center smiled; it was one of the few things that you
could see about him.  "There are only four people in this world that have
escaped our grasp.  Possibly by no coincidence, they are all female." He
inclined his head towards the person at the farthest left of Wil.  "The
pictures, if you would, please."
    The person moved a slender, ladylike hand towards will.  Under it slid a
simple brown envelope adorned with a silver Rose Sigil, which Wil took and
opened.  Removing four photographs from it, he placed the photos and the
envelope on the table.  Instantly, he pointed at the third one.  "Her, my
Lords.  It is her."


    The person in the center chuckled, his voice a deep, throaty laugh.
"Now this is a surprise.  I would have thought it to be the other."
    "The other?" Wil asked.
    "Yes.  The Prince.  Instead, it seems that you have encountered The Rose
Bride."
    "The Rose Bride?" Wil repeated, looking at the others as though they
were mistaken.  "But that cannot be the Rose Bride.  I assure you of that."
    "Wil, she whom you know is she who is the current Rose Bride.  The woman
that you went up against in Munchen is the original Rose Bride, before she
betrayed us and went to the side of the Prince."  The speaker paused for a
second, and added, "The Bride--what did you say she is calling herself now?"
    "She introduced herself to me as Chevalier, Lord," the Dutchman
answered.  "Though I knew she might once have been part of our organization,
and possibly a Duelist, I never would have thought her to be one of the
upper echelon."
    "Well, 'Chevalier'--" he said that name as though he was clearly amused
by it, "--is no longer part of our concern.  Not at all.  We have chosen a
new Rose Bride, though it was nigh difficult, and she will be the one who
lead us to Revolution.  Our flaw last time is that we chose a Bride that
would not stay in the Dream of Dios, would not remain to be happy with the
power of the Bride.  She betrayed us for the Prince, and we nearly lost
everything.
    "This time, we have succeeded.  We have chosen a Bride that has had the
world outside of the Dream, and shuns it, willing to take the power of the
Bride.  She is more suitable, for she has chosen the path of the Bride.
Now, that is all she knows, all she wishes to know.  She is truly the one
that will lead us to Revolution."
    "And as the one engaged to the Bride," Wil commented smugly, "I will be
the one that will lead our troops to the Revolution!"
    "Perhaps."  The woman who had passed him the pictures spoke.  "You have
not faced all the Duelists yet."
    "True, Lady," Wil admitted, "but I have yet to lose a Duel against those
I have fought before, and I daresay my record will remain unbeaten."  He
bowed to them all and said, "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I must needs see
to my other business."  With a slight bow, he departed the room.


    As the six watched him leave, a third voice spoke up: "Arrogant prig.
Simply because he is the one engaged to the Rose Bride, he thinks that he
has been anointed as God."
    The first spoke up.  "What matters is that one should lead us to
Revolution, and once that has been accomplished, we of the Cabal will begin
the Reconstruction, to make the world in the Image of the Dream.  It matters
not who it is.  And," he said, his lips parting in a faint smile, "as I
recall, when you were a mere Duelist yourself, you were quite the same way,
were you not?"
    Third sounded admonished.  "Yes, I admit that I was, long ago, but that
was before I learned the true meaning of the Revolution.  If I had but known
it sooner, I would not have wasted my time in such a foolish display of
pomp."
    Second changed the subject, her tone sounding somewhere between curious
and demanding.  "What of this...Chevalier?  What do we do with her?  The
data on the stolen property was--"
    First's voice was definite: "Anthy Himemiya is not a concern.  All she
is now, apparently, is a common criminal; such a shame for a princess to
fall from the heights from which she was born."  First kneaded his hands in
thought, then added, "Nevertheless, it would be best if we were to keep a
watch for her.  It may be nothing, but it may also be a sign that the Prince
may be rising to counter the Revolution once more.  We cannot afford that."
    "Lord," Second and Third spoke, their voices swearing in unison.

"Break the world's shell!
"For the sake of revolutionizing the world!"

    The candles in the room guttered out all at once, drenching the room in
darkness.

To be continued...

@}>---`---,----

Mata ne,
Rob
primary: rob@yogipigs.org  secondary: mara@megami.net
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