Suikoden VII

Chapter One: Part Six

Note: Since I have access to AI-imaging software (Dream), I'm thinking of creating images of all the major characters. Of course in doing so I'll want to do the characters from Suikoden VI as well. Would you guys like to see this? If enough people are interested I'll start a deviantart page or something and put them there.

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Chapter One: Part Six

The lone boat docked in Niebieska Brama's harbor was a Zelant warship. When word had spread of the...incident, the warship had headed out to try and launch a rescue operation. When the crew arrived at the island, though...they found a bloodbath.

A chilling silence had swept over the town. No one spoke; the only sounds made were the soft sounds of weeping. The entire town was gathered at the harbor dressed in mourning clothes, creating a wall of people. Only the warship was docked in harbor; all others stayed out on the water in respect. With them stood Lord Benedict de Lancret, the thirty-seven year old lord of Niebieska Brama. Though he had been in the east trying to assist with the building conflict, he rushed back to his lordship seat as soon as he received the news. Though he was a man who dressed immaculately—his wine-colored hair loose down his back and his creamy complexion always perfect—and spoke in a lofty tone, and a curious melody seemed to follow him everywhere he went, he was naturally subdued this day. His pale brown eyes were full of sorrow, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

At the front of the wall, surrounded by Zelantan soldiers, were the six legitimate heirs of King Franz standing in a row with their assists standing directly behind them. They were not dressed in mourning but in their military armor. It was a showing of strength by the royal family. Almost all of them wore blank expressions. The only one who did not look stoic was Denzel; tears were visible in his eyes and he was puffing out short breaths, as though he were on the verge of hyperventilating. Musashi watched his charge in his usual stoic silence, but there was a glint of worry in his eyes.

A shout came from the deck of the warship, and the crew pulled on the rope of a pulley. A platform raised, and everyone could see a dark blanket covering a form on the platform. It was not the first form lifted from the boat, but it would be the last. When the first form had raised and lowered, a cry of shock overtook the crowd. But with the ninth, there was silence. A quiet acceptance of their grim reality.

Below on the stone dock, eight tables were laid out in a row. Eight shapes covered by dark blankets. A ninth table had been carried out, and the dock crew had their arms raised towards the platform. They caught hold of the platform and helped to lower it. When the platform was the same level as the ninth table they carefully grabbed the form and shifted it onto the table. Then they motioned for the ship's crew to raise the platform back up.

Brendan broke from the line and quickly headed down to the docks, Yasmine training behind him. The siblings quickly followed without a word with their own assists. Benedict also moved to follow them. The dock crew quickly saluted as the royals approached. "Y-Your Highness!" one of the men squeaked. "Lord de Lancret!" He saluted Benedict.

Benedict only nodded mutely, folding his arms over his broad chest. He seemed to be deliberately refraining from speaking.

"We will identify them," Brendan said, his tone cold and professional. "I want to see the faces of our youths." His words had been carefully chosen; a showing of both stoic affection and a grim reminder to all of what they had lost.

"Y—Yes, Milord." The dock member hurried to the first table, which Brendan approached. The remaining royals dispersed down the row to see to the other tables.

The dock member grabbed the top of the blanket and drew it back with a shaking hand, revealing the face of an eighteen-year-old boy. His expression was peaceful but Brendan saw slight evidence of dried blood on his chin, and an open wound in his neck. There had been a visible attempt to clean his wound, but Brendan saw his blood-soaked shirt. He was stabbed in the throat.