What is a Man?

V Parallels

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

V. Parallels

The bodies were spread throughout the alleyway. There was only one person left standing. He heard a noise and turned, fearing an attack from behind. (That fear was ironic, but he didn't know it until later.)

The man's voice held a hint of mockery as he greeted the fighter, "Alberu, the runaway prince."

The runaway spat out a mouthful of bloodied saliva. "What's it to you?" He casually replied. His sword was still unsheathed, bloodied from the previous battle.

"I have a business proposal." The man was dressed mostly in black, his cloak covering his face.

He could feel the dark element emanating from the stranger. Alberu was curious about whether it was a vampire, dark elf, or black mage that had approached him. "What type of business proposal?"

"What do you say to building an empire that spans the world?"

"I'd say I'm not the type to enter into vague deals that promise far too much to be realistic." The runaway knew Hueh was right around the corner and would come if he yelled, but there was still a lot that could happen in a short period of time before his friend came.

The man laughed; it was the sound of rocks being grated against each other, mixed with the raspiness of a chronic tobacco user. "How can I prove myself to you?"

Alberu really shouldn't have taken that deal. He should have walked away, but instead he had smirked and said, "I'm interested. Elaborate."

That was the day he regretted most in his life, (but once again, he wouldn't realize it until later.)

He later took the last name 'Crossman'. He changed his name many times over the centuries. Most recently, he had assumed the identity of Hans, a butler of the Henituse family.

—

Alberu Crossman, the first born of King Zed Crossman. In celebration of his son's birth, the king had even built a palace for him, called the Palace of Joy.

Hans made a small amendment in his head to the new born prince's name; Alberu Crossman should be called Alberu Crossman the Second, but he guessed that the first Alberu Crossman had lived so long ago that no one really cared.

This Alberu should be favored. Well, he would be favored for now, until he had younger siblings to compete with him.

Hans didn't think much of his descendant with the same name, but kept up to date on news about the young first prince. He wondered how the boy would deal with the same sort of situation as him.

He gained a new appreciation of his young namesake many years later, when the prince turned his situation around in an entirely different way than he had.

—

Cale Henituse was the oldest son of Count Deruth.

Hans had been sent to bring him back home. He had been told how to find and recognise the young master.

He went around to bars located at the edges of the slums. These were the places most likely to mix the well off and poor, where gangs hung out and made deals.

Hans stepped inside. Several people were smoking and adding to the smog inside the bar, as if the air wasn't thick and acrid enough to choke someone to death. Any whispers were drained out by the loud conversations of drunks.

He slowly looked around the room, not hiding the fact that he was searching for someone.

A teenager wearing the clothes of someone incredibly well off, such as a clean white shirt with far too many frills. Check.

Short red hair. Check.

All the thugs in the bar kept warily glancing over at him. Check.

Hans didn't wish to announce what was going on to the whole bar, so he whispered to the boy's back, "Young master, your presence has been requested by the Count."

Cale nodded and grudgingly got up, still holding the bottle of whiskey he had bought. He grumbled something under his breath as he threw a few coins onto the counter. When he turned around and started towards the door, he spotted a woman being groped; said woman looked distinctly uncomfortable. Cale's frown deepened, then he threw the bottle.

The accurately thrown bottle—far too accurate to be thrown by someone drunk—hit the harasser on the back of the head.

Cale glared down the man when the harasser turned around to pick a fight with whoever had hit him.

Hans felt pleasantly surprised. "Nice throw," he complimented.

Hans thought the young master was rather interesting. He had been told Cale had been extremely mature and gentle until around the time he hit fifteen. Around that time, Cale started drinking, going to bars, and causing trouble that no one paid attention to as this was Henituse territory and no guard would dare touch the oldest son of the Count. And right now, Hans was rather sure Cale was not drunk, despite his face being flushed a bright red. He wanted to know what was going on.

—

The children were crowded around Cale, eating. On and Hong were sharing a meat pie. Raon was a third of the way through an apple pie.

Cale looked thin. There were bags under his eyes. He looked thoughtful as he informed his allies who had missed out on the news, "The White Star's real name is Cale Barrow."

The copycat. . .had the same first name as Cale Henituse, his worst enemy.

Wasn't that ironic?

Hans stared at Cale for a moment. He had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Oh, fate.

Such a conniving creature.

—

That Cale Henituse and his copycat shared a first name.

That Hans shared his original name with the Crown Prince Alberu Crossman.

He no longer viewed these as mere coincidences.

Hans was in a rather unique position as the only one who knew about all four people who had the same name.

Alberu Crossman the First, the unfortunate oldest born, whose mother died when he was young, a runaway who built his own kingdom and fell into ruin.

Alberu Crossman the Second, the unfortunate oldest born, whose mother died when he was young, a talent who turned things around and was set to become the king of Roan Kingdom if he didn't die before his coronation.

Cale Barrow, trash who turned his life around. A miserable cursed b*stard who became the villain of the world's story

Cale Henituse, trash who turned his life around. A person that saved people and who became a hero.

There were implications to be discerned about these puppets of fate and their collision courses. They were meant to be mirror images, but that did not necessarily equate to fate bound rivals, otherwise Hans wouldn't be where he was right now.

Hans had almost thought he had completely escaped fate, but it turned out he had been added to another play. Of course, he had no intention of outing himself to everyone and becoming the next enemy, that would be rather foolish. He was on his own path, that of a normal spectator and butler for a noble family, albeit one with far more secrets than any normal person had. He would not yield to fate and ruin what he had.