A Black and White Cross

Chapter 1

Unexpected Circumstances

Alba Tapaidh let out a slow breath as he looked across the rink. It was bright in the open stadium and the sun reflected off the arena's sand floor. The air had a faint tang of iron from blood spilt in the previous matches. Alba's sword, a two-and-a-half -foot bastard broadsword, sat in a neutral stance pointed diagonally up and away from his body. No one ever would have guessed that this scrawny knat of a boy not yet a man would have cut an efficient and bloody swath to the finals in a martial arts tournament.

Across from Alba was another boy, a bit less scrawny, but no more a man. His brown hair and eyes contrasted greatly with Alba's stark white features. The other boy was fairly tan from a life of farm labor and martial arts training, whereas Alba was pale from years spent indoors, nose stuck in a book. The boy wore an old tan trench coat that he had used in earlier matches to blind opponents. Alba wore a worn set of light leather armor, stiff where you needed protection and soft where you needed movement.

Like Alba, the other boy had won many of his matches because his opponents had underestimated him and Alba was determined not to make the same mistake. He could see the boy's quietly confidant stance and the dangerous gleam in his eye. This was a human who could take another's life without flinching. Alba took another deep breath and let it out slowly.

"And now for the final match!" the announcer said, reading the slip of paper in one hand and raising the other. "On one side we have The Blacksmith, and on the other, we have The Librarian," the announcer looked up at this, "You have both won all of your matches up to now, whoever wins this one will take home the grand prize, Blacksmith, are you ready?"

A quiet nod.

"Librarian, are you ready?"

Another quiet nod.

"Go!" the announcer said, cutting his raised hand down through the air and dashing off the raised arena floor… and nothing happened. Both of the fighters simply stood in their ready positions, the Blacksmith's sword at his side, and Alba's in his diagonal ready position. Unlike the Blacksmith, who had gotten through the tournament on pure strength and ability, Alba was a comparative weakling. He was not incredibly talented with the sword, lacking the subconscious instinct that lifelong students of the craft like the Blacksmith took for granted. Alba wasn't physically strong either, weighing in at only a hundred and thirty pounds of wiry muscle and bone. What Alba did have, that had allowed him to get this far in the tournament, and in the Capital as a whole, was a quick wit, a sharp mind, and the speed of a demon.

So it was that Alba had studied every match, finding a strategy to beat every opponent. It was also so that he knew that the Blacksmith would attack like a demon from hell after about thirty seconds.

The Blacksmith smirked before letting out blood-curdling battle cry. He lept off with enormous speed, crossing the gap between the two combatants in a heartbeat. The Blacksmith brought his sword up as he moved in an overhead two-handed blow, and Alba brought his up in a two-handed defense, blade parallel to the ground. The Blacksmith brought his sword down with another cry and Alba caught it on the flat of his blade, but didn't take the weight of the blow, instead directing the Blacksmith with all of his momentum to pass him. This caught the Blacksmith off guard and he went rolling behind Alba, but in the split second when he was off balance and still within reach of Alba's sword Alba moved forward on his heels just slightly and brought the blade down in his right hand, cleanly slicing the Blacksmith's Achilles tendons in both ankles. The Blacksmith face planted in the ground behind Alba and let out a deep growl. He tried to get up on one knee and only when his leg failed him did he notice his injuries, so clean and precise the cuts had been. His face twisted in anguish as the pain hit him and he fell to his stomach again. Alba walked over to him and squatted in front of his face, giving him a wide smile; not gloating, but friendly.

"You'll need to stay off those legs for a while, keep those ankles wrapped and you'll be good as new soon." The Blacksmith looked at him, face still twisted in fading pain and nodded slightly. "You're hot-headed and rash, but other than that your form is good, you fought well." Alba stretched out his hand low enough so that the boy could reach it. He looked up at Alba and nodded again, taking his hand.

"Thank you," he croaked. "How did you do that?"

"I looked and listened, instead of being showy and talking." Alba said as he got up. A green-haired boy a little bit older than the two of them and a wild-looking blonde woman came into the arena and helped the Blacksmith up, making sure to keep the weight off his injured legs.

Alba turned away and looked around. He kind of needed the money, he hadn't made any since coming to the Capital a few days earlier and he had already spent his limited supply on food. He spotted someone coming up the side ramp and he turned toward her, moving to the edge of the ring. She had a military bearing, back straight, head up, purposeful. She wore a custom made Imperial Army dress uniform that strained at the bounds of propriety, the only decoration or insignia being a black cross on the cap.

Alba struck his right fist to his heart and bowed slightly, and ancient military gesture that he had claimed as his own. The woman walked forward and immediately clamped a leashed collar around his neck. Alba's heart began to race in a pure fight-or-flight reaction, but he quickly got it under control. He was knowledgeable enough to know from minutia in her uniform that she was from Army Group North, and was also aware enough of current events to know that the young, beautiful, and powerful commander of Army Group North had recently returned to the Capital. He took another deep breath and reviewed his options, and realized he had none. If this really was General Esdeath, she could turn him into mincemeat whenever she pleased. He would simply have to play along and survive until such time as he could escape.

This all flashed through his mind in only a few seconds, his only reaction being to nod his head slightly. As he did, he kept his eyes on her face looking for emotion and intent. He was surprised at what he found there. Not the cold, hard face of a jaded soldier, but a soft, warm look similar to a school girl looking at her crush.

"Don't worry, everything's fine now." She said as she led him out of the stadium.

Alba sat chained to a chair in a large, decorative council room in the palace at the center of the Capital. The heavy steel chains were wrapped around his chest and upper arms eight or nine times. He thought that was a little excessive, it wasn't like he was going to run, at least not while it was a hopeless prospect. General Esdeath stood just out of his field of vision to his left, and six others stood in front of him. One, a young brown-haired man, was dressed in the uniform of a seaman in the Imperial Navy, and smelled slightly of fish. Another was a girl even younger than Alba's sixteen years in what appeared to be a grey schoolgirl's uniform. Alba knew that it was the girl's uniform for the Imperial Academy's School of Government Service, more commonly referred to as the Assassin's School. A very… well dressed… man in a lab coat and suit stood aside them. A tall blonde man in court dress leaned against the large conference table in the room. Another very large man in the scant uniform of the Incineration Corps stood behind them. The last one was a young redhead in the uniform of the Imperial Police. It didn't escape him that every single one of them had an Imperial Arm. General Esdeath led off.

"This is Alba Tapaidh, he will be a back-up member for the Jaegers… as well as my new lover." Alba nearly choked on a lung and began to cough profusely. She gave him a concerned look and he shook his head, waving it off with a hand bound to the chair arm. She continued.

"Do any of you have a spouse or significant other?" She asked. The Incinerator Corpsman raised his hand, much to the obvious surprise of those attending. They began discussing how to "capture his heart" and "win him over" while Alba was forced to sit and listen. No girl in his hometown had wanted to get within ten feet of him and he was supposed to believe that arguably the most powerful young bachelorette in the Empire wanted to take him on as a lover? It seemed preposterous, but as the discussion progressed, he realized that they were being completely serious, as if it was normal to kidnap and bind those who you wished to fall in love with.

The two of them sat on a ledge overlooking the burning ruins of a fort that had stood tall but moments before. General Esdeath's personal guard squad, the Jaegers she had called them, moved about inside the flames, picking off stray bandits that had survived their initial assault. Her hand lay on his and he was surprised at its almost feverish warmth.

"I will train you myself, and one day you may be as strong as they are." She said. She was still blushing and spoke in a quiet, subdued tone. Alba was fascinated by what was happening. He could barely wrench his eyes away. He had read stacks upon stacks of books on war; treatise, memoirs, and novels. This was the first time he had seen anything close to it in real life. It took him a second to wrench himself from his thoughts and respond. He scoffed.

"I should hope not." He said, not turning his head from the battle. She came out of her schoolgirl daze and frowned.

"You don't want to get stronger?" she asked. Her voice was chilled, with an edge. She began to doubt her choice in choosing a lover. If he had no will to get stronger, to grow, then there was no room for him in her heart.

"If getting stronger means being as wickless and stupid as those six then no." He replied, still completely engrossed. She frowned and looked back out over the battle. She had thought it was a beautiful example of a frontal assault, she had even expressly asked them to make a spectacle in order to impress her new lover.

"How so?" she asked. He looked up at this and began to think.

"They went in half-cocked and guns blazin', not knowing what could be in there." He said "What if there had been an Imperial Arms user in there? What if they had heavy weapons or snipers? On top of that, just because the Jaegers are powerful Imperial Arms users, doesn't mean that they are impervious to stray rounds."

She frowned and thought about it for a moment. What he said had merit, but any idiot could be cautious. "What would you have had them do?" She asked. It was his turn to frown, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a white marble cross on a leather necklace. He began to rub it with his thumb in his favorite thinking pose.

"First I would have had the organic-type Imperial Arm conduct an attack on the front gate, with his user providing covering fire. Then I would use angel boy and that precision feather attack to take out any enemy officers, snipers, Imperial Arms users, and anyone with a heavy weapon. Next I would have used the assassin and the seaman to attack the opposite corners of the fort, to begin herding any stragglers toward the fight at the front gate. After they had gotten the enemy as clustered as possible I would have the incinerator corpsman attack, his Imperial Arm has a great Area of Effect and would turn the enemies' concentrated positions to ash. And Mr. Lab Coat's Imperial Arm is better suited to creating rather than destroying, so I would hold him back and use him as a reserve."

She smiled. That, or something similar to that, had been the original plan, but she had feared he would grow bored of the comparatively limited excitement that plan would entail. Obviously not. Not only had he come up with a highly capable battle plan as an amateur, but he had done so based on knowledge of the Jaeger's Imperial Arms that he had obviously gleaned from somewhere else, because they had not yet shown their full potential. Her earlier doubt was washed away. He had one of the rarest strengths of all, intelligence. He had potential for physical strength, yes, but intelligence was something you either had, or you didn't, and he had it. Her hand slipped back over his as they watched the fortress burn.