Epilogue

The men were all gathered around the campfire, massaging aches and pains after a hard day training under Captain Steiner. The mood was less than jovial as Thompson tried to continue the argument from the previous night.

"Look, when you get right down to it, it doesn't matter who he is," Richards said tiredly, shaking his head. "The Captain said he's the King, so we have to treat him like the King until the Captain says otherwise."

"Or the General," Turley added. He shuddered. "I'd hate to get on her bad side."

"Ah, yes, the feared General Beatrix. I wonder how much truth there are to the rumors. I mean, she didn't look all that tough to me," Reever stated.

"Clearly, you've never gone down to the training room early in the morning," Williams said, tossing a stick into the fire. "I've seen her spar- she could slaughter the Captain any day. Heck, I'm not even sure Zidane would fare much better against her."

"Is he really that skilled a fighter?" Thompson asked.

"Yesterday he killed a- I don't even know what it was. It looked like a giant turtle with horns. It was so big, I could probably stand inside its mouth. Came up out of nowhere in the marshlands. He took it out like it was nothing," Malcolm said, shaking his head. "I tried to help, but just ended up being more of a hindrance than anything, I think."

"The King slew it by himself?" Thompson asked, looking disgusted. "That's almost...barbaric."

Several of the younger trainees surged to their feet, obviously intent on defending Zidane's reputation. "I suggest you watch your tongue, Thompson," Richards cautioned, a warning hand and a stern glance keeping the younger soldiers where they were. "Lest it pick a fight you cannot win."

"I don't care what you say, Zidane saved my life!" Malcolm said heatedly. "I would have been killed if he hadn't pushed me out of the way, and he even got injured himself in the process!"

"Well, that settles it," Thompson said, smirking. "We are training to be bodyguards for the royal family, willing to lay down our lives to keep them from harm. What sort of king would throw himself in harm's way to save a mere guard?"

"How about the kind that would very much like to see said trainee live to become a knight?" a new voice piped up.

They turned to the new speaker and Wesley almost fell off the log when he realized the King had not only joined their group, but sat next to him without his noticing. There were various stammered apologies and a number of the men went down on one knee.

"Sire, I apologize for Thompson's rash words," Richards said, bowing his head low. "He was way out of line."

"Aw, not you too!" Zidane groaned. "It's bad enough that I can't get Rusty to stop doing that! We're out in the middle of nowhere, guys! Right now, I'm just a commanding officer, alright?" He motioned for them to resume their seats. "Save all the formality for formal occasions. Out here, we can have a more casual atmosphere."

Several confused looks were exchanged as the men cautiously moved back to their seats. Although they tried to look relaxed, the air was thick with tension and uncertainty.

"Since you prefer a 'more casual atmosphere,' perhaps you wouldn't mind clearing up a few things?" Thompson asked, ignoring the warning glare from Richards.

"Shoot," Zidane said, putting his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the log.

"The others speak quite highly of your...expertise with your daggers," he said, carefully. "If you are so skilled a fighter, why do you require protection from the Knights of Pluto?"

"A fair question. Let me ask you this: Beatrix once killed 100 men by herself. Why, then, does she need the rest of the army to back her up?" There was a pause before the blonde answered. "It's because a single person is capable of making mistakes, getting tired or just simply being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. That's harder to do with several people on the lookout for trouble."

"Speaking of General Beatrix," Allen spoke up, ignoring the glare from Thompson, "Williams thinks that she can beat the Captain, hands down. Do you think she can beat you, too?"

"Well, she has had the honor of kicking my butt on three separate occasions," Zidane remarked, dismissively. "That was a long time ago, though. I'm actually not sure how a fight between us would end, nowadays..." he trailed off, contemplatively.

"She beat you! ?" Malcolm repeated, his mind replaying the ease with which Zidane had dispatched the adamantoise. "Were you going easy on her, sir?"

Zidane laughed. "No way! I was fighting for my life! I'm actually lucky she didn't kill me!" He shook his head, still chuckling. "Let's just say, you really don't want to get on her bad side!"

While the other men were busy digesting that bit of information, Thompson took control of the conversation once more. "Why do you dress and act so much like a, for lack of a better term, peasant?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Can you think of a better way to blend in?" Zidane countered. Seeing the confused look, the blonde elaborated. "I don't like to be stuck in the castle all time. But, I also don't like the armed entourage that escorts the king any and everywhere outside the castle walls- and I do mean everywhere." He shook his head before continuing. "So, I came up with an alternative. It's not safe for the king to go anywhere without an escort. But, a mere commoner can come and go as he pleases, without arousing suspicion. The only trick is getting the act down pat. I have to change the way I speak, the way I dress, even the way I move. It can be a pain at times, but the freedom gained is incredible. And, it's completely safe- as long as the disguise is perfect."

"Perhaps it's a little too perfect," Thompson murmured quietly.

Zidane's sharp ears caught the remark and the stared at soldier for a moment, feeling the tension becoming even thicker. Everyone seemed to be waiting to see what he would do, obviously afraid that Thompson and his belligerent attitude had crossed the line. Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them a demonstration of 'King Zidane,' he thought, pushing himself to his feet. Brushing the dirt and twigs from his clothes, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. He mentally put on his crown, switching his mindset from a carefree commoner to a member of the royal class.

The men watched as the blonde seemed to transform before their very eyes. He drew himself up to his full height, even the most minute of gestures now portraying a sort of regal grace. His face became completely expressionless; a blank mask that fully concealed whatever thoughts lay beneath. He opened his eyes, the warm orbs suddenly aloof and distant as his gaze passed over them, as if for the first time. His very presence seemed to change, the friendly aura shifting to one of quiet, but commanding, power. He suddenly looked very out-of-place in the commoners' tunic and trousers he wore.

He raised one elegant eyebrow as Thompson's jaw almost hit the ground, apparently astounded by the drastic change. Richards was the first to stand, solemnly unsheathing his sword and laying it reverently on the ground as he knelt before the King. Bowing his head, he recited the oath taken to join the Knights of Pluto, again swearing his fealty to the crown. One by one, the others followed suit, each drawing his weapon and respectfully laying it on the ground before kneeling and repeating the oath.

Thompson was last, still gaping at the blonde. A friendly elbow to the shin brought him out of his stupor and he, too, laid his sword before him. "Please forgive me, Your Majesty," he said, bowing as low as he could. "I have allowed myself to be blinded by pride and have behaved in a manner most unbefitting a knight. This...is inexcusable." He kept his head down, deeply ashamed and somewhat horrified by his actions, especially after having been told that this was the king. He knew his punishment would not be light.

Zidane was silent for a moment, as if contemplating what the sentence for this offense should be. "Tis foolishness to take offense at so trivial a thing," he said at length. "Circumstances allow a bit of leeway in this particular situation."

Thompson's head jerked up, startled by the King's words. "But, Sire-"

Zidane held up one hand, forestalling the argument. "I was introduced as a comrade and expected to be treated as such. It was an oversight on the Captain's part that revealed my identity prematurely, and I did a poor job of living up to the expectations of a king, hoping instead to salvage the relations with my future knights. It is only natural that you would doubt me." He paused, catching and holding Thompson's gaze. "However," he continued, "Lieutenant Richards was correct. What your Captain tells you needs to be treated as an order until he, or someone of higher rank, says otherwise." He waited for a moment, letting the words sink in before going on. "If Captain Steiner approaches you with a talking oglop at his side and tells you it is the Regent of Lindblum, then you had better drop to your knees and give him a proper greeting," he stated, voice completely serious although there was a ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Thompson replied, bowing even lower.

"Tell me something, Thompson. Are you more comfortable around me as a king or as merely a superior officer? Be truthful now," Zidane said, folding his arms as he gazed down at the soldier.

"I, uh, that is, um-"

"It is alright, your hesitation is answer enough," Zidane stated, a slight smile gracing his face. "Royalty can be quite daunting to those not accustomed to associating with the higher classes. That is one of the reasons why I chose to conceal my true identity. I guess it's just as well you prefer me like this, though," he said, flopping down on the ground and casually slinging his arms over the log behind him. He hid a grin as the men visually started at the instant change from royalty back to commoner, focusing his gaze on Thompson. "Because, if I remember correctly, you're next in line to go scouting with me."

"Uh, yes, Sire, I believe that is true."

"No, no, no," Zidane said, shaking his head. "Out here, it's just 'sir,' remember? Save the 'sire' and 'your majesty' for the court."

"Yes, Sire."

"Oh man, I can see I'm gonna have my work cut for me with this one," the blonde commented to no one in particular. He stood up, glancing briefly to where he could hear some of the other men quietly placing bets on how long Thompson would last. He chuckled, glad that the tension in the air seemed to have finally dissipated. "Alright, Rookie," he said, grinning as he turned back to Thompson, "get your gear together tonight and we'll leave at first light. Steiner says you've made some progress, but still have a long way to go." He rubbed his hands together eagerly, the flickering light from the fire almost making his grin seem a bit malicious. "I'll make a knight of you yet."

. . .

The End

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