- Suikoden belongs to Konami. This is definitely only for our own entertainment. -


"It'll be your fault if we're found dead in a ditch tomorrow, Percival."

The wagon clattered along the dirt road from Budehuc, axles sqeaking, wagonbed creaking ominously. It was a jarring way to travel under the best conditions, but while the march of soldiers had packed the dirt hard enough to resemble stone, their vehicle was the product of questionable remains, slapped together after the fire to haul lumber and carry what could be salvaged of the harvest. All in all Percival wasn't sure it could be trusted either, but if it could haul wood, surely it could carry two reasonable, unarmored knights to their destination in once piece.

Well, make that one reasonable knight, and two very tight blindfolds.

"Don't be silly, they'd have our heads on pikes at the very least." He leaned back against the rail, trusting good luck to keep him from breaking the thing and fulfilling Borus's prophecy. "Relax, or you're going to tempt fate. The road to Iksay is safe - we've staked enough soldiers on it to have a little security."

"Right." There was a rustle of cloth, boots scraping on the wagonbed, and a definite peeved tone to Borus's voice as he tried, from the sound, to shift into a more comfortable position in whatever nook of the wagon he'd stumbled into. "And this?"

He couldn't see what 'this' was, but he could guess. "It's all in good fun, Borus."

"Good fun." His friend's tone was flat. "Will it be 'good fun' when we're attacked by brigands and die without drawing our swords because some country bumpkin decided it was a good idea to blindfold us?"

Percival grinned and called more loudly, "You see anything around, Jo?"

"Just the windmills, Percival," came the amused response from the driver's bench. "Tell your friend we can leave him that way until supper, if he wants to keep griping."

He kicked at his fellow knight, and had the satisfaction of feeling his foot connect, and the other's muttered curse. "See? We're almost there, and still alive." And it was lucky for him Jo had not tossed them out of her wagon yet, with the way he was going on.

Borus snorted and kept his peace for all of five seconds before muttering more softly, "This had better be good. 'Appreciation' indeed."

Silence fell between them for a time, and Percival turned his head to listen to the wind rush through the fields. The rustle of cornstalks and grass spoke of home long before the distant sound of voices and hammers striking wood reached him, and a hint of dust in the air spoke of newly turned earth. The wagon turned onto the path leading to town a few minutes before he thought it would.

There was something about Iksay that would always feel just right to him that simply couldn't be found anywhere else. The very wind seemed to welcome him home as the wagon clattered to a stop and he felt Jo leap into the wagon bed to help them out. She assisted him first, letting him know when to step down, then leaving him to stand there while she aided Borus. He felt people gather around to greet them, and he had to admit... it was rather unnerving to sense the press of the crowd, yet not be able to see it. His home was safe, and he would stake a fortune on it, but his friend's grumbling was understandable.

The entire town had turned out for their arrival - or so it seemed to Percival from the noise. He listened for his mother over the shouted greetings and congratulations, smiling and patting hands when he could and missing more often than not thanks to the damnable blindfold, but her voice did not carry over the din if she was present. Part of him was relieved at that, and the other guilty at the thought.

"So, ah..." He would have looked around if he could. It sounded as if their greeters had started to walk off down the main road, laughing and shouting for him to come along, but there was still talking nearby - the innkeep and her neighbor, he thought, and turned toward them. "Where is this surprise that's supposed to be waiting for us?"

"Don't forget to ask if we can we take these things off," Borus muttered beside him.

"Now, now, Sir Borus, we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would we?" Percival held back a sigh at his mother's voice and prayed silently to Sadie as she locked her arm around his and, by what he could gauge of her motion, Borus's. The scents of bread and soap were in her hair as he leaned down dutifully to give her a peck on the cheek. He hit his mark, wonder of wonders. "Just follow me and watch your step, sir knight. Percy knows the way, but I'd hate to see you with a twisted ankle."

Borus sniggered as they started walking, slowly at first until Borus's steps grew a little more confident. The road angled a bit downward. "Percy?"

Percival felt his face flush. "Shut up." Oh, to roll his eyes. "Mother, do you think...?"

"Not yet, not yet," she replied cheerfully, pulling them along at a slightly faster pace. He heard the inkeep and the rest of the lingering crowd follow, and as they drew closer to the fields and the creak of the windmills, he could hear the others again, revealing that they had not, unfortunately, shaken the crowd. This was getting rather embarassing.

"Mother-" He reached to lift the blindfold, and she slapped his hand away. He rubbed it with a wince.

"Don't be so impatient, Percy," Borus sang out, and his grin was tangible. "All in good time!"

Well, now he would never live it down.

They halted, finally, when he estimated they had reached the clearing in front of the old mill, and his mother released his arm and moved forward to speak with someone. He took the opportunity to sidle closer to Borus and jab his elbow into the other's side as soon as he was in range. "If you so much as breathe that name when we get back to-"

"There now, everything is ready!" He heard his mother bustle toward them again and she tugged his head down to reach behind and untie the blindfold. Finally! The sudden burst of light hurt his eyes when the cloth finally came away, forcing him to blink rapidly and shield his face as he peered around at the assembled townspeople. He could see, vaguely, his mother moving to remove Borus's blindfold.

The inkeep beamed at him and pointed up. Percival obeyed her directive slowly, squinting to see. "Dear almighty Goddess," he choked, torn between laughter and horror.

"What?" Borus cursed, probably blinded as well. "What is it?"

Percival tried to plaster a smile onto his face for the benefit of his townsmen and reached over to grab his friend's chin and tilt it up. "Windmills."

And that they were, stout and whitewashed, and seemingly in perfect order, sweeps whooshing over their heads in a relentless rhythm. Instead of just one in front, as it had been for as long as Percy could remember, there were two, set just far enough apart that the sails wouldn't hit each other, and framing a marvellous view of the fields. The facing walls were painted in the likenesses of figures in Zexen armor standing proudly with hands on swordhilts, and attached to the pole ends, twisting with the sails, were their heads - just that, and their turning was enough to make him slightly ill.

"Clovis," Borus choked. "That bastard."

The mills were lit merrily from within, and true to the informant's promise, Boris's had stained-glass windows. They were quite nice as far as windows went, if entirely inappropriate for a functioning mill. He supposed it would have been too much to ask the artists to make the two images shorter, to leave room for their heads at the very least.

Borus took no pains to mask his disgust, muttering, "We're going to be laughingstocks, Percival. As soon as I can get my hands on him-"

"He's a dead man. It's a deal." He turned to his friend and held out his hand; Borus took it and gave it a firm shake.

An image of brotherhood, indeed.


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Requested by Karthur. For those interested: the log that inspired this. It's bad form to base a story on RP, I know, but I couldn't resist this one.