Divine Blessing [Simoun]

Well you knew this was gonna happen eventually if you know me and my writing at all. And what better fic to use than a freshly finished one? This is my first longshot for Simoun, my attempt to write a good, finished post-series fic based around the second war. At the time when I started this, there was only one post-series fic on ff.net, but it was never finished. A shame too because it was really amazing. I finished this story tonight, and it ended up being 15 chapters. That includes the epilogue. So first chapter go!

Title: Divine Blessing
Author: DigiExpert
Rating: PG-13
Summary: As the second war rages around them, discovery is made of an Argentine plot to take the orphanage and use the children inside. Rodoreamon works to spread the word to Paraietta in time, but will it be enough? If the government won't supply the necessary protection, then what can two women do?
Notes: All chapters are beta'd by melengro (LiveJournal.com)


“Here are the reports, ma’am.” A man in a simple olive three piece suit placed them on the desk of the woman before him. He waited for her acknowledgement.

The woman he worked for wore a serious look, eying the reports before glancing up at him. “When did they arrive?”

“Just now. I brought them straight away, as per your instructions. They were delivered to the side entrance, as always.”

“Did anyone see you?” she pressed, knowing that secrecy was of the utmost importance. There was no need for more people than necessary to know about these reports.

He shook his head. “No. No one was around.”

“Thank you. That’s all I need for now.” She watched as he turned and left the room before she gave further attention to the reports. Her fingers quickly counted the pages, noting that this report was shorter than most. In her short experience, the length of pages had not mattered. A short report could give minor details on a dull period of time, and a long report could ramble about meetings, lectures, and plans for future plots, none of which were certain. However, a short report could also contain the quick message to begin the attack, as could a long report. Still, counting the number of pages meant she knew how much she needed to read, and how to direct her focus.

She knew that if anyone found out she was more involved in the war than suspected, it could very well mean her death, no matter which side made the discovery. She received the reports through a number of contacts because of her family name and current position. No one asked about the affairs of a twenty-something aristocrat’s daughter. No one would think such a person would want to soil their good name, or would have the intelligence necessary to comprehend the affairs of military men. She wouldn’t have thought herself capable of it either, but the current situation affected those she cared about. She’d come a long way from being the once shy Sibylla of an affluent family.

Rodoreamon also knew that her opinion of the war didn’t matter to the current delegates “running” the country, which had been split once the peace treaty had been inked and signed. Simulacrum still existed, but only as a weak entity. Its northern territories had been annexed, and given to Argentum as offering. Argentum did not possess the capabilities to fly the Simoun, and thus the technology was worthless. It still had taken one of the ancient Simoun for research purposes. Years had passed and the uneasy rest that had pervaded both sides since the treaty began grew. Plumbum and Simulacrum, though uneasy about the other, formed a hesitant bond. Argentum realized this eventually, and had decided it wasn’t satisfied with the terms of the treaty. Therefore, it would attack Plumbum and so the war began again.

Drafts had quickly begun, even before the war became official. Anyone who was a former Sibylla and a male in the Argentum territories was called to the front immediately. Plumbum drafted former Simulacrum Sibylla to fight on the front, and its own priestesses to fly the Simoun. Rodoreamon was lucky to live in an area of Simulacrum that hadn’t been annexed, but it was dangerous ground. It wasn’t a true alignment, and thus any small thing might also turn Plumbum against Simulacrum, which could no longer defend itself with the chariots of the gods. War begot more war, and she felt that the cycle would continue until they managed to kill themselves in the process. They would fight until only two men remained, and in their stubbornness, one man would still try to kill the other.

She rose from her seat, and turned to look out the large window behind her. Tempus Spatium must be angry. There must be a reason for the discord her world had been thrown into. It was punishment for the sins they had committed. They had taken the gift of the gods and turned it into military craft. Beautiful light trails of prayer became ammunition to destroy and kill. The meanings of Ri Majon were twisted and used to destroy lives instead of to protect and bless them. It was obvious now that the first war did not simply end because the neighboring countries had acquired the Simoun. The war continued because a new reason had come about for one country to be mad at the other. Mad was too simple of a word to describe it, but it fit. Mad, like a child who can’t agree with another child. Groups of children who fought each other just because one side did something the other disliked.

Children were the reason she became more involved in the war. She forced herself to read through the military terms and decode them into her own every day speech, pouring over the pages until late into the night. She watched for key attack strategies, the one on the children in particular. Simulacrum children were sought after to be studied. The Argentines wanted to see how their bodies worked, how they were made up prior to entering the Spring. They’d test the bodies, and push them to their limits, comparing them to their own methods of surgically assigning a gender at birth. Instead of Simoun, the children were to be the key to saving their country, though how had yet to be worked out.

The idea was sickening, and Rodoreamon wasn’t going to stand for it. So far, Argentum hadn’t shown much of an interest in the orphanage or the children, but that could change easily. So much changed easily. It sought the target, and it’d eventually attack the target. One of her former Sibylla companions was in charge of caring for orphan children, and every day strived to do her best to make sure the children were safe, sound, and loved. Until Rodoreamon had seen this, she would have never invested herself in it. After all, she’d given Paraietta the money to fund the orphanage in the first place. What more could she have done? She was a mere woman who simply had access to sums of money.

The answer came to her the one day she’d gone to visit, shortly after the war had started. It wasn’t her first visit, yet something about this time was different. She saw Paraietta in action, playing with the newest orphan that had arrived, a young girl with a crop of messy black hair and the ability to cry easily. Rodoreamon had become involved with the children, getting on their level, playing with them, talking with them. Though war had taken their parents, they still continued forward with cheerful smiles and a bright demeanor. The past did not affect their present. They were the future, the generation that would be affected most by the outcome of this war. Something inside her clicked, and she knew what she had to do. With her influential connections, she had begun to listen more closely to the war effort, and the attempts to plan attacks on the orphanage. She knew she could help protect the valuable treasure the Argentines were working to take away.

She turned back to her desk, sitting down. She pulled the papers toward her, wondering what they contained this time around. Much of it was battle tactic or strategy, something that she would bumble through, not really understanding. Sometimes information was provided on the next attack plan, or possible solutions to various problems. It all depended on the way the war was progressing. Rodoreamon glanced at the basic information given to provide a summary of the report. Her eyes scanned the text, searching for the key terms she always watched for. It was near the end of the third page this time around. She read and then reread the statement, the plan. It was worse than before. Where the other plans had easily failed, this one seemed sure to succeed. They would pull the stops on this one. It was not a plan that was set in stone as of yet, but it very well could be, and it was dangerous. She would make contact with those who could assist her, and then plan her visit earlier than she had expected.

Immediately, she began penning a communication notice that was short, simple, and most importantly, gave away nothing from the report that she’d just read. She could not risk the message being interpreted as any sign that she knew of the existence of Argentum reports. Moving my usual biweekly visit up a few days. Expect me tomorrow. –Rodoreamon. She signed her name to it with a flourish and tucked the notice neatly into an envelope, which was then sealed with a wax stamp. All that was left was to have it delivered by messenger. Rodoreamon had her own personal messenger, and she pressed a button to call for him. He was quick, trustworthy, and asked no questions. This her contacts assured her. He did as he was asked, and that was what mattered most.

Rodoreamon wasted no time in giving his instructions. “Please deliver this to Paraietta. It must get there today.” She watched the soft brown eyes, seeking that he understood the importance of this task.

She received a soft grin in return. “I understand.” The man asked no questions, and none were needed. He pulled the brim of his straw hat over his head, bowed and left the room. She knew he’d quickly prepare a travel rucksack and be off. She had no doubt that Paraietta would receive her message, seal unbroken.

The next morning, she rose bright and early. The sun was also beginning to rise, the first rays of light creeping across her bedroom. She dressed quickly, wearing the familiar olive jacket with the black dress slacks. Her hair came last; she brushed it out before braiding it. She pinned it up and tied it with the bow. In her own way, it was her tribute to the girl who had given her life so that another could live. Until that point, she had never really understood Neviril wearing two clips in her hair instead of the one she had worn with Amuria. It made no difference to her. Now she understood. It was a memorial to one she had loved, and by wearing something that reminded her of Mamiina, she felt as though Mamiina was always with her, and would never leave her side. This thought never failed to calm her soul when she was in need of a steady hand.

Rodoreamon took one last look in the mirror. Everything was in place. She would take a quick breakfast and then gather the documents she would take with her. Most of the report had been destroyed as soon as she had finished dispatching with the messenger. There was no need to have incriminating evidence lying around her office that had nothing to do with her secret objectives. She only kept the most recent report pertaining to the orphanage. After showing Paraietta the source of her evidence, it too would be destroyed. She covered her trail well. Thus far, no one had suspected a thing, and that was how it would stay.

The ride on the helical train was long and tiresome. Though she had been able to secure passage in one of the more private cars, it was still crowded. She observed others without making eye contact, and simply listened to those talking around her. There was discussion of the war, rumors of battles that were to be fought or where the enemy was expected to be next, and of course, talk of the wins and losses, and the effect that would have on either side. The companion beside her and those across from her were particularly chatty. It was the talk that she had not heard in her Sibylla days. She hadn’t realized how sheltered they’d all been while serving Tempus Spatium as priestesses. She had seen the battle from the frontlines and then further back, but she had never witnessed the battle from the civilian point of view. It was quite a different story. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the droning of conversation.

At her stop she exited quickly. From the station she looked around for her transport. She spotted an older man with a horse and simple carriage. He sat off to the side of the dusty road, appearing to be waiting for someone, but never looking anyone nearby in the eye. She walked over, and he offered a hand to her, pulling her up the short distance. He did not ask if this was the person he was waiting for. She took a seat beside him, and he whistled to the horse, snapping the reins. The carriage took off with a jolt, and soon they were traveling along bumpy dirt roads that led far away from the small village. Neither of them spoke for a time, waiting until they were well away from the village.

“Paraietta received my letter?” asked Rodoreamon softly.
“Yes. She’s happy you’re comin’ for a visit. The children will be excited to see you.”
“They always are.” She smiled at the farmer.
“Yes. She’s happy you’re comin’ for a visit. The children will be excited to see you. They wanted to come with me to pick you up. Paraietta wouldn’t allow it. Said you needed some quiet time after the train ride.”

Rodoreamon turned her head to watch the countryside pass, her smile falling a bit as she remembered the information in her report. This area could soon be ravaged by the sound of battle and the stench of blood. Beauty could soon be the site of chaos.

“They’ll want to play of course. A few of ‘em have been helping me in the fields from time to time. They help me plant the new crops and tend to the baby plants.” For a time, he trailed on, continuing to tell stories of the orphan children. Eventually he noticed that Rodoreamon was not making any sort of remarks to his stories. He looked over at his companion, who looked distracted. “Something wrong, milady?”

Rodoreamon realized that her worry was showing on her face. She didn’t want to trouble the farmer, who knew nothing about the situation. He was simply a kind older man who provided some of the food to the orphanage, and one of the familiar faces the children saw on a daily basis. She scrounged for an excuse, and found one easily. “Ah, it’s just this war. It makes everything more difficult.”

“I see. Have faith. Tempus Spatium will take care of us.” He snapped the reins again, encouraging the horse along.

If only Rodoreamon could believe that to be the case. Tempus Spatium needed to watch over the children most. She felt they needed the protection more than anyone. Her faith in Tempus Spatium had not waned, but she knew they’d need more than the guidance of just prayers. It would take a miracle to keep the children safe from the twisted plan of the enemy. She wasn’t quite sure that Tempus Spatium could offer a miracle, or anyone, for that matter.

“What surrounds this piece of countryside?” she asked, deciding it would be best to engage the farmer so that he wouldn’t ask anymore questions about her mood.

“You mean who lives here? Not many choose to live on this land. Lots of droughts can create hard times, but lately we’ve had some good harvest seasons. Nearest farm is a few miles east of here though.”

“I see,” answered Rodoreamon. At least if the area was attacked, it wasn’t very populated. “Do you think the war will make it out here?”

“No, milady. Tempus Spatium would never let any harm come to those children. They’re too precious.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, they are precious. Do you have a family of your own?”

The farmer chuckled. “No, I don’t, sadly. I’m just an old man who uses the land to provide sustenance for those who need it most. What of your own family?”

“They are well. My husband is away with the war, and my daughter is at home, safe and sound.” It was a lie, but it would be harder to explain why she wasn’t married. She chose to skip over these small details.

“Ah the war changes everything. I pray your husband makes it home safe.”

Their conversation would have continued further, but Rodoreamon spotted the large building in the distance. It was surrounded by a simple stone fence, and already she could hear the shouts and laughter coming from inside. A few heads peeked over the top of the fence before disappearing once more. This caused the shouting to increase in volume, and Rodoreamon was greeted by the many smiling faces as the carriage came to a stop.

The farmer helped her down gently and she stood, beaming back at the children. Her eyes searched for the one she sought. She didn’t have to look far; Paraietta rested calmly against one of the pillars of the building. “It’s good to see you again, Rodoreamon,” she called pleasantly.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Paraietta. I only wish it were for a happier reason that I came today.” She moved toward her friend.

“I agree with you. Let’s talk.”

Chapter 2

"Come play, Home Secretary!" called a group of children, gathering at her side. They looked up at her with pleading eyes. A few of them tugged at her pants, trying to get her attention focused onto them.

"Join us!" cried another group, rushing over from their game of ball. The ball bounced across the yard, forgotten.

"I will later, I promise," she replied, smiling at them. It wasn't a promise she would break. She could never say no to those eyes. She tried to help them detach their hands from her pants so that she could follow Paraietta.

"Yes, we'll all play later," added Paraietta, kneeling down to their level. "You play by yourselves for now." She gave some of the more hesitant ones a gentle push back toward the yard and their toys.

"Awww…"

"Well, Laeni is over by the tree," remarked Paraietta. "I'm sure she'd like to play with you." She pointed to the distant figure.

"Okay!" Easily amused, the group of children dashed over to the tree where an older girl sat, brooding. She gave an icy glare in Rodoreamon and Paraietta's direction.

Rodoreamon straightened her pants and watched the children go. "Is she the one you mentioned at our last meeting?"

"Yes," answered Paraietta, moving toward the front door. She sighed. "She's one of the oldest orphans, sixteen, from what we've gathered. She's not happy to be here, but she won't speak about it. She's good with the children though, and they love her." They watched as Laeni proved her point, chasing a group across the yard, a grin on her face.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" asked Rodoreamon, placing a hand on Paraietta's arm.

"Just as I am with all the children, but I'm afraid of what Laeni might do. We have no idea." She sighed as she watched the children for a few moments more from the doorway and then entered the orphanage, leading Rodoreamon down the hallway.

The two women stepped across the threshold into Paraietta's small office, if it could be called that. The small room held a few filing cabinets, which contained the documentation on each of the orphans currently living in the building. A small table sat in the center of the room, acting as Paraietta's desk. Papers covered the top in a messy array. Paraietta sat behind her desk, pushing aside a stack of papers, while Rodoreamon took a seat in the simple high back wooden chair across from her.

"Now," began Paraietta, looking over at Rodoreamon seriously. "What makes you visit earlier than usual?"

"This." Rodoreamon handed over the report she had brought with her, tucked inside of a sealed envelope. She watched as Paraietta undid the string that held envelope closed, and then pulled out the report. She watched Paraietta's face to see what reactions would be readable in her features.

As she expected, Paraietta looked quite worried by the time she had finished reading the report. She placed the papers on the desk, and looked at Rodoreamon. "It doesn't look very good, does it?"

Shaking her head, Rodoreamon replied, "No, it doesn't. It's sickening, and I don't think we can expect help to aid you and the children. I wish I could help find a new location for the orphanage, but after we secured this—"

Paraietta held up a hand. "You've done enough in helping. I couldn't ask for a better friend, and I'll always be grateful for your help. However, we cannot just keep moving around. Not only does it take money, but time and effort. We'll have to do something else instead."

"Is there something we can do?"

Rodoreamon watched as Paraietta rose from her seat and looked out the small window behind her desk. She waited quietly for Paraietta to say something, but she feared that whatever it was wouldn't be a solution their problem. After a few moments, Paraietta turned back to Rodoreamon. "We keep watch. All we can do is watch the reports and then decide to act when they make their plan for attack."

"But—"

"I want to protect the children more than anything, Rodoreamon. We can prepare the orphanage in case of an attack. We still have the basement level. It's just storage now, but I'm sure we can convert it into a shelter in case of an attack."

She sighed, knowing it would come to this. "I suppose that's all we can do."

"You're not going to give in, are you?" asked Paraietta. "You were a Simoun Sibylla after all." She smiled softly, knowing what Rodoreamon's answer would be.

"Of course not," replied Rodoreamon, flustered. "I just thought… maybe…"

"There was more to be done?" finished Paraietta.

Nodding, Rodoreamon answered, "Yes. It always seems like there's more that could be done."

Paraietta walked back to her desk, took a seat, and placed the report back into the envelope, sealing it once more. She handed it over to Rodoreamon, who tucked it away. "We can protect the ones we love, but we can only do so much. I'll give everything I have for these children."

"Just like you did with Neviril?"

"Mmm, yes," agreed Paraietta, nodding. She didn't go into further detail. "The children deserve to be protected. Perhaps then they'll grow up to change the world we live in. Wouldn't that be something?"

"That was supposed to be Aaeru and Neviril's job," reminded Rodoreamon, chuckling.

"Why did we send them off like that? Did we really believe they'd change our future?"

Rodoreamon tilted her head. "I think so. We thought that the Emerald would give us the miracle we desired, but it's been some time… and nothing has changed."

"Perhaps it was all for nothing?"

The question hung in the air like a dead weight. For a few moments, both of them were silent, considering this. Finally, Rodoreamon spoke up.

"I think it was for a cause. We made our mark on the world. We'll always know that at some point in time, we believed it could be changed by a Ri Majon. Not much is known about the Emerald. Perhaps they still have yet to find out its true purpose," whispered Rodoreamon softly. "Perhaps, someday, things will change."

"Perhaps." Paraietta changed the subject. "So we'll keep an eye on the reports, as always?"

"I'll let you know if anything changes or if the plan is put into action. Right now, we can only prepare and wait."

"I'll see about having some of the nursemaids fix up the basement area and gather supplies."

"What about Floef? Is there any chance we might be able to purchase any of his vegetables that were left?"

"No. We bought what we needed before he left to meet up with his commanding officer. He wasn't too happy to have to sell it all off."

"The bride thing?" asked Rodoreamon, holding back a smile.

"Always." Paraietta mimicked Floef. "How can I find a cute bride with my new carrots if I have to go off and fight?" She broke into a fit of laughter, as did Rodoreamon. It lightened up the serious tone of the conversation, a sign that they were finished the discussion.

"You do him perfectly!"

"It's interesting what you learn about someone after spending so much time not knowing a thing." She rose from her seat. "Come, I think the children still want to play with you. I don't think you'll get away so easily."

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Both women headed for the outdoors once more. The children were still happily at play, though Laeni was no longer involved in their games. She had gone back to her spot under the tree. The nursemaids watching over the children kept an eye on them from the perimeter, though one or two were involved in various small group activities. Once one of the children noticed that Paraietta and Rodoreamon had returned, they immediately gravitated toward the two adults.

"Can you play now, Rodoreamon?" asked one, jumping up and down.

"Please play with us before you go!" added the others.

"All right, I'll play," she answered, laughing. "What shall we play?"

"Let's play tag!" called one girl.

"We can't do that silly. She can't run in those shoes. They're old people shoes," whispered the girl next to her a bit too loudly.

"They are?"

"Yeah! It's what grown-ups wear when they don't want to play with kids!"

The other girl nodded with this newfound knowledge. "Ohhh…."

Paraietta hid her laughter behind her hand; the look on Rodoreamon's face at that remark was too priceless. Hearing the hint of laughter, Rodoreamon glared at her friend, which only caused Paraietta to laugh more. "I'm sorry," she said, "But it's quite funny the way you look right now."

"Why don't we play with your ball?" suggested Rodoreamon, happy to direct their attention anywhere but on her shoes and how they were for old people.

"Let's play the catch game!"

One of the older girls ran to get the ball, kicking it back toward the group. Rodoreamon picked it up and dusted it off. "All right. Form a circle around me." The children did as they were told, forming a loose circle around Rodoreamon, leaving her directly in the center. She noticed that Laeni did not join in. "Laeni, don't you want to play with us?"

The girl looked up from her spot beneath the tree, and then shook her head in response. Rodoreamon frowned, but was quickly drawn back to the group of children in front of her, calling out for her attention and the ball. She began the game, tossing the ball to a small child in front of her. The girl then threw the ball back to her, and Rodoreamon continued around the circle. The game would continue in that fashion, speeding up as all the players got into the rhythm of the game.

The ringing of a bell interrupted their fun, and sent a round of groans around the group. "Can't we keep playing, Paraietta?"

"No, it's time for lunch. Come on inside, everyone, and we'll get you washed up." Paraietta began watching the children run for the front door, the nursemaids following behind them. She smiled at Rodoreamon. "You'll keep in touch, won't you?"

"I'll let you know if anything changes."

The farmer who had brought her to the orphanage pulled the carriage up to the entrance. The two women hugged, and then parted, knowing that they'd soon be brought together once more. Rodoreamon climbed into the seat beside the farmer, and settled in. There would be another long helical train ride home. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew she would do well to pick up something small to snack on before the ride home.

"Hungry, milady?" asked the farmer, chuckling.

"I… yes…but I'll be fine until I get to the station," she explained, feeling embarrassed that her stomach had decided to speak.

The farmer reached into the bag at his side. "Here you are. You like, tomatoes, don't you?"

He offered her the fleshy fruit, and she took it, smiling. She brushed it with her fingers, hoping that it was as clean as it looked. She bit into it and felt much better after swallowing. "Thank you. This really is delicious."

"Thanks. I just picked them earlier today. Best tomatoes you'll find anywhere in the countryside!" He grinned.

Rodoreamon smiled back, enjoying the snack. Even with the war, she couldn't forget the kindness of those around her. These were the people who would help to rebuild the country when it was all over. She watched the landscape roll by again, changing from countryside into village once more.

The carriage rolled to a stop at the entrance to the helical train station. Once more, the farmer helped Rodoreamon from the carriage. "Hope you'll visit again soon," he said. "The children will miss you!"

"I'll miss them too."

With practiced ease, Rodoreamon purchased a ticket for one of the private cars open only to those of an aristocratic nature and boarded the train. She took a seat amongst the other passengers and sighed. She felt exhausted, but knew that her day was long from ending. There was the matter of the destruction of the rest of the report she carried, and then the paperwork that had been brought to her in her absence. It would be another late night.