Title: Galeforce
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Rating: PG
Length: 1500 words
Content notes: Shipwreck (the knights, who survive, but Clef doesn't KNOW that in this?)
Author notes: Medieval AU nonsense~ Pretty close after Tempest.
Summary: Eleru is the furthest, most storm-swept part of Cephiro, home to Clef - who is about to have three strange women washed up onto his lands, and has no idea the trouble they will cause and save him...

oOo

Waves slammed against the jagged cliffs which stood proud of the sea, grey battling grey, with broken segments of rock clawing into the waves and raising jagged teeth from the water to tear at anything which dared try to make its way between them and approach the shore. The sky was black with cloud and rain and the oncoming night, storm in mid-spate rallying the surf up against the shore. The wind caught the scrape and scream of planking as it tore apart, dragging it up through the air.

If there were any cries from the three women still trapped onboard, the death of the ship drowned them out.

oOo

The hall which formed the heart of the manor of Eleru could, once, have rightly been called a castle - the main bailey and the oldest buildings within it had sturdy walls, though that was as much defence against the frequent storms as it was against any human foes. There was a great ditch, too, chiselled out of the rock of the clifftop where the hall was built: quarry and moat in one. But since that original wall had been raised up, other clusters of buildings had sprung up both inside the sheltering wall and falling away down the road which led inland; nearly enough homes to be called a town, if the speaker was feeling generous in their definitions. Which made it rather less defensible, in the whole, but who would come travelling to the farthest windswept shore of Cephiro to try and take this mismatched, hodge-podge manor and the little county which sat about it, unless they were set on claiming the whole of Cephiro? In which circumstances, all those who might defend Eleru would be far away, fighting for their liegelord as he stood beside his own - for Clef, Earl of Eleru, was well-trusted High Chancellor of all Cephiro and a close advisor of the Queen.

As such, he spent much of his time away from his own lands, with the court - but on this night, he was at home. He was sequestered in the small chamber which served as a library, high in the one squat and square tower which rose from the bailey wall. The windows were shuttered against the late winter storms still racing across the sea, but still the wind managed to creep through the cracks in the wood and set the candlelight dancing across the map he studied. The most important roads and towns of Cephiro and her neighbours were all sketched in with a rushed hand on the pasted-together sheets; his fingers were still stained grey from the ink, though he had finished the geography of the thing two days ago, and was now making tiny notes in blue and red across it. There was a pile of letters in various hands spilling from the chair he should probably have been sat in, and he took them up one at a time, read over their seemingly-innocuous content, then bent to the map again to add another annotation. Most were about the borders, but there was a pattern beginning to emerge; small clusters of notes moving inward, headed towards the green heartlands of Cephiro.

The wind howled louder, rattling the wood nailed across the windows, and the candles danced so violently he had to stop writing until they settled again. Clef had grown up with the sound of the storms. He would barely have noticed this one, so used to working with the flickering light that he was hardly concious of it. But there was something in the tone of the wind which caught at the ear, had him raising his head from his work, and listening.

Carefully, he set down the quill he had been using and wiped his hands, then made his way out of the small and relatively snug chamber. He passed along a corridor where the chill of bare stone was barely softened by occasional tapestry on the walls, down one flight of steps, and cautiously pulled open the door which led out onto the height of the bailey wall.

Wind snatched at the door, throwing rain in his face and attempting to pull the handle from Clef's grasp, but he had been anticipating it. He closed his eyes against the sting of freezing rain and listened to the howl of the wind, and the noise it carried with it. There was one sheer drop from this wall, down the cliff, and into the sea far far below. Deep evening gloom and the storm combined made a black nothingness of the world over the brink, but listening...

There were heavy footsteps on the wall, and then a bulky figure emerged from the grey, wrapped heavily in a well-greased cloak which would still only repell the water so far. "Evening, my lord. You hear it too?"

"I hoped I was wrong." Clef said, with a sigh, standing aside so that the woman could pass inside. He mostly closed the door after her, cutting out the worst of the cold and the rain, but it could not block the sound of timber breaking on the rocks below. "You know the paths and the tides better than anyone else in this hall, Evora. Would it be possible-"

"My lord, you know better than to ask if anyone could make it down to the shore in this." Was the steady answer, as Evora unwrapped the folds of her cloak far enough that the badge which clasped it, mark of Clef's retinue, could be seen - and the mail she wore even in this weather, which would need careful cleaning to ensure it did not rust, again. "The storm would tear anyone foolish enough to try descending straight off the paths. No, there is nothing we can do for any poor souls out there tonight. But I reckon the worst of this will blow over by dawn. The tide will turn a few hours before sunrise, so by the time there is light to see by, it should be low enough for us to reach the coves and search for any survivors."

The gale flung up another long howl decorated with the sound of breaking wood about the door, and Clef's hand tightened so hard on it that his fingers were close to numb. "What chance can anyone have of surviving this?" He murmured, mostly to himself.

Evora reached to pat his shoulder, with the easiness of long familiarity. She was the person who had first taught her lord to be halfway competent with a sword - and sent him sprawling across the practise grounds a good many times in the process. That was many years past, but now she served as steward for his lands and his people, taking care not only of the hall but the entire earldom of Eleru in his many absences. She knew the threat to Cephiro he was mapping out in the library, and she knew that he was about to spend the night fretting over both a single possible ship and the whole land at once. "Some have done so. More than one might expect. There are caves and crannies enough in the cliffs for people to shelter in, so long as they have the sense to cling to them-"

"So long as the waves do not dash them into the walls of the said caves so hard that they are insensible of what is happening, you mean?" Clef shook his head, and pushed the door all the way shut. "We will search as soon as there is light enough to make it down the cliffs. Make sure your people know we are to set out at dawn. Until then, I have work to continue, and I am sure you are in need of food. If you would have someone bring supper up to the library for me, please."

"Yes, my lord. But you must remember to get some sleep yourself before you slip from the cliffs tomorrow and break your neck, which would help no one at all."

Clef smiled, a little, briefly. "Oh, I am sure that you would find yourself suffering far fewer headaches in my absense..."

The steward sighed at him, but turned away, and Clef retreated to the library and the work still awaiting him, trying in vain to not listen to the shipwreck out in the dark.

oOo

The ragged trailling clouds were breaking apart overhead as the thin light of a winter dawn crept into the sky. The air was clear, and cold; the sea a glimmering silver which broke steadily against the sand of the damp beaches being revealled as the tides withdrew. From the top of the cliffs, Clef could see scattered flotsam along the shore; timbers, rope, a section of what must have been a mast. But there were no bodies lying on the sand.

He tried not to let himself hope. It was probable that only meant the crew had been swept further along the coast, not that any had made it to shelter. Still, he had to take several deep breaths to steady himself before he started down the path, after Evora. They would search all the caves which they could reach, in case anyone had been lucky enough - stubborn enough - to survive.

oOo