#The Silent Daughter of a Duke and the Cold Emperor ~ The Child I Found in My Past Life Became the Emperor ~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fableweaver · 5 years

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Arc of the Deadman Reaper

Arc of the Deadman Reaper

Seth crouched on the roof of the castle idly twirling the white feather between his fingers. Since his torture and rebirth, he no longer had the need to sleep; that left him spare time to think. It was strange, he felt nothing, yet his mental facilities remained as sharp as ever. The moon vanished behind a cloud and Seth stood, pocketing the feather.

The castles of Lir were more like ornate forts, built of timber and more like a mansion than the castles of the west. It made it easier though to break into them when they were more like houses. The guards didn’t see the figure in black walk along the roof and swing into a window in the darkness of the night. Guards rarely looked up.

Inside Seth walked almost casually down through the halls and to the lord’s quarters. He dispatched a few guards he came across with silent ease, he could now see in the dark as well as a cat thanks to Loe. His own skills however allowed him to slip into the heart of the castle to the lord’s personal rooms.

The Count Gan lay asleep in his bed with his wife next to him, his arm resting under her head. Seth could remember feeling remorse in moments like this, but the memory seemed stale and brittle now. He drew a sword silently and with one swift stroke took the lord’s head off in one clean stroke. The Countess woke as the spray of blood and screamed, scrambling back from the blood in horror.

“I’ll be taking this,” Seth said flatly. Since the change he could no longer inflict his words with any emotion, he found this only unnerved people more to his presence. He bent down and took the Lord’s head, still dripping blood.

“W-Who are you?” the Countess managed to ask shivering.

“Death,” he answered, and she wailed. “The Emperor claims the Count Gan’s life. His successor would do best to pledge loyalty to him or his head will join his father’s.”

“Yes milord,” the Countess said groveling down on the floor. “P-please spare my life.”

Seth looked at her feeling nothing; his orders were for the Count’s head only. Two heads would be harder to carry. He didn’t bother with an answer to her and turned to leave. Carrying the lord’s head, he walked out through the castle. Some of the guards reacted violently when they saw him carrying the lord’s head, and Seth responded in kind. After killing four men with ease and not even flinching at the stabs of blades into his flesh.

He pulled out a dagger from his side and turned to see two guards staring at him in horror.

“Just my luck to get stabbed in the liver,” Seth said. “And I wanted to go out for a drink too.”

The two guards dropped their weapons and fled, pushing at each other in their haste to get away. Seth tossed the dagger aside and kept walking. He joked still, mainly out of habit rather than humor. Yet of course his tone remained flat, so he supposed the jokes sounded horrifying to those who heard them. His humor had taken a darker turn as well.

He left the castle through the front gate; the guards seemed to have abandoned all hope of stopping him. The small village around the castle was still asleep and Seth didn’t bother waking anyone. He fetched his horse from the small thicket he had tied it up at and disposed of the head in his saddle back. He could no longer smell fortunately because the rotting remains of two more heads were rather ripe in his saddle bags.

Seth rode heedless of the rising sun or any sense of fatigue or exhaustion. His horse though was another matter. Seth stopped to rest the horse rather than himself. As always when idle he took out the white feather and looked at it. Sometimes Seth thought he felt something when he stared at the feather, but it remained out of his grasp. He wondered though about the strange man that had turned into a bird. Loe of course said nothing about him, just issued orders that he was to be captured if ever seen again. He said captured not dead, which Seth only found more curious. Since he could no longer feel anything Seth found he was more curious about things, thinking was all he had left.

He didn’t feel hunger either but Loe had told him he still needed to eat and drink. Food had no taste, Seth couldn’t even feel it in his mouth as he chewed and swallowed. There was no satisfaction, no gratitude, and no disgust. He ate whatever came to hand which was mostly rice.

He put his feather away and rode on. His wounds healed on their own, he healed faster than an average man but not as quickly as Loe. Seth wasn’t bothered with the pain of healing so often he went by with wounds over his body that were in different states of healing. Some festered and Seth had to get them treated. He wondered though what would happen if he were to let his body rot, or if he was dismembered or beheaded. He also wondered what would happen if he did the same to Loe.

Seth arrived back in Shin-Ra after about five days. The change of power in the city had greatly altered the center of the east. Loe had first made a curfew so people were confined to their homes after the dusk hours until dawn. Slaves were now available by the thousands because Loe had forced many who resisted him into slavery. Lir had always been central in the slave trade, now there seemed to be only two types of people here: slaves and masters.

When Seth rode through the city the people cringed away from him. He still wore death’s mask by Loe’s insistence, and the mask sent fear through the people that saw him. He had been Loe’s executioner in many of the public executions and rituals. The other change in the city had been religion. All the Sects of Shin-Ra had been burned with their worshipers still within them. In their places were altars of stone and iron to the god Kal Ba’el.

Seth rode past one on his way to the palace feeling nothing when he gazed at the open paved square. Tortured victims hung from chains and cages around the altar, blood congealed in puddles around the altar.

Seth had never known there had been so many members of the Legion until now. Now that Loe held control of Lir the Legion had come out of hiding revealing their numbers were far greater than a mere cult. And they had converted every day, it was often convert or die.

The palace had changed as well as Seth rode up. The opulent manor had been changed to imposing militant displays of power and gory severed heads of Loe’s enemies. Seth didn’t even blink as he rode past the heads on pikes, the crows flying off at his approach. He dismounted in the courtyard and took his saddle bags. A servant scurried forward and took the horse unable to look Seth in the eye.

Seth barely even noticed him as he walked into the palace. He walked through the halls and into the great hall where the Emperor held court. The great table was gone now and the lords knelt around the throne in mute supplication. Daily the lords had to come to Loe and present gifts to him or just worship at his feet. Loe now sat in a great dais surrounded by a tent like structure meant to almost conceal him.

Seth kept back because a lord was before Loe presenting a gift.

“Your excellency, may I present my daughter Mao Han?” the Duke Han said bowing low. His two daughters bowed as well. One was sixteen into marriage age the other looked only nine or ten. The younger of the two had a zither set before her. “She would like to sing for you your Excellency.”

Loe simply nodded and the girl sat up. She began to sing, her voice raising up in a wonderful song of old Lirian tradition that had been written in praise of the emperor. The younger girl played the zither to accompany her sister’s voice, as a pair they worked well together to bring honor to the song. Seth stood feeling nothing at the sound of the music. He could hear the emotion in it, but it raised nothing in response from him. The song ended and a hesitant applause came from the crowd, Loe didn’t react and his cold stare made the applause patter off.

“Your Excellency if it would please you, I would present my daughter to you as a bride,” Duke Han said nervously. “We of your faithful servants hope to see an heir to your reign.”

“Tell me, if I am immortal why would I need an heir?” Loe asked coldly and Han flinched and lowered his head to the glass floor. Loe’s eyes looked at Mao coldly combing over her as if bored. Seth knew where he would look next, Loe’s eyes going to the younger daughter. His eyes lit then with greed, not lust but in Loe that was about the same thing.

“What is your name child?” Loe said smoothly. The girl had her face pressed so close to the glass floor her breath fogged the glass. “Answer.”

“Noa your Excellency,” the girl answered softly. Loe smiled and looked back at Duke Han.

“Very well Lord Han I will take Noa as my first wife,” Loe said and Duke Han was so surprised he actually looked up at Loe in the eye.

“Your Excellency she is only nine!” Han said horrified. “You cannot…”

The look in Loe’s eyes killed the words on the man’s lips and he shrank back.

“What I mean is you cannot father a child on her for many years,” Han finished lamely.

“I do not plan to, for I do not need an heir as I said,” Loe said. “I will take a wife from each of the kingdoms to ensure the loyalty of that kingdom. I believe Noa will make a very good wife of Lir.”

“What of her children?” Han asked. “What are they to get if you will not name one as heir.”

“Male children will become soldiers perhaps, depending on their skill,” Loe said. “Out of her female children I will choose my next bride after her.”

Several lords could not keep back a gasp of appalment. Seth could only wonder what effect that kind of inbreeding would have on the generations to come.

“Do you disagree with this Lord Han?” Loe asked mildly. Seth could see the man struggling with his disgust and knew that if he did not conquer it Seth would be taking his life.

“No, your Excellency,” Han said at last sinking down to the floor in defeat. “I am honored you would choose one of my line to join yours.”

“Good,” Loe said. “I will accept Noa into my house.”

Loe signaled to a servant who stepped forward and pulled Noa to her feet.

“Father!” Noa called out.

“Your Excellency, what of a wedding!” Han said terrified as his daughter was dragged away.

“Weddings are a device of the Sect,” Loe said coldly. “Kal Ba’el requires only the bedding to bind a man and woman together.”

“But a marriage requires more than just that!” Han said looking ready to chase after his daughter. “We must at least prepare her.”

“Marriage is no longer something relevant,” Loe said. “From now on women only belong to men, their fathers, brothers, or any man that chooses to take her. Women are not wise enough to choose their mate, they are only meant to bear children. This is my command.”

“Father!” Noa was nearly out the door now and Han’s resolve broke. He stood and started to go after her, but Seth had already moved. Seth stood between him and his daughter and Han stopped looking pale. Seth drew his sword and advanced. For a moment Han looked ready to fight, but the lord’s eyes went to the bloody saddle bags Seth carried. Going pale Lord Han lowered himself to the floor in supplication. Noa whimpered one last time as the servant pulled her out of the hall.

“Very wise,” Loe said. “You are dismissed Lord Han; I will see your family richly rewarded for the gift of your daughter to me.”

Han slunk back with his eyes low, Seth noted not out of fear but to hide the look of loathing on his face. He gathered his other daughter and they quickly left the hall. Seth turned back to Loe who looked pleased with this outcome. Seth dropped his bloody saddle bags at Loe’s feet, making the man glare at him.

“Your order of three lord’s heads highness,” Seth said. “Sorry I didn’t wrap them.”

Loe looked up at him flatly and signaled to a servant.

“Mount these with the others,” Loe ordered the servant. The man bowed and quickly took the saddle bags away.

“What no tip?” Seth asked.

“I would think having your soul eaten would remove that glib tongue from your mouth,” Loe said irritated. “Instead it seems to have made it worse.”

“You can try to cut it out if you want,” Seth answered.

“Shut up,” Loe said and Seth gazed down at him fingering the hilt of a dagger. If he knew he could succeed he would try to kill Loe, but he knew he wouldn’t. Until Seth found a way to get past Loe’s immortality he knew it was pointless to attack the man. He found he could though; nothing restricted his movements or thoughts. He had tried a few times to be sure, when Loe wasn’t looking, and he found he could turn against Loe if he wanted to. But the desire was gone, only the logic remained, Seth knew logically that this man had to die.

“You are thinking about killing me,” Loe said, Seth was no longer surprised by this trick.

“I will not succeed so why bother?” Seth said.

“Because I stole your humanity and made you into a monster,” Loe answered. “I know now that I do not control you, so why do you follow my commands?”

“Because I want to kill you,” Seth answered simply. That was the only reason he kept near Loe, to find a way to kill him. Loe sneered at him but before he could answer a messenger charged into the room. Both turned to the messenger as he stumbled forward and collapsed in front of them.

“Speak,” Loe said mildly.

“Majesty, an army comes from the east,” the man said afraid. “An army of monsters.”

“Ah, they’ve finally arrived,” Loe said as he stood. “Tell the guards to let them into the city.”

Trembling the boy bowed and hurried out to do as the Emperor commanded. Loe stood and went to the throne room where guests were often received, Seth following him. Seth stood by the throne leaning against a pillar casually. The rest of the nobles filed in as well to stand along the wall like lost sheep. This room as well had the black glass floor, the great halls built over the glass floor centuries ago.

It wasn’t long for their guests to arrive. The large double doors boomed open and the guests walked in. The courtiers of the Court of Whispers all gasped and cried out; a few even fainted at the sight of the creatures.

They were large brutes, standing over six spans tall and looked to weigh at least eight stones. Their skin was molted black and blue like they had been badly bruised. Their faces were ugly, tusks, horns, pig like noses, and beady black eyes. They all wore animal skins and soot stained armor with ragged chain mail. There were five of them, Seth guessing that they were the generals of the beasts. They marched forward and knelt before Loe, putting their fists on the floor.

“Hail to the Emperor Feng Loe,” they said in unison. They spoke Lirian with a strange accent that Seth had never heard before.

“Welcome my generals,” Loe said pleased. “My court, these are the generals of the Orc army: Vallug, Ubal, Snag, Gorgol, and Raigo.”

Vallug was the largest of the five, nearly nine spans tall his lower jaw jutted out and he was almost as hairy as a bear. Ubal and Gorgol were only a span shorter than Vallug and had horns and tusks. The only difference between those two seemed to be their skin tones, Ubal was more green and Gorgol more blue. Snag was as tall as Ubal and Gorgol but much thinner, his long arms reaching past his knees.

Raigo stood in the center and while he only stood seven spans, a runt compared to the others, Seth could tell he was the most dangerous. His features were hideous, his wide nostrils like a bat’s and tusks jutting out from his lips. His eyes glowed red under his thick brows. Unlike the others there was a fire of intelligence in those eyes, and Seth knew this creature was a killer not just a brute.

“They and their men are creatures from beyond our world, brought here by Kal Ba’el to help me conquer the kingdoms. You will honor them as generals of my armies and be wise not to displease them for their hunger knows no bounds.”

Several lords whimpered in fear cringing back from the Orc generals Seth having no doubt that these creatures were man eaters.

“Now leave I have things I need to discuss with only my generals,” Loe ordered. The room cleared in minutes, but Seth stayed, Loe giving no objection to his presence.

“Great one,” Raigo said, he seemed to be the speaker, “The Burning Gate was destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Loe said surprised. “How?”

“An old Aldan came and dropped it into the abyss,” Raigo answered. “Kal Ba’el is very displeased, he says this man must be captured and his soul given to him.”

“I believe I know of this man,” Loe said his eyes narrow. Seth did not reach for the white feather he carried, but it burned in his mind. Loe turned to him and Seth quickly shoved the thought of the feather aside. “This man goes high on the list.”

“Yes Excellency,” Seth answered. Loe had given him a list of people that he was to capture and bring to him. There had only been descriptions of these people: twin girls of both Daunish and Aldan decent, a blind Daunish man, a young Regarian cleric, a rogue mage, a dwarf, a Nyrgardic noble lady, a Xinian nomad, and a Markian girl. The description of the Markian girl had drawn his eye, Loe had only told him she was in the Court of Miracles. Yet Seth knew he had meant Lucia. He felt nothing at the thought of her being on this list, but he wondered if confronted with her he might feel something.

Besides he wasn’t supposed to kill these people but capture them and bring them to Loe. He had no doubts on what Loe would do to them, but he felt nothing and so thought little of future confrontations that may not happen. Loe had not ordered him to actively hunt these people, only to keep his eyes open for them. Until Loe decided to unleash him Seth thought little of the people he might have to kill.

“Good,” Loe said and turned back to the Orcs. “There is nothing we can do about the gate.”

“But we cannot hear the word of Kal Ba’el without the gate,” Raigo argued.

“He can still watch us, and we can summon enough of his spirit to know his wishes,” Loe said. “We know his wishes, conquer the kingdoms. Have you brought your army?”

“Yes and they are hungry,” Raigo answered.

“They will be fed,” Loe answered. “There are plenty of poor in the streets, I will see that they are rounded up.”

“Thank you Great One,” Raigo answered, his companion’s licking their lips in anticipation.

“Once the army is fed you must march west,” Loe answered. “I have the lords under my thumb and have called an army from them of only four thousand; this number is not enough to take the kingdoms. Raigo, Ubal, and Vallug, you will take the clans under your command west. Snag will travel Lir and get the lords to submit more men to my armies. Gorgol will remain in Shin-Ra to guard the capital.”

“Yes, Great One,” the Orcs replied.

“Hollow,” Loe said and Seth stepped forward. Loe liked to call him that, rather than using his name. “You will be going with Raigo and joining the army. I want you to bring me the head of the High King.”

“What makes you think he will be at the battle?” Seth asked. “Arian will not leave Cair Leon just for this.”

“The news of the Orc army will rouse him,” Loe said and Seth nodded. There was a chance Arian wouldn’t rise to the challenge, but Seth knew Arian. The High King would go to battle; his pride would not accept defeat. “Go now and feast, then the orcs shall march.”

The Orcs bowed to the emperor before they left, and Seth followed them. He kept his distance as he followed; the Orcs seemed to ignore him. They left the palace and even the city to where the army rested. Seth didn’t lose stride as he walked out to see the full extent of the Orc army.

There had to be at least a hundred thousand of them, a dark blanket of camps as far as the eye could see. Raigo stopped and turned to him, his eyes burning and unreadable.

“Do you feel fear man thing?” the Orc asked bearing his teeth in a grimace. Seth realized that the expression must have been the Orc equivalent of a grin.

“I fear nothing,” Seth answered dully. “That piss poor excuse of a god of yours ate my spirit.”

“Hollow Man,” Raigo said nodding. “We have been told of you. Join us, the Emperor has gathered us a meal.”

Seth followed them into the camp of the Orcs. Smoke hung over the camp from the many fires, the tents all made of dark felt and animal skins. Seth saw piles of offal had already appeared between the tents even though the army had just arrived. He could smell nothing, his only senses that remained to him was his hearing and sight. Some were still setting up tents and camps, arguments over where they could put their tents. The Orcs groveled before their leaders; Seth could tell it was out of fear.

“Where are your females?” Seth asked, seeing only males.

“Females?” Raigo asked puzzled.

“Those that you mate with to have children,” Seth answered. This had to be all of the Orcs in the world, yet they had not brought their females with them. Raigo grinned again, had Seth been able to feel anything he might have felt terror in that grin.

“You will see,” Raigo answered.

They arrived to a great pen where thousands of people had been gathered. It seemed like Loe had anticipated the Orcs’ need despite his careless remark earlier since the people had already been gathered. These were the poor of the city, but not the old. Most were young children, many women, and some men. The people sat in their pen with wide eyed fear, the children grouped together around any adult they could find.

“Hail my brothers!” Raigo shouted and the Orcs turned to him. “The Great One has given us a feast. Let us eat!”

The Orcs roared in agreement and crowded around the pen. Children cried and women screamed as Orcs flooded into the pen. Seth watched the Orcs feed feeling nothing. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand what was going on, he just couldn’t muster any emotional response. The blood and gore of dying children didn’t stir a single heart string in him.

He soon saw what Raigo had eluded to when he had asked about the females. The women were not eaten, instead they were raped. After several Orcs were done with a woman Raigo and the other generals stepped in and pulled the women away or else the Orcs would have raped them to death. The women were dragged away to be kept in a well-guarded pen. Not all were so fortunate, some were killed and eaten before the generals or chiefs could intervene.

“I see what you meant,” Seth said to Raigo as the Orc general joined him along the sidelines. Raigo’s mouth was bloody and he was licking his lips. “Those women will bear your children.”

“Each can bear a litter of five,” Raigo answered.

“Five? They must be small babies,” Seth said and Raigo shook his head.

“The female will die for the Orc pups will eat their way free of her body,” Raigo answered. “It takes three moons for the pups to be born, and another six for them to mature.”

“Interesting,” Seth said dully. “Is this how you have bred?”

“Yes,” Raigo answered.

“Where did you get all the women?” Seth asked. “There are many of you. It takes one woman to birth five and she dies in the process.”

“We do not age like your kind,” Raigo answered. “I crossed into this world five centuries ago. We used that time to capture females over the empty hills. Wolves can bear us seven pups, deer can bear ten, and the Paracer can bear thirty.”

“Are you saying you have bred with beasts?” Seth asked.

“We breed with what we can get but it must be large and warm blooded,” Raigo answered. “We had tried to breed with a grounded Roc, but it did not bear children. Do you want a woman?”

“I can’t feel anything,” Seth answered. He could no longer feel a woman’s touch; this might have been frustrating if Seth could feel frustration. He found the only thing that really came of this was clarity of thought.

Seth turned back to look at five Orcs having their way with a woman. She was screaming in pain, struggling uselessly against the creatures. Seth turned to see a child had been ripped apart and the Orcs were devouring the bloody flesh raw. Another sight of a young boy being shoved into a fire pit to cook was just beyond. The screams of the poor were constant, only fading as the Orcs satiated their hunger.

“Lir has plenty of food for you,” Seth said. “Why not eat rice?”

“We cannot eat the food of men,” Raigo answered with a sneer. “The greens and grasses do not sit well with us, only meat. Many will only eat fresh meat; we need blood when we eat. We can eat meat that has soured or rots, we prefer that over dried meat.”

“Will this be enough?” Seth asked.

“We are not like Kal Ba’el in his hunger,” Raigo answered. “We can go moons without meat. And soon there will be a feast of war. Come and join us.”

“No thanks,” Seth said. The sound of cracking bones began as the meat was stripped from the bones. Seth noticed that many with the great jaws were swallowing the bones shards, it looked like there would be little left. The Orcs had eaten everything of the bodies, even the guts and heads.

Raigo took a swing at him and Seth dodged the sudden blow. Raigo’s face was set in a snarl, his teeth bared, but Seth saw humor glimmering in his eyes.

“Come Hollow Man,” Raigo roared. “Let us see what gifts Kal Ba’el has bestowed upon you! Fight me!”

“Fine but don’t blame me if you get killed,” Seth answered drawing his sword. Raigo howled and the orcs turned. In seconds a crowd drew around the pair, keeping their distance but fencing them in. Raigo drew his own sword, a rusted yet sharp blade. He lashed out faster than any man could move and Seth blocked the blow feeling it ring through him.

The Orc was faster and stronger than any man, had Seth not been changed by Kal Ba’el he wouldn’t have been able to hold his own against this creature. He fought with Raigo for a full ten minutes until at last on a silent agreement they dropped their weapons. The fight was over, both breathing heavily. Seth had scored a few blows and noted that Raigo bled an inky black blood.

“Good, you are a very good warrior,” Raigo said with praise. The other orcs now looked at Seth with fear and awe. Seth understood this was because they all feared Raigo a great deal, and Seth had been able to hold his own against him. “Now all our clans understand you are a fierce warrior. You need not fear attacks to test this.”

“I cannot fear them,” Seth answered looking at the orcs dully. Some glared back at him and he knew despite seeing his skill some orcs would challenge him now. It seemed Orcs were more human than Seth had thought.

“So you cannot,” Raigo said as he nodded. “Come the feast continues.”

Seth spent the night in the Orc camp watching as they feasted and drank. Orcs didn’t drink alcohol to become intoxicated but vinegar or soured milk. As night fell the Orcs continued their feasting, it seemed they were actually nocturnal. They had arrived late in the day so it hadn’t taken long for night to fall.

Soon Seth decided he would seek the company of humans since he was going to be living with Orcs for some time. He walked back into the city and his feet soon led him to a familiar house. Din’s pleasure house was very active now, the night a popular time to visit. After Loe had taken over and destroyed all of the Sects and killed all the members, it seemed people indulged in sin now. Seth walked in and once again a well painted greeter bowed to him.

“Welcome,” she said smoothly, she didn’t even bat an eye at his attire. “How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for Din,” Seth answered. “Tell her an old friend is here to see her.”

“May I get a name?” the woman asked.

“She doesn’t know it anyways,” Seth said. “Tell her I knew Mai.”

“Very well,” the woman said smoothly. “This way.”

She led him to another room, past others where sounds of sex could be heard. The room was decorated the same as before and Seth sat to wait. It wasn’t long when Din arrived carrying a tray of rice wine. She set it on the table and looked at him, her almond shaped eyes shrewd.

“Greetings,” she said mildly. “Wine?”

“No, it doesn’t work for me anymore,” Seth said.

“Then if I may ask, how did you know Mai?” Din asked. Seth answered her by taking off his mask and pushing back his hood. Her face paled and she looked away, Seth seeing a tear trail down her cheek. He reached out and brushed the tear away because he knew that was what he had to do not out of any feelings of caring for this woman. He couldn’t even feel the touch of the tear on his finger as he brushed it away.

She calmed herself and looked back at him all business once more.

“So you’re alive,” she said crisply.

“If you want to call it that,” Seth answered.

“Mai is dead you know,” Din said. “I’m sorry, but Loe’s goons came and took her. I’m sure she is dead now or wishes to be.”

“I know,” Seth said. “I killed her.”

“What happened?” Din said looking a bit relieved to at least know Mai’s fate. Seth told her about trying to kill Loe with snake sand, his torture, and how he had killed Mai.

“Now I only stay close to Loe so I might kill him one day,” Seth said.

“Doesn’t it bother you to kill for him?” Din asked. She now leaned against him, his robe open to her fingers which idly played over his chest. He felt nothing of her touch and nothing as he looked down at her own open robe.

“I feel nothing,” Seth answered. “Not even your hand down my trews.”

“Really because I think I feel you stiffening,” Din said playfully. “Maybe I can satisfy you now.”

Seth let her do as she pleased simply because he felt no reason to stop her. Din knew her business well and her skill allowed her to get a response out of Seth’s body even if his mind felt nothing. He guessed it was because his body still had some of its basic functions; after all he still had to eat. Din seemed to be enjoying herself more and once they were finished, she sat back and lit her pipe again.

“How was that?” Din asked.

“I told you I can’t feel anything,” Seth said.

“Isn’t that frustrating at all?” Din asked. “You didn’t orgasm, I could tell.”

“Din I don’t think you understand what I mean when I don’t feel anything,” Seth said.

“No I suppose I don’t,” Din said before she took a mouthful of smoke and breathed it out. “I enjoyed myself.”

“That means a lot from a whore,” Seth said.

“You know you speak without an ounce of inflection or emotion yet you’re still a smart ass,” Din said. “Glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“It never will,” Seth answered, and Din laughed.

“What will you do now?” Din asked after she had calmed and drank some wine.

“I march with the Orc army,” Seth answered. “I’ve been ordered to take the High King’s head.”

“Do you think Loe will conquer the kingdoms?” Din asked, fear in her voice.

“I don’t care, I can’t care,” Seth answered. “He made me immortal, and he is immortal. I’ll stay by his side until I learn of a way to kill him, even if it takes me centuries.”

“It sounds lonely,” Din said. “What of that woman you love?”

“I don’t love her anymore,” Seth answered.

“Right,” Din said as if she didn’t believe him. Seth looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Come on my friend no matter what you may say about your soul being hollow, even that dark spirit can’t strip you of love.”

“A whore that believes in love?” Seth said.

“All whores believe in love. We deal in love, we trade in love, we are masters of love. Not just love making but love itself. We must love each and every customer that comes to us, for we are the ultimate lovers.”

“You love for money,” Seth said. “That isn’t love that’s greed.”

“Is greed not a form of love?” Din asked grinning wickedly. “Speaking of money…”

Seth took out his purse and set a gold crown on the table. Din looked impressed and ready to say something.

“For Mai,” Seth said, and Din closed her mouth and nodded. He gathered his things and dressed, donning his mask once more. “I should go.”

“Good travels to you stranger of death,” Din said.

“Call me Hollow Jack,” Seth said. Din laughed as he stood and left her to finish smoking her pipe. As he walked out he thought for just a moment he could smell her tobacco smoke. The moment passed however, and he couldn’t be sure if he had just imagined it. He left the city to seek a dark solitude in the night to stare at his white feather and try to feel something.

The Orc army set out the next night after a night of feasting and a day of rest. The Orcs preferred to travel at night, or under heavy cover of clouds. Winter thus was the best time for them to travel as the nights were longer than the days. Seth traveled with them; the Orcs were not burdened with horses or even supplies. They could march for days without rest or food, traveling at a steady ground eating pace. Seth was sure the only reason he kept pace with them was because of his inhuman stamina.

They arrived at Kon Fort ten days after leaving Shin-Ra, a record time. The fort was a great wood structure built on a hill, an easily defensible position. A wood palisade spread for half a league to the south and it was maned by a few men of the Lirian army. These men shrank in fear at the sight of the Orc army even though they were the reinforcements. Raigo called a halt and signaled to Ubal and Vallug to follow him. Seth followed as well as they went up to the fort.

The gates were opened, and Seth looked around critically at the men of the fort. He knew little of warfare, but he could tell the place was well organized and the guards attentive. As they walked into the courtyard another man walked out of the fort. He was a military man, his hair cut short for a helm and graying. He was Lirian entering his later years, but his dark eyes were sharp and stride lithe. Seth could tell by the way the man walked that he was a sword master.

“I am General Taro,” he said bowing to them. If he was disturbed by the appearance of his reinforcements, he didn’t show it.

“I am General Raigo, this is General Ubal and Vallug. And the Hollow Man.”

“Hollow Man?” Taro said puzzled as he glanced at Seth.

“Hollow Jack,” Seth answered, and he saw Taro glare at him flatly. “I’m in his sort of profession.”

“What? Eating people?”

“No I leave that to these ugly bastards,” Seth answered. “I mean killing.”

“You have a smart mouth for a hired thug,” Taro said.

“Makes life interesting,” Seth answered. “And death.”

Seth could tell the banter was getting to Taro, not what he was saying but the dead tone in which he said it. Out of habit more than any desire Seth continued to ruffle people with the way he spoke. He supposed it kept them off balance which made them easier targets.

“Never mind all this,” Taro said turning back to Raigo. “How many men have you brought?”

“Sixty thousand,” Raigo answered. “I am to take charge here.”

General Taro’s eyes went cold and his hand dropped to his sword hilt.

“I fought in the King’s Wars, and before that in the Battles of the Northern Fells,” Taro said lowly. “I have over twenty years battle experience.”

Raigo looked down at him much like a man looking down at a dog.

“You know of the man named Wei?” Raigo said.

“He was our greatest warrior,” Taro said. “He lived during the Cursed Age and founded the Wei sword style which we use to this day. He was said to be able to cut stone. He served no lord and wandered the land healing people with knives.”

“I killed this man and ate him,” Raigo said and Taro’s face turned ashen. Seth knew Wei was nearly sacred to Lirian warriors, especially to swordsmen. “Our kind do not age or die, I have lived for centuries of your time. When an Orc kills his prey and eats its brains, he gains the knowledge of his prey. Some gain little from eating nothing but bears and wolves.”

He looked at Vallug who growled at him and said something in a guttural language. Raigo answered with distain in the same growls and Vallug scowled but looked away. Seth sensed this was an old dispute of theirs; it seemed Orcs argued most over food.

“This is impossible,” Taro argued.

“The belief is yours; I will not sway you,” Raigo said and Taro nearly drew his sword. Seth had read The Scrolls of the Blade, Raigo had quoted him perfectly.

Raigo did not have Taro’s restraint, however. With a deadly grin he drew his sword and lashed out at the general. Taro leapt back and drew his own blade and so began a battle of masters. Now standing at the side lines Seth was able to watch Raigo at work and he had to admit he might have felt a twinge of cold fear if he could feel such things. Raigo moved with strength, precision, and a ruthless reckless nature that made his flashing blade deadly. He didn’t toy with his prey either, he attacked with deadly intent. Taro was skilled and had spent his life living and breathing the way of the sword which was why he managed to last a full five minutes before Raigo ran him through.

Raigo pulled his blade from the general’s guts and cut his head off before his body could crumple. The Lirian warriors looked on in horror as Raigo picked up the General’s head, cracked it open and devoured the gray flesh of his brain. He tossed the remains aside, Vallug and Ubal scavenging the rest.

“Sir Ling,” Raigo said and one of the observing officials jumped. “You are Taro’s second; you are now in charge of the Lirian men. We are to use this as our base of operations. Show me the map room and tell me the positions of the enemy.”

“Yes General,” Sir Ling said looking ready to puke. Raigo left Vallug and Ubal to eat Taro’s corpse as he followed Sir Ling, Seth close behind. The inside of the fort was military and sparse, as it should be since this was a place of death. Seth always found that places where many people died tended to be sparse, as if life had a hard time redeeming these places of the blood that had been spilled there.

The command room was neat and orderly, a map spread out on the table with charts and pieces representing the enemy movements. Nervously Sir Ling stood next to the table as Raigo stood and examined the map. It was a grim sight, the Lirian army had lost a lot of ground and the Regarian knights had surrounded the fort on three sides.

“We have not gotten in supplies,” Sir Ling said. “The Regarians have managed to divert our supply wagons. We’ve barely managed to hold the eastern side.”

“You have done what you can with your numbers,” Raigo said, not in praise he was simply stating the truth.

“Well your numbers won’t mean much if we must dig in for a siege,” Ling said. “We don’t have the supplies for a siege.”

“We will break it,” Raigo said. “And Orcs will not need food for we feed on our enemies.”

Sir Ling looked gray and he shivered with fear. Seth couldn’t comfort him since he felt no sympathy for the man. Raigo began to detail his plans, Seth noting that he was actually a very strong strategist. It wasn’t like the game War, that checker game was far more complicated. It was more like Check, the less complicated game that was inspired by War. They had different types of soldiers, cavalry, infantry, and much more. They had to arrange their troops to counter the enemy while considering the future and what may happen afterwards.

“Gather the captains of the regiments,” Raigo ordered. “I want to tell them these orders.”

“Yes General,” Sir Ling said.

“Have you seen anything strange around here?” Seth asked before Ling could leave. “Like an albatross flying over land?”

“An albatross from the Verde Sea?” Ling said shaking his head. “No this is too far inland for them.”

“I know I was asking if anyone had seen one,” Seth said.

“No milord, not that I’ve heard,” Ling answered unable to meet Seth’s gaze. Seth realized he was intimidating the man and decided to let him go.

“Never mind,” Seth said. “Go get the captains like Raigo said.”

“Thank you, milord,” Ling said with a quick bow before he scurried from the room with his tail between his legs. Seth wondered what it was about himself that made others so nervous.

“I’ll leave you to your war,” Seth said to Raigo. “I’m going to go walk around.”

He didn’t give Raigo a chance to answer, leaving quickly out of the fort. Around the fort and behind the wall a shanty town had sprung up from the needs of the men of the fort. The little town was a lot like any Lirian city, crowded. The streets were narrow; the buildings a combination of tent and rickety walls, and the waste of many paved the streets. Whores and beggars lived here, both looking nervous now with the arrival of the Orcs. The inhabitants of the fort didn’t know what to make of these creatures just yet.

The Orcs kept to their camp, uninterested in these dredges of humanity.

“Death!” Seth turned at the brazen call of a whore who addressed him. She was a gaudy dressed woman in a silk kimono that was pulled so low her shoulders were bare and breast nearly coming out of the silk. Her face was painted thickly with cosmetics, and hair pinned up elaborately. Seth still couldn’t understand the Lirian’s love for color; the woman was dressed in bright silks of clashing colors.

“You came with those creatures did you not?” the woman asked.

“I did,” Seth answered.

“What are they like?” she asked. “Likely to give a good tip for a night’s work?”

“Their only interest in women is either to eat them or breed with them,” Seth answered. “And you aren’t likely to survive the birth as the nine children eat their way out of the mother’s womb.”

Instead of horror or disgust the woman just gave a disappointed sort of snort.

“Just my luck,” she muttered, before her eyes turned fierce and she looked at Seth. “Care for a night?”

“How old are you?” Seth asked and the woman laughed.

“Not me friend,” she said. “My name is Chi, I’m the madam of this town. I have much more appealing women than me.”

“Sorry, but I doubt your women can help me,” Seth said.

“You sure about that?” Chi asked with a wicked grin. “I have anything your heart desires.”

“My heart desires nothing,” Seth answered. Chi stared at him coyly meeting his eyes. He saw her bravo fade a bit as she saw the dead look in his eyes. Seth turned away but she caught his arm.

“What then do you have to lose but the coin it will cost?” Chi asked. Seth looked back at her to see she looked determined.

“Why do you care?” Seth asked.

“A whore is the most noble of the professions,” Chi answered with pride. “We fulfill the desires of those who come to us, we comfort lost souls, and we heal broken hearts.”

Seth was not moved by her speech or courage to stop him, so he reached out and grabbed her by the neck. The woman grabbed his wrist and tried to use her weight to flip him, but Seth was well grounded and stronger than her. He squeezed on her windpipe and her mouth opened trying to make a sound but could not.

Then Seth let her go, the whore falling to the ground gasping for breath.

“Death is the only cure for life,” Seth said before he turned his back on her. He continued to walk calmly through the town as night began to fall, this time the residents gave him a wide birth.

The darkness made shadows dance and those out at this time went about cautiously. Seth noted as he walked a few Orcs were stalking the streets. He had no doubt that a few whores and beggars were going to disappear in the night. He walked on to the palisade and climbed the ladder up to the walkway that lined the top. Torches burned here and the watchmen walked along bored. A lot of war was just waiting.

The watchmen ignored him as he looked out into the field beyond. In the dark all Seth could see were the fires of the enemy camp, enough lights to resemble a city. Seth turned and looked back and saw the Orc army’s camp and fires. Those spread even further, smoke settling over the camp like a fog.

He leaned against the palisade wall and took out the white feather. The moon was hidden behind a cover of cloud yet he could still see the white feather. As always he thought there was something just out of reach, he stared at the feather almost going into a trance. He stared at the feather for hours, the night slipping by. He thought this was what war was mostly, waiting. Most of his life now was just waiting, only there was no end to that waiting. Every man in the world was simply waiting to die, except him.

#fantasy #series #writing #please read #fairies #dragons

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ellebeebee · 7 years

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if you're doing the 7kpp ask meme, i'd love to hear about 7 and 8!

Okay. So this is late, and it’s not even done. But it was getting… y’know. Long-ish, so I think it’s best if I do this in two parts.

I guess I got a little carried away.

This is the story of a Court Lady’s parents, Dhorée the palace apothecary and Silla the military intelligence officer and nobleman.

4,630 words, pairing: Corval!mc’s parents, general rating except for some language

Note: Lady Renn isn’t the mother of any of the princes or Sina; she’s an AU wife of the emperor I guess.

Part Two Here

Part One

It began small.

A courtier grumbled casually at the Emperor’s table over imperial taxes, and the courtier’s favorite servant spent three days violently ill. A visiting dignitary found themself mysteriously and increasingly weakened over weeks, until, finally bedridden, the Empress generously sent her own favored apothecary who miraculously cured their illness. A snide grand princess made a remark towards the Emperor’s wife, and at a garden party found herself so overcome with admiration and need for a mere guard, that she quite made a fool of herself. The aftermath of artworks of fine slippered feet sticking akimbo from shrubbery were quite amusing.

Dhorée had not protested to these requests the Empress made of her these past three years. After all, it was merely the nature of her profession. An “apothecary” serving in the Corvali court could hardly claim a weak stomach. No more than a kite could be without wings.

And so, Dhorée stood silent at the Empress’s side as she and the newest wife of the Emperor traded pleasantries.

The Empress’s south garden had a pleasantly situated mezzanine, lined on either side with delicate arcades in which filmy moon-white silk stirred in the evening breeze. The midday rest period had ended, and now was the time for courtiers to venture out into the weakened heat of the day’s late hours. Most were accustomed to take tea in this time, and the Empress had provided a splendid spread of strong black tea in tiny gilded glass cups and lovely ripe grapes, plums, and pomegranates.

Only the finest for the newest member of the harem, the Empress smiled. Around them arrayed servants and other favorites, all half-smiles and faint perfume.

“Your Majesty, you are too generous,” Lady Renn said. “You already arranged my wedding so splendidly. Why, I could not repay you in several lifetimes!”

The Empress laughed lightly. “I don’t expect it, dear. As head of the harem, it is my duty to maintain harmony and ensure the continuance of the imperial line. Your happiness has become my happiness.”

Lady Renn bent her head. “I pray that I will be fortunate enough to repay the magnanimity of the Empress and the Emperor with many princes.”

“As do we all,” the Empress said.

Her expression and tone rang elegantly and tenderly, but they all knew better. It was not a wish expressed, but a threat. Sweetness from the fruits, clean herbal tangs from the garden, and dark richness of the steaming tea filled the air. Lady Renn smiled with sweat on her lip.

“Concerning which,” the Empress continued. She gestured to Dhorée. “This is my personal apothecary and physician. I cannot sing her praises in a pretty enough tune. She can be rid of the smallest ailment from headaches to lethargy.”

The Empress leaned in toward Lady Renn, her expression vividly sincere. “But her greatest help to me was in conceiving the Crown Prince. And she delivered him, as well.”

This was not entirely true. Dhorée did help with the Empress’s fertility and conception, but she had merely assisted with the delivery. A crone who lived in some of the best quarters of the palace had been midwife to more princesses and princes and emperors than could be sat a full banquet. Still, they all knew the game the Empress played, and they all knew their place within it.

Lady Renn smiled at Dhorée. “I have heard. How clever you are at such a young age!”

Dhorée smiled back with equal pleasantry. “Thank you, my lady. I am honored by the Empress’s words.”

The Empress’s, and not Lady Renn’s. It was what the Empress expected. And Dhorée had four years on the new blushing bride of the Emperor. And many more years of tireless study besides. But she couldn’t take it personally; it was, after all, court.

“So, I thought it would be best to give her to your household, my dear. Nothing is more important than your health, and my darling Dhorée is the best with these matters,” the Empress said.

To her credit, Lady Renn’s eyes did widen with pleased surprise. “Oh, I could never take such a skilled servant from you, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense. She is yours. Your first child will be the hardest, so we must take all precaution.”

“Oh, I have just been married! You do make me blush, Your Majesty.”

“How sweet! But really, we should have started this before the wedding. In any case, there is no time to lose. And look, you’re both from the same hold. You will have much in common, I’m sure.”

Lady Renn glanced at Dhorée and back at the Empress. Her smile did not crack, but it was a near thing. A daughter of duke, having “much in common” with a palace apothecary? From anyone else, it would have been a gross insult. But that was “anyone else.” This was the Empress.

But it was true. Lady Renn and Dhorée shared the thin faces and blue-black skin of the clan families who lived along the southern coast of Corval’s inland sea. They traded in some of the rarest red timber in the world and in shipbuilding. Arlish and Wellish timber were imported to the area (the local red timber was far too precious to be wasted on ships), and master engineers crafted deadly Corvali frigates and corvettes which were floated down rivers to the outer coast. The inner location protected the workshops from Hisean raids.

Lady Renn’s father owned many of these timber mills and ship companies. Dhorée’s father had been a mere cold remedy peddler. Lady Renn was married to the Emperor of Corval. Dhorée was being bodily traded from one master to another at this very moment. So to say they had much in common? Well, the Empress said so, so it must be true.

Lady Renn bent at the waist, a semi-bow of obeisance. “Then I accept with pleasure and gratitude, Your Majesty.”

Striding forward, Silla brushed his uniform straight with absent-minded fingers. Darkness had just set, and the real business of the day was only just beginning. The broad hall swept around an exterior wall of the palace, its open casements peering out into the blue dusk. One could still make out the deep and stark line of the palace walls, a guard’s dark shadow cut into the speckled sky.

The palace steward walking before him was saying something innocuous about their surroundings that happened to also be complimentary towards Silla himself. Silla smiled and returned the pleasantry. The guards around them were silent, with silent palms on their silent pommells. They were not his.

Silla had no disillusions about his own station once the doors to the harem pulled shut behind him. Out there, he was an intelligence officer in the navy. In here, he was a guest crawling toward scraps of His Majesty’s benevolence. There could be no mistakes.

Passing through an intersection of marbled halls, Silla suddenly stopped and a broad grin stretched across his face.

“Farou? My word, is that really you, Fancy-Foot Farou?” he called out.

Ignoring the guards at his shoulders, Silla strode toward another guard standing on duty just to the side of the intersection. The tawny young man blinked at Silla. He smiled despite himself, then glanced worriedly at the other guards and the steward.

Silla continued on anyway. “Farou, you so-and-so, I haven’t seen you since I left the stationing in Skalt. I’m surprised you didn’t freeze your balls off. You were always threatening to.”

He slapped Farou on the shoulder and reached for his hand, pumping it enthusiastically.

Farou laughed lightly. “Captain. It’s good to see you. Congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, yes,” Silla said. “My sister is quite blessed to have the fortune of serving the Emperor. My family is honored.”

The steward cleared his throat. Farou glanced at him.

“Well, it’s been good to see you, Captain.”

“You as well, Farou. I’m in the city, let me buy you a drink sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

As Silla finally released Fancy-Foot Farou’s hand, the guard passed a small and tightly folded square of paper into his ex-captain’s hand. With practiced ease, Silla tucked the square into his sleeve out of sight of his escort.

The steward gave Silla a hard-eyed stare with lips pressed thin, but gestured him on politely enough. The rest of the journey into the inner sanctum of the imperial harem went quietly enough without any disruptions.

“I asked for you hours ago,” Renn exclaimed angrily.

Silla sighed, smiling. “How are you? I’m fine, it’s wonderful to see you. Have you settled into the palace? Oh yes, everyone–”

“Don’t give me that,” Renn snapped.

Silla stared back at his sister, working his jaw. It seemed not even marriage had changed her. Her quarters were wide and spacious, washed in the beautiful gold of a thousand candles. The Empress had even had most of the furniture carved from the hard redwood of their homeland, the rigidity of the wood lending to distinct, hard-lined fluidity in the crenelations and forms. Servants, eyes cast down, stood quietly around the room waiting to be beckoned to service.

One of them, a woman about his own age, stepped toward Renn.

“My lady, we should begin,” she said calmly.

Renn glanced at her, and her serene face, a cool umber tone and spare in its design. A crown of braids wove around her head. Renn licked her lips, and turned back to Silla. She smiled.

“This is Dhorée, dear brother. Her Majesty was generous enough to install her personal apothecary and physician in my household. She is to help me conceive.”

Renn stared at Silla. Her eyes trembled with fear. Silla internally sighed. She had been told, many times, to expect such maneuvers. And yet here she was, being all too obvious about her personal feelings. No wonder she had summoned him so urgently. Not for the first time, Silla wished he’d had another sister, any female relative at all, that he could have used instead of Renn.

Silla bent toward the apothecary, Dhorée. “Her Majesty’s benevolence is boundless. I thank you on behalf of my sister and family.”

Dhorée dipped into a deep curtsy. “Not at all, your lordship. I only hope my small skills will be of use to Lady Renn.”

“Please,” Silla gestured toward his sister. “Don’t let me interrupt. Shall I step outside?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Renn interjected, glancing between them.

Dhorée bent toward the lady. “Not at all, my lady. I only need a light preliminary exam.”

Renn nodded sharply. Her head bent, Dhorée approached the lady, and carefully slipped a sleeve back to lay her finger on a pulse point.

“I said this before, but we are grateful– our family wants nothing more than many princes–”

“Please, my lord, I ask for quiet while I examine Her Ladyship,” Dhorée said.

Silla coughed and took a seat. “Sorry. Of course.”

The long pause drew taut. The room flickered rhythmically to the quiet breaths of the servants, standing staid at attention, and of the three in the center of the room. Silla often thought that the dreadful nature of Corvali politics had much to do with their nation’s heat. Business could never be done in broad daylight; no one wants to discuss contracts and treaties covered in sweatstains. Everything had to be done in the evening after the worst of the heat finally breaks or in the morning, if you are particularly industrious or sadistic. Spooky candlelight made one feel, after all, either quite fearful or cruel. Or both.

Dhorée completed her exam, making her polite requests to the lady. The apothecary stood.

“Well?” Renn demanded.

“You are quite healthy, my lady. As expected of your youth and good blood,” Dhorée stated. “I will create a mixture for you to drink the week after your cycle.”

“Can’t you just give it to me now?”

“These things must be done with the correct timing, my lady.”

Renn sighed. “Alright.” She frowned. She glanced back up at the apothecary. “You-”

Dhorée bent her head. When Renn did not continue, she said, “My lady?”

Renn glanced at Silla, who looked back blankly.

“No, nothing, Dhorée. Is your examination finished?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then–”

The bell for the outer door chimed just then. One of the servant girls bobbed to Renn and left the room. She returned, announcing:

“His Majesty’s messenger sends his master’s greetings. His Majesty requests Lady Renn’s company tonight.”

Renn straightened. She was suppressing her glee, Silla could see. And likely everyone else in the room saw, too.

He stood. “That is my cue to part with you, dear sister.”

Renn was already calling for her favorite gowns and a bath.

“Yes, yes. Until later,” she said impatiently. She did not look at him

Really, she spent so much vitriol scolding him for not appearing on command, now she nearly shoves him out the door.

Silla stood and spotted the apothecary still bent to Renn. His sister had quite forgotten her. A plant by the Empress, and the girl forgets her. Silla smiled and gestured to Dhorée. Hesitating, she looked to Renn, and then nodded back at him. They quietly slipped from the room, him holding the door for her.

In the antechamber, the Emperor’s messenger and his retinue waited several paces away near the door. Silla’s own escort had vacated seats for them. They bowed as Silla entered. He nodded, and turned to Dhorée. He stopped her retreat with a soft word.

She looked at him silently. She wore her mask well. Corvali court masks, the really good ones, were invisible so that you could not tell just what sort of mask it was. Often you did not see it until too late.

“I was going to say before,” he smiled, “That I really am quite grateful for your skills. I know my sister can be difficult–” She opened her mouth for the expected denials, but he shook his head. “I know how she can be, so I’d like to say that I see your efforts.”

Dhorée did not even hesitate. Not even at what was as much threat as compliment. She bobbed a curtsy. “You honor me, my lord.”

Silla nodded. He bid her farewell and rejoined his escort. As they left, Silla charmingly inquired after a particular set of gardens. The steward assigned to babysit him agreed to take a route through them. Silla smiled. The note Farou had passed him gave him the particulars of a dead drop with the real information he needed.

Despite Renn being Renn, it wasn’t a bad investment at all to place her here, in the heart of the imperial harem. Not bad at all.

It was another month before Silla reentered the palace.

It was enough time to learn what he needed. He spent the late afternoon drinking tea with Renn and sympathizing with her whispered complaints to him. She passed him a few crumbs of interesting leads. He reassured her that her current position protected her from Her Majesty. When he brought up the subject of the apothecary and her work on ensuring the “many princes,” he was hardly surprised when she put her cup down.

“I suppose,” Renn said carefully. “I suppose I may have been quick to judge. These servants don’t always get to chose their master. Some just need the luck of finding the right one.”

“Oh?” Silla smiled. “What a change of attitude. Am I to be an uncle already?”

“No, Silla,” Renn stated as if he were very slow. “It’s only been a few weeks. But. She has helped me with my complexion. And–” She leaned toward him as if this were some great secret. She imparted to him an anecdote of how Dhorée managed to move the head of the seamstress department out of Renn’s way when the woman didn’t fit a dress to her liking. A nasty ailment of the stomach that crippled her for two weeks.

“Well, well,” Silla said. “What busy little bees you two have been. But all the same, I’d like to speak to her, if you would. You are, after all, not here to meddle in the lives of seamstresses, but to bear a prince.”

Renn stared at him for a moment, and he could tell she was biting back an angry comment.

“Very well,” she finally said. She gestured to a servant.

She was as he remembered her: dark like himself and Renn, and crowned with intricate braids. And that expression which told him nothing. It seemed to tell Renn that the apothecary was suitably servile and compliant. He suspected this was not entirely true.

Silla spent some time questioning Dhorée over his sister’s baby-making progress. Dhorée properly apologized for not producing results beyond what is naturally possible. They spent some time discussing Renn, the lady herself quite pleased with the topic of conversation. But the hour approached in which the Emperor would select which wife to summon. It would likely be Renn.

Silla put down his cup. “I must go. But first, I’d like to thank you, Dhorée.”

“My lord, I have done nothing–”

“And that is exactly why I thank you,” Silla smiled. “After all, you had a month’s worth of opportunities to tell the Empress my sister has no intention of having an imperial child.”

Renn dropped her teacup. She gaped at Silla. Dhorée maintained her bland expression.

“I’m sure that’s not true, my lord,” the apothecary stated calmly.

“No, it’s quite true,” Silla said, ignoring Renn’s sputtering. “For one, I know my sister. So I know it. But I know you, Dhorée, know it because I said the words ‘many princes’ when you first took her pulse. The pulse tells all, and it would have told you exactly what you’d need to know to give Her Majesty leverage. But–” He gestured at the pretty garden around them, directly adjacent to Renn’s quarters. “But it’s clear that the Empress’s wrath hasn’t descended on us.”

Renn swiveled to stare at Dhorée. Dhorée remained focused on Silla.

“Perhaps, then, His Lordship could tell Lady Renn to stop inducing vomiting on herself after taking the fertility medicine I’ve made her.”

Silla’s brow jumped. “Renn,” he mock-scolded.

“I–” his sister started, horror etched in her face. “I– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” Silla asked.

“Silla,” Renn said, turning to him earnestly. “Please. Can’t it just be enough that His Majesty is in love with me? Everyone knows I’ve been with him the most this month–”

“And what about when he stops summoning you every night? What about when he gets a newer wife? What about when you are old and alone?” Silla stated. He dropped his blithe tone and the playful rise in his brow. He stared hard at his sister.

She dropped her eyes. “I…”

“You didn’t think about it, I know. That’s why I’m here. And that’s why you need to listen to me.”

Renn stared at him. “Why do I… I never wanted children. I never…”

“You’ll spend nine months being doted on by the entire court, a few hours of labor, and it’s done.”

The lady was silent. Dhorée gently cleared her throat.

“There’s plenty of time, my lady,” she said.

Renn was silent. Then the imperial messenger came for her again, and she nodded to Silla’s pointed look. The lady left with a swish of rick silks and the tinkling of her pearl strands. Silla did not get up, and did not dismiss Dhorée. Around them, the garden whispered its secret scents to them, fluttery with tea lights. The stars were coming out.

Dhorée gazed at him. “Why are you trying to help me?”

“I said before, I know she can be difficult. Anything to help ease tensions.”

“No. That’s not it,” Dhorée said. Her eyes hardened. “Let me ask again. Why are you trying to help me?”

Silla smiled. “Why don’t you explain it to me.”

She frowned. She looked as if she was about to stand and stride away. But she shook her head and said, “If I were informing to Her Majesty, why help dispel Lady Renn’s suspicions? Why not just have me quietly disappear?”

“Like I said,” Silla stated, leaning back into his seat and crossing a foot over his knee. “I already gave you an opportunity for the Empress to be rid of Renn. Either you are not as loyal to Her Majesty as she may think, or she is playing a grander game. I’m interested in seeing which it is.”

Dhorée stared at him, her shoulders back and her neck elegantly long.

“And besides. You just said if you were informing to Her Majesty. Implying you aren’t, or at least might not be.”

The apothecary maintained her calm gaze. She tilted her chin up, her black eyes meeting his.

“I know what I said,” Dhorée stated softly.

Silla smiled. Around them, the garden sighed sweetly.

The affair began two months later.

Lady Renn accompanied the Emperor to the hunting lodge of a friend, and the lady brought nearly her entire retinue with her, including Dhorée. It went much as these things do: Silla showed up one day, delighting his sister and his brother-in-law, there was a grand party (the kind with alcohol and poor decisions and backstabbing), her eyes met his across a crowded room, and he followed her into a quiet little room.

She pulled away from that first hungry kiss to exhale, “You’re married.”

Silla breathed, licking his lips as he looked at her. “So are you. All beings within the palace belong body and soul to His Majesty.”

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that they could only meet in the few instances where Silla was permitted to visit his sister, or the handful of times he had Dhorée spirited out of the palace.

It didn’t matter when Renn had a miscarriage that upset her so much, the Emperor pitied her terribly, and seemed to favor her all the more. Silla never asked if it had been Dhorée’s doing.

It didn’t matter that they were suspicious of one another, probing the other’s motives with barbed words and traps disguised as scraps of information.

It didn’t matter that Renn grew overconfident, and began an underhanded solicitation of politicians. She accrued a secret wealth of favors-owed, which Silla drew from time to time. Dhorée looked the other way.

It didn’t matter that one soiree Silla was accompanied by his wife. And Dhorée had to smile by Renn’s side while the nobility laughed over delicate refreshments.

It didn’t matter that the Empress still sent flowers to Dhorée on her birthday, and other little gifts.

None of it mattered. And before they could even take their bearings, Silla and Dhorée were caught up in a whirlwind of their entanglement.

Two years passed in this manner.

“I don’t see why you are being so difficult,” Renn said testily.

“Really?” Silla stated, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. “You really can’t imagine why I’d object.”

The lady leaned back into her settee, her every movement setting off a glittering music of jingling bracelets, necklaces, and earrings. Her fondness for jewels and pretty metal had only grown over the years. The redwood furniture now wore gilding along every edge. Dhorée quietly poured tea for them.

“You haven’t been promoted in ages,” Renn complained, on the side of whining. “And it’s not just a general’s braids I could get you. A ministership–”

“It’s nepotisim and bribery, Renn. You may have forgotten, but the imperial harem has laws,” he hissed.

Renn’s nose snarled. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve taken precau–”

“I don’t think you are, I know you are. And you haven’t been cautious enough. If I could find out enough to be alerted to the dire need to come here and scold you, then other people know, too.”

“Fine, fine,” Renn snapped. “You don’t have to get your knickers in a twist over it. I was just trying to do something nice for you–”

“Stop doing nice things for me. For anyone, for that matter. Put your head down and worry about how much the Emperor wants you.”

Dhorée shifted on her feet. He’d really wasn’t pulling the punches today. Lady Renn had been summoned less and less lately. The lady’s complexion furled in angry splotches. She dismissed her brother with a haughty ring in her voice. Silla left, his cloak snapping behind him.

Lady Renn was in a mood the rest of the day. Dhorée brewed a calming tea for her, adjusted the fertility concoction she was still taking with no result (after two years the apothecary would blamed at this point, but of course she hadn’t been), and gave the lady a pressure point massage.

Lady Renn finally let her go at that point.

As Dhorée walked the back halls of the palace, servants made room for her and remade their expression to cool servility. For one thing, an apothecary was somewhere between a servant and a favored lady-in-waiting. Except the education was much more demanding, and the stakes were much, much higher. No servant wanted to ever catch the attention of an apothecary, especially when her mistress held the sort of reputation Lady Renn did in the kitchens, the sewing rooms, and the servant quarters.

Dhorée walked on placidly.

Her little set of rooms had a pleasant view of the northern palace wall, over which a shimmering fractal of ocean could be seen. She had her own sitting room, a workshop, and a bedroom. As Dhoré walked across her fine silken carpet, shrugging off her outer robe to throw onto her bed, she found Silla sitting up in said bed.

“Yet another thing I have to hold against Renn,” he said, pushing himself up. “Her keeping you from me.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dhorée told him without much force.

He stood on his long legs and reached for her, his rough military man’s hand taking hers scented with acrid herbs. She let him lead her to the edge of the bed. He sat back on the emerald silks, holding her at the hip and looking up at her face. Their knees rested together.

“What is it, Silla?” Dhorée asked quietly. She curled her fingers in the dense bristles at the base of his neck, kneading lightly.

Silla heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time. He knew what she meant; they always knew exactly what the other meant now. They spoke a shared language of insinuation and allusion. They were the same breed of creature.

“We caught the Bloody Edge a month ago,” Silla finally stated. “Usually he’s so careful, but we kidnapped his husband. Grabbed him during the ransom exchange. He was brought in. And…”

Silla shrugged, looking hard and blank at nothing. Or maybe looking at something he wished was nothing.

“And this bullshit with Renn– Goddamit.”

Letting go of her, he bent forward and ground the heel of his palm into his closed eyes.

Dhorée removed her hand from the back of his neck.

“I can’t fix those problems, Silla,” she said.

She lightly ghosted her fingertips along his jaw.

“What do you want?” she said.

Silla looked back up at her. His dark eyes shone out of his blue-black and handsome face. Sliding his hands back onto her hips, he pulled her toward him again. Staring up at her, he placed a soft kiss over her dress near her navel.

“I want you on this bed. I want you to let me have my way with you.”

Dhorée climbed over him, knees sinking into the feather mattress beside his thighs. He fell back as she hovered over him.

She kissed him. “That, I can do.”

#7kpp #corval!mc #fanfiction #my writing #replies #I've gotten really attached to Silla so I refuse to kill him off #AU where Court Lady's father is alive #yes #I should also note that 0% of the characters are good people #z e r o

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nehasy · 7 years

Text

Whispers of a Feather

This is for Pethics, for the ESS 2016 Secret Santa. Hope you like it. Eris/Folken, post series.

****

The feather felt so light in her hands, it might as well have been made out of air. Gently, she traced her fingertips along the shaft, marvelling at its silken texture, noting how it seemed to almost shimmer with pearlescent radiance. Though she considered herself to be a well-educated woman, she had no idea what sort of bird could ever have shed such an amazing feather. Hours had been dedicated to researching it, trying to figure out exactly what Folken had been telling her when he’d given it to her all of those years ago.

“This was given to me by one of the rarest creatures on Gaea.” He’d said, his gentle voice whispering across her ears like the softest of velvet. “Now I give it to you. Guard it well, for you hold my heart in your hands.”

She’d never understood that cryptic remark but it still never failed to draw a smile from her lips at the beauty of those words. How utterly like him, cloaking himself in mystery, presenting a living breathing puzzle for her to understand all the while hiding so many of the pieces from her.

Had she a lifetime to understand him, she would still die in vexation and oddly enough, that intrigued her as nothing else could. Who would have thought that a young barbarian prince could have been such a poet in his heart? Certainly not her, and to this day, she still recalled her strident refusal to so much as entertain the notion of betrothal to the Fanelian prince.

“It will be a strong match!” Her father, Grava Aston had argued, his loud voice overriding any of her impassioned protests. “He is heir to a strong country known for their military prowess, something which we are sorely lacking my dear.” His thick bejewelled fingers had stroked his long moustache as he spoke, those calm blue eyes of his glittering in victory, no doubt already seeing a proud strong Astoria supported by the powerful Fanelian army. “While yes, I do concede that they are a little… rough, I’m sure that as a woman, you could bring an appropriate level of elegance to their country.”

She’d been furious and disgusted at the very prospect of marrying an uncouth barbarian. Growing up, she’d heard tales of the fierce warriors, living in their rough country surrounded by dragons. How they would fight the great beasts in order to rescue their chosen maidens, or defend their borders against the vicious beast-men who always sought to prey upon civilized human settlements. As a young princess, the tales had terrified and fascinated her, but once she’d grown up and seen the truth, the reality of her predicament became so much more worrisome.

The very concept of battle appalled her on a visceral level. Why would a person, any person in their right mind seek to end the life of another? It brought nothing but suffering into the world, and yes, while she understood that her own precious country had been founded on death and betrayal, it had always been taught as a life lesson rather than an act to be glorified. Yet here her beloved father was… was selling her off to these vicious brutes like chattel!

“You would have your daughter live in a glorified mud hut, devouring the flesh of innocent beasts for sustenance?” She’d argued passionately. “Why not Marlene? Why must I suffer this indignity?” Her words fell on deaf ears, no doubt her father was ignoring the “silly bleating of womanly histrionics.” as he so lovingly put it. No, arguing like a child wouldn’t allow her to escape this fate. She was a princess and had a duty to her crown and her people, no matter how loathsome it might be.

“I am seeking a match between Marlene and Duke Mahal dal Freid.” He’d replied patiently, speaking in the tone of voice he usually reserved for Millerna, her younger sister. “With that match and yours, we’ll control most of eastern and central Gaea. It will mean unrivalled power for Astoria, and more importantly, protection.

There was no need to point out how vital such a goal was in this day and age. Basram and Egzardia had been increasingly hostile to each other, moving steadily towards open aggression. As their southern neighbours, it was only a matter of time before Astoria became involved. Rumour even whispered that the reclusive and secretive Zaibach Empire was stirring in its shadows. No doubt, her father intended to marry young Millerna into one of the three countries, further securing their borders against the other two.

While agreeing to the arrangements disgusted her deeply, she understood her father’s actions and allowed herself a gentle sigh of resignation.

“At least allow me to meet the man I’m to marry. Let me look the barbarian in the eyes so that I might take his measure.” Her father laughed in delight at her words, no doubt believing that in a short matter of time, she would be the power behind Fanelia’s throne, as he’d intended all along.

The country had been exactly as she’d expected; isolated, wild and not for the weak of heart. The capital city bore the same name as the country as well as the royal family… thus proving that creativity was not a Fanelian trait.

King Goau Fanel was also as expected. Tall, heavily muscled and bearing a shrewd yet grizzled appearance, his stern face was marked with many scars as well as the weight of the crown. His eyes however burned with a strange ferocity which rivalled that of the lands legendary dragons.

At his side sat Queen Varie, his utter opposite in every way. She radiated an odd sense of serenity and calm, practically glowing in her tranquil beauty. There was a strangeness to her, an otherworldly aura which drew the eye, yet when she smiled, it calmed the heart and encourage you to smile with her.

On her lap was a small black haired boy, full of light and happiness. He giggled as he squirmed, making a game of trying to slip from his perch and no doubt go off running amok. While he clearly favoured his father’s darker coloring, there was an echo of his mother’s beauty in the shape of his face and eyes. No doubt one day he would be exactly what young women pictured when imagining a Fanelian warrior king.

Standing in the shadows, watching her with as much trepidation as she watched him, was Folken Lacour de Fanel, heir to the crown and her betrothed. Tall like his father, he however bore his mother’s slender form and gentle face. Kind sienna eyes watched her cautiously, the spark of hope glittering in their depths and she knew in that moment that he was just as nervous as she was.

Her fingers trailed along the delicate feather once more, watching the play of colours shift and dance at her touch. Who could have known that white had so many different shades? It was almost mesmerising in its beauty and it seemed to radiate the love and gentle soul of the man who’d gifted it to her.

Slowly, her eyes drifted over to the second feather resting in her lap. Reverently, her fingers picked it up, placing it next to its brother. Two feathers, identical in size and shape and yet so different that it was heartbreaking. This one was black, deeper than the glistening ever shifting darkness of raven’s wings. Unlike the first, it felt cool in her hands and heavier, as if the weight of the world were pressing down on it. Rather than reflecting a myriad of tones at her touch, it seemed to drink in the colours around it, drawing them in and muting them with its darkness.

It should have seemed threatening, but instead, all she felt was melancholy. Her first feather had been given with the promise of life and unity everlasting. This one had been a farewell from a man she’d long ago thought dead and lost.

“This feather was given to me by one of the rarest creatures on Gaea.” Folken had said softly, his eyes sad as they stared into hers, speaking volumes that she feared she’d never understand. His voice was just as she’d remembered, as rich as the softest velvet, yet full of resignation, sadness and… oddly, hope. It had pulled at her soul to hear it and she knew deep in her heart that he was saying goodbye to her one final time. “Now I give it to you. Guard it well, for you hold my life in your hands.”

He’d placed it in her palm and gently closed her fingers over it. Only his true hand touched hers, the twisted mechanized thing which was his right hand stayed hidden beneath his cloak, loathe to touch her tender flesh.

“Don’t leave.” S he’d breathed softly. “Stay with me, let us have the life fate denied us.” It sounded like something a silly heroine from one of Millerna’s books would say rather than the plea of a proper princess, but her lips formed the words on their own volition, guided by her heart rather than her head. “Let us have one moment of happiness before it all ends.”

His smile had been so sad and yet so full of love as he’d leaned forward and kissed her. It felt… like home to her, filled with sweet comfort she’d always denied within herself.

“Live for me.” He whispered gently. “I’ve lived too long in the darkness to be part of your light. Make your fate is your own, fight for it, cherish it and help rebuild this world. Lead it towards the peace you hold in your heart and never forget the man I once was, or who I became.”

She’d stood there in the garden, holding the two feathers in her hands while he left her to save the world from the brink of madness. The sky had been coated with emerald light, poisoning the souls of Gaea with false promises of glory before burning with the madness of Basram, obliterating friend and foe alike in their quest for glory. Still, she stared at the feathers, tears falling silently down her cheeks as she contemplated their beauty and their mystery.

When they’d come to tell her that Folken had died fighting Emperor Dornkirk, she’d simply nodded her head and clutched the feathers to her chest, feeling the warmth and coldness radiating from them in a heartbeat, forever held on that precipice between one beat and the next.

“Draconians are not the cursed people.” She whispered softly to the feathers in her hand. “It is those they leave behind who bear the curse. Those left to grieve.” Closing her eyes, she once again held the feathers to her heart, feeling their conflicting natures and the lost promises trapped within their vanes. Without a further word, she gently placed them in an elegantly carved box and slowly closed the lid, sealing them in the darkness for another year.

com;Cy3*t�

#Vision of Escaflowne pre-series #tenkuu no escaflowne #Princess Eris #Folken Fanel #escaflowne fanfiction #Post series

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