Keregar looked up when the door opened. His brides stepped out, but Nadia was still dressed in her night clothes. He’d yell at her but remembered his promise to his son. Who now was having an actual, proper fight. Even though the twin had mass and strength on his side, Varzar dodged the massive hammer blows with grace. He fought with what he had. It almost made Keregar smile. What made the smile vanish was Kieran, who would rose up before the Gems. Keregar quickly put a foot on his back, pushing him down. “Down boy, down.” Hatred was carved on his face. But defeated by the sheer force of his father, he kept doing setups.

The fact that Nadia asked and held Xaelia’s hand did not go unnoticed by Keregar. It would seem the less rebellious Gem was getting over her fear. That was good. Xaelia on the other hand, still had a mark below her eye from where he struck her. “You’ve missed it. But I can make an exception for once. Varzar!” The smallest Drakkan had just dodged a blow that shook the very earth and turned towards his father: “Yes?” Right then, the twin swiftly lifted his hammer again and made it crash down. Though Varzar just took a simple step backwards, let the hammer smash an inch from his feet and put his blade against the exposed neck of his brother. “Father is speaking.” He said, trying to fake a coldness. He had seen the Gems come outside and a shiver had gone through his body. Maybe there was truth in what his father said.

“The Gems are hungry. Give them something to eat.” Keregar certainly felt the need to test his son’s conviction. The young Drakkan looked at Xaelia, with her painful mark and then to Nadia, dressed rather wrongfully for the occasion. “Yes father.” He said rather dutifully as he approached the Gems and put his weapons on a rack. Keregar turned to Kieran, below him. “You. Fist fight with Herstvich.” Kieran dropped down into the mud, turned around and looked with wide eyed at Keregar. “What!? You have to be joking.” Keregar did not like his tone. Rather forcefully he picked pulled Kieran up from the mud. “Do you see me smiling boy? Get a move on!” He almost threw Kieran at the twin. Who already discarded his hammer and was taking off his shirt. Grinning from ear to ear. He made fists, revealing the white scar tissue on his knuckles. Kieran was rather reluctant to approach him. Before the Gems could go back inside with Varzar, Keregar did yell: “And Nadia. We will be leaving for the market at noon. Make sure you wear something right for the occasion. Or you won’t be wearing anything for a week.”

Varzar, was already leading the Gems back inside as he saw his brother wrap his knuckles. It wouldn’t have a pretty ending. He wanted to feel happy. Kieran was getting beat up. But he couldn’t. He remained silent. Another attempt to seem cold towards the Gems. Though his heart yearned for some warmth. They entered the kitchen. There were loaves of tough, black bread, cold bacon and eggs, cheese that would break weak teeth and only a light ale to drink. Slowly they entered the room. Varzar, staying in front of the two Gems swallowed deeply. His father expected it now. “Sorry.” He whispered. With a fluid motion he pulled off his glove, turned around and slapped Nadia in the face.

---

Far away from the estate, a small, light but quick Drakkan made its way through the busy, winding streets. Clutching a scroll to his chest. He was cloaked but kept a seal in his hand at all times. Eventually he reached his destination: the Evernarth estate. He knocked on the door and a guard answered. Before the much larger Drakkan could even ask, the Drakkan held out a the seal of Kereg-Kor and pushed a scroll in the guard’s hand. “For Ineraz Evrenarth only.” He said. Before the guard could ask any questions he turned around and went back to the street and vanished in the crowd.

The letter:

It was not unusual for the city of Železna Kri to take a delayed start in the day, especially following the Reaping where quite a bit of festivities took place late into the night. Morganna was not among those sleeping in, however, finding herself up with the sun as she usually was. The youthful woman pushed her plush comforter aside so that she could stand, stretching her limbs out until a satisfying series of pops resonated throughout the silent chamber. She approached the shuttered window to her room, unlatching the lock and pushing them open so that she could observe the still world. There was something about the dawn that captured her attention, the landscape being painted in the various shades of red and orange that light could muster. Elongated shadows the only respite from a heat that would only grow in intensity the longer it shone.

Most believed the Drakkan homeland was devoid of life, a scar gasping for breath and dying with every attempt to grasp at a former glory. It was a belief held by some of her own kind even, but Morganna didn’t see things that way. Plants and animals alike had learned to adapt to the damage done to their nation, a cursed wasteland drained of its vibrancy and chance at greatness. Her people were a banished kind, but they too had learned to survive in such a harsh and unforgiving environment. They might have been ugly and twisted, but they were alive… And they would continue to fight until they had either won or died out completely. It was a sense of poetic justice in the eyes of the Dantanath daughter, a twisted outlook for a twisted species.

Smiling to herself, Morganna stepped away from the window to her closet where a great array of outfits awaited her choice. While the designs varied greatly, fitting to any event she might find herself attending, just about all of them were dyed in some shade of red. It was her favorite color, and it suited her figure well… at least in her own opinion, not that she had ever heard a man argue it before.

Morganna didn’t see the point in dressing up more than she had to, thinking of no events she had to attend for the next few days at least. The likelihood of trouble starting up around the city was high, however, as was custom around the time of the Reaping. Tensions between certain families brought in close proximity of one another usually led to petty squabbles, as did perceived slights when it came to the gifts bestowed by the royal household. Plenty of Drakkan, and Gemmenite, blood had been spilled in the streets of the Capital, what were a few bodies more. All matters considered, Morganna selected a multi-piece ensemble consisting of fabrics red and black with detailings of gold.

The outfit was rather slimming, displaying her figure just the way she liked to but it was more than just that. It was comfortable in the desert heat with plenty of breathing opportunity and exposed skin, but it was also designed with her combat style in mind. While she hated to admit it, she was not the strongest when it came to physical strength. If put up against her elder brother in a match, it was likely she would lose in a contest of might, hence why she relied on her speed and agility. Having an outfit that would suit such a style was important for her own survival.

Quick to comb out her onyx locks, Morgann finally emerged from her room as the sun fully crested above the horizon. Her elder brother and father were nowhere to be seen, along with her youngest two siblings. Instead, she was met with the sight of a rather irritable Azilon waiting for her to make an appearance in their informal dining space. Off to the side, a nervous looking servant glanced up to receive her orders from the ranking family member.

“I’ll take my usual breakfast then you may be excused to cleaning duties. It would seem little Azzy here has something he would like to discuss with me.” Morganna maintained eye contact with her brother who promptly growled at the sound of his nickname. The servant nodded quickly and fled the room, returning several minutes later to find neither one of her masters had budged an inch in her absence. Setting a silver tray down on a nearby table, the small woman bowed to the Dantanath children before rushing off to straighten Morganna’s room.

Once determining her brother as being little threat to her, Morganna relaxed her stance and approached the tray. She tended to eat light, preferring to start her day with fruit and a tea strong enough to wake the dead from their eternal slumber. The sweeter fruits had been imported from the Gem homeland, picked up in a separate batch from the girls. While she enjoyed them, the Reaping was the only time she would eat them, instead filling her plate with Drakkan grown dishes. The ‘Corpse Apples’ as they were nicknamed were among her favorite fruits, just the sight of one on her plate in the morning enough to bring a smile to her face. Her enjoyment would have to wait, however, as she picked up her cup in preparation for the tyrade her brother was about to go off on. As if on cue, Azilon pushed himself up from his seat to tower over the smaller woman.

“Where do you get off meddling in my affairs?” He snapped, his anger met with a look of absolute indifference.

“I don’t know what you’re getting so upset about. I did you a favor, you should be grateful.”

“Grateful?! Those girl belonged to me, they were not yours to give away.” Azilon clenched his hands into fists, an action noted by a lazy shifting of his sister’s eyes.

“True, they weren’t… But Azzy, let’s be serious here. Where they ever truly yours to begin with? Clearly neither one held any sort of respect for you. When danger presented itself and your claim over them threatened, the one came begging to me while the other couldn’t stop lusting over your competition.” Morganna paused a moment to sip her tea, feeling the liquid warm her body and sharpen her mind.

“And that gives you the right to just hand them over without a fight?” He snapped, teeth bared aggressively. While he knew better than to get into a fight with his elder sister, his anger was rather high for him to be making sound decisions.

Morganna glared at Azilon, a piercing gaze that quickly put the boy back in his place. Azilon backed off a few paces before retaking his seat in a huff. Taking another sip of her tea, Morganna folded her left arm across her torso to brace her right elbow against the back of her hand.

“Azzy, you found the one wandering around without a husband and the other one was just about forced down your throat by the royals. I’ve known you long enough to be certain that you share no interest in gaining brides, considering you’ve easily earned three and have never shown up to claim them. I worry about you sometimes, little brother.” Azilon’s features seemed to soften a bit as Morganna spoke, her facial features maintaining most of their neutrality.

“I can’t exactly blame you though, now can I? You spend a lot of time away from the masses, it’s no surprise you haven’t noticed. With the King no longer making public appearances, it seems the brothers are experiencing some kind of power struggle. They’ve done their best to keep things quiet and behind the scenes but it’s starting to bubble over and the people are noticing.” Morganna drained the rest of the tea from her cup, a delighted shiver running down her spine as she set the cup back down on the tray.

“This year’s Reaping was less about celebrating the King’s victory and more about maintaining the political relationships between the royals and the families. Imagine how nervous you must make them having earned such prizes and not collecting on any of them. It means they owe you, and that makes them squirm. Favors are a powerful tool in war… ah but it hasn’t come to that just yet.”

“Maybe another war wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It’ll give the vultures something to focus on besides me. Father too.” Morganna sighed, raising an amused eyebrow at his predicament.

“Ah Azzy, whatever am I going to do with you? Listen, do you think I would just hand off something that valuable without knowing exactly who and where they were going to? While I cannot promise you won’t have to fight for them, I can give you the information on how to find them. The rest will be up to you.”

“And your price? I know better than to assume I’m getting this information for free.” Azilon countered, staring at Morganna suspiciously.

“Good boy, looks like I have taught you something after all. FInders, keepers... I want the one you were gifted. Sound fair enough?” Morganna’s smile reflected her usual deviancy, a look that earned her a roll of the eyes from her brother.

“While I can’t possibly imagine what you would want with her, I suppose I can’t really refuse now can I? Fine, you have yourself a deal.” Without saying another word, Morganna lifted up a folded up piece of paper with Azilon’s directions. The man was quick to disappear from the room, no doubt storming off to get things over sooner rather than later.

Morganna enjoyed the silence that followed her brother’s departure for a few minutes before the servant from before returned, a guest in tow. The man that followed the servant into the room was a frequent flier of the Dantanath household, serving as both a friend as well as a business partner for several of the family members.

“Good morning Argon. It’s a little early for a social visit don’t you think, I take it you have something for me?” She motioned for the man to make himself comfortable and again to the servant to tend to whatever the man required. A few words were exchanged between the two before the servant set off to fetch whatever it was he had ordered, Morganna awaiting his new patiently.

“As observant as always I see. Got this in late last night but the client was hoping for a freebie on this one. I told him he was wasting his time, that you wouldn’t even consider the offer without a downpayment at the very least. Money arrived before dawn so I rushed over to deliver the message.” The man held up an envelope that had been sealed with a wax stamp that bore the engraving of a lesser lord on it. Taking the letter in her hand, Morganna inspected it lazily, judging all she could about her ‘mysterious’ client from what little details she had been provided.

“Not very subtle is he. Either entirely over confident in himself or he’s never done this before. How much did he give you?” She asked curiously, a smirk rising as Argon held up a small sack of money. He gave the small satchel a shake, a metallic clunk echoing about the room.

“I see, new to this then. Curious to see what sort of challenge this target presents to warrant such a reaction. You can just about smell the fear rising off the paper.” Morganna opened the envelope and began reading the proposal as the servant returned with Argon’s food, the girl sure to leave the remaining apple from Morganna’s plate as she cleared the rest of the dishes. The more Morganna read, the more interested she became, immediately recognizing details of an account from the evening before.

“Interesting. Just got one boy into trouble, seems like now I have to go get one out it.” Despite her words, Morganna sounded more amused by the situation than inconvenienced. Holding the paper away from her face she slowly made her way to and adjacent wall in the room, igniting the paper in her hand before tossing it into the cold hearth. With a snap of her fingers and a quick glance at her servant, Morganna returned to Argon’s side to inspect the money.

“A quick response will be unnecessary on this one as I’m not entirely sure I’ll be taking it yet. I’ll go and scope the situation out as a due courtesy, the man paid enough for that at least. Feel free to take some for yourself and leave the rest with my dear girl here. She’ll see to its safe keeping.” She said as the servant returned with a few items bundled in her arms. Morganna plucked the sheathed sword from the girl’s arms carefully, tethering the weapon to its place upon her left hip. On her right side, she attached a small satchel filled with throwing knives and poisoned darts to her waistband.

With her weapons in place, Morganna took the final object from the servant’s hands. It was a mask that formed perfectly to her face, hooking slightly around the shape of her horns in order to keep it in place without ties. The image it portrayed was unnerving to say the least, a grey skull that was unlike anything seen in the Drakkan homeland. A demon, even by her people’s standards.

She hesitated in putting it on, instead clipping it to her hip alongside the throwing knives. Plucking the apple from the table, she turned and bowed her head slightly in Argon’s direction.

“You are welcome as always, so be sure to let Alice here know if you need anything. My father should be getting up soon if you would like to wait for him, I’m sure he would love to talk to you.” Argon simply chuckled and extended his thanks, settling in to eat the food that had been prepared for him.

Turning on her toes, Morganna made her way out a backdoor to an enclosed courtyard. A solid stone border surrounded the house, designed to keep prying eyes away from inside activities. Taking a few steps running start Morganna pushed off the ground, using her secondary element in order to gain a little extra height as she flipped gracefully over the stonewall. Being so early in the morning, the woman wasn’t too worried about street traffic removing any need to look at where she was landing. She landed similarly as she had leapt in order to minimize the amount of sound she made, quickly glancing around before merily biting into the fruit she held in her hand.

She didn’t seem to much in a hurry as she made her way through the streets, more and more travellers joining her presence as the morning dragged on. Stalls were already open, offering clothes and jewels to decorate the prizes earned throughout the prior day. She, nor they, would be surprised if these gifts exchanged hands several times before they found their homes, but at least they would look appealing… for a while. Other wares were offered in between, lining the streets with many different sights and smells. There was truly something for everyone who visited the great city.

By this point in the morning the streets were beginning to crowd a little, most likely foreigners or Drakkan in search of their next prey, hoping to end up in any kind of fight. Morganna was careful to avoid those types, not having the interest to entertain their pointless brutality so early. She kept a sharp eye out on her surroundings, searching for any sign of her target and the inevitable trouble that was to follow.

Several men attempted to push beside her, the young woman sidestepping to avoid being trampled by the irritated group. Their eyes unabashedly scanned the streets, pushing people aside in search of what she could only assume to be her target. It was no surprise to Morganna that she wasn’t the only person called in, but she doubted these men had been paid a dime before their task was complete; a foolish move on their behalf. Finishing off her apple, the woman tossed the core away before donning her mask, and excited shiver running down her spine one more. The adrenaline had begun pumping through her veins, the anticipation of the hunt pushing her into motion.

Unlike the men who pushed their way forcefully through the crowd, Morganna trailed several paces behind on the outskirts of the crowd. All the attention would be on them, few would notice her skulking along even with the mask on. It didn’t take them long to locate their target, a rather large man who looked like he could easily snap the thugs into pieces. Morganna’s hunch was spot on, recognizing the man almost immediately before she saw his face.

Höd the Beserker. We meet again. She thought to herself triumphantly. Suspicions now confirmed, Morganna held back as a sizeable circle was made around the man. Clearly the thugs were after this man, and they didn’t seem like the type who cared who got cut down in the process.

Words were exchanged, though mostly it was the ringleader of the group that did the talking, boasting about how they were going to take the man down with ease. She couldn’t help but to laugh at such a statement.

“What do you think you’re laughing at, ape! We outnumber you, fool. Are you too stupid to see that you’re going to die here!? I, Mazus, will claim the bounty on your head!”

Unsurprisingly, Höd was unfazed by the pathetic displays at dominance. No doubt he had heard such words spoken to him countless times, empty threats that fell on bored ears. They weren’t worth his time, they were barely worth hers. But the money she had been sent had put her in a rather good mood, and her excitement wasn’t easily quenched.

“You heard him boys, he isn’t going to use a weapon. It’s time the Berserker died!”

All five assailants lunged at Höd simultaneously, showing no mercy to a man who… granted probably deserved none. Still, it was a rather sad showing and very telling of their levels of strength. They would prove to be easy opponents.

Morganna reached for the hilt of her sword, clicking a button built into the side as she unsheathed the weapon. The steel separated from one another in pieces, the weapon lashing out like a whip in the direction the of the man approaching Höd from behind. It wrapped around his raised arm, tightening as he took one step too far from her, met with a firm tug to maintain her position. Letting out a surprised shout, the group halted their advance to see where the sound was coming from.

“You see, that’s the problem with your type. The lot of you hear the promise of a reward and suddenly you think you’re a match for someone like him. Five of you wouldn’t have been enough, and now there’s only four. What will you do now?” Her voice rang clearly through the mask, catching the attention of all present; as if the weapon alone wasn’t enough.

The ringleader who had named himself as Mazus simply laughed, though to a trained ear like Morganna’s she knew it to hold a fair amount of apprehension and fear behind it.

“A friend of the Beserker’s are you? Clearly you’re as bright as he is… Count again, there are still five of us here. That’s more than enough to deal with the both of you. Maybe we’ll get paid a bonus for your head as well.” Beneath the mask, Morganna’s smile widened in response to the thug’s words.

“My mistake, it appears that I spoke just a moment too soon. Allow me to fix that for you.” Before anyone could make a move, Morganna flicked the wrist holding her weapon pulling back hard and fast against the resisting foe.

A blood curdling scream erupted from the poor man’s throat as the blades of her weapon tore deeper into the flesh of his arm, tearing against the grain of his muscles. Blood poured from the gashes, flesh hanging off the limb to expose the delicate bone beneath the surface. The sight of ivory was a satisfying one to the woman, his screams and the scent of blood driving away the weaker-willed of the bystanders. Clicking a second button on the hilt of her weapon, the extended blade pulled back together to form what looked like an ordinary sword; which she promptly flicked to remove the excess blood.

Her victim’s partners watched in horror as their friend collapsed to the ground screaming like a newborn baby. He was quite clearly out for the rest of their encounter, though even if he survived through the shock it was unlikely he would ever be able to pick up a weapon with that arm again. She doubted he even wished for survival but she would not grant him death by her hand, he would expire when the gods allowed it. Turning her gaze to the other two remaining grunts, Morganna waited patiently as they attempted to process what had happened.

“Well?! What are you morons waiting for?! Kill her, NOW!” Mazus ordered, his men turning to him hesitantly before mustering up their strength, letting out battle cries as they abandoned Höd to attack her.

“Coward, sending your men to die in your place?” She allowed them to get a few paces closer, parrying the first man’s blow with her sword to give the second time to approach. Once he was in range Morganna knelt before leaping high into the air, spinning her body around like a dancer as she tapped the button with her thumb. The result was a spiral of blades snaking their way up the torso of each man in a gruesome yet hypnotic display of skill. Another tap retracted the blade quickly causing slightly more damage as it passed through flesh to reconvene.

On her way back down she wielded the weapon as a proper sword, slashing diagonally across the first man’s torso before flipping backward over the second’s head. Her maneuver caused the man to miss his blow, momentum carrying him forward so that she could land safely behind him. The mistake would be his last as she rammed the blade clean through his chest from between his shoulder blades. She moved to reclaim her weapon from his corpse when she sensed the approach of another attacker from behind, side stepping to avoid being struck as she kicked her leg upward.

Her foot caught the brave man’s wrist knocking his scimitar from his grip, Morganna quicker in her motion to capture the weapon and using it to decapitate the unfortunate soul. Exhaling calmly, she pulled her own weapon from the second assailant and stepped lightly over to the first, burying the scimitar into his heart to be certain of death.

Much to her surprise she could still hear the screams of the very first victim, though they were much harsher than before, most likely due to shredded vocal chords. One could only scream for so long after all. Acting as if she had no concerns in the world, which to be perfectly honest, she didn’t… Morganna turned her attention back to Mazus who stared at her with what could only be described as disbelief.

The expression shifted slightly, as if he were only just then recognizing the warrior that stood before him.

“Y-you’re The Crimson Phantom, aren’t you?” Mazus would receive no response from Morganna as she turned her body toward Höd instead.

“My apologies for going overboard. I’ll save the final one for you, he did after all insult you by bringing such a pathetic force after your head.” Turning to the ringleader one last time she unclipped her mask from her face and returned it to her hip, her sword still in hand.

“Never accept a job without first being paid and never follow through on a task you cannot complete. Your death was assured when you took that bounty as not even my strength rivals a Berserker. Enjoy your trip to the afterlife.” Morganna waved to the man mockingly before nodding her head towards Höd, signalling that she had concluded her business with the man.

By the time the bounty hunter had been dealt with, Morganna had already finished cleaning off the majority of the blood on her sword. Sheathing the unique weapon, she approached Höd with a smirk.

“I’ll hand it to you, wasn’t expecting for you to be keeping your promise so soon. Not very good at fitting in with the locals though, are you?” She teased, gesturing an invitation to walk with her.

The cloth came closer and closer to Arden’s face, but there was nothing she could do. The Warden’s hold on her was too strong that even continuing to squirm was useless. As the material was pushed against her nose and mouth, Arden instinctually gasped for breath that wasn’t there. The stench of whatever liquid the rag was soaked in was sucked into the Gem’s lungs with each quick inhale. Within seconds the world around her began to blur until there was nothing but a strangely sweet taste lingering in her mouth.


Thump. Thump. Thump. The noise was steady, but melodic, like a beating drum. There was something else though, something louder but it wasn’t clear. It sounded like two people speaking; the noise was much closer than the thumping of the drum. Arden groaned as she turned her head from side to side in an attempt to wake her heavy eyes. Her body felt strange, as if it was filled with feathers while simultaneously being weighed down by bricks. Arden stretched out her fingers against the wooden floor that felt as if it was moving, swaying somehow. Where am I?

Steel eyes lazily opened and revealed a blurred room. The voices grew clearer until Arden could identify them as belonging to the Warden and Sorrin. She groaned again as her head fell from side to side, trying to shake the blurred vision. As the room came into view, she noticed the entirety of it was made of wood. A pleasant smell filled her nostrils, it reminded her of home. How could such a smell be in such a place as Drakka? Arden pushed her weak body into a half seated position, allowing her legs to remain sprawled out in front of her. She looked around her until her eyes settled on the small Sorrin next to her. The familiar face eased Arden’s nerves of where she was and what had happened to her. Her eyes shut tight once more with a joggle of the head, she couldn’t seem to shake away the strange feeling in her body. Arden refocused and looked toward their captor, her face beginning to fill with colour again.

”Where are we?” she asked with a strained voice, the words difficult to force out. Arden looked around the rocking room for something to quench the thirst in her throat. There was a small jug of water near her, almost as if it was purposefully placed there in waiting for her to wake. She drew the jug close to her face, studying the spout with a curious thought of what cruel chemicals could be lurking inside. Her captor had used something on her the night before (presuming only one moon had passed) and a small part of her thought he would do so again but the logical side of her brain reminded her that he needed her to live. The Warden of Harand Kor had made it clear that he was not a kind man, nor a gentle one, and the place that they were going would surely be more taxing than Shadow Worth. He would need his brides to be strong, to live long enough to yield him an heir. Killing her didn’t make sense, not yet anyway. Arden drank generously from the jug, feeling uttermost relief from the cool liquid painting the walls of her throat.

Arden’s body began to acclimate to the swaying room and the uneasiness in her stomach subsided. The Warden must’ve brought them on a boat; was Harand Kor that far away from Shadow Worth? She had been passed out for almost the entire conversation between Heccarim and Sorrin, and what she had woken for was useless; their voices were nothing but mumbles to her intoxicated ears. A weak Arden looked toward the cart of the food that was in the room, the assortment of meats and plants looked less than appetizing but she knew the it was necessary for her to eat in order to regain her strength. Weakness meant death in this place, she had learned that much already. More so, she refused to die as a prisoner of the Warden; she would need strength to face such a dangerous foe every day.

”Is that for us?” she asked, her question directed toward Heccarim. She would not risks simply taking something given the state she was in and the fact that her captor had threatened to take her punishments out on Sorrin. She would wait for permission before acting, even though her stomach ached for sustenance. A concerned look found its way to her sister-bride, who seemed to be smiling. Arden could see the faintest sign of an apology on the girl. What could she possibly feel sorry for? The poor thing had done nothing wrong…

The thought of Sorrin in that monster’s lap with his ugly fingers wrapped around her neck… It made Arden’s blood boil. Her open hand against the floorboards closed itself into a tight fist, her knuckles turning white. There was nothing she could do to the Warden. There was nothing she could do to retaliate. Sorrin would receive the monster’s response to every move that Arden made against him. How would she fight against him without condemning her sister-bride to a worser fate. A dawn of realization left the Air Gem wide eyed as she stared at the small blonde haired girl.

You might not be strong enough to take the beatings… but I am.

Wilhelm ate in silence, occasionally stopping to observe his brides as they ate. They seemed to have some trouble with the food, but that was typical. The flora and fauna in Drakka were from very different from that of Gemmenia, after all, it was only natural that their taste and texture was different. And Gems, frail creatures that they were, almost universally had difficulty adjusting. Less experienced bride takers might punish Gems who showed this difficulty outwardly; Wilhelm did not. If they were destined to survive they would adapt as they needed to, so long as they attempted to aid it.

"Forgive me for questioning milord, but I am curious. How far away is your home?" Amalia asked. "What is it like? I was raised in a coastal area, so I have always wondered what snow is like. Does it ever snow in your land?"

"Castle Nachtstone is quite a distance from here," he replied, "With speed and fortune we will arrive shortly after sunrise tomorrow. Without, perhaps closer to midday. It lies at the base of a ring of mountains that forms a natural barricade. A particular ore ideal for crafting weapons can be mined there, and it is upon that which my family has prospered. Among other more valorous deeds, of course."

"It is a castle of blackened stone and iron," he continued nonchalantly, "And it sits in the midst of a small settlement where live the slave races as well as some lesser Drakken. They manage the mines and quarries. You will be dwelling in the castle. As for snow, that must be found further in among the peaks. At Nachtstone you will find only harsh ice, come winter."

"Dress warmly and watch your step when that arrives," he added wryly.

There was no point in trying to pursue his sister in the moments that followed her outburst, Azilon forced to watch in silent fury as both of his brides were ushered away uncontested. For a moment, he suspected his father might have been behind such spite but a quick glance in his direction was enough to tell the young hermit otherwise. While Salazar had managed to maintain his facial composure, his eyes shone with a fire that gave away his distaste for the situation. Not only did it reflect poorly on Azilon, but on the entire Dantanath household.

Azilon relished at the thought of his sister finally being the one punished, but he knew better than to expect anything of it. Morganna could talk her way out of impending death, it was unlikely their father would ever get the chance to act upon his fury. Exhaling with a growl, the young man pushed his way through the remainder of the crowd out into the cold, damp night. While difficult to predict Morganna’s moves, Azilon reluctantly began his return to the family estate knowing it was his best chance to face the witch.

No words were spoken between father and son as the pair returned to the estate together, the silence harsh and unforgiving. Both men too proud to say a thing about the situation, trying their damndest to contain the anger they no doubt felt. Once they had arrived Salazar hesitated by the door, turning slightly as if he was considering saying something before he turned and retreated to his personal chambers. Heaving a sigh, Azilon collapsed into a chair in the main entertainment space. The household’s servant appeared from the shadows to light the fire in the room’s hearth only to be dismissed by Azilon before she had completed her task, leaving the man to brood in the darkness while the rest of the house slept… well most of it anyway.

~~~

The night seemed to drag on forever as sleep evaded Azilon’s grasp, nothing problematic but certainly no help to his already irritable mood. As the sun rose, the sound of Alice beginning her chores did as well though she made sure to keep her distance so as not to disturb the young master. He shuffled down to the informal dining space and turned his eyes to the hall as if expecting someone, wondering to himself if Morganna still followed her old habits from when he still lived with the family.

Somewhat to his surprise, Morganna appeared as if on cue, quick to lock onto his position in the room.

“I’ll take my usual breakfast then you may be excused to cleaning duties. It would seem little Azzy here has something he would like to discuss with me.” Alice nodded her response and exited the room as the siblings locked eyes, neither quite willing to be the first to step down and look away. Even as Alice came shuffling back in with Morganna’s breakfast it was clear that neither sibling had inched from their spots in the room though it wasn’t to last much longer. Almost as if Morganna had lost interest, her body relaxed and she began to focus on the food that was brought to her.

While Azilon could not consider it a victory, he sure as hell was never going to admit it was a loss. Rather than dwelling on it, he pushed himself up from his chair and took a few angry steps forward.

“Where do you get off meddling in my affairs?” He snapped, though he wasn’t entirely surprised that his anger was met with a look of absolute indifference. Morganna cared little for what she had done to him, and there was little Azilon could do to change that. Still, he required answers… She was going to answer for what she had done to him the night before, one way or another.

“I don’t know what you’re getting so upset about. I did you a favor, you should be grateful.”

“Grateful?! Those girl belonged to me, they were not yours to give away.” Azilon clenched his hands into fists, an action noted by a lazy shifting of his sister’s eyes. It seemed that nothing he could do would faze such a woman. She knew him better than he probably knew himself… even if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“True, they weren’t… But Azzy, let’s be serious here. Were they ever truly yours to begin with? Clearly neither one held any sort of respect for you. When danger presented itself and your claim over them threatened, the one came begging to me while the other couldn’t stop lusting over your competition.” He bared his teeth at her words, watching with ever growing irritation as she calmly sipped at her tea. What she liked in such a vile substance was a mystery to him, but he had no time, nor the patience, to ponder that question this morning.

“And that gives you the right to just hand them over without a fight?” While he knew better than to get into a fight with his elder sister, his anger was rather high for him to be making sound decisions. In one of these momentary lapses, the young drakkan dared take a step forward in silent threat to the woman he quarrelled with. A mistake on his part, however, as his movement was met with the sharpest glare he had ever experienced.

Morganna was no fool, she knew not to let her guard down even around family members. Azilon, despite his usual lazy demeanour, was not completely incompetent in a fight. Still, her glare was enough to remind him of where he was and who it was he was dealing with. Fighting off an aggravated sigh, Azilon backed off a few paces before reclaiming the seat he’d been in prior to her arrival.

“Azzy, you found the one wandering around without a husband and the other one was just about forced down your throat by the royals. I’ve known you long enough to be certain that you share no interest in gaining brides, considering you’ve easily earned three and have never shown up to claim them. I worry about you sometimes, little brother.” As much as he didn’t want to admit that his sister was right, she did have a habit of making points he didn’t want to think about. When presented an opportunity to prove himself as a warrior, no, as a man, he found himself undermined by two meager brides. Azilon began to relax at this, allowing Morganna to continue on without interruption.

“I can’t exactly blame you though, now can I? You spend a lot of time away from the masses, it’s no surprise you haven’t noticed. With the King no longer making public appearances, it seems the brothers are experiencing some kind of power struggle. They’ve done their best to keep things quiet and behind the scenes but it’s starting to bubble over and the people are noticing.” He watched as Morganna drained the rest of her cup, a shiver of disgust running through his body as he remembered the foul taste of the tea she seemed to love so much.

“This year’s Reaping was less about celebrating the King’s victory and more about maintaining the political relationships between the royals and the families. Imagine how nervous you must make them having earned such prizes and not collecting on any of them. It means they owe you, and that makes them squirm. Favors are a powerful tool in war… ah but it hasn’t come to that just yet.” Azilon made a sound of disapproval as Morganna spoke, turning his eyes away in response.

“Maybe another war wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It’ll give the vultures something to focus on besides me. Father too.” Morganna sighed, raising an amused eyebrow at his situation.

“Ah Azzy, whatever am I going to do with you? Listen, do you think I would just hand off something that valuable without knowing exactly who and where they were going to? While I cannot promise you won’t have to fight for them, I can give you the information on how to find them. The rest will be up to you.”

“And your price? I know better than to assume I’m getting this information for free.” Azilon countered, staring at Morganna suspiciously. In all the years he had known her, even the simplest of favors had come coupled with a price of some kind. While always fair in theory, it was often difficult to tell which scenarios had been orchestrated and which had tumbled down by chance.

“Good boy, looks like I have taught you something after all. FInders, keepers... I want the one you were gifted. Sound fair enough?” Morganna’s smile reflected her usual deviancy, earning her a roll of his eyes. Did she always have to mock him like that?

“While I can’t possibly imagine what you would want with her, I suppose I can’t really refuse now can I? Fine, you have yourself a deal.” Without saying another word, Morganna lifted up a folded up piece of paper with directions to a place outside of the city. The man was quick to rise from his seat, leaving his sister behind without so much as waving a goodbye.

Azilon didn’t bother stocking up on anything, having not had put his blades away during the night. He rarely wore armour either, finding it rather useless and more of a hindrance than a help. Rushing out into the front courtyard, Azilon nearly barreled into a man about to knock on their front door, barely recognizing his face.

“Well, well, well. I had heard you made an appearance but I didn’t actually believe it until now. It’s been a long time Azilon.” It took the younger man a few moments to place the stranger as being a man called Argon. He could recall seeing his face every so often in the couple of years leading up to Azilon’s departure.

“Sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Alice! We have a visitor.” He shouted over his shoulder before stepping around the man, rounding the corner to a small open faced stable located in the enclosed courtyard. Untying one of the spares, Azilon mounted without bothering to tack the creature. Spurring him into motion the pair took off from the property at great speeds, turning out onto the main roads that would eventually lead him to the city limits.

Luckily for him, the early hours meant few bodies blocking his path though the likelihood of him slowing for them even if they were present was rather small. Still, with a clear path, Azilon’s time to the front gates was cut nearly in half, allowing him to reach the gates after a few minutes of hard riding. Once arriving he did slow to a halt, taking the time to survey the land stretching out before him. From his position, he could make out a small gathering of what looked to be tents off in the distance.

Morganna’s note had been rather detailed, much to his surprise, pointing him in the direction of the main road. The man she had handed his brides over to might have carried a family name with weight behind it, but the man himself was an exile. A mercenary for hire, he wasn’t exactly known for his loyalty to anyone other than himself. While he could not be sure of the man’s sense of honor, Azlion thought it better to assume he had none and operate accordingly.

After short mental preparation Azilon pressed onward, eager to reclaim that which belonged to him and return home. The pace was much slower this time, though, not wishing to alarm the camp ahead of his arrival. Whether it be his luck or their overconfidence, the lack of patrols were about to work in the angry drakkan’s favor.

Azilon dismounted away from the camp, instructing the well trained mount to stay put until summoned. Despite the desert sand’s knack for consuming sound, to be safe Azilon preferred to approach on foot. It also gave him a better chance at taking the group by surprise, something necessary if he was going to survive such an encounter. Sniffing the air, he detected the presence of a significant amount of water left over from the night’s storm. A cruel smile spread across Azilon’s features as an idea came to mind, the man drawing the hood on his cloak as he conjured what he could from the earth below him.

An unnatural mist descended upon the entire camp, chilling the air despite the rising sun beyond the horizon. Tendrils broke off from the mass of it, invading the all the perimeter tents but sparing the large one in the center. It made the most sense that his girls would be in the center one with the commander, after all, this particular group seemed rather simple. Slaughtering them wouldn’t be all that much fun.
He opened his mouth as if he were going to shout, but no sound came forth… or at least not an obvious one. Tapping into a trick that had earned him his title, Azilon began messing with the vibrations he was creating in the air in order to cause great discomfort to all in the immediate area. The sound was not easily detected to untrained ears, but those exposed to it would slowly begin to experience odd side effects. Their balance would begin to falter as the world around them shifted, their minds eventually led to play tricks on them.

Under better conditions Azilon might have been able to conjure nightmares in the mist to terrorize his victims, but here was not the place. All he needed was for the group of thugs to be off their game so that he could clear them out with little hassle. Granted it wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but he had better things to be doing than playing with children. Springing into action, Azilon made his way from tent to tent, slashing the throats of their occupants. The noise was enough to arouse several of the goons, however, they did little more than stumble towards him before they met their fates. Once he was sure that the minions had been disposed of, Azilon set his sights on the main tent in the center of the circle.

As he had suspected, his girls were in none of the perimeter tents leaving only one other place they could be… So long as Morganna’s information was solid. Allowing the mist to disperse on its own naturally, Azilon awaited the arrival of the leader, having no doubt in his mind that he had been roused by the noise. Rynek might not have been the best opponent but he was no slouch either. It was likely he knew of the invasion as it began, hadn’t kept him from hiding in his hole until the rest of the fighting had ceased though.

The snow-haired Drakkan stared down Azilon fiercely, clearly displeased at having been awoken in such a manner. No words were exchanged between the pair, however, taunts left behind; taunts contained to mere glances. Rynek readied his sword as Azilon removed the cloak he had been wearing, allowing the garment to fall to the ground before the pair lunged at one another.

Sounds of steel clashing against steel echoed about the encampment, a melodic beat created by the advance and retreat of both combattants. Somewhat a surprise to Azilon was Rynek’s speed despite wielding such a bulky weapon, but such a detail only egged the determined boy on. Every time their blades met it sent a shiver of excitement through Azilon, almost as if the fight had been destined to happen. Narrowly avoiding being slashed up his back, Azilon swing around and kicked Rynek square in the chest, sending him reeling back a few paces.

Again and again the two ran at each other, moving about the open space like a violent dance. But like all dances this one had to come to an end sometime. Ducking below a swing from Rynek’s sword, Az stepped lightly to the side, slashing his knife along the Rynek’s side. Azilon knew better than to assume such a blow was enough to end thing with this particular kind of man, he had to prove his superiority to assure he would not return for more. Over and over Azilon slashed at the snowy-haired bastard until he was left kneeling on the ground, the desert sand stained with the blood spilled by the exhausted man. With a look of disgust, Azilon kicked the man over to lay in a pool of his own blood before turning his gaze to the tent.

Backtracking to his cloak, Az snatched the cloth off the ground before he approached the large structure. He paused a moment before entering Rynek’s living space, opening his mouth to call out to the girls before a movement caught his eye. Coming at him from his left side was a tiny figure, Azilon too late to really react before it had reached him. Turning slightly so that no vitals were punctured, Azilon stared down blankly at a half-awake Rya.

Aside from a small bit of fatigue and a bored look behind her eyes, Rya looked to be physically fine. Mentally was another issue to tackle, but he wasn’t entirely sure he had found her in one piece the first time so he wasn’t particularly worried about it now. The pair stood in that position for a few moments before Azilon broke the silence.

“Whose idea was it to let you play with the sharp objects?” He shook his head as he slowly reached down, removing the blade from his abdomen before tossing it over his shoulder.

“Are you alright little Api? If that scum Lord has harmed you, I promise he has paid dearly for it.” Azilon said, as he kneeled down to get a better look at her. That was when he noticed Lienna out of the corner of his eye. Standing back to full height, he crossed the ‘room’ to where she lay naked on a pile of skins. A pitiful sight for such a creature, her clothes most likely the torn scraps scattered across the floor. Her porcelain skin was covered in red marks as well as discolored patches that Az recognized to be forming bruises. No doubt they would be nasty, but it made the picture quite clear to Azilon as to what had transpired.

“You look like complete shit.” Stooping down, Azilon wrapped his cloak around the girl before scooping her up in his arms. He didn’t give her much choice in the matter, though he doubted she had any fight left in her for the time being with how exhausted she looked.

“Ever ridden a horse before Rya? If not, today is your lucky day. Come along, we’re going home.”

“You’ve missed it. But I can make an exception for once. Varzar!”

There hadn’t been anyway to tell the time in the dark windowless room. No natural sunlight to mark the passage of time, the room was effectively soundproof as well. But now outside, Xae could feel that the desert air held a coolness and the shadows in the courtyard were still long in the early morning sun. Still far earlier than Xaelia would rise back home.

Entertainers tended to sleep all day and stay up all night.

“But… That’s not me...Not anymore,” Another stab of bitterness wedged itself deep in her chest. Her shoulders hunching a little bit more, hugging herself a little tighter as she fought the harsh words threatening to snap back at the war-lord. He acted like they were late when they hadn’t been given a time to arrive.

But breakfast...That was far too important to miss over pointing this out. She gave the War-lord a final icy stare as she followed the youngest drakkan back inside.

Once the aura of Keregar had faded and they were out of sight, she felt the tension fall from her shoulders. Varzar had...proven himself to be safer than the rest of his family. Not worthy of trust, but not a presence to be on guard with.

The larder-kitchen-pantry room that they were lead to was not terribly far from their- the room they had slept in the night before. It was small, an over glorified closet really. It was cooler than the house, giving the effect of being partially underground. The cooking utensils were scares, a pot over the fire, a pan. Different meats hung from everywhere, more like decoration than anything. The furniture, like the rest of the house, gave off the vibe of ‘don’t get comfortable, get what you need and get out’.

Not one to disappoint orders given by furniture, Xaelia reached out a hand into a basket by the door, filled to the brim with dark red and blue berries. They weren’t from Gemmenia, but seemed harmless enough.

She heard Vazar whisper something before a loud sound echoed through the small room.

Xaelia hand jerked, the berries exploding in her hand, the juice running around her wrist and soaking her sleeve with the dark juice. Turning her head she first looked for a fallen object, something broken something…

Her eyes fell to Nadia, her head twisting right and pointing to the side, standing still as her face quickly reddened in the shape of a hand print. To Vazar, his glove held awkwardly in one hand and the other closer to his body as though finishing a swing.

“What…” Xaelia said slowly, her eyebrows pulled tight in confusion, the information quickly piecing itself together as she tried to figure out what had happened. In one fluid mission, she shook her hand of the berries, spattering Vazar with the dark juice and crushed skins of the fruit. “Oh, Nadia ,” She reached her clean hand out to hold the girl’s face, lifting it up to examine any damage.

Once assured that her sister-bride wasn’t about to die, Xaelia rounded on the drakkan in the room. “ Why in Vavari’s blessed name did you do that?” Her voice hardly hiding the rage that seemed to always be bubbling below her skin, waiting for a reason to come out.“Nadia wasn’t doing anything but following orders, what game are you playing?” Had it been Keregar or any of Vazar’s brothers, she wouldn’t have dared to speak so boldly. But this was the little drakkan. The one who took the time to play nice. The one who tried to make them trust him.

“You’ve shown us the food, you should leave. Hurry back to daddy, I’m sure you don’t want to miss his lessons, how else will you turn out just like him?”

Vazar didn’t so much as flitch, or respond or do anything, which only made her angrier.

“Didn't you hear me? Leave!” Her hand reached out to the side, for something, anything. Her hand closing in on something hard and smooth. Without any thought, she tossed the object and watch with great satisfaction as she saw a speckled egg fly across the room towards the little drakkan.

Blacked stone and iron. Harsh ice.
So there was nothing gentle or comforting in what was to be her new home.

Amalia nodded respectfully to Wilhelm's words, thankful he has answered her questions instead of becoming angry at her for asking them. She stared at her plate, thinking of his words and struggling not to weep. Was it selfish to want something that was soft and gentle and warm? Again the memory of her parent's garden went through her mind. If she closed her eyes she could almost see the green plants, the bright bold flowers, the soft warm soil that held so much life...

If it was a quarry then the ground would be hard and packed tightly, not useful for growing anything but the ore he spoke of.
Why did she keep hoping? It was better to just accept the cold tomb that would be her home for as long as she could survive. Who knew if either of the Gems would make it there in one piece? The country was dangerous even for Drakken to travel.

~~~~~~

Once breakfast was finished no time was wasted. A carriage stood waiting to carry them away. While supplies were being loaded Amalia wandered towards the horses.
They were the largest she had ever seen! All black, including their eyes. One of the Drakken men was trying to subdue one of the horses, who seemed very agitated.
"Miserable cur," the Drakken snarled, trying to force its head down. The horse fought, pawing at the ground and bucking his head.
It was in pain.. She knew... She could feel it...
When the Drakken raised his fist to strike the animal Amalia couldn't stop herself. "Don't!"
The Drakken turned on her with a nasty expression. "Get into the carriage woman," he ordered.
"No," Amalia said, her voice and body quivering but not backing down. "Don't hurt him! Can't you see he's hurt?"
"I have been around these horses my entire life and you presume to tell me what to do?" he snarled, advancing on her now. He would never lay a hand on his master's property, but intended to try and scare her away. "This animal is a nasty son of a bitch who needs to be reminded who owns him."
Amalia's heart was thudding in her chest. There was fear in her eyes but she refused to give up. "Please, let me try."
The Drakken laughed and waved her on. "You want a kick to that pretty face, be my guest."

Amalia breathed, trying to calm herself before she approached the already agitated animal. His head still bucked up and down. She came from the side, in full view of the large horse, making certain he could see her.
"I know. You are angry. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to say it's alright, because it's not is it? " Amalia asked in a quiet, soothing voice. "You are hurting aren't you? Something is causing you pain."
She kept speaking in the same gentle tone as she approached. The horse slowly calmed, watching her warily. Amalia came around to the front of the animal, slowly lifting her hand to touch him. He snorted repeatedly, moving out of reach of her touch, but she kept her hand steady until finally he allowed her to touch him. The horse seemed to almost immediately call under her touch.
The Drakken stood with his mouth hanging open in shock as this little slip of a woman stroked the beast. She spoke to it like it was a child, reassuring it with soft words and gentle cooing sounds. Her gentle hands moved from the horse's nose to its neck as she stepped closer, placing her head against his shoulder and rubbing gentle circles on his neck.

Amalia listened carefully, closing her eyes and reaching out with her feelings. Earth Gems could not talk to or control animals, but they could feel an empathy towards them and, if they listened hard enough, could get a pretty good idea about an animal's feelings.
Dropping to her knees, Amalia ran her hands over his leg and finally reached the hoof. The horse jerked at her touch and she paused a moment, soothing him once more before encouraging him to lift his hoof. There, wedged in between the loose shoe and the hoof itself, was a sharp rock.

"Bloody hell," the Drakken swore, coming down beside her. The horse jerked and whinnied, ready to kick the Drakken. Amalia jumped up and wrapped her arms around the horse's neck, soothing it. "We know what is wrong now. He can fix it. It's going to be okay. Shh," Amalia said, keeping the horse calm while the Drakken removed the rock and tightened the shoe.

“They’re yours. Now get out before I change my mind.”

Suddenly, Lienna and Rya both were shoved toward the intruders, out of the crowd and into the open. Lienna's head spun, her vision swam. Her whole body was rocked by the shock of what she'd just done. She didn't breathe.

The few seconds that the intruder's minions hesitated felt like hours. Lienna could feel their eyes on them, feel the tension between them and the rest of the room. The Drakkan woman had been right; it was like being faced with a pack of wolves.

In reality, it didn't take long for the minions to come to their senses. They rushed forward and seized the girls, one each grabbing them by the arms and half-dragging, half-carrying them out. Outwardly, and by Drakkan standards, the exit would have been surprisingly calm, far from the explosive ending many of them - Lienna included - had been expecting. But to Lienna, it was chaotic indeed. The group converged around them as they exited, clanking and tinkling of mail and metal all around as they sank into a small ocean of tall bodies. The intruder himself, Rynek, said something in his ringing voice as they left, but Lienna didn't catch what it was.

Once outside in the remnants of the rain, Lienna was thrown over the shoulder of the Drakkan who had grabbed her as he mounted a horse. Soon the whole party had mounted and they were on their way... somewhere.

Lienna, facing backward over the shoulder of the hulking rider, couldn't see where they were going; of course, she wasn't sure it would matter if she had. All she could see was the city walls as they shrunk in the distance and the mop of white hair riding at the rear of the group. She couldn't make out his eyes, but she felt like he was watching her.

It wasn't long before the band came to a stop in a small encampment near what appeared to be the main road in and out of the city. The camp consisted of a cluster of several animal skin tents, with the largest being situated in the centre, presumably the tent belonging to the group's commander. Lienna's suspicions were confirmed when the Drakken holding her and Rya wasted no time dismounting and dragging them to the largest tent, unceremoniously throwing them inside. Luckily the two brutes didn't follow them in, but Lienna could hear that they didn't go far. Standing guard, probably.

The tent could have been considered spacious, though to Lienna's eyes it just looked like it would be difficult to heat. The ground was covered with various carpets and skins, and there was a space in the middle of the tent that was thickly padded with furs. Lienna recognized the spot to be a bed, and a nice one at that. Off to one side was a plain wooden trunk, before which Rya sat, leaning back onto it.

"You coward," Rya spat, "So timid are you that you grovel at the feet of the bear just to escape the fox?" Her voice took on a high, mocking pitch. "Yes, there are no safe places in Drakka, and now we die for your lust."

Lienna glared daggers at Rya, but opted not to respond. Inwardly, a storm raged. A coward? She was surprised Rya could muster those words without laughing at the irony of them coming from her mouth. Still, Lienna couldn't help but be angry at herself. What on earth had come over her? Had it truly been lust? If so, it was not what she'd expected. If not, it had been some sort of adrenaline-fueled haze she'd rather not be clouded by again.

She moved to situate herself more comfortably (her dress had been twisted on the trip) but it wasn't long before the door flap of the tent opened again. This time, the one who stepped through the door was none other than their apparent new "husband".

Rynek looked them over greedily, lust shining in his pale eyes. "Well, don’t my blushing brides look ravishing."

"Ravagers ravishing recklessly,” muttered Rya.

Lienna didn't know what to do. Whatever had clouded her judgement at the choosing ceremony was gone now, replaced by the visceral dread of the weight of her situation crashing down on her. She didn't know what would happen next, there was no way out, and she had dragged an innocent (if slightly mad) girl down with her.

“Well, the real prize first."

He wasted no time crossing the tent to meet Lienna. For an instant she wanted to run, but held fast. Running, she was certain, would only make things worse.

Rynek brought her to her feet with ease, only to apply a similarly minute amount of effort to tearing off her dress.

Lienna took a breath.

"Water always finds a way."

The tent had no windows, so there was no way of knowing what time of day it was when the onslaught finally ceased and Rynek rolled over to rest, seemingly (hopefully) satisfied.

Lienna, on the other hand, was in much worse condition. Thoroughly exhausted, she collapsed onto the furs and did not move, dead to the world. Her skin stung, much of her was hurting, and she wasn't even confident she could stand and take a step. Never had she experienced such soreness. She could feel a hot flush in some places, surely starting to swell. It was all she could do to heave her next breath. Luckily, exhaustion soon took her and she could do nothing to resist the sleep that gripped her.

Seconds later, it seemed, she was jarred awake by the sound of clashing steel outside of the tent. Managing to crack one eye open, Lienna was relieved to see that there was no immediate danger in the tent. The sounds outside would have bothered her more if she had had, at the moment, any will to live.

In the darkness of the tent, she could just make out a figure by the trunk, rummaging through it. Assuming it was Rya, she watched as she drew something from the trunk and crossed the tent to take up a position by the door. Maybe she was poised to run, Lienna didn't care. She didn't even move, instead electing to close her eyes once more and welcome whatever fate would befall her with open arms.

At some point the sounds of fighting outside ceased, and footsteps neared the door of the tent. Lienna didn't bother to open her eyes, but heard the sickening thud-and-suction sound of something being stabbed - a sound she'd heard many a time back home when hunting.

“Whose idea was it to let you play with the sharp objects?”

“Are you alright little Api? If that scum Lord has harmed you, I promise he has paid dearly for it.”

The voice was familiar, but Lienna couldn't place it. If she hadn't known better she'd have assumed that it was her original "husband", but something about that, in her mind, seemed unlikely after he'd given them up without a fight.

Footsteps approached her, and she didn't even bother looking up. “You look like complete shit," came the voice, and of course, she didn't care enough to respond. He was probably right, anyway.

Then something was being wrapped around her and before she knew it, a pair of strong arms scooped her up, a hiss escaping her lips as the hands pressed on her various sore spots. Her eyes fluttered open, but the tent was too dark to make out the face. Realizing she didn't much care who it was, Lienna simply rested her head against his chest and offered no resistance.

“Ever ridden a horse before Rya? If not, today is your lucky day. Come along, we’re going home.”

Shifting her eyes upward, Aurora glanced at the man who still remained standing guard outside her door. Somehow his presence managed to bring her comfort, though it was likely due to him serving as some kind of consistency in an ever shifting situation. While she didn’t know how long such a treasure would last, Aurora decided she would enjoy the small things while they lasted. The man looked down at her and began speaking, silencing himself once he realized that his words were pointless to waste. She had already straightened the room, which was a fairly easy task considering how little time she spent awake within its walls.

The guard looked as if he wanted to say something else, perhaps instructions of some sort as to where she could go, but was further silenced by the sound of approaching footsteps. Aurora heard the footfalls before she saw the person, already aware of whose face she would see once she shifted her eyes back down. More than a foot shorter than her stood a tiny, pale-faced Gem. It was the lord’s first bride, well surviving bride that was, standing before her in the hall. Any hopes of having a moment of true peace were thrown out the window with her arrival, a sentiment that clearly displayed itself in Aurora’s facial expression.

“Good morning, Aurora. Did you sleep well? I do not believe my lord Zakroti is awake yet, but if you are hungry I can certainly show you to the dining room, there’s bound to be something set out already.”

Everything about the girl screamed ‘safe’. Her smile was neither too bright nor too lacking, just the right amount to be present but not give much away. Even her posture was proper enough to be considered polite, but not so rigid as to be considered prissy. Aurora knew it all too well, things she had learned to do herself back in the homeland when performing at events for those of a higher status than herself. The fire Gem would not have been surprised if she were to learn that this Miry character had been a performer of some kind as well, though gauging by her choice in outfit… might have been a bit more than just that.

Aurora fought the urge to retreat back into the room she had spent the night in and promptly slam the door in the girl’s face as she so desperately wanted to do. It was within the realm of possibility that she could just shut her mouth and walk away without even acknowledging that she had been spoken too, but that would have left very little impact. Such behavior was not in her nature.

Stepping out fully into the hallway, Aurora pulled the door to her quarters shut with more force than was necessary. Staring down at Miry harshly, the young girl puffed air out her nose with distaste.

“It would seem my invitation to the soirée has been misplaced, please allow me to apologize for appearing before you so underdressed, m’lady.” Aurora bent into a deep curtsy, every bit of her composure mocking the smaller girl. Straightening back up to full height she shot a pitying smirk at the water Gem.

“Overcompensating for something?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, hands placed firmly on her hips as she stepped forward to close the distance. Bending slightly so that their faces were aligned with one another’s, Aurora raised her right hand and blew across it sharply. She ignited a small spark mere inches from the girl’s face, not enough to harm but definitely enough to startle if she wasn’t expecting it. The air would have warmed considerably, but that wasn’t difficult to do in such a cold space.

“I think I can find my own way, thank you. I do, after all, have several senses to work with. I’m sure I can figure it out.” Standing back up, the girl laughed and brushed past Miry as she made her way down the hallway.

She cared very little about how the shattered woman reacted, instead turning her focus to the very task she had just thrown in Miry’s face. The sounds of many voices caught her attention rather quickly, voices belonging to a great deal of men chattering away without much care. Whether they were excited or irritated, Aurora doubted she would have been able to tell the difference. What she did know was that whatever was happening was bound to catch her interest and might help her locate the room where she might find food.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she listened carefully to separate the echoes from the source before turning her body down a separate corridor. It didn’t take her very long to locate the room where the commotion was coming from, slowly poking her head inside to survey the situation before she made any attempts to enter. Upon inspection, everything seemed to be safe, just a gathering of rowdy guards whose faces stood out as being somewhat familiar to her. Several of the men had been part of the guard that escorted Zakroti and his brides back to the estate from the ceremony.

Eyes reaching the head of the room, Aurora locked eyes on lord of the house, stomach clenching at the sight of him. The man held secrets….power. This was enough to make her nervous but not nearly enough to scare her off. Taking a deep breath, the girl squared her shoulders and entered the room with her head held high. She thought of sitting amongst the men in an attempt to show Zakroti that she didn’t belong to him, but a better idea popped into her head as she walked forward.

Paying the room no mind, Aurora marched her way up to the table with purpose. It was her hope that Miry hadn’t fallen too far behind, as it would have made her antics a little less fun. Still, either way, Aurora found herself standing directly behind Zakroti’s chair. Bending forward, the girl draped her arms gently around his neck in a casual display, leaning her weight against him.

“You might want to learn how to be better comfort to your women. It would appear that the arrival of your new pet has threatened the confidence of the old one.” She cooed in his ear, continuing to mock the girl long after she had walked away from her.

"Now, when can I expect my answers?"

It wasn’t as though Bree always got her way back home, just when it mattered. But what she wasn’t used to was being so casually dismissed. Bree’s lips tightened into a thin line on her face as she stood, biting back the argumentative remark that had already formed in her mind. But, wisdom rang threw, she chose not to comment anymore on Kagan’s plan for them, instead choosing to follow silently as he lead them out the door.

The city was vastly different in the glory of the morning than the mud choked streets of last night. The streets were filled with drakken. Vendors filled small side streets where wares of every type were being pushing on everyone who passed by. Most of them were filled with items from Drakka, something rarely seen back home, but here it was plentiful. Ever once in a while, they would pass something cleary gem in origin. A hollow filling would fill her every time they passed such an object. A ping of loneliness and of missing home.

All the while it felt as though she was being watched. Not by Kagan, who had been keeping annoyingly close to her, his hands always touching, brushing and finding reasons to hold her and bring her closer. But by someone or something that seem to constantly dance in her peripheral vision. Always there and always just out of sight.

In very little time, Kagan lead them to an old, rundown building. Had Bree been walking on her own, she wouldn’t have paid the building the slightest bit of attention, assuming it to be condemned. The closer the trio got to the shop, the more the air was filled with the scent of burning meat. And, knowing what lay beyond the room, the smell made her stomach roll.

Kagan was able to make it to the door before Bree’s resolve died. Digging her feet into the sand, she was able to pulling her arm out of the loose hold that Kagan had on her. “K-kagan, just.. Wait, please,” there was an edge of desperation in her voice now as she shook her head. “Please, No, Please don’t….do this,”

Zakroti was mostly lost in his own thoughts when Aurora placed her arms around him. His mind was a million miles and hours away, dwelling on much different matters in between sips of his Mazjamma. He placed the goblet down as he was brought back to the present by her, staring at it for several seconds as she spoke to him. Although he might have seem lost in his thoughts still, he did listen to her words intently, carefully- appraising each and everyone one of them and the tone in which she delivered them.

There was something about them. She was playing games with them all, she saw this as some petty act of rebellion no doubt, maybe simply a way to cause difficulty and distress or trouble.

Zakroti cocked an eye as Aurora spoke, his face twisting a little into- perhaps a disappointed look, something approaching a scowl. He pried her arms from around him and turned his head to regard her. "A curious word to use, pets. Not at all the term I would use. Tell me, why do you choose it? And do you find this to be some form of amusing game? You know of what I speak." Zakroti said, his words taking on a wry and stern tone by the end. He wasn't about to let her keep an arm wrapped around him for Miry to see, certainly not. Especially not after the prior day. He took his goblet from the table and drank once more from it calmly, letting her speak again. He lowered it again, letting the liquid trickle down his throat before offering the goblet to her and ignoring her question for a moment. "Do you drink? It's Mazjamma, brewed at Aylmoras if I am not mistaken. Worth a try if you've never had it, though I warn you it tastes somewhat bitter."

"As for when you get your answers, well, that entirely depends on when you want your answers. You are properly rested now I hope? If so? Then certainly. Ask away. Whatever question crosses your mind about that night, you shall speak and I will answer; As wylkan e nordoon, o zaraew epe maze joran. By star and night, I will speak without treachery." Zakroti replied to her. Then he turned away and glanced across the room, looking around for Miry. He was certain she would not be long and thought that she should be present for this - as difficult for her as it would be. It would make a lot more sense for her to be here, her sister had died too that night and this must be an open would for her, especially given the way Aurora had referred to her the previous night. He had not forgotten the explanation he had been given.

Ineraz took the time to give Sera a considering look, as if he hadn’t already made his mind up. The small Gem had switched surprisingly quickly from guilt to anger at the guard to the neutral expression she was currently assuming. “No,” he said clearly and decisively, responding to her last question. He then gave her a very small smile, the uplifted corners markedly softening the innate icy coldness his eyes always seemed to project. “You have shown that you are capable of protecting yourself. And that is something you should always use to your advantage,” he smirked at her briefly, offering her what could be construed as a proud expression.

Then, when he caught sight of the red hand print still in sharp relief against her pale skin once again, he scowled and continued in a low growl. “After all, I can’t always be around to keep the grubby hands of inept fools and greedy imbeciles off you,” Ineraz didn’t even deign to turn around, but it was obvious those insults were also intended for the guard, with whom Ineraz was quite displeased at the moment. Seeing the evidence that someone else had touched what was rightfully his stung.

Ineraz took a moment to calm himself down, then smiled an alarmingly malicious smile. “In fact,” he began on the end of a breathy sigh, then leaned down to be closer to Sera and whispered in her ear. “He is the one who should be punished. Don’t you agree? Wouldn’t you like to watch him suffer? He had no cause and no right to punish you, isn’t that so?” he emphasized some of the words with a hissing lilt which may have been softer than his previous growling insults but certainly didn’t lessen the peril the poor oblivious Drakkan guard was in.

Ineraz continued, really getting into it now that he imagined the kind of fun he might have if he got his bride to cooperate. “Well, what say you? Would you like to look on as he gets flayed? Perhaps you might even enjoy helping me by tenderizing his skin some more with your fire, hmm?” Ineraz’s tone as he softly murmured all these suggestions to Sera was a strange mix of malevolent threat, ominous danger, and a dark seductive undercurrent, the latter of which was there purely for Sera’s sake.

After that speech, Ineraz straightened up back to his full height, and flashed Sera a quick vindictive grin. He licked his lips as his gaze happened to land upon her sweet little mouth. Strangely enough, Ineraz had worked up a deep and thrilling lust in his gut alongside the still simmering rage he felt thrum with every heart-beat. He would very much like to kiss Sera right now, but he knew himself well enough to realize that he might attempt to put his own mark on her, a silly thing which he would regret later. As much as he might appreciate the way she would look with his bite-mark, showcasing the indentation of his teeth, and how she would bleed for his sake…he probably wouldn’t feel the same later, when he returned to his usual clear-headed state. Ineraz looked at Sera expectantly and perhaps with apparent desire, while Zeldria and the idiotic guard by the name of Thinil were barely in his periphery, ignored for now.

The sound of steel striking someone behind him rang in his ears. Höd didn’t bother to turn and address the new threat as whomever it seemed to be, was targeting the group who was after him. The threat spoke, confirming his suspicion that she was there for the group. Höd recognized the voice from the Drakkan he purposefully bumped into at the Choosing; Morganna. His guard lowered as he listened to the yelps of the resisting Drakkan behind him and within moments… the onslaught began.

The brute could do nothing but smile with satisfaction as he watched Morganna dance around the group who had come to claim the bounty upon his head. He did not move to help her, it was clear that she didn’t need it. Morganna’s movements were fluid and precise; not one step was wasted. Excitement shot through Höd’s body as he watched her paint the cobblestone streets of Železna Kri with the Drakken’s blood, her sword whip tearing through their flesh. One by one the pathetic fools fell until only the ringleader, Mazus, remained.

“Y-you’re The Crimson Phantom, aren’t you?”

Crimson Phantom… A devilish grin spread from ear to ear realizing just who he was in the presence of. In his travels across Drakka he had heard of the woman dubbed the Crimson Phantom; a dangerous foe who was impossible to see coming, the only evidence of her ever being there was the path of blood she left behind. He would have never thought that the woman he laid eyes on at The Choosing would be the Phantom. Höd’s excitement grew as she turned her body toward him; it wasn’t often that he came face to face with another legend, though her legend might not be as well known as his, it was known well enough and earned his rightfully placed respect. He slowly clapped for the woman, both in recognition of her victory and expression of being impressed.

“My apologies for going overboard. I’ll save the final one for you, he did after all insult you by bringing such a pathetic force after your head.” Morganna stated.

“You’re much too kind, mon Cherie” Höd began to walk toward Mazus, stopping at Morganna’s side. He looked over to her with a lust in his eyes. Höd had never wanted to take a woman more than he had in that moment. Drakken women were more complex than Gems; with Gems he didn’t have to care what they thought, he simply did with them what he pleased. With a real woman though, he would have to use more tact to get what he so desired. Höd winked at her before making his way to Mazus, who was quivering with fright.

“Stay away from me, you monster!” the scared Drakkan shouted as he drew his blade on the ever advancing Höd. A swing of Mazus’s blade fell on empty space as Höd simply stepped out the way. The Drakkan’s momentum caused him to stumble forward when his weapon didn’t make contact with the Berserker. Höd’s closed fist came down on Mazus’s back with a heavy thud, causing the Drakkan to fall to the ground. The massive Drakkan now stood over top of the shaking body on the ground whose hands were frantically searching for the weapon he had dropped as he fell to the ground. Höd knelt down over top of Mazus, his face drawing closer to the back of his head.

“I thought this is what you came for, kitten.” Höd whispered into Mazus’s ear as he reached for the Drakkan’s sword. He returned to a crouching position over top of Mazus’s body as his free hand grabbed a fist full of Mazus’s hair, pulling his head away from the ground. A seductive grin adorned Höd’s face as he brought the sword to one side of Mazus’s neck and pressed the cold steel of the weapon against his skin.

“Don’t worry… I’ll make this slow so that you can enjoy every minute of it.” Höd steadily dragged the blade against Mazus’s neck, allowing each tooth of his sword to tear his flesh one by one. The Drakkan’s panicked cries for help began to curdle as he drown in the blood pooling in his throat. Höd drew the blade further and further across the Drakkan’s neck as he pinned Mazus’s body to the ground with the weight of of his own until there was nothing more to slice. The bloodied weapon fell to the ground as the massive Höd stood and acknowledged a job well down. His attention turned back to Morganna, who was cleaning her weapon. He walked toward her as she approached him.

“I’ll hand it to you, wasn’t expecting for you to be keeping your promise so soon. Not very good at fitting in with the locals though, are you?” The woman spoke with a playful tone.

“I would never leave a creature such as yourself waiting for long” Höd responded with a smirk. “The locals have never liked me, though it probably has something to do with me slaughtering their brides to be.”

Höd joined Morganna as she began to walk away from the pile of bodies she left behind. He slowed his long stride to match her own. Even though she was nimble on her feet, she was still a lot smaller than he was and her casual walking speed was slower than his. Normally having to adjust himself for someone else would bother him, but it wasn't often someone willingly wanted to associate with him, especially someone so easy on the eyes. He would make an exception for her.

“I have to admit something to you, Crimson Phantom.” the title purred from his lips as he turned to look at her. “I knew you were special the moment I laid eyes on you, but to be the legend herself, my, my, mon Cherie… It was a pleasant surprise.”

The sound of rapid footsteps bounced against the walls of the laneways, no doubt it was more men for hire looking for blood. A sour taste developed in Höd’s mouth; as much as spilling blood and causing havoc brought him joy, he wanted a moment of peace with Morganna. A slightly larger group than the one before turned the corner ahead of them and without thinking, Höd pushed Morganna into an alleyway. He pressed her tight to the wall with his body against hers; protective hands placed flat against the wall on either side of her head. As the footsteps drew closer, he leaned closer into her to make their bodies as small as possible to hide from any peering eyes.

Höd released a sigh of relief as the rapid steps flew by them but he didn’t pull away from Morganna. His purple gaze fell upon her with a certain confidence about it, his eyes landing on her lips. The blood in his veins pumped harder; he was thirsty. Höd had heard the stories of the Crimson Phantom for years, an exceptionally skilled killer. A female. The thought of a female counterpart who was as ruthless as he was, it intoxicated him, and he had her in his very grasp. She had come looking for him. A more inexperienced Drakkan would have had trouble hiding the hardening in his pants by this point, but Höd was by no means inexperienced. Höd removed a hand from the wall and brought it closer to Morganna’s face. He paused as he drew closer to her skin, waiting for a reaction to tell him to stop, when nothing came he allowed his thumb to gently trace her bottom lip. As much as he hungered for physical pleasure, he would be patient, but he could not resist playing the game.

“Now then, Morganna. Why don’t you tell me why you were looking for me?” He asked, his thumb removing itself from her lip and tracing across her cheek. Höd was smart enough to know that her being there was not a coincidence; she was there with a purpose.

The walk had gone...mostly without incident, for which Kagan was thankful. Adora was, more or less, obedient requiring him corral her back into his grasp only once or twice when she strayed too far for his comfort. She was...weirdly excitable, given that she was about to be horribly burned. For a moment, Kagan wondered if this was either her not being fully aware of the situation, but wrote it off quickly. He knew little of the gem, but she hardly seemed vapid enough to not realize what would be (If Bree was any indication) taken as a serious threat to her health.

Bree was more a problem, a series of fidgets and pulls that required he constantly grab or pull her back to his side. By the half way mark, he settled for more dragging the redhead than leading her, a fact which made Adora's dutiful trot at his side all the more appreciated. Her hesitation he did not mind, it was expected. The attention it drew, however, was something of an annoyance. Weakness rolled off the girl, and some of the lesser Drakken starved for a good lay could practically smell it. Most behaved themselves, only daring to sneak glances at the two gems in the care of the young Drakken, carefully weighing their chances before abandoning the idea of taking them all together. A few well placed glares and glances at the mace strapped to his side warded off the more brazen few that decided it might be worth the risk, sending them slinking back to their bars or stalls. Still, Kagan doubted that would be the full end of it. He'd probably have to kill someone before the day was over. And in his good tunic to.

Still, they HAD made it unmolested. That was a win. A small win, but a win none the less. The Brander's home was small and worn from age...and several dozen fires that had resulted from her craft. But when a Drakken decided they enjoyed living somewhere, there was little that could dissuade them from staying. Blackened scorch marks peppered the exterior and a smell oozed from every direction. Savory and foul, like someone had decided to skin a long dead boar and cook the back fat for far too long.

He was about to enter when Bree stopped dead, pulling herself from his grip on the girl as she stammered his name weakly. The gem looked on the verge of tears, a fact which saved her from the growing rage blossoming in Kagan's chest. Slapping her would be pointless, she was too emotional at the moment for any lesson physical reprisal might impart. If anything, she'd get worse if he did. Instead, he reached slowly, wrapping a hand around her arm tightly before pulling her close.

"This is not a debate." he growls, eyes narrowing into a glare. "If it were not for the fact I killed a man yesterday and am dressed to the nines in religious regalia, I would have had to kill atleast four other Drakken just dragging you here. Since you seem not to be in a mood to understand, I will explain it again." He leans in, voice dropping to an agitated whisper.

"You are MY Bride. But to the rest of Drakka, you are a quick and easy fuck. Had I not been so attentive, you'd likely be missing a few teeth while someone new enjoyed you before coming here. And that is IF I had found you." He loosens his grip on the gem, turning back to the door. "Do not mistake my insistence on this as a matter of enjoying tormenting you. This is precaution, for your safety and my convenience. Nothing more, nothing less. You will not act like this again or you wil-”
His voice stops dead as the door swings open, another drakken standing in its frame as it glares down at the trio. He and Kagan stare each other down for a moment, a wordless tense exchange. The man grunts, stepping out of the three's way, Kagan dragging the two girls inside before the polite offer was rescinded. Inside, the smell of burnt skin was eightfold what it had been outside and it was no small secret as to why. The man at the door was a customer, and the small blue haired gem in his grasp was his. As clearly evident by the name scrawled on her forehead, surrounding flesh still somewhat black from the experience.

Her eyes were rolled into the back of her skull and her limbs hung limp at her sides. If there was not the faintest rise and fall to her chest, Kagan would have assumed she was dead. The polite Drakken nods, then wordlessly steps out back into the street, dragging his bride with him and closing the door. ”...end up with someone like him....” Kagan finally manages to sigh, the fury in him dying at the sight.

"Fawking Brutez what ‘e iz." A voice pipes from the back, an elderly Drakken woman stepping from behind a curtain of beads. "Daft cunt thunk his whore tough nuff to take the old face job." She says, barking with laughter which shook the many white dreadlocks that adorned her head, tipped with gleaming glass beads.

Javem the brander was once a giant of a woman, standing nearly to Kagan's height and twice as wide. These days though, she was a hunched pudgy creature, barely able to look up towards her younger patrons. Kagan releases the two gems, reaching down and hugging the elder Drakken woman. "Good ta see ye brat. Gratz on ‘at old twat teach'r yers wha' finally kick'd tha' mortal coil off." She says, Kagan managing to laugh weakly and ignore the gracious amount of spittle that was probably raining down his back. Javem liked to joke that she, quote, “had more ‘ears than teef left." Most would agree with her.

"It is good to see you Javem. You look well." Kagan says, pulling out of the hug. "The fawk I do. Look loik Sorrak's scrot on a cold day." She chuffs, punching the Kinner's side with a strength that did not match her frame. Javem looks over the two gems, eying them as one might a canvas. "...themz yerz I take it?" She asks once finished with her inspection.

"Ah uh....yes Ma'am." Kagan says, coughing slightly as his manners returned to him. "Girls. Introduce yourself to Javem." He orders.

Adora stopped her habitual tidying in order to follow her new husband and sister out into the world. She only pasued to pocket her healing slave from the top of her trunk. The hallways were much quieter. Perhaps due to the early hour or the exertion of the night before. The daylight warmed the earth and the scent of the drying mud with a hint of iron filled the air. She welcomed the bright rays onto her skin and the nearly cloudless sky filled her with hope. Despite the quiet of the hotel, it seemed that there were many Drakkan, along with their brides, out and about. Most of the girls looked haggard and worn. Adora felt pity for them, wondering how harshly their husbands had treated them. For perhaps the hundredth time, she felt lucky that the man who was now her husband appeared to be reasonable, rational, and perhaps even kind by the standards of the race.

She could hardly keep herself calm. Excitement at this new world and to her future put energy into her step. As the moved through the soggy streets there were so many things which caught her eye. Beautiful fabrics, ornate hair ornaments, weaponry finely crafted, and even produce from the area. Her curiosity filled her stomach and a couple of times she had inadvertently wandered toward one of the sellers who hoped to capture her interest and thereby her husband's so as to make a purchase. Their words and appearance calculated to bring a curious gem into their grasp. Kagan dutifully pulled her back and she would murmur embarrassed apologies. She began to understand why he wished them so close. Once her awe at the beauty of life in a Drakken city had abated somewhat, she could see the men's roving over the gems. Perhaps luckily, though Adora was more apt to deal with their desires, their lustful looks were mostly focused on Bree.

His long legs were a bit difficult to keep up with but she managed. They paused as a new scent pervaded the air. It was sickly and rancid. It reminded her of the times she had to deal with a gangrenous limb that she would have to remove and then stitch up. The limb would need to be burned. The reality of this had finally settled into her throat as a lump. She glanced at Kagan, relieved to find him preoccupied with her terrified sister. It gave her time to calm her own heart and put on her strong face. She hugged her stomach, looking over the building. It could use some care.

As they were to enter the building, another Drakken man left. He dragged along behind him his beautiful gem. Words were burned into her forehead and Adora winced. The poor thing. It would bleed easily and the chances of infection were great if not properly taken care of. She lightly touched her own forehead as she watched the girl get dragged away. She was brought out of her stillness by the door beginning to swing shut. Adora hurried behind Kagan and Bree.

The inside of the home was much warmer and friendlier than she had anticipated. Certainly much more so than the outside of the home belied. She took time to take in the surroundings. It seemed, at least, clean. This, as a healer, she could appreciate. The owner took pride in their craft and that made the situation less terrifying. Especially considering what her craft was. She brought her attention back to Kagan as she watched him hug the ancient Drakken. She wondered how many managed to make it to this age. And how long they had known each other. She couldn't imagine too many people would be able to call Kagan a brat (albeit lovingly) without losing their tongue. As she listened, Adora pressed her hand to her lips to suppress her giggles.

When the conversation turned to Bree and herself she did her best to compose her features. She lifted the hand away from her face and stepped forward. "It is of my greatest and utmost honour to make your acquaintance, madame." With the grace only a childhood climbing trees and an adulthood forcing proper protocol could give, she dipped into a sweeping, low curtsey to the woman. She wore a sincere and sweet smile on her lips as she stepped closer, somewhat hesitantly. "My heart could not bear more pleasure, lest it burst, to meet a friend of my new Master, Kinner Galegar." She glanced up at Kagan, searching for some proof that she had done well. She risked only a moment before turning her smiling face on the woman again. "May I say what a practical and extraordinary establishment you have created here?"

“The monsters sense a trap, meals rarely ever come so easily to their mouths. Tossed in by a fellow hunter. Would you be so keen to shut your mouth if it were you? The monster in the skin of a tinier monster gives an order

“Let the coitus commence, to the chamber of pleasures! And, by that I mean, take them to my tent,”

“And it gives the monsters purpose, enough so they drag them up from the-'

A calloused hand clamped itself hard over Rya’s mouth, silencing her, although she couldn’t recall the exact moment she’d started talking, sensing its absence more than its presences.

The mud was deep, yanking at the shoes more created for a life inside than out, staining the pretty dress of Salazar’s Gem. The shoes were lost, but it hardly mattered. One of the monsters decided her pace was too slow, and settled her upon his shoulders. Like a hunted and killed animal.

Durn had hunted many animals and had fewer horses. The shoulders of his shirts were alway red and brown and would never wash clean. Stained forever and always.

Sometimes the meat would be full of bugs. Living there before the creature died, eating away at its living corpse and spoiling what ever potential the creature had. Durn’s raged away rose to the top when he was forced to toss his spoiled work. But the tiny bugs couldn’t be hurt, unlike other tiny things. They were numerous and not worth the effort of squishing. Tiny white worms crawling in ears and eyes and nose. Eating at insides and outsides.

Until nothing remained. The meat was dangerous. Invisible eggs stuck on fingers. That is all it took before you became a living corpse and you wouldn’t know until you died.

The soul of Drakka itself seemed to be in those small worms.

Shoes turned out to be a non issue, as the next time her feet touched the ground, it was on the soft, prickly fur that lined the floor of a large tent.

But still, having shoes would be better. And it was that girl's fault she didn’t have one. Her and her stupid words. Words, Rya thought, that belong spat back in her face.

“You coward, So timid are you that you grovel at the feet of the bear just to escape the fox? Yes, there are no safe places in Drakka, and now we die for your lust," There was blood in the tent. Stains every now and then.

Because blood never washes out. Not ever. Not when it is a tribute to a victory. Staines upon stains as trophies to remind the creature of every strike that made it.

“Well don’t my blushing brides look ravishing,” The monster of monsters returns. He knows why he is there and so do they.

Why hide behind other words? “Ravagers ravishing recklessly,”

The face he made...he didn’t like that. “Well, the real prize first."

The stupid girl got carried off to the bed. There would be blood. More blood more trophies. There didn’t have to be blood, but there would be. Every day at first. Then only sometimes.

The furs covered everywhere. Furs from animals. Furs from the infected. She could see the invisible eggs on every strand of fur. Perhaps the parasites brought pain. There was enough screaming. Perhaps the animals were begging for death. Or perhaps it brought peace. Maybe the worms didn’t let suffering happen. A path to peace. The eggs grew and hatched in her hand, covering her hand with white bodies, filling like an outpouring of rice. Like snow, a room of snow. Screaming snow, crying snow.


The bugs were gone when she opened her eyes. As was Rynek. A slow hiccupping breath could be heard from the center of the furs. She could be dying, but she isn’t dead yet. Rya thought. Suffering forever would be unkind. One of Rynek’s trunks had been left half open. Filled to the top with knives, swords and other things with names.

Rya pulled out on of the sharpest blades she could find. It would be less painful this way. Quicker. One and then one to follow. Sliding the silver leash off her waist, she left it in the trunk as payment for the knife she took. A shadow of the chain was left in its’ place a criss crossing pattern of bruises across her stomach.

A commotion could be heard outside. A monster returning no doubt.

Rya crept towards the door, the knife tightly held in her hand.

She couldn’t kill a drakkan as easily as a wounded gem, but it would cause her death no doubt. No more suffering, perhaps Lienna would follow on her own afterwards.

Rynek walked in the door and the knife vanished.

“Whose idea was it to let you play with the sharp objects?” It wasn’t the voice of the monster.

“Oh...it’s you,” said Rya looking at Azlion, as though she was not surprised to see him there.

“Are you alright little Api? If that scum Lord has harmed you, I promise he has paid dearly for it.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug as Azlion pulled Lienna from the pile of fur. Before leading outside.

There was meat everywhere. Enough to feed a village for an entire winter.

She wanted to check for the parasites. To see the bugs devour the monsters. But...some things were more important.

“Ever ridden a horse before Rya? If not, today is your lucky day. Come along, we’re going home.”



The ride through the city was far more enjoyable than the dragging from before. Her horse stayed close to Azilon’s as though it had been trained to do so. But she was still alone...on a horse.

They approached a vaguely familiar building, yet, alarmingly, Azilon headed into it.

“This isn’t my home. I don’t live here. You said I was going home,” Said Rya, stopping the horse short of entering the estate grounds.

"You are MY Bride. But to the rest of Drakka, you are a quick and easy fuck. Had I not been so attentive, you'd likely be missing a few teeth while someone new enjoyed you before coming here. And that is IF I had found you. Do not mistake my insistence on this as a matter of enjoying tormenting you. This is precaution, for your safety and my convenience. Nothing more, nothing less. You will not act like this again or you will...end up with someone like him....”

Bree’s eyes widened as she saw the girl be drug from the premise. Her own hand tightened on Kagan’s as though she expected she needed to hold on, less she be shaken and passed off to the next person. “ I...understand, I’m...just nervous, ” She said softly as they entered the room. In any other situation, with any other person, there would have been a bigger fight. But she didn’t know Kagan well enough to not believe him...and as vain as it might sound, she was very keen on keeping her face the way it was.

The room was little better than the outside and the woman (maybe) inside seemed to match her surroundings perfectly. It was clear she was older and, while clearly not, welcome Kagan in like a son.

It was strange, watching Kagan interact so...normally with someone else. It was so...mundane, almost like he was an actual person. And this drakkan was a person Kagan clearly respected, even as she...drooled on him. Bree wore her painted smile as her insides wiggled with disgusted. Even for a drakkan, this woman was unpleasant.

But she was already in enough trouble for one day and insulting Kagan’s...friends wouldn’t go over well in any setting. Kagan gave the order to introduce themselves and before Bree could open her mouth, Adora started talking.

Bree felt her face reden for the girl. It was clear that the girl had been taught how to make a formal introduction, it was all very by the book, nearly word for word. It was exactly what a well breed girl would do her first time being introduced to ‘high society’. Twelve year old heiresses meeting the wives of business partners. Thirteen year old nobility attending a tea with those from higher up.

Teenagers would smirk behind fans and mothers and aunts would coo and talk about ‘how grown up’ their little girl was. Still a child by every means, but now able to sit still and silent and prettied up to be seen. The rest of the women would start judging, start watching. Sizing the girl up, judging her for her looks, her intellect, her obedience. Would she be a tool or trouble? Would she be invited to exclusive events? Uninvited to key social outings?

Entire futures could be decided on one thing. How long it took their girl to realize that nobody went through all that formality. The real question was, once it was figured out that spending so much time on addressing someone was like when pets had on sweaters and were paraded around, what then did you do?

Did you take the same greeting at your mother? Clearly there was loyalty to family. Depending on the family, that was helpful to reputation or damaging, however, it was the safest choice.

Did you take on the greetings of the older girls, the generation in waiting? Obviously, fitting in was important. You’d do anything to stay with the crowd. Malleable, a tool, something to be used. You’d never be important, but you’d eventually be a voice of many that controlled the tide of the social scene. Never important on your own, but there is power in many.

Or did you take the greeting of another woman. To copy the greeting of an unrelated woman was a power grab, an honor and a challenge. An offence or the greatest compliment. Highest risk, highest rewards. Done by those to be watched. The ones who wanted control, who wanted power. The ones who would rise to the top or ruin families with their failures.

Greetings were important to Gem’s. They’d say much about the person. Like how Adora had been in training for nobility, but it never quite came to head. Although Bree had heard her story, she could have learn the same amount from listening to the girl speak in that moment.

Those were just the greeting in the woman’s circles, then there was the greetings for the men’s circles, if you were trying to court them or not. And then there was the simple act of reading a room and the audience and deciding what to do from there.

Bree had returned to Kagan’s side the moment the hug was broken. Partly to keep herself out of danger, but mostly to ask for forgiveness for her earlier actions. Her arm brushing against his, a simple move, but really the first time she had been proactive towards him, rather than reactive towards his wants. Dislike it as much as she did, there was a faint reasoning to Kagan’s words. And a branding anywhere but the face was starting to sound reasonable. Unpleasant, but reasonable. “ Good morning Javem,” Bree kept her smile in place, body relaxed. “Her name is Adorabella, and I’m Aubree Lamey,” she said simply, nodding towards the female drakkan. Keeping her words short and to the point. There was time to talk and there was time to give answers.

As the boy's fights continued, Nadia wondered for a moment if Keregar had heard her, but as she was about to ask again he replied. “You’ve missed it. But I can make an exception for once. Varzar!” As he called for his youngest son, Nadia watched him elegantly avoid his brother's attack, and hold the twin at bay while Keregar continued. “The Gems are hungry. Give them something to eat.” Without hesitation, Varzar put away his weapons and approached the two gems.

"Good morning Varzar." Nadia said as the boy began to lead them back into the house, but he didn't reply to her at all.

“And Nadia. We will be leaving for the market at noon. Make sure you wear something right for the occasion. Or you won’t be wearing anything for a week.” Keregar's call followed them into the house, a shiver going through her as she glanced back at the warlord just as the doors closed behind them. She'd done something wrong? She glanced down at her tunic and trousers, wondering just what he'd meant. These were hardly pajamas, but, perhaps it would've been best not to wear the clothes she'd slept in after all. Nadia followed Varzar and Xaelia to the kitchen in silence as she continued on in her train of thought. I should ask Varzar if he could help me understand his Father a bit better, to help me avoid his unnecessary wrath.

As the entered the kitchen, Nadia looked around. It didn't seem like a kitchen should- there seemed to be no warmth in this room. That was all she was able to observe however, as a second later Varzar suddenly turned to her and slapped her hard across the face. She stumbled back from the impact, her hand immediately going to cover her cheek as tears sprang to her eyes. I.. I really have messed up already... That was all she could think.

“Oh, Nadia,” She heard Xaelia say as a gentle hand removed hers from the quickly reddening handprint now throbbing on her cheek. She glanced over at her sister-bride, her vision too blurry with tears to make out Xaelia's expression.

"I.. I'm okay. I'm sorry." Nadia spoke quickly, turning back to Varzar as her tears began to spill over. It was painful, but the shock of Varzar being the one to hurt her- unprovoked- that hurt much more. She had thought he was different from his father and brothers but... "I'm sorry..." She apologized again, her voice breaking as she tried to speak honestly. "Sorry I.. don't know what I did wrong." She heard Xaelia begin to shout as she finished. Xaelia was yelling at Varzar, telling him off and being very vocal about it. Too vocal. In the back of her mind, Nadia prayed that Keregar or the others couldn't hear any of this.

"Xae, wait." She stepped towards her sister-bride, too late to stop her from beginning to throw things at Varzar though. "S-stop. If Keregar finds out..." She let herself trail off as she tried to think of a way to end that sentence without saying that they'd be... "There are much worse things he could do to us than a slap to the face."

---

Onyx Woke from a dreamless sleep to find she was the last one to rise. Amalia was just leaving the room as she stood and stretched, the cracking of her joints a pleasurable feeling that alone usually gave her enough energy to start the mornings back home. But, she reminded herself, she wasn't back home anymore.

She straightened out her dress and ran a comb through her hair quickly before following her sister out of the room. In the dining room, Amalia and Wilhelm were already eating, a third plate with bread and meat on it seemed to have been set out for her. "Good morning m'lord. Good morning Amalia." She smiled at the two of them before sitting down and digging in. The bread was okay, the meat was okay, and the water was water. Not much else could be expected of Drakkan food it seemed.

Onyx ate in silence, wondering what was in store for them today. The choosing had been hectic, and their arrival here last night had raised her guard unnecessarily, but even though Wilhelm said constantly that he didn't wish them any harm, It was hard to simply trust the Drakkan at his word.

"Forgive me for questioning milord, but I am curious. How far away is your home?" Amalia started, finally breaking the silence between the three. "What is it like? I was raised in a coastal area, so I have always wondered what snow is like. Does it ever snow in your land?" Onyx stayed quiet as Wilhelm responded quickly, listening to the conversation play out between the two of them.

"Castle Nachtstone is quite a distance from here. With speed and fortune we will arrive shortly after sunrise tomorrow. Without, perhaps closer to midday. It lies at the base of a ring of mountains that forms a natural barricade. A particular ore ideal for crafting weapons can be mined there, and it is upon that which my family has prospered. Among other more valorous deeds, of course."

"It is a castle of blackened stone and iron, and it sits in the midst of a small settlement where live the slave races as well as some lesser Drakken. They manage the mines and quarries. You will be dwelling in the castle. As for snow, that must be found further in among the peaks. At Nachtstone you will find only harsh ice, come winter."

"Dress warmly and watch your step when that arrives," With that comment it seemed he was done, and neither of them spoke again. Onyx watched Amalia as they all finished their food, wondering what her sister was thinking about now. Weather and people had never bothered Onyx before, but then again she spent most of her time in the library anyway, where such things could not enter. Perhaps the ice he'd mentioned was worrying her? or, maybe she was thinking, just like Onyx was, that this place is not home.

-----

Breakfast ended and a carriage appeared to begin the day-long journey to Natchstone. As Amalia approached the horses, Onyx could guess what she was doing. One of Vivari's gifts to her children was the closeness with nature that allowed Earth Gems to handle plants and animals with ease. Onyx had no ability with animals, but as she boarded the carriage, she remembered Amalia saying that she did have that gift the night before.

Once the Horse had been taken care of, the group was off. Onyx smiled at Amalia as she sat next to her in the carriage. "Good job. I never would have been able to do that."

The scene that unfolded before Evienne was not anything like she had imagined, and far beyond anything that could have been predicted. Several groups had already began taking their leave from the main hall, no doubt looking for entertainment elsewhere. While the proposed duel was an unexpected pleasure, the combatants were not highly regarded by other in attendance. This meant very few of her guests cared about the outcome, any who stayed were simply there to enjoy some bloodshed. They would not be disappointed in this regard, however, it’s source was that of yet a secondary event crasher.

Out of the corner of her eye she had seen the man move, having been standing off to the side with Azilon’s sister. It was not a man she recognized, but she had not sensed any malice from him thus had no reason to pay him any mind. His movement was different this time though, as he weaved his way through what remained of the crowd to the opposite side of the room. With very little effort, the man had picked out a target and crushed his skull, allowing his remains to splatter unceremoniously on the floor. She watched as he spent a bit of time teasing the bride his victim had just been handed several minutes before, quickly growing bored and throwing the small creature to the ground. Such treatment was a waste, but who was she to argue what one did with their prizes once they were handed out. Most just had the decency to wait until they had departed to get rough with such delicate flowers.

Turning his sights on the royals, the man approached the area where her father stood, guards as well as Evienne tensing at such a brash move. He didn’t seem to bear any ill-will to the High Prince, simply making a statement as the Rynek fellow had. Gauging from her father’s reaction, the name the man spouted did carry weight, though it was not one she recognized. She made a point to inquire about it at a later time. All that mattered was that the man had finally chosen to make his retreat, leaving the hall without another word leaving Evienne able to focus on the fight before her,,,,

Or rather she would have been able to if there were any fight left to focus on. Instead, the sight she was met with was on of utter chaos. Having somehow gotten her hands on Azilon’s brides, the Dantanath’s eldest daughter had all but thrown the girls away. Had she not made the statement she had, Evienne would have ruled it out of her favor, but she was within her right. The mess was now a family ordeal which meant unless it began causing real trouble, it was outside of her realm to dispute. Heaving a sigh, Evienne watched as the group took off with the girls, clearly satisfied with how things turned out for them.

Azilon, on the other hand, was his usual pleasant self. The man, along with his father and several other groups decided to finally leave, giving plenty of space to already spacious hall. With her brother having been absent for the greater part of the ceremony and her father beginning to retreat back to the personal quarters, Evienne figured the rest of the stragglers could be handled by the guards with little issue. She turned to leave when she remembered the girl whom the man Ultair had abandoned to the mercy of her guards.

Several thoughts ran through her head at that moment, attempting to figure out what best suited her needs. If she so wished it, Evienne could order the girl to be shared amongst whatever men wished to participate… However that would most certainly would have assured her death. A temporary solution that would ultimately end in waste. There was always the possibility of rehoming the poor girl, finding another lord to bribe using the girl as a bargaining chip, but such moves were usually of her father and uncle’s doing. The fact that her father had chosen to walk away without her meant he saw no use for her, and she’d be damned if she allowed Ehkota any undue opportunities to undermine the High Prince’s authority.

"Get the fuck away from me!" The girl’s eyes whipped around frantically between the men surrounding her.

"Help me, please!"

“Settle down gentlemen, there is no need for such behavior. Husband killed and abandoned by the victor, I am now claiming this girl for myself. Do any of you wish to dispute this claim?” Evienne spoke as she moved from her position, approaching the group of hungry looking men without my concern. The looks in their eyes were enough to tell her that they considered such an option, as it was within their rights, but decided against it. She might have been born into royalty but she had proven herself on several occasions that she was not a force to be taken lightly.

After a few moments of silent deliberation and looks passed between one another, the men backed off to allow Evienne room to approach her new Gem. She still had little idea of what she was going to do with the girl, but those were thoughts for a later time. Stooping down to where the girl sat shaking on the floor, the princess extended her hand out slowly so as not to spook her any further.

“Your situation is rather unfortunate, young one. Allow me to escort you to somewhere you can regain your composure.” Evienne could not deny the attractiveness of young girl, her dark hair rather appealing though perhaps a little on the short side for her usual tastes. Hair was easily handled so she opted to brush the thought away for later consideration and instead focused on trying to seem the least imposing as possible.

The Gemmenite creatures could be so fragile and after what this child had been through, well, Evienne knew better than to push her luck too far. She didn’t even press for a name, instead quietly guiding the girl to her feet. Should she wish to provide one in the following moments she would commit it to memory, but no information was strictly necessary for the moment. In due time Evienne would learn what she needed to know and would make her decisions from there.

Retreating back into the halls of the royal estate, Evienne led the girl down a corridor lined with doors on either side. Each door belonged to a room that housed the many girls the royal family had collected over the years. It wasn’t anything overly done, but the rooms were comfortable enough to keep them complacent and ready to work. Selecting one of the rooms she knew to be empty, the princess opened the door and guided the girl inside.

It wasn’t a very large room by Drakkan standards but it looked to be about right for a Gem occupant, everything being built to their dimensions rather than the larger race. The bed was at the center of the design, considering it was the entire purpose of the room, and there was a dresser off to the side that housed generic sleeping attire. As the room was only temporary, there was no need to fill it with the working garments… That would have to wait until Evienne had come to a decision about what the girl’s role would be. Aside from those items, the room did not contain much else. A mirror was present as was a water basin for freshening up, but there was nothing in the way of art or decoration to the place. The only respite from the blank walls were a set of two windows on the wall furthest from the door, glass set on a hinge to open outward if fresh air was required. Some thought this foolish, but Evienne knew most of the girls were too frightened to leave on their own.

“You can rest here for tonight. I’ll be sure to send one of the senior girls to care for you and keep you company until I can return for you. It would be wise for you to put your best foot forward tomorrow, little one. Sleep well.” With a wave of her hand, Evienne shut the door behind he leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the morning would bring with it plenty of heated conversations and debates within the family. Not something she was particularly excited about but was her duty all the same.

~~~

As the sun rose so did the servants of the royal house, though some had already set to work a few hours prior. Everyone had their purpose, working in harmonious efficiency like obedient little worker bees. It was clear that any order given by a ranking member of the house superseded any previous instructions, depending on the rank naturally, the servants were left to their own devices when it came to the tasks getting done. Thus a hierarchy of sorts had been created on their behalf, leaving one woman in charge of directing the girls and keeping the royal house running smoothly.

The woman was fairly strict, but for good reason. It was she who made sure no task went forgotten and no girl left out in the cold. She was known for doing whatever it took to protect the girls employed to work in the house earning her the respect needed to keep the slaves in line, hence why the royals left her to run things how she saw fit within reason.

First to rise, she had been met with a note left behind by the princess Evienne instructing her to choose a girl to charge with the care of a new arrival until her place could be determined. Her choice was immediate though she did end up having to wait until sunrise to call upon the girl in question, selecting a girl by the name of Margaret for the job. Margaret had been a bride at a Reaping ceremony four years prior, having fallen into the care of the royals after her selected husband fell in combat that very night. His claim had been contested resulting in a duel which claimed the lives of both participants, leaving her alone and without a master.

She descended into a new section of sleeping quarters which appeared to be mixed in roles from the symbols carved into plaques alongside the occupant’s name. While several girls emerged and began attending to their duties, Margaret was charged with standing outside the door of an unmarked room to await the girl’s awakening. Whether it be moments or hours until she arose, Margaret would wait patiently and show nothing but kindness to the new arrival. After all, she knew just as well as the next girl how unsettling the whole process could be.



The hornless prince slithered his way back into the estate through a side entrance, one of which his own personal guards were in charge of watching. It made coming and going without being disturbed very easy for Ehkota as few of the other members enjoyed taking such an indirect route to their destination. It would seem, however, that his habit would prove to be but a hindrance this time around. As he rounded the corner, Ehkota was met with the sight of his eldest brother who looked none too pleased.

Where he had been the night before, the young prince would not share, but it mattered little for what his brother had to say. It didn’t appear that the man had slept any during the night, having waited up for the brother who disappeared without a word.

“What do you think you’re doing, little brother?” Gaelnesh barked out, his deeper voice nearly startling the smaller man. The only movement the elder brother made was with his eyes, shifting them from a space on the wall over to the hornless runt.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re-” Ehkota started only to be cut off by a sharp look and a more commanding voice.

“Cut the crap Ehkota, you know exactly what I’m talking about. And I don’t just mean your nightly outings either. I want to know what you think it is you’re doing while my back is turned.”

Ekhota fell silent, something inside him twisting around his gut. The last time he remembered such a hostile feeling behind his brother’s questions was the day he lost his horns. If he wasn’t careful this time around he could end up losing a lot more. Such a thought only served to rile him up, however, hating the feeling of being so inferior to his elder brother. Where did his brother get off treating him in such a manner. Was he not a prince as well, a member of the royal family. The youngest he might have been but that shouldn’t have meant a thing. Now on his guard, Ehkota wiped away his serious look and replaced it with a more relaxed one.

“Wasn’t it you who taught me to never turn my back in the first place, brother?” The prince smirked but was met with a look of pure unamusement from his elder counterpart.

“Do you think this a game? I’ve allowed some of your… antics… to go overlooked out of courtesy to family. However, your recent behavior has called your loyalty into question. Need I be concerned?” For the first time since Ehkota had entered, Gaelnesh moved from his stationary position against the wall. Arms falling to his sides, the crowned prince faced his brother head on with a menacing glare. Before he could respond in his own defense, however, Gaelnesh cut him off and continued speaking.

“I want you to think before you answer as it will weigh heavily either in your defense or against it. Keep in mind that I am fully aware of the fact that you were apparently present at the ceremonial tourney while your niece was attacked in broad daylight. Think yourself too important to raise a hand in her defense?” Ehkota growled internally, swallowing the sound so as not to show his true irritation at the situation. At the time he had thought the plan brilliant, knowing full well little Evienne would report immediately to her father. Gaelenesh had returned home with haste as expected, but what he had not intended was the arrival of the brides with him. Any chance to get their hands on a bride ahead of schedule was a bonus to the lords they were attempting to bribe… meaning the plan had worked somewhat against the younger prince.

“Clearly my help was unnecessary, she is your daughter after all. Skilled enough to take on three men easily twice her size unarmed, what help would she have required of me? You leave many matters to her in your absences, dare I say she handled them all on her own just fine. So I believe me when I say that I have no idea what you’re so upset about.” This time it was Gaelnesh’s turn to swallow his irritation. He wanted nothing more than to unleash his fury upon his brother, having his own suspicions about what had occured.

Ehkota had never really shown interest in the crowned prince’s children other than being mindful of where they fell in line to succession. No doubt he felt slighted by some of them as it was clear in the case of their father’s death, they would dispute claim to the throne and challenge the younger for the position. There was no concrete proof in the prince’s position, however, to justify a murder so Gaelnesh would have to be content with keeping an eye on the boy for the time being.

“I see. So glad you’ve finally come to recognize the authority of my children. It would seem your new bride has taught you a thing or two. I needn’t remind you of how fragile such beings can be though, I would take great care with her if I were you.” Ehkota’s face twisted, eyes ablaze as he stepped forward challengingly. For years Ehkota had been acquiring brides for himself only to find them dead after they had conceived his children. When the fist two had died he had thought it coincidence but he would eventually learn otherwise. SInce then he had been working hard to ensure the survival of bride after bride only to find them dead, over and over again. For his brother to throw something so dirty in his face was a low blow indeed.

The young prince was cut short yet again, though this time it was by the entrance of another Drakkan. Evienne’s rosey locks bounced into the room, the youthful woman looking between the two brothers curiously.

“Am I interrupting something? Thought I would let you know that food was waiting for us, though if you would prefer to have our meeting here in the hallway…” Gaelnesh turned with a beaming smile, shaking his head to her question.

“No need my dear, lead the way. Your uncle will be joining us this morning as well.” Evienne paused a moment, shooting an unconvinced glance back in his direction before turning to lead the way to the dining hall. It was a spacious room that was used for all of their meals, though due to the possibility of guests, the table was designed to fit a great deal of numbers.

This morning only a few seats had been prepared, one for each member of the family currently staying in the estate. Even then, however, not all of those seats would be filled. The head of the table had been arranged in a way should the king make his appearance at the meal, though family members knew this to be more than unlikely. Respecting this, Galenesh took a seat to one side of the head while Ehkota took the other across from him. Evienne chose to sit by her father for the meal, though her position granted her a seat wherever she liked below her father’s rank.

Silence filled the air until food had been put out before them, a necessary respite from the hostile cold felt between the present members. Evienne finally sighed, resigning herself to the role of briefing the princes of the current situations.

“There still appears to be some unrest following the ceremony, although it is no more than usual. I’d say we would be safe just waiting it out as it seems contained between the families, but we should be mindful that it could escalate further.” Evienne began, taking a moment for any responses before she continued on. Such information was usual as of late so she wasn’t all that surprised by the lack of interest in the topic, swallowing the bite of food she had taken before speaking again.

“There was something, however, that I heard this morning on my way to retrieve you… I think both of you might take some interest in this. A rumor is current circulating amongst the guards of some suspicious activity on the outskirts on the city. Moving shadows, mysterious disappearances and the like.” Gaelnesh nodded, having heard something similar on his travels out to the Keep. Such rumors had begun cropping up all over the place, but so far they presented as nothing more than campfire stories told by the guards for entertainment.

“Doesn’t sound like much other than some thieves, titleless Drakkan trying to stir up trouble wherever they can. They pop up every year around this time perhaps some of them finally disputed bride claims and won. I’m honestly not all that concerned about it at the moment, they’ll likely disperse on their own. Just in case, I’ll have Ehkota look into the matter.” Ehkota’s goblet slammed down onto the table in protest.

“You just got finished saying that it was nothing to be concerned about, why are you sending anyone to investigate it at all?” He growled, tension still high from the words exchanged earlier. Gaelnesh paid his brother little attention as he continued to eat his meal calmly.

“It would seem I’ve left you with far too much free time, after all you were just complaining of not having enough work to do with my daughter stepping up in her responsibilities. Not to mention it will be good experience for you. Report back to Evienne with your findings so she may delegate appropriately. Anything else?” Evienne expertly hid a smirk behind her goblet, drinking from it slowly while her uncle squirmed uncomfortably. Finally the prince gave in, excusing himself from the hall to attend to whatever it was that he did on his own time.

Shaking her head, Evienne set to completing her meal before it had a chance to grow cold.

“Do you really think uncle Ehkota capable of inciting a rebellion against you father? Any warrior worth his salt would be able to sense his flighty nature, he commands no respect from his men.” She noted, glancing beside her with an inquisitive look. For the first time that morning, Gaelnesh’s features softened to take on a more amused expression than anything.

“It’s difficult to imagine as you’ve never known a split Drakka, but to be perfectly honest… Drakka has never really know unity to begin with. While my brother might not be as feared or respected as your grandfather, there are still plenty of individuals out there who would see Drakka return to its former ways. Should he appeal to that sentiment in enough people, it could prove to be more than a little troublesome.” Sitting back in his chair, the High Prince sipped slowly from his goblet taking in the moment to relax.

“You need not worry yourself with such matters though, my dear Evienne. That is something for me to deal with.” Finishing with her food, Evienne nodded her head in understanding. Rising to her feet, the young woman leaned over to kiss her father on the cheek.

“I can’t promise I won’t tease him, but I will leave matters to you father. For the moment I have other matters to attend to with my pet projects so I will catch up with you later. Give grandfather my love when you see him.” She said before exiting the room, leaving her father to enjoy the rest of his meal in peace.

While she had left instructions for someone to be sent to her newest acquisition, Evienne wanted to follow up as soon as possible. She wondered if the girl had awoken yet, or if she had barred herself in the room. A shudder of excitement ran through her as she thought of all the fun she could have testing, not to mention training the new arrival.

”...well fawk me, aint you th’ fancifuler type.” Javem blurts with a laugh at Adora’s overly formal introduction. ”Dun bother with none tha’ madame shit girlie.” She says after the small bout of chuckles ended. ”Tha’ baby faced cunt ye call a husband know betta than most I aint no high class society whatzer. Javem works just foin.” She adds, nodding simply at Kagan, who seemed annoyed with his description but let the indiscretion slide.

Aubree's greeting got a very different reaction, the older woman's eyes widening in mild suprise as the redheads last name hit her lips. She gives Kagan a bemused look before speaking, "You shitting? Done did a brandin one of yerz couple years back. Camamlie or some rot the loik. Tough little shit she waz. Didn't flinch er squeal once." She says, giving Aubree a firm slap on the back.

With pleasantries out of the way, Javem takes a step back, inspecting the two gems closes. Her eyes pass over every inch of available skin, an occasional mumble escaping her as some detail warrented notation in the old Drakken's mind. Finally she turns to Kagan, "Ye sure ye don't want it done on the fun bits? They both got damn good skin for it." She asks, rubbing her chin. "I'm sure Javem. And no face brandings either." He says quickly, taking a seat in a free chain.

"Feh. Loik I'd suggest a face. Hate doin faces. Too easy ta fawk up. N' always heal up blotch loik." Javem rumbles, turning her attention to the gems. She gently pokes an experimental thumb into the exposed clevage of Adora before giving her am an experimental pinch. "....Wez betta off starting with the shortie. Lil more fat on ‘er so it'll be easier. Wanna make sure i doil in the temperature on the irons right before working the redhead. Dun wanna damage no nerves." She says simply, going behind the counter and pulling out a small shaving kit and a peice of charcoal.

"Where do you think the best places to do it would be?" Kagan asks as he watches brander carefully rub the razor clean with foul smelling alcohol. "Shortie: Pretty much anywhere. With scrawny: Tits, arse, thighs maybe upper arms. Anywhere with a good amount of fat tween me and the muscle." She says absent mindedly, tossing the charcoal to Adora.

Kagan stays silent for a moment, trying to decide where he should paint himself on the canvas that was his gem... before deciding that was the single most uncomfortable way to word that in existence and giving up. ”...decide between yourselves where. Just make sure its visible or easy to display on command.” He says, crossing his legs and slumping in his chair.