As Kire had suspected, she had barely gotten any rest before it was time for them to move. At some point she had vaguely sensed Ruli make his way to the kitchen to make coffee while she was lying down, trying to rest. Once Ruli had slunk back to his work, Kire got up to put her own cup together. Her whole body was too excited. Anxious, yes. But she looked forward to getting her answers, and her revenge. Hopefully, before anything terrible happened at the wedding. By the time Ruli had found her, she was fully awake, wearing her armor, her sword by her side. Ikegai and Akuma would know these, but by the time those two would see her it would be too late, anyway. Preferably for them, not Kire.
“I won’t be punching,” Kire pointed out, tapping the hilt of her sword as she pocketed the silver ring, securing it. She nodded at his other question just as the two elves joined them. She gave both Ysaryn and Bolym a grim nod of acknowledgement, though she knew the latter probably wouldn’t return it. She pondered Ruli’s observation, and Ysaryn’s counter to it. “We can pass them off as bodyguards, yes. If Ikegai had used the Kartaians, it might not be too far-fetched for my doppelganger or him to be looking for similar fighters to control. I can imagine it would be hard to keep his hold on them.” It occurred to Kire then that this may be another reason behind the enslavement of the Cordon elves.
“Alright. Are we ready to go?”
**
Gavin had not slept. Wedding jitters? He let out a snort. Akuma’s voice in his mind had calmed him from his destructive, rebellious thoughts as he clutched the Gemini brooch in his hand. A mark of his birthright, Ikegai said. And so, even if he knew, because of course he did, that this gem helped him stay tethered to his current masters, he couldn’t yet muster the strength to let it go. Destroy it. Not that he could; every time he thought about it, he was flooded with painful feeling, reminded of how close he had been to getting killed back in Ziad. He still couldn’t sleep though. And he still couldn’t quite let go of the dragon knife in his other hand. Soon, he would have to attend to his other duties. He would have to go down to the warehouse.
Akuma needed blood to maintain herself. Maiden’s blood used to suffice, just barely, but after discovering elves, Gavin’s master had found it best to use theirs. More potent, he would say to Gavin, through Akuma. And perhaps, even better dolls would come of it. Every night, ever since they had come to this region and had ensnared Itallo in their grip, Gavin would stand by Akuma as she bathed in blood. The more magical potential, the better material. They had used the warehouse because of its proximity to the city and to their new resources, but ever since one of them escaped, they had to move it, which was just as well. The wedding would install Itallo’s bride as queen of Cordon—or, well, once they have their army of dolls. That would take a while, but once they had achieved that, they would have total control, and they may not even need Itallo anymore, the poor fool.
Gavin rubbed his face. These dreams, these ambitions—sometimes he couldn’t tell if they were his, too, or just another of the many worms they had put in his mind, eating away at his soul. No more. Please. No more. He stared at the knife again. He was to attend to the warehouse, see to it that there were no loose ends. Further away from the warehouse were cairns, rock formations, similarly hidden by the wards he had cast, as instructed by Akuma and Ikegai, that led to a passageway underground, to chambers near the sea used by slavers to hide their ‘wares’. But first, there was one other thing Gavin needed to do.
Itallo’s people had questioned why they were keeping the half-Kartaian around. “He is needed. His blood. His potential.” He kept repeating that bloody answer like a parrot, his mind blank as he recited it. That isn’t it, though, is it? He didn’t know why he kept him around, either, besides curiosity. He had been around the day of the escapee’s flight from imprisonment. He should sooner surrender him, have him made into another doll. Or feed his blood to Akuma. She hadn’t had much of a taste of Kartaian blood. He is needed. Why?
His mind could already feel the haze, the fog that would take over, that allowed him to perform tasks that would have made him vomit. Gavin closed his eyes before he made his way to the lord's stables. It was like sleepwalking, even though he could make replies, do his job, function. He clutched the knife. Somehow it kept the fog from totally taking over, even if it wasn't enough for him to completely defy the soothing voice of his masters. After a few deep breaths, he rode out.
“I won’t be punching,” Kire pointed out, tapping the hilt of her sword as she pocketed the silver ring, securing it. She nodded at his other question just as the two elves joined them. She gave both Ysaryn and Bolym a grim nod of acknowledgement, though she knew the latter probably wouldn’t return it. She pondered Ruli’s observation, and Ysaryn’s counter to it. “We can pass them off as bodyguards, yes. If Ikegai had used the Kartaians, it might not be too far-fetched for my doppelganger or him to be looking for similar fighters to control. I can imagine it would be hard to keep his hold on them.” It occurred to Kire then that this may be another reason behind the enslavement of the Cordon elves.
“Alright. Are we ready to go?”
**
Gavin had not slept. Wedding jitters? He let out a snort. Akuma’s voice in his mind had calmed him from his destructive, rebellious thoughts as he clutched the Gemini brooch in his hand. A mark of his birthright, Ikegai said. And so, even if he knew, because of course he did, that this gem helped him stay tethered to his current masters, he couldn’t yet muster the strength to let it go. Destroy it. Not that he could; every time he thought about it, he was flooded with painful feeling, reminded of how close he had been to getting killed back in Ziad. He still couldn’t sleep though. And he still couldn’t quite let go of the dragon knife in his other hand. Soon, he would have to attend to his other duties. He would have to go down to the warehouse.
Akuma needed blood to maintain herself. Maiden’s blood used to suffice, just barely, but after discovering elves, Gavin’s master had found it best to use theirs. More potent, he would say to Gavin, through Akuma. And perhaps, even better dolls would come of it. Every night, ever since they had come to this region and had ensnared Itallo in their grip, Gavin would stand by Akuma as she bathed in blood. The more magical potential, the better material. They had used the warehouse because of its proximity to the city and to their new resources, but ever since one of them escaped, they had to move it, which was just as well. The wedding would install Itallo’s bride as queen of Cordon—or, well, once they have their army of dolls. That would take a while, but once they had achieved that, they would have total control, and they may not even need Itallo anymore, the poor fool.
Gavin rubbed his face. These dreams, these ambitions—sometimes he couldn’t tell if they were his, too, or just another of the many worms they had put in his mind, eating away at his soul. No more. Please. No more. He stared at the knife again. He was to attend to the warehouse, see to it that there were no loose ends. Further away from the warehouse were cairns, rock formations, similarly hidden by the wards he had cast, as instructed by Akuma and Ikegai, that led to a passageway underground, to chambers near the sea used by slavers to hide their ‘wares’. But first, there was one other thing Gavin needed to do.
Itallo’s people had questioned why they were keeping the half-Kartaian around. “He is needed. His blood. His potential.” He kept repeating that bloody answer like a parrot, his mind blank as he recited it. That isn’t it, though, is it? He didn’t know why he kept him around, either, besides curiosity. He had been around the day of the escapee’s flight from imprisonment. He should sooner surrender him, have him made into another doll. Or feed his blood to Akuma. She hadn’t had much of a taste of Kartaian blood. He is needed. Why?
His mind could already feel the haze, the fog that would take over, that allowed him to perform tasks that would have made him vomit. Gavin closed his eyes before he made his way to the lord's stables. It was like sleepwalking, even though he could make replies, do his job, function. He clutched the knife. Somehow it kept the fog from totally taking over, even if it wasn't enough for him to completely defy the soothing voice of his masters. After a few deep breaths, he rode out.