Chapter 7 - A Bowl of Bloody Stew (Start of Arc 2)
The room is silent. Aloe sits at the bedside of the unconscious Shira, and a slight rustling in the kitchen is clearly audible due to the lack of any talking, the smell of home cooked stew fills the air, the mixture of beef and a variety of vegetables fill my nostrils and remind me of the meals during The War, which were surprisingly good. Even so, I can feel the anxiety growing within me, slightly, but still growing. I reach for the nightstand, a TV remote being the only thing on top of it, besides an old lamp. I grab the remote and power on the small TV hanging in the corner of the room. A familiar channel flashes onto the screen.
“The news huh?” I say quietly under my breath.
“Two weeks ago, we reported a bar downtown that was burned down, along with the bar, the fire caused great damages to the surrounding buildings. Within the initial fire, the bodies of multiple people were discovered, but the spread of the fire caused other casualties, even resulting in the death of a child.” The woman reporter on the TV says.
A dark shadow completely fills the room, providing me with a grim reminder of the reality of our current world. I look towards Aloe and I see sorrow in her eyes in reaction to this information, seemingly reminded of the same thing that I was. Just like me, she already knows everything by now, after all this one fact was broadcast on the news for the last two weeks.
“Ladies and gentleman, not to brush such a tragedy to the side… but the results of the investigation reveal something of grave importance to this nation.” The woman looks directly at the camera and pauses.
“There is evidence that people escaped the bar, but those people have yet to come forward.” She pauses again, “You may be wondering why this is important at this moment, and that would be because investigators have discovered evidence of a planned coup against our royal family!” She yells, causing exaggerated gasps from the crew that sounded scripted and fake.
I look at Aloe who is now sat down beside me and more than anxiety, a certain realization seemingly hits her, one that is seemingly beyond me.
“Folks, this evidence found was badly damaged by the fire, but still, we know a few things…” She rather annoyingly pauses again, “Prepare yourself people, the photos appearing on the screen now are the perpetrators of everything. The fire, the coup, and rather shockingly, the disappearance, and now known to be the kidnapping of The Youngest Princess Angela!” The woman says in an exaggerated tone.
As the news lady makes this revelation to the public, two images of familiar faces flash onto the screen, the faces of Aloe and Shira. Above the photos of their faces are the words “Wanted” in big red letters. The news lady lets the images of the two of them remain before she continues.
“These two are the alleged perpetrators of all this chaos, The other Youngest Princess-“ Aloe scoffs after being called the other, “- and a mere servant girl” she said, referring to Shira. “On top of all that, investigators tell us there is a possible third person in all of this, due to a severed finger left on the floor of the bar, untouched by the flames, this is only a theory though. The reason for the fire seems to be to hide the fact that every dead person in the bar was already dead before the fire started. Investigators seem to think that the people killed were in on the plan, but got cold feet due to the absurdity of it.” The tone shifts, they are switching to the next segment.
“Well folks, keep a look out for the person missing the finger, and also the other two.” says the woman reporter, “That is all, let us pray for the youngest princess!” She says as the broadcast cuts to a photo of Angela and the noise goes silent.
Aloe grabs the remote and shuts off the TV, my eyes had been glued to the TV for most of the broadcast, I had only looked at Aloe briefly and I didn’t get to see how Aloe was really taking all of this. There is an obvious look of frustration on her face, her eyes are cast down, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is curved into an angry frown. Before she can speak, the door separating the room from the rest of the apartment opens and a man stands in the doorway.
“Foods ready.” The man says without a hint of care in his voice as he turns and walks away, leaving the door open.
The man’s name is Bastion, he is a doctor that Aloe knew from her childhood in the royal mansion. Apparently he saw the corruption, and also the mistreatment of servants and such, so he decided to go underground, he ceased to exist or faked his death so to speak, metaphorically of course. It is all a bit convoluted, to me I can’t understand why such measures were taken, but they must’ve had a good grip on him, and that must’ve made it necessary. Anyways, Aloe really likes the guy, and she helped him run away a few years ago and they kept in contact to an extent. Honestly things couldn’t have ended up better in this shitty situation, who just knows a “dead” doctor that lives out of the sight of the royals and any form of law?
“Those bastards!” Aloe finally lets out her anger, her voice quivering and it sounds as if she is holding back tears. She clenches her fists and turns away from me, hiding her face from me, but a few audible sniffles and hics, and quivering shoulders makes it obvious that she has been overcome with emotion, and a helpless sadness has engulfed her anger.
“Aloe, this is all because of those damn-” I stop talking, seeing Aloe still shaking.
I caught myself about to insult the royals, considering her status as a royal, that just seems like the wrong thing to say at this moment. Not that I would be wrong in saying anything about the royals. Framing and betrayals are staples of the worst royals, to be honest though, I didn’t see Dane as a bad royal, despite being a former enemy, and of course Angela cannot be compared to the worst of the royals. But if they both are responsible for this…
“Zee.” Aloe says suddenly, knocking me out of my rumination, “Let's go eat!” She says as she turns to me with a smile on her face, her eyes are swollen slightly but her tears have been wiped away, and her nose is a bright red color, and she still sniffles every couple seconds.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Okay, let's eat.” I say, giving Aloe my best attempt at a smile. At this moment we both have put our masks back on, whether it's to be presentable to each other, or so we don’t completely shatter, isn’t clear to me, and probably isn’t clear to her either.
Aloe suddenly takes my hand, for a second I feel that I can’t breathe. Usually I am aware of everything going on around me, but when she took my hand, it surprised me, because I didn’t expect or predict it, my guard was completely down. She leads me out of the doorway, and it suddenly strikes me as odd. Aloe hasn’t seemed to stray away from physical touch, it never seemed to even register that she was touching anyone, she was completely uncaring. But as she leads me to the dining room, sweat begins to form on her palm, and she squeezes my hand and loosens her grip sporadically, as if she is trying to calm her anxiety. For some reason I decided to match her pace, and walk beside her instead of letting her lead me. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face but for some reason I can’t look back at her. Walking beside her like this, I feel like she’s not taking the brunt of the stress, because whether we like it or not, we are both in this together.
Before either of us can really start to process everything, we arrive at the dinner table, there two bowls of beef stew sit beside each other, one for each seat, one of the bowls is filled more than the other, and assuming that to be mine I start to sit in the seat in front of the bowl.
“Ah ah ah, that one ain’t urs.” Bastion says as he taps the rim of the lesser of the bowls with a butter knife. Aloe lets out a soft chuckle, and in response, the man who has only been cold this entire time reveals a warm, soft smile, as if this was his true expression. An expression fitting a savior of life, a person who is passionate, and caring for all.
“Yes sir.” I say plainly.
As I sit down in front of the lesser bowl of stew I realize that the difference in our portions is not because he cares more about Aloe, or because he has known her since she was a child. It was because Aloe had noticeably lost weight since she got here, more so than me. I fill my spoon with the oily broth and sip it, the taste is a perfect combination of salty and savory, and the hot temperature warms my mouth and throat, providing me with a comfort I haven’t felt in a long while. Clanking of a spoon on a bowl prompts me to look to my right, and Aloe is stuffing her face with beef and vegetables as she holds back another wave of tears. A home cooked meal has these effects on people, hopefully in this moment Aloe feels some relief from our terrible situation.
For me the relief is brief, while I feel the same stress as Aloe, there is something else within me, something that I buried deep, and out of sight, out of mind, but now it is revealed to my consciousness in full view. The feeling of Artenian blood splattering on my face, running down my hands and arms, the enjoyment of it, that feeling that I worked so hard to push down is back and it pesters the back of my mind constantly, not with words, but just a feeling, an urge. This turns the delicious stew into something utterly unappetizing, instead of the comforting aroma, I can only smell blood.
“Well, I gotta head to work. If I miss any more days I will get fired.” I say as I rise from my seat, trying to hide the loss of my appetite.
“Is it even safe for you to go in?” Aloe asks.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” I responded to Aloe’s question with one of my own.
“Maybe because they have everyone looking for someone missing a finger.” She says as she points to my bandaged hand.
She has a point, if my finger was fully healed I could maybe blend in with all the other veterans missing body parts, but even then I can’t just gaslight my coworkers that I had always been missing a finger.
“Here take this.” Bastion says as he hands me something.
In the palm of my hand is a fake looking prosthetic finger.
“How am I supposed to convince people that this isn’t a fake? This thing looks like a toy.” I ask Bastion
“I’ll attach it for you, and you aren’t gonna be convincing anyone, you only have to not draw any attention to yourself.” Bastion says as if this was obvious and I am an idiot for not getting it.
I only grunt in acceptance as I lend Bastion my hand so he can attach the prosthetic. It takes him a minute or two to attach it to my hand, at first glance it appears like a regular finger, only after the second glance does it clearly look fake.
“Well I guess I'm off.” I turn to walk away and I feel a tug at my shirt.
I look back and see Aloe tugging at my shirt, the look on her eyes is confusing to me, it is a mixture of anxiety and something else I can’t comprehend.
“B-be careful and get back safe.” Aloe says quietly but clearly.
Again I am at a loss, I feel my breath leave my body, and my mind goes blank to any kind of response. For a few seconds I stand stunned, Aloe’s face looks confused and embarrassed before I finally think of a response.
“A-aint that cute.” I say while slightly breaking my cool with a stutter.
“Why you!” Aloe yells, abandoning her previous tone.
I laugh, forgetting my stress for a second as I rush out of the door, before I shut the door behind me I look back and see a look of relief on the face of Bastion, I pause for a second, then shut the door.
Almost instantly after shutting the door I feel the bad feelings loom over me, shrouding me in the darkness of my true reality. I purposefully take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my mind from something beyond my understanding of myself. I walk down the dim hallway and towards the exit, before I can open the door to get out, it opens as someone rushes inside. A frail old man stumbles through the door, not because he is injured but because he walks without any cane when he clearly needs one, he looks at me with that kind of suspicion and weariness that old people look at every stranger with. Due to my situation this look fills me with even more anxiety.
“Excuse me.” I say as I rush out of the door.
It is midday, the streets are without crowds as most people are at work, the odd person can be seen window shopping, maybe some old people on their daily walks, but on a weekday like today it is relatively empty out, especially compared to the crowds at night, and on the weekends. I usually go to work around this time, due to the part time nature of my government provided work. After taking in the state of the city at this time, I start to make my way to work, seeing as I am not in an unfamiliar part of the city, I know my way to work.
I walk past the empty bars that are still open at this time, they don’t contain the crowds of drunk people making dirty jokes, or the odd splash of alcohol on your face that came from seemingly nowhere. They are completely dead, some contain one or two people having a quick meal, or the odd alcoholic drinking at this time of the day. One bar sticks out from the rest of them, the words “Artenian Bull” written on a sign that pokes out of the side of the building, designed for people walking down the sidewalk to see it. The name only serves as a stark reminder of what I have done, and it only makes my urges harder to hold back. Images flash in my mind, the young men I killed for no real reason in The War, and those damned assassins in the bar. For reasons beyond my control I have only taken the lives of Artenians, but during The War I felt urges towards everyone who got on my bad side, the mere notion of it being illegal to harm people from our side was the only thing that kept me from doing it at times.
I hurry past the dead bar, trying to push down everything I feel currently, and before I know it, I am standing at the front door of my workplace, the words “Eccacia Times” are sprawled on the sign, only a few steps away from the bar.
I look down at my hand and the prosthetic finger, I remember the feeling I felt during that day, when Aloe felt helpless and she cried for help, and how I lost my finger through my own actions, my first injury since I got drafted into The War. The pain only further brought out the shadow of a killer from within me, and the feeling of euphoria after I was able to satiate the urge I pushed so far down that I forgot it was even there. With my finger being gone, I now have something to remind me of these urges, and it dawns on me that I probably will never be able to push these urges down with such a constant reminder. The day before me only appears more intimidating, and I have no certainty on whether or not I can even make it without giving in again.