669 was appreciative of his night spent at the markets. It helped him to sleep without dreaming due to sheer exhaustion. So naturally he woke up late in the day, and was surprised no one had bothered him earlier.
Violet might have had a hand in ensuring he could rest. They had bonded over snacks and stall shopping, and realizing they shared common opinions on things. Mostly trinket tastes. The pixie had a fascination for makeup mirrors due to the magic qualities some carried. A reasonable taste to have.
The sky was a mediocre blue with streaky white clouds from his window’s view. A lot of Thunderbirds flew past the view, clearly focused on their message deliveries. One odd bird, from the lot, flapped directly toward his window from a distance. As the bird came closer, he saw it was Reddy, so pushed up the window shutter to let him in.
“Thanks. Sorry about coming back this way, but it was just a shorter distance,” Reddy said as he flew to the middle of the room then shape-shifted into his human form. Dressed and ready for a typical work day around the house.
“Where did you go?”
“To see Miki.”
669 sat up from his bed, with half his bedcovers dropping from his naked body, so his bared chest was before Reddy who didn’t bat an eye.
“How is she?” He asked, keen to hear if she was doing okay.
“As well as she can be.” Reddy wasted no time in picking up 669’s clothes and either hanging pieces in the closet or bundling them up for the wash. His usual chirpy expression fell short with a sad sigh. “But I don’t think she gets on well with the other kids. She didn’t say anything, but I noticed there was a sort of separation between her and the others. And those Sisters aren’t any nicer either.”
669 wasn’t surprised. The house belonged to Saint Mara Order, which was a religious organization far from being a pillar of virtue. More like a pillar of seduction and subtle politics, since Mara was the Demon Mistress of Love, and in a more kinky way. So, of course he had concerns with Miki being sent to that orphanage. However, they did have a reputation of caring for the misfortunate children with basic-needs care; in a normal fashion. Especially, when children held more protective rights than adults due to them being free from the Majestic Will forced fate situation. The only fate guaranteed to a child was what side they were born into. It was impossible for a Demon Domination child to be part of the Holy Order. And who would even think to want that to begin with. Still.
“But aside from their estrangement from her, she’s not being harmed?”
Reddy dusted off his hands after finishing his duties of cleaning up 669’s room in rapid time. “Yes. I’ve carefully watched them feed her and ensure she is bathed and put to bed without foul play. They’ve assigned her to a solitary task of feeding the Sherlock-lambs.”
669 nodded, feeling satisfied she was being treated well enough. “Reddy, can you keep checking in on her regularly? But be careful that you don’t get in trouble with the sisters.”
“Of course, I’ve been intending to. But can I ask you a question?” Reddy said with an earnest tone and frown.
“Oh, and what’s on your mind?”
“I apologize if this sounds rude, forgive me, but why do you care for Miki’s well-being?”
669 laughed. “So if I sleep around with a lot of super, sexy, hot and wealthy men, that means I don’t care for a child’s well-being?”
Reddy looked horrified by the response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it as a rude question.”
But 669 waved off the man’s reaction, telling him that he was poking fun at his innocence. His expression sobered with a seriousness to his next words, which lapsed into a short tale of his time as a faceless henchman.
The tale began when he was shy of having turned sixteen. It was his first assignment with his training squad. A supposedly simple mission of playing bodyguard to a high official. As they made a long journey from the Skeleton Place (residence for the Grand Demon Overlord) to Salem’s high king’s palace near the other side of the country. They had reached the outskirts of Border City, but night had descended quickly. With rumors of bandits in the area, they decided to play it safe and rest for the the night. They had accepted the invitation to rest at a local farm village. But before they could rest, they were attacked by bandits who pillaged the area: strangely only the places where the travelers were.
His squad had killed the bandits and saved the farm people, but they seemed ungrateful for the aid. After his leader’s persuasive interrogation of the farm head, they learned that the farm village were part of the bandits. And the attack was a ruse to pillage the travelers resting there. Unfortunately, the bandits had attacked an entourage for a high official. This official was so outraged that he ordered the henchmen to kill every person of the farm village including the children.
“It was my first time killing someone. The person I had faced to kill was a five-year-old boy, cowering under the table and sobbing pitifully.” 669 eyes reflected both a sense of loss and old confusion. “Of course I didn’t want to do it. The boy had no majestic will, no moral awareness to make sinister decisions. He was just a boy, guilty of nothing!”
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But 669 was a faceless henchman, and he was austerely reminded of his orders. Kill the child or be killed for disobeying orders from a high official.
“What choice did I have? Locked to a fate of being a killer on command. So, the child died. But children shouldn’t suffer for adult sins. They should have the freedom to grow up carefree, innocent and full of life before they’re forced on a fate.”
Reddy felt his breath pause in places. A heavy weight of loss dropped in his heart, but he understood the pains the man would have faced with his morality. He had seen another kind-hearted human undergo the same struggle with fate. It made him appreciate 669 more, and gave him more context toward the man’s preferences.
“I understand. You have a kind heart, and it would’ve been hard then. I thank you for telling me. I’ll make sure you get extra treats tonight.”
669 groaned and tried to brush off Reddy’s over eagerness about it, but the pheasant-man was gone before he could say, “Don’t bother.”
He rose and took his time to get ready in his casual garb of shirt, waistcoat, and slacks tucked into calf-high boots. If he could help it, he wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere.
It was lunchtime when he had arrived to the barroom to have a meal. And, sure enough, on cue was 789’s infamous explosion impacts that shook the ceiling and floors with heavy vibrations. But they were the milder versions, so he could deal with them. As he eased onto a barstool to place an order with Fat Monk, Indigo rushed into the room looking flustered and hastily tugged at his waistcoat.
“What the hell, Indigo!”
“You have to come, Constable Rice is in danger!”
He pulled off her tugs and stood to face her. The pixie was clearly stressed by the ordeal.
“Okay. Two questions. One, what does this have to do with us. Two, how do you know she’s in danger.” He stood with a wry expression.
Indigo took a few minutes and breath to calm to her usual level self. She explained that she had stumbled on a lead when she was shopping at one of the trinket stalls at the Market District. The stall owner there was sharing gossip like they always do. And the gossip shared was about Marcus Poirot. He had confronted Ashton Sommerville over an artifact bid war they had engaged in during an auction. Marcus had not only lost to Ashton over the artifact, the Poirot Family was unable to gain an item they had been wanting for some time. It was another nail in Marcus’s incompetence coffin before his father.
“Oh? So Marcus and Ashton had met after the auction.”
“Not just that. They fought and Ashton forced Marcus into sex.”
“Wait, Ashton had forced Marcus?” 669 gritted his teeth at uttering the allusion to rape out loud.
Although he was no saint nor blind to what happened in the demon world, there was no act more unforgivable than rape. Talking about it having happened was one thing, but doing the act was a death sentence. No sympathy could be afforded to rapists. Even in the Peony Soap House there was the solid law of no forced sex. Any other decent soap house had this house law. As everyone was well aware sex workers had to comply to their Majestic Will. It was the reason a lot were paid well and given as many freedoms and comforts as possible. And the young workers were eased into their fate with as much care: abiding to the golden rule of not starting the actual sex work until they were 18 years of age.
“In Fairy Blossom’s case maybe too much freedom.” He mumbled to himself.
“Huh?”
“I can’t help but be sympathetic to Marcus for this occasion. But what about the constable?”
Indigo explained that she had gone to the Royal Guard to give them the lead, but the guard at the gate kept making excuses of Detective Morse and Emelia being away. And telling her to get lost.
“As I was leaving, a really old man in a white coat told me that Constable Rice was at the Poirot mansion.”
669 listened as she explained on how she flew to the mansion grounds in record time. Using her air magic to ensure her flight was at the speed of sound. As she was landing near the entrance courtyard, she caught sight of Emelia walking back to her litter only to be stopped by one of the workers. She followed their short trail into a clump of dark and dingy woods.
“Then a purple cloud covered the area. I sensed unstable virya. In a panic I flew back here.” She panted, looking suddenly drained of energy.
“Right. Stay here and inform 789 and 777. I’ll go over and check it out. Have the others meet me there.”
Indigo nodded and watched him storm out of the room.
669 hurried back to his room and redressed into his soft leather battle armor with his belt pouches stocked with healing pills and vials. He checked the quality of his daggers then docked them in their sheaths. Mounted his silver staff to his back then wasted no further time in leaving his tower for the stable courtyard, where he approached Spartacus who was already tethered and saddled, waiting for an order. Somehow, the harse could always sniff out something about to happen.
“Spartacus.” He cordially patted the harse’s nose.
“Do you need a litter or is it saddle riding?”
“Saddle if you don’t mind.”
“Bah. Of course not.” Spartacus snorted with a grin.
The harse stomped his hooves like he was flexing his muscles and shook dust from his mane. He waited for 669 to climb onto the saddle before taking off. The man gave him the direction that he was familiar with.
They were sprinting out of the complex and down the long stretch of dirt road that led toward the pasteurized fields, wild woods and rolling hills of the countryside.