Heavy rain fell upon the forest. The pattering of water droplets that drizzled from overburdened leaves enveloped all that existed within. Animals scurried into their holes and caves to wait the deluge out.
When no other beast dared be out in the weather, fifteen warriors marched through the muddy underbrush of the forest. Water drummed on their helmets and pooled in their boots. Their displeasure hidden by their masks, they used the rain to obscure their approach to the camp deeper in the forest.
The leader of the group prowled in the front. Their spear pointed adventurously in front to intercept any unexpected attacks or to use as a cane if the terrain caused them to slip. An emblem of an elk fastened a waterlogged green cloak to their back.
An antlered deer skull nailed to a post demarcated the entrance to their destination. A village of conical animal skin tents greeted the leader of the group. The leader’s raised hand caused the rest to halt behind. A horizontal gesture from the hand scattered the warriors into a wide semi-circle around one side of the camp.
“They’ve all retreated into their tents,” the vice deggan commented after they scouted the immediate vicinity. “No spotted sentries either. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not sitting right with me either,” the leader answered, surveying the still camp. “Was word of our arrival leaked somehow?”
“I find it hard to believe we’ve been spotted by scouts,” the vice deggan grimly replied. “If we have, then exposing ourselves to this storm was for nothing.”
The leader furrowed their brow. They were told that their target was a brutal and charismatic outlaw. It would be unsurprising if they had some countermeasures in place for unwanted invaders. They would need to remain vigilant to avoid being caught unawares.
“We will proceed cautiously,” the leader ordered. “I doubt they are comfortable enough to stray far from their possessions.”
“With respect, Deggan Valentin, I think you are the only one in this entire forest that isn’t feeling discomfort,” the vice deggan replied dryly to his leader.
“This is the most blessed weather for an ambush,” Valentin retorted. “Doesn’t the storm make your blood spark, Renne?”
“Whose ambush?” Renne questioned bitterly. “Let’s just be quick about it. Even my bones are becoming wet.”
Valentin motioned forwards with his arm and the warriors slowly pushed further into the tent village. They tapped the base of their spears on the ground and swept them in front of them to try to find any potential traps set. Fortunately, it seemed that their approach would be unimpeded.
The warriors stood amidst the tents, their footsteps drowned by the rain. Flames of candle fires flickered underneath the canvas, showing silhouettes of whatever was inside. If the information provided was trustworthy, then there were around fifty people within these tents with only a handful that were talented in combat. If they were not disciplined they would be overwhelmed by numbers.
Valentin held up his hand and pointed one finger up. The warriors paired up and stormed into the tents. One entered brandishing their spear while the other carried a long cord of rope in their off hand. The rain would cover the sounds of the struggles occurring within the tents, preventing the unsuspecting victims from reacting when it was finally their turn.
When the flaps of the first tents were pulled open, armed criminals sprung forth and lunged at Valentin’s warriors. Unfortunately for the ambushers, the warriors they attacked had their spears at the ready and impaled them instantly. Around ten died in the first several seconds of the battle.
The sounds of conflict were just loud enough to alert the rest of the hidden bandits to move from their positions. Brigands sporting boiled leather armor burst forth from the entrances of the remaining tents. They brandished crude maces and hatchets and quickly rushed forward to swarm the outnumbered warriors.
“Form a circle!” Valentin ordered over his shoulder as he slowly stepped into formation.
Valentin quickly dispatched the ones that approached him. He infused just enough favor into his thrusts to slip into the unprotected necks of his enemies before they had the chance to respond. The soft ground made him wary of making more aggressive moves at the risk of slipping. However, the considerable reach advantage that he possessed was more than enough to compensate.
It was enough to make the ones that faced him to hesitate, they held back out of the range of his spear and scowled at him with faces full of hate. Their sanctuary was being trampled and he was the orchestrator.
Valentin did not feel overly empathetic towards the anger of those that had fallen or the sadness that those that remained felt. They were sheep thieves, poachers, and pickpockets. Most were criminals but none would have received the death penalty. If only they had allowed themselves to be caught unawares, they may have survived.
Now that a ring had been made, it would be much more difficult for Valentin’s warriors to be overwhelmed. Several bodies bordered the circle leaking crimson into the soil. The numbers of their enemies had whittled away and they lost the appetite for a frontal assault.
“Enough!” A voice shouted, carrying over the storm.
A woman wielding a short spear and a round shield moved between two of her compatriots to stand before Valentin. She wore a jacket over a chain shirt. Her black hair was cropped short to avoid being pulled in battle. She stood with a confident and relaxed stance that demanded control over the situation.
“Are you Madeline?” Valentin inquired.
“I am she,” Madeline replied derisively at the killer before her. She spat her words into the storm. “Who are you to cowardly attack people in the middle of a storm?”
A few of the warriors in Valentin’s deg laughed at the woman’s words. Valentin, however, remained stoic at the provocation. He lowered his spear slightly to demonstrate his willingness to talk.
“Someone that has been given temporary authority to enact justice in accordance with Strettian law,” Valentin answered placidly.
“Have the nobles really put in all this effort because we killed a few deer?”
“You know as well as I that it is not the poaching of a few deer that brings me here,” Valentin called in response. “You are accused of poaching, banditry, livestock theft, horse theft, assault, murder, and the kidnapping of Eustache d’Arcy.”
Madeline and her comrades had been grinning widely at the crimes listed by Valentin as though he were listing their accomplishments. However, the bandit leader’s face turned to one of confusion when Valentin listed the final offense levied against her.
“Kidnapping?” Madeline asked, taken aback. “We didn’t kidnap Eustache d’Arcy.”
“My employer disagrees,” Valentin stated mildly. “He was last spotted near these roads. Your outfit is the only one in this area.”
“We didn’t kidnap him,” Madeline firmly insisted, stamping her foot against the mud beneath her.
Valentin was thrown by the seemingly genuine tone in the bandit’s voice. Pursuing this line of questioning further would only lead them in more circles. If Eustache truly wasn’t here, he would only receive partial payment.
“Then where is Eustache?” Valentin asked the group at large.
“Fuck you, bastard,” one of them spat and the others sneered in kind.
He hadn’t expected much else from the bandits. Still, their hostility irked him after their leader seemed to show some amount of courtesy. If any of the other deggan were present, they probably would have resumed the fighting to punish the disrespect shown. He still may employ it, eventually.
“Regardless of whether or not Eustache d’Arcy is here, we still need to apprehend you, Madeline,” Valentin stated. “If you surrender now, then we will allow the rest of your group to leave provided they do not return to banditry.”
“And if I don’t?”
“There was no requirement to bring you back alive,” Valentin answered coldly.
The answer only inflamed the tension between the two sides. Spears were gripped a little more tightly and combatants began to dip into their stances. Valentin had hoped that they had done sufficient damage to the bandits to force their leader to surrender. However, they seemed to be committed to fighting until the end.
“I do not plan to put myself at the mercy of those nobles,” Madeline declared, entering her own battle stance.
Valentin sighed. He wondered why he always offered the option to surrender peacefully. Nobody ever seemed interested in taking it. Even though he had grown, he still wasn’t imposing enough to enforce his will upon others.
He watched her stance to see if he could identify any clear openings. Her neck and knees were lightly armored and made for ideal targets. Her shield would compensate for her lack of armor coverage and intercept most attacks that came from Valentin’s right. His spear was longer and he planned to use the added reach to probe her defenses with little chance of a meaningful counterattack.
“Wait!” A voice called out.
A mousy haired man of a lean build ran in between Valentin and Madeline. He was dressed in an expensive blue jacket that was quickly soaked by the rain. He outstretched both his arms to force a separation, revealing the supple hands of someone that had never performed physical labor in their life.
“What are you doing out here?” Madeline asked. The bandit dropped their stance at the sight of the man.
“I cannot allow you all to be in danger for my sake,” the man responded.
“Are you Eustache d’Arcy?” Valentin asked.
“I am,” Eustache confirmed. “And I was not kidnapped. I came here willingly. I left a note explaining everything. Leave this place at once and inform my mother that I will not be returning home.”
Valentin sighed. It appeared that he was misled by his employer. Regardless of his personal opinions on the matter, failing to complete the job would lower the status of him and the entirety of the Armée du Corbeaux. He would avoid anything that could spoil his tirelessly built reputation at all costs.
“Come with us, Eustache,” Valentin requested, reaching out his left hand to the runaway noble. “Your mother and betrothed are very worried about you. It would do their hearts good to see you returned safely.”
Eustache recoiled from Valentin at the mention of his betrothed. He took a step towards Madeline who put a reassuring hand on his back.
“You want the fighting to stop don’t you?” Valentin asked again, reaching out his hand further. “If you come with us and Madeline surrenders herself then we all get to leave here alive. Doesn’t that sound better than a fight to the death?”
“You don’t have to lie,” Madeline scowled, gently pushing Eustache to the side. “I know that I will not survive long in d’Arcy custody, but I also do not want to see more of my friends and comrades die on my behalf. I challenge you to a duel.”
Valentin raised an eyebrow at the challenge. He felt the heads of his warriors turn towards him expectantly. A nervous look was plastered on Eustache’s face.
“What are the terms of the duel?”
“A fight to the death,” Madeline replied plainly. “If you win, then everyone here will surrender. If I win, then the rest of you must leave and never come back.”
“T-to the death?” Eustache stammered at the terms. “My love, you can’t. Let’s just pay them to say that we have both perished together.”
“Don’t be naïve,” Madeline replied. “We don’t have the money to outspend your mother.”
Madeline moved her spear to her left hand and gently touched Eustache’s face with her right. They acted as though they were the only two people in the world, caught alone in a storm. To an outside observer, these ill-fated lovers would be the ones that would receive sympathy and support.
“Believe in me,” she pleaded, grasping him in an intimate embrace.
In this moment, Valentin felt like the villain. He was the faceless antagonist meant to rip these true loves apart for money and prestige. He merely followed the orders given to him. After all, it was Ferron that accepted this contract and assigned Valentin to it.
“How am I to trust that your friends will give up when you fall?” Valentin asked, destroying the moment.
“Our bond is one that is so deep that they will listen to me even in death,” Madeline answered with a grin. “Could the same be said of yours?”
Valentin was fascinated by the loyalty that she commanded over the group. Under different circumstances, he would have wished to hear more about her and the origins of her group. He looked to his own deg and knew that he could not promise the same of them. They would not give up payment for a dead man’s agreement.
“I think you should get my second in command to make the vow instead,” Valentin admitted. “Renne, what do you say?”
“Sure, I’ll agree,” Renne agreed with an indifferent shrug. “Just end this so we can get out of this storm.”
Renne’s flippant answer showed great faith in his leader and an overwhelming amount of arrogance. Madeline’s group boiled with rage at the vice deggan’s comments. They balled their fists and scowled at his dismissal of their leader’s skills. Bandits as they may be, it did not mean that they abandoned their pride as people,
“Is that acceptable?” Valentin asked his opponent.
“It is,” Madeline confirmed.
“And you have no intention of going peacefully?” Valentin asked a final time, preferring to end things peacefully.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“I do not,” Madeline answered resolutely.
“Very well.”
Valentin stepped forwards. His warriors broke their defensive circle and shifted to form a portion of the circle that would serve as the arena for the duelists. The rain continued to fall. Its accumulation had made small puddles in the deep footprints stamped into the mud. It had finally leaked in Valentin’s armor and made him feel that he had been dunked in the river. He, too, wanted things to conclude quickly.
“The duel begins on your move,” Madeline announced.
Valentin tilted his head in confusion at his opponent’s bizarrely honorable statement. He was larger, better equipped, and certainly more favored than his opponent, there was no reason for her to allow him the first move. He could not tell if it was her wounded pride towards Renne’s statement such a statement or if there was something that she had planned. He wondered if there was a trap that he did not know of or if it was all a ruse to force him to hesitate during the critical moment.
Valentin shook the useless thoughts out of his head. It didn’t matter what the reason was. He would not waste the opportunity. He would use his best strike first and react from there. In times like these, he could not afford to act mercifully. He had cast his empathy and personal feelings to the side for the sake of victory, for the sake of an impersonal fight.
Favor sparked within his blood at a higher concentration than he normally permitted. Sparks arced across his armor and snapped through the rain droplets, causing small booms of thunder.
He moved from his neutral stance and took a large step forwards, planting his left foot deep into the mud. Sparks spewed from the metal fingers of his gloves and danced up his spear. A flash of intense light temporarily lit up the camp, showing in more detail the surprised faces of the bandits. They moved their hands to their eyes to block the light.
The spear tip catapulted forwards at speeds that were barely comprehensible to natural human senses. It whistled forth on its destructive trajectory towards Madeline’s throat, threatening to pierce her clean through with cruel precision.
Madeline’s eyes widened in fear at the death that was careening her way. She tried to intercept the attack with her buckler. Her body began to twist to avoid the worst of the damage. Even if this display was likely beyond all her expectations, if she could escape this attack with minimal damage, then she could start to stabilize the situation.
There were numerous factors that led to what followed. Stable footing was hard to come by for quick maneuvers. Valentin’s strike was numerous degrees more powerful than his opponent had witnessed during the previous skirmish. The freezing rain sapped more strength from Madeline’s body than she had anticipated.
Whether it was one or all three of those factors, it would be of little comfort to the bandit leader who stood with a spear through her throat. Her block was too late, the shield shattered the shaft of the spear only after the strike landed true. She fell to her knees, life rapidly seeping from the wound. She couldn’t swallow nor could she speak. She croaked something unintelligible to nobody in particular, the blood loss had already made her delirious.
“No!” Eustache shrieked at a vocal cord tearing volume. He slid between Valentin and Madeline. He held her, careful not to disturb the weapon that was lodged into her neck.
“No, no, no, no,” he murmured to her. He tried to recreate the private moment they shared earlier. In his mind, her killer was not standing over his shoulder. “Why did you need to do this? What was all of this for?”
Madeline smiled, feeling the affection given to her. She could not lift her arms to return the embrace. Words struggled to form on her lips. Whatever her final words were intended to be, only one word reached the ears of those that surrounded her.
“-tired.”
Madeline’s lifeless body slumped into Eustache’s arms. The surviving lover buried his face into her clothing, not caring that he was soaked in her blood. His hands shook violently from the cold and the shock of what he had witnessed.
The man’s wails of grief made Valentin uncomfortable. Instead of confronting those emotions, he looked over his shoulder to his deg and gave them a signal.
Three warriors stepped up, eager to finish things. One grabbed Eustache while the other two lifted Madeline by her arms and legs. Eustache violently kicked and punched against the warrior to no avail. His strikes were not powerful enough to dent the heavy armor of his captor. Eustache went limp and despondent, forcing the warrior to use greater effort to drag the man through the mud to the awaiting warriors.
Valentin tossed his destroyed weapon to the side and unsheathed his longsword. He gazed at the sullen faces of the defeated bandits. While there was still rage, what they had seen had demoralized them into submission.
“It is time to prove your bond to Madeline. Surrender now and no more blood will be shed,” Valentin announced.
One by one, the bandits tossed their weapons to the side and fell to their knees in surrender. Valentin wondered if it was loyalty or fear that motivated them. Either way, they had stayed true to Madeline’s promise.
Before he turned to leave, one of Valentin’s warriors approached him. She was a recent recruit named Zoe who had performed admirably of late. She leaned towards her deggan’s ear and spoke in a low voice to him.
“Deggan Valentin, should we look for their stash of coin?” She asked with a giddy voice and clapped her greedy hands together.
“Very well. You have ten minutes to find it before we leave,” Valentin ordered.
Zoe bowed deeply before hurrying back to her compatriots. Several warriors broke rank and began to rummage through the camp. He watched them furrow and pilfer through the tents with eager eyes looking for anything that they could get their hands on. Whatever money was earned outside of the contract did not have to be shared with the rest of the warband.
It had barely been five minutes before two warriors dragged a chest towards Valentin. They flipped the lid open to reveal a large amount of copper and silver coins. It would be an excellent haul for the small group.
“You’re really going to take everything that we have? I see that you noble warriors are no different from us,” someone spat.
Valentin turned to see the concerned and angry face of one of the bandits. The rest also regarded Valentin with cold eyes. It seemed that the majority, if not all, of their funds were stored in this chest.
“You’re mistaken about something,” Valentin corrected. “We are not noble warriors. We are but mercenaries who trade death for coin. Recall the faces of those that you took this money from. Did they beg for mercy? Are they still alive now? For you that have made your wealth by taking from those below you, do not complain when it happens in turn to you.”
Valentin turned from the bandits and walked towards where he had come from. His warriors quietly followed him, laden with more trophies than they had entered with. There was no indication that any of the bandits made moves to follow them.
“You’ve ruined my life,” Eustache accused Valentin. The man was draped over Renne’s shoulder and he stared daggers at his lover’s killer. “You could have left us alone.”
“You only have yourself to blame,” Valentin rebuked. “You should have run much further away if you wished to start a new life with Madeline. Whatever it was confidence or naivety that convinced you all to stay in that place led us directly to you. I don’t want to hear you blame me when I tried to convince her to give up peacefully.”
Eustache returned to his defeated posture and did not talk to Valentin further. Outside of the rhythmic drumming of the rain, the only other sound was the banter and discussions that the rest of his deg had amongst themselves. They argued over who had killed the most, outside of their deggan. They teased each other over small mistakes that they had noticed during the fight. Mostly they complained about the weather.
Eventually, they reached the field where their horses and carts waited. Their steeds were guarded by several d’Arcy retainers who seemed similarly displeased with the weather. The soldiers moved to meet the exiting warriors.
“Master Eustache,” the lead soldier called, moving towards Renne. “Why is there blood on you? Are you injured?”
“It’s not his,” Valentin answered on the man’s behalf, seeing that Eustache had no intention to answer on his own. “It’s Madeline’s.”
At Valentin’s nod, his warriors dropped the bandit leader’s body at the feet of the soldiers. The oversaturated ground splashed from the body’s impact and the soldier’s took an apprehensive step backwards. At the lead soldier’s signal, two soldiers lifted Madeline and moved her corpse to a nearby cart.
“I have questions, but I do not wish to remain in this weather,” the lead soldier admitted. “If we make haste, we can reach the inn where Mistress d’Arcy awaits not long after nightfall.”
“Please lead the way,” Valentin agreed. “I think my deg is in need of a hot meal and a fire.”
After a couple hours, the rain finally dwindled into a light drizzle that bordered on mist. Valentin was spared any small talk with the leader of the soldiers as they were too preoccupied with their master.
They entered the town at a much later hour than anticipated. Only a handful of torches still burned to illuminate the inn. The carts burdened with Madeline and the chest of riches were repeatedly gripped by the mud of the drowned roads. They had to repeatedly dismount and push the carts free from the earthen grasp.
“I will be meeting with Mistress d’Arcy. The rest of you will make camp out here,” Valentin ordered to his weary warriors.
It was too late to expect a hot meal. Valentin could see on their downtrodden faces how badly they wished to enjoy something warm before falling asleep. Unfortunately, their celebration would have to wait until tomorrow.
“You may also distribute the money amongst yourself,” he added, hoping that it would raise their spirits.
Valentin had been worried for nothing. He watched life pour back into the previously lifeless husks of his warriors. Money was the nourishment that these dying plants needed to fully recover their vitality.
“How much do you wish your portion to be, Deggan Valentin?” Renne inquired.
“Leave me enough to fund my way home. You all can have the rest,” Valentin replied with a disinterested tone.
His gift seemed to work. The warriors were overjoyed with the prospects of getting a larger portion from the chest. All of them bowed deeply to their leader’s charity and quickly split from the d’Arcy escort.
“We must hurry,” the lead soldier emphasized. “I do not wish to keep the Mistress waiting any longer than necessary.”
The remaining riders pressed on into town. They stopped at the front of the inn and hitched their horses. Valentin offered one more look at the pitiable corpse in the cart before following the d’Arcy’s retainers into the inn.
It was dimly lit inside, with only a couple candles still weakly emitting flame. The innkeeper stood groggily behind the counter, likely paid to stay awake by the woman that sat nearby. He sprang to attention at the new arrivals.
“You’re later than expected,” the woman remarked.
“The roads were made difficult by the rain,” the lead soldier answered.
There were two open seats at the woman’s table. The soldier carrying Eustache deposited the man into one of the seats while Valentin was invited to take the other. His employer’s face was contorted into one of displeasure at the state that her son was in and she shot the mercenary an accusatory glare.
“What happened to my son? Why is he injured?” d’Arcy asked with a condemning tone.
“Mistress d’Arcy, I can assure you that Eustache is not suffering from any physical wounds. Perhaps a bit weak from the weather, but uninjured,” Valentin explained.
“Then what is wrong with him?” Mistress d’Arcy asked impatiently.
There was no trace of affection towards her son to be found in her voice. Valentin watched Eustache shy away from his mother like a wilting flower. He lost the bite that he possessed earlier and instead became reserved. Valentin ignored the toothless man and turned his attention back to his employer.
“To be blunt with you, Mistress d’Arcy, Eustache was not taken against his will,” Valentin reported. “The truth of it is that he and Madeline were lovers. He has hardly moved since she was slain.”
Only a quick change in her eyes betrayed the Mistress’ underlying emotions. Disgust and disappointment towards the words flickered between a mirthful and courteous expression. Valentin chose to ignore it since it was of little consequence whether she was aware of this relationship or not. He just needed to be paid.
“So she’s dead?” Mistress d’Arcy inquired.
“In a cart out front,” Valentin confirmed.
The innkeeper made a shuffling noise that momentarily disrupted the conversation. He leaned forward anxiously to look at the door of his establishment, trying to see what they were referring to with no avail. Unheard words of annoyance were muttered before the man returned to a sitting position on his stool. Valentin made a silent apology to the innkeeper for causing him unnecessary worry.
“I am relieved that matters have been resolved without complication on your end,” Mistress d’Arcy complimented. “The realm is much safer with Madeline removed from it. Your efforts will be well compensated and word of your deeds will spread in my circles.”
Eustache grumbled venomous words in the direction of his mother. His right arm was dropped near his side. Fingers quivered over what appeared to be a dagger fastened to his belt. The war of thoughts that raged inside of his head kept moving his hand indecisively closer then further from the weapon. Each time that he appeared to be resolved to use it, a conflicting thought drew his hand further away. His finger delicately brushed the blade before apprehensively pulling away again in an endless and infuriating cycle.
Valentin’s eyes met with Eustache’s for a brief moment. Hesitance flooded the man’s dull eyes as it did his body. Even when he claimed to have nothing, he still refused to act at all. Valentin regarded the man with a disappointed expression. From Valentin’s view, if Eustache possessed any resolve to change his life, maybe he wouldn’t be in such a pitiable situation.
“The Armée du Corbeaux accepts the Mistress’ appreciation gratefully,” Valentin replied, breaking eye contact with Eustache. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my leave now. The day has been tiring.”
“Of course,” Mistress d’Arcy smiled. “I have many things to discuss with my son. Allow me to purchase your room. Are there any rooms left, innkeeper?”
“Third room on the right is available,” the innkeeper replied.
Valentin bowed to the Mistress and took his leave from the table. He moved to the door to collect his belongings from Vescal’s saddlebags. He looked through the dim torch light to see Madeline’s corpse.
Rain had long since washed the blood that gushed from her wound, leaving a dark hole in her neck. Valentin’s fingers slowly drifted towards the wound. It was a shame, her blood could be valuable for his growth. Such a waste. If only Leith or Maeve were here to properly prepare it for him, then he could put the bodiless power to good use.
Perhaps just a little taste would be enough. He wouldn’t be damaged with just a little lick. He had earned it. She was his kill after all, only he could absorb the full potential.
Valentin recoiled his fingers at the cold sensation of Madeline’s skin. They had been planted firmly around the wound. He felt like he had snapped from a trance and inward disgust replaced his hunger. He turned away from the body and averted his gaze. Those were foreign thoughts that were woven into his mind. He wouldn’t be allured by such ill-advised barbarism.
If that was true, then why had he turned back around towards the body? Why did he look happy that a squirt of blood was discharged from the wound after he applied pressure on it?
A battle commenced within his head. On one side, the side he supported, was rationality and better judgment. They employed an arsenal of inward guilt and hatred. He was shamed and ridiculed by this side. A good person would not be having this debate at all. A sane person would, even under duress, feel reluctant in this task. A wise person would not undergo this process without a trained druid present to assist.
On the other side was a part of him that he refused to claim despite all it had done for him. His will to live was the commander, paranoia and outward hatred were its tools. It had been over a cycle since he was with Leith or Maeve; two seasons since he had killed anyone before this mission. He was falling behind. As long as he did not have supreme confidence in his abilities, then he was falling behind. Every time that he chose the preservation of his innocent self over his goal, then he dishonored those that were mercilessly slain to have him reach this point. He could not look over his shoulder in fear of what he would see behind him. If he did not press down on Madeline’s neck and drink everything that came out, then he was failing.
These two extremes made his initial thoughts feel like a compromise. It was the prudent thing to do. He could not be wasteful of the power and he could not be reckless; it was meaningless if he could not retain himself to reach these heights.
He pressed his fingers against Madeline’s neck and cool blood coated his fingertips. His mind struggled to allow his revulsion and eagerness to coexist within him. One quick look towards the doorway told him that he would not be seen. Bloodied fingers reached his lips. This was a necessary and he had to accept it gratefully.
It tasted vile.
Valentin resisted the urge to spit out the liquid. The flavor and temperature made him squirm but he held resolute in his decision. A spark shot through his mouth like a potent pepper before he swallowed the sensation down into his stomach. The sharp favor quickly moved into his veins and traveled throughout his body. At first the movement was uncomfortable and pronounced allowing him to be more aware of how his blood flowed.
He focused inwards, slowly assimilating the favor until it became indistinguishable from what already dwelled within him. The feeling made him regret not being able to take any more than he had. Such a scant sample of the true power he could have absorbed only made him bitter. His only comfort was that a small improvement was improvement nonetheless.
Once he had escaped the confines of his own thoughts, Valentin’s attention shifted back towards Madeline. Her still opened eyes stared directly at him with the same soft warmth that was reserved for her lover. The heavy rain gave her the appearance of melancholic weeping towards her killer and desecrator. Leaning over, he apologetically slid her eyelids down to allow her to have the bare minimum of peace.
As he walked back in, Mistress d’Arcy was attempting to cajole Eustache to his quarters so they could discuss privately. The lead soldier had the man’s limp body in his arms, however, the man’s light weight made him fairly easy to move.
The mercenary’s return seemed to upset the Mistress momentarily, as though she expected someone new and unwanted to pass through the doors. Valentin was certain that she did not want others to see her son’s unseemly display. A rumor that her son eloped with a common brigand would not be a story that the Mistress would tolerate circulating.
“I will thank you in advance for ignoring my son’s childish behavior,” Mistress d’Arcy said with another performative smile, confirming Valentin’s thoughts. “I have been told that you mercenaries can keep your mouths shut quite tight for the proper amount.”
“I will let my deg know that there will be no discussion about the behavior between your son and Madeline,” Valentin answered with a small bow before continuing on.
“I am pleased to hear that,” the Mistress replied with a cordial smile. Her face then sharply changed to one of a sudden recollection. She held up her hand to prevent him from going to his room. “You mentioned that you are from Verbosc, correct?”
“That is correct,” Valentin confirmed.
“I think that you would be interested to know that word has it that the Mourning Bells of Verbosc have rung,” she informed.
Valentin raised his eyebrow and turned back to face the woman. The Mourning Bells had not rung once since he had stayed within the city, however, Aunt Yvonne taught him it was only when a member of the Great Clans of Verbosc perished.
“Who has passed?”