Jessamine awoke with the sensation of movement beneath her, as if on a moving platform with the way her body gently jerked to one side. Her eyes tried to pry open but they were heavy with a weight of confusion. Her head pounded, her hand trying to move to feel if it was bruised.
However, her hands were tied. And the sound of the train horn was enough to wake her completely.
When her eyes opened, she was in a relatively empty storage train car. Her train, to be more specific. It was easy to recognize the wooden floors she had picked out herself in the design. She sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, ankles bound with tight rope at the front legs of the chair and her wrists tied tightly around the backing.
She felt drained, her fingers trying to find a loose knot in the ropes to try and slowly pry it apart. It wasn’t until she felt additional metal tearing at her wrists, she realized she was wearing enchanted cuffs.
It explained the state of overwhelming grogginess, and the lack of thoughts floating in the air for her mind to grasp. Her heart rate accelerated quickly, not knowing who could enter the room, if there wasn’t anybody already standing behind her. She couldn’t sense anything. She was blind in the Oblivion world, at least in the physical one she could still see. However, she was muted as a piece of her emerald dress had been ripped and manufactured into a gag.
It didn’t matter. Jessamine had the feeling even if she didn’t have a gag, any screams for help would slip into the void.
The train was already moving quickly, too quickly. The wheels turned at a rapid, borderline uncontrollable pace. It jostled the train-car at any slight turn. Jessamine could see the reflection of moonlight through the doorslit to her left, indicating she must be in the last car. If she could get out of these bindings, jumping out from the back was safer than anywhere else on the train. Not at a speed like this, though.
A firm hand gripped her shoulder before the door to her right slid open, wind howling and filling the car with the frigid desert breeze. Several men entered the room, all covered in black garbs and head coverings. Their body language didn’t appear harmful, from Jessamine’s initial interpretation. They exhumed confidence but not murderous violence. Whatever they wanted, she’d find out soon enough.
A groan left her lips as she felt that strong hand leaving her shoulder to tug at her hair, hating the sensation. Her breathing accelerated, clearly visible to the group as they moved closer to study her. All she saw were dark eyes, but there was one male on the right with piercing blue eyes, lingering in the back. She focused on the central figure, who tilted his head with almost a bit of a mock.
“So, this is the infamous mind-witch? I thought she’d be more terrifying,” the voice hummed, unfamiliar to her. His grainy voice held an even grittier accent. Southern Skale, perhaps? Jessamine knew she couldn’t interpret any of their minds, which meant having to analyze what she could see, not hear.
Her eyes narrowed, the man’s words certainly not meant to be a compliment. When her eyes focused solely on him, she could see his pupils shrink, eyes blinking rapidly just for a moment. So much for not being terrifying. The man cowered slightly, staring into the hurricane within her eyes.
If they really didn’t see her as a threat, they would have just stuck with the enchanted cuffs. Instead, she was practically glued to this chair, the rope digging into her soft porcelain skin. They might learn soon enough it only appeared porcelain, but Jessamine Kruzika was anything but fragile.
Jessamine felt the hand leave her hair to yank the gag away from her lips. She licked them to add some moisture, feeling them already dry and cracked. Limestone dust still remained, her mind going back to fragments from the moment graphite exploded. She remembered the sight of blood, a massive block of stone wedging Kiev’s leg to the floor while also cutting into it. She remembered hearing Vrah’s desperate voice through the cloud of debris:
“Stop! Where is Jessamine?! I’m not leaving without her!” echoed in her mind. He must have been portaled away. He could even be here in this room, invisible, but she didn’t need her Oblivion to doubt that. Something told her Vrah wouldn’t be coming to save her. Was all of this because she said no?
“What is it you want? You want money, gold? You already have a train, go ahead and take it,” Jessamine questioned with assertiveness. She was entirely certain that whatever they wanted, she could provide.
“What makes you think we have any interest in riches you’ve stained with blood?” he asked, his shoulders dropping as his hand moved to stroke a stray red strand of hair from her eyes, “No, we know such wealth has no meaning to you. Hence why you’d be willing to give it so freely.”
A man behind him began unfolding a small leather bound tool kit of some sort. Except instead of tools, all she could see was reflection of light from blades. But instead of blades, he handed the leader a small mallet. Small as it appeared, it weighed heavily against his fingers, tempted to drape with gravity towards the floor.
“You’re Northern Raiders, are you not? You wear their attire,” she observed, knowing they donned black robes and scarves more commonly than others, “don’t tell me you traveled all this way South for me.”
Northern Raiders they could be, but it wouldn’t make sense given their leader held a thick accent from an entirely different region.
“You think yourself to be untouchable, Empress?” he beckoned.
“No, but whatever you seek from me might be,” she replied, swallowing hard. She needed water. Her throat was already dry, her voice cracking and the lingering aftertaste of wine didn’t help.
Her nails dug into a small opening in a knot by her right wrist, slowly loosening it. It wasn’t enough to even move that wrist away, but it was a start. The man behind her seemed much more comfortable watching her breasts rise and fall with each nervous breath, given the angle he stood behind her. Men, they get so distracted easily.
“Alright, let’s try this once peacefully before I start swinging,” he knelt down to be eye level with her, “Kaid Al-Yami. Where is he?”
“Kaid?” she laughed softly, although internally her heart raced faster, “Why the fuck do you think I would know?”
“He was your Guardian, was he not?”
“He was, which no offense, is common knowledge. And I was right, what you want is untouchable. Even if I wanted to find him myself, which I surely don’t…you’ll never find him.”
The man behind her moved his sturdy grip back to her shoulder, and it was then she realized he was a truthsayer. He was determining if she was lying. Kaid had once mentioned in his studies that most could determine truths from lies with mere heart rate blimps or mistakes. The experts don't need anything of the sort. Just as quickly as Jessamine could sort out lies, so could this man behind her. Which meant she had to lie, and tell the truth at the same time.
“Why do you want him?” Jessamine asked this time, wondering if she had any say in this interrogation. Clearly, he didn’t seem to mind her beckoning.
“The same as everyone else does. It’s time the citizens of this world to be held accountable, truly accountable. What better way than to start with him? You’ve seen first hand what he can do. He can rip the very nature of this reality apart and I intend to stop that,” he answered, “now, do you understand?”
“I do,” she hummed, “but again, my answer remains the same. I know nothing of where he is.”
“Harboring him won’t help you Empress. Tell us where he is and when the wreckoning begins, I can ensure you won’t be collateral damage,” his voice grew deeper, his patience waning.
“I don’t know where he is,” she repeated, before feeling the harsh slap against her face. His backhand and knuckles slammed right into the bone beneath her left eye, only worsening the throbbing in her skull. She noticed prior to the hit, the man towards the back with blue eyes looked away.
She tasted blood in her mouth, only from accidentally biting on the inside of her cheek in anticipation of the hit. She spat it out gently to the side, despite her temptations to spit it right in his face.
“Is this where you truly want your story to end, Jessamine?” he warned, grabbing her face with two indexes on the side of her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.
“Even if I did know where he was and told you, you can’t stop him. You can’t defeat him,” she seethed, determined in that fact.
At that, her interrogator turned torturer, slamming the mallet harshly down on her right ankle. Jessamine screamed in pain, but didn’t let the shock of pain affect her answer. She had been through torture training before, with Payne of all people. Withstanding torture was impossible over a long period of time. Diminishing the pain with these enchanted cuffs on was impossible as well. What was possible, and the closest thing to her objective, was to lie. And lie well.
These men seemed to be running on limited time, believing only she would know the answer to their questions. And that meant, they couldn’t kill her, not without finding the truth first.
Jessamine didn’t know how many times she screamed, each one a bit quieter than the last, turning into sharp inhales and gasps to try and numb the pain. Her ankle was surely broken, or at the very least fractured. No matter. Let them break every bone in her body. If they would do this to her, Empress of Vitross, then who knows what they could do if they got their hands on Kaid. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Just break the other ankle too, get it over with,” Jessamine scowled, still exhaling soft whines of pain as she struggled in that chair.
“What is your greatest sin, Jessamine? What is it you are so badly trying to repent for here in Uhkhtar?”
She remained silent, not even entertaining the question. And she didn’t need to. It was clear from his open ended question that he already had an answer. It was assumed for her, but it was clear this man firmly believed in her sin.
“In this moment, you destroy, betray, deny yourself. You deny every single struggle that got you to this point. And for what? Nothing. NOTHING! You clawed your way here, you dragged yourself like a rotting corpse in a death pit to climb your way out. You defiled, lied, killed…all to be here. And the simplest thing you have to do is tell the truth. Your greatest sin will be this lie!” he shouted, “So, do not lie again.”
“Have you ever thought maybe I want him dead too?” Jessamine shook her head, “You want to know what happened at the Time Paradox? Tear my dress on the right, just by the hip. You will see my truth.”
There was hesitation, before his fingers gently moved to the seam sewn on the left side of her dress. He didn’t pry it forcefully, just gently enough to make an opening, letting his fingers pry it apart. And from there, he could see the blotched wound by her hip. It was completely healed, but definitely the result of a blade being plunged into her skin. This particular wound was not caused by Kaid, but by Confederate forces. These men didn’t need to know that though.
Payne, disguised as Kaid, had stabbed her later on though. Jessamine had believed it in the moment that it was her beloved, betraying her with that blade. If she could make these men believe that betrayal too, she might just get out of this. Torturers more often than not didn’t have the intention to kill. The Empress' blood on their hands was too severe of a risk to take.
“He stabbed me, my own fucking Guardian! He intended to kill me and I barely escaped with my life! Yes, he stopped Payne, an equally dangerous threat. But after what he had done in Caladin, he was afraid I’d turn him over to Lungor. So, he stabbed me, escaping while the rest of my soldiers and palace tended to me. It’s because of me he escaped,” Jessamine explained, “and every time you ask me that question, it’s a reminder of how he betrayed me. I wish I could backstab him…give him the pain he gave me that day, but I know nothing of his whereabouts.”
“You’re lying,” the leader shook his head. But a disgruntled hum from the truthsayer behind Jessamine contradicted that statement. It worked. He believed it to be true, which meant maybe there would be convincing the rest of them. “Have you ever sent or received any letters from Kaid Al-Yami?”
“No,” Jessamine answered firmly, grateful that he had taken on an alias of Musa. Such thinking just might prevent her other ankle from being shattered.
“Why did you rescue him from Caladin?”
“I thought I could trust him.”
“Hm, you don’t seem to trust easily,” he murmured, as if based on experience, “what made him so special?”
“You want a more personal answer? I wanted to fuck him,” Jessamine shrugged as best as she could, knowing that wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the true answer as to why she had lied to him and pulled him out of Caladin. She had done so because he had the leverage she needed: himself. But, she wouldn’t deny the fact she was also utterly infatuated with him within the weeks of knowing him in Caladin. He had shown a strength and resilience she never knew could exist, and it was time to be resilient now in his favor.
“She’s telling the truth,” the voice rumbled behind her, deep but soft spoken. His fingers didn’t feel calloused. They were soft, too soft for a man to be a raider. He wasn’t an experienced fighter, or if he was, his weapon of choice wasn’t a firm blade. Perhaps these men were mere aristocrats playing dress up, wanting answers. Jessamine couldn’t diminish, however, the danger of the man in front of her, still holding the mallet.
“No, no…she can’t be. It doesn’t make sense,” he disagreed. Fuck. If she had to convince anyone, it should be that man. Odd that he didn’t seem to trust his truthsayer. She could feel him become deflated, gripping her shoulder a bit tighter out of frustration that his leader didn’t believe him. Her middle finger tangled gently into the rope on her left wrist, slowly pulling it to loosen.
Nobody seemed to notice, except the man with blue eyes who kept his gaze on her at most times. He could see the twitches and movements of her arms, although subtle, it was enough to slowly undo her bindings. Maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he didn’t think she could do much with her feet still bound. Either way, Jessamine was going to find her way out of here.
“Heal her leg, and then I’ll break it again if she wants to keep lying,” he barked at the man to his left, who eagerly let his fingers trail over her bruised and broken ankle. Jessamine felt warmth return to her foot, the pain ebbing away just as quickly as it was given. Everyone in this room seemed to possess a strong Oblivion, using it for their advantage tonight. How hypocritical to despise Kaid, when it didn’t seem they used their powers here for good tonight.
Hypocritical.
If they possess such magic, what right do they have to determine who and how to remove a person’s Oblivion? How could people follow a person they are being told to hate?
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Her assistant’s words echoed in her mind, realizing just who she might be in the presence of. If so, she was in much more danger than she thought.
“Pestilence?” she asked, seeing all the men slightly perk up at her inquiry. Their reactions alone sent a great feeling of a pit in her stomach. Pestilence was here, along with his gang. These weren’t raiders. These were mercenaries hunting down Oblivion users, and most of all, looking for Kaid. They weren’t killers, not of the physical kind. But these men killed souls.
Would Jessamine give up the little pieces left of her own to them?
Before the lead man could reply, the door opened again with a gust of wind. A woman entered, sounding out of breath and held her hand up in a slight apology. Whatever the reason for her interruption, the others didn’t seem happy about it.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to barge. But, sir, Shailud is here-”
“What!? No…no that doesn’t make sense. This hasn’t been enough time,” he shook his head, glancing at Jessamine before following the woman briefly, “explain to me outside. Now.”
Whatever it was, he didn’t want it discussed in front of Jessamine. Shailud was involved with this, somehow. She couldn’t remember his exact position during the explosion, but it was beginning to make sense just how relaxed he was moments prior. He had made up his mind on something, crossed a point of no return, and for some reason was here.
The hand that was still at her leg moved further up to her calf, gently letting the pads of his fingers massage her skin. Her eyes darted to him, seeing a mischievous glare in his eyes. Great. Not only were these men hypocrites, but predators as well. She knew them to be cowards already, hiding behind coverings and disguises. Men were practiced animals in pretending.
A hand slapped him on the back of his head, before grabbing him off her gently. The instinct was almost protective, an action without second thought. Jessamine felt those awfully hot fingers being pried away. She wiggled her ankle slightly, no longer feeling an unwanted touch, nor pain either. Clearly their plan was to break her, but rebuild her once they got answers. Killing her was certainly not an option. She wondered what they’d do, however, if she finally got in possession of a blade.
“Enough, we’re not here to do that,” the blue-eyed one stepped between them.
“Oh come on, look at her. Where else would you get the chance to touch a woman like that outside your imagination?” the short one snickered, “She’s a high born, a royal whore. Someone like her is just used goods with luxury branding.”
“You should watch your tongue-”
“Don’t mind his tongue, I doubt he’s highly practiced with it,” Jessamine interrupted, seeing the shorter one lunge at her before still being held back.
Before much else could be said, that door slid open once more as the leader eagerly slipped back in. He noticed a bit of a scuffle but didn’t care. He was in a hurry, much unlike when he had first stepped in here, believing he had all the time in the world. Impatience and stress seemed to rise from him, on the verge of borderline pacing around the small boxcar. Whatever it was, he wasn’t happy about it in the slightest.
He raised his shoulders and head, taking a deep breath for assurance before his mind was made up, “I’ll ask you Empress, one more time. Lie again, and I remove your Oblivion…”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The explosion of graphite was well calculated. It wasn’t meant to severely harm, just enough to send dust floating in the air and people screaming. It caused panic. What did frighten everyone, was the presence of black dressed raiders descending from the walls and eagerly approaching the stage. Palace guards didn’t run to meet them with blades, instead they ran the other direction, looking to find family or comfort.
Kaid was helping an elderly couple rise to their feet, coughing himself as the debris filled his lungs. He watched as the men dressed in black lifted a limp Jessamine up, a great distance between them in the courtyard. Fuck. Fuck this was all going wrong. Shailud was nowhere to be found. Vrah’s security personnel immediately portaled him away, mere yards away from Jessamine.
The Vrah he had once known wouldn’t have left Jessamine to herself in danger when a portal was so close. But maybe this man was no longer the half brother he so barely knew. Or, this was his true nature all along. No matter. Someone had to go after her.
“Can you walk? Can you follow the group through this opening here?” Kaid asked gently, although his patience was waning thin.
“I…I don’t know,” the elderly woman replied. Kaid didn’t have time for this, but his heart just couldn’t let him leave this woman behind to fend for herself.
“Go, I can help them,” Sabine ran over, her hair and body covered in dust. She looked shell shocked. Her hands trembled with fear. Unlike the men under her command, she was the only one here remaining to help instead of run.
“Thank you,” Kaid nodded, eagerly running towards the stage. Immediately his senses perked, gazing to see a figure pointing an object at him. Of course, a fucking firearm. Kaid had liked the simplicity of weapons, but he knew it wouldn’t take long before Uhkhtarians had gotten their hands on Lungor’s invention. The shot was fired, the bullet spiraling into the air and at nothing. By the time the trigger was pulled, Kaid was already behind the man after a pause of time, his green blade digging into the man’s backside.
These men had come here for a fight, but only with a few targets in mind. Kaid yanked the blade out, not bothering to watch the man fall before picking up the firearm himself. He unfortunately grabbed it from the barrel, the heat nearly burning his left palm. There was hardly time to think, use common sense or rationale. It was kill, or be killed. It was save her, or kill his own soul if he couldn’t succeed.
As he approached the stage, which was nothing more than practically rubble, the sound of a flame erupting was heard. Kaid watched as a remaining raider became smothered by fire. His screams as he burned to death echoed in the courtyard. It was clear he was standing above Kiev, who was pinned by rock and unable to move. Mara made sure the man was dead before moving up to assist.
Mara and Kaid ran to him, seeing the large gash across his hamstring. Kaid lifted the rock with a groan, taking the pressure off before Mara helped to pull him out. His blood trailed wildly, Mara immediately applying her finger against the gash to cauterize.
“Stop! Stop. There’s no time. Go get the Empress,” Kiev shouted with pain, but Mara continued.
“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Mara insisted.
“And I will be no help. The cut is deep in my muscle, I can barely move my thigh,” he explained, glancing at Kaid, “Go, now! There’s horses by the east perimeter.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” Kaid said, not fond of the idea. He didn’t really like the idea of an animal between his legs, one certainly with a mind of his own. But, he supposed he had no choice. With Jessamine there was never a choice, and that was the one thing that his heart loved about her. Just as he never had to think about taking a breath, so was his love for her automatic, engineered into his very being.
“Go. Cadize and Bridger will arrive by morning upon hearing the news. I will be fine, and I’ll take of little Kai while you’re gone-”
“Mara, you should stay with your son,” Kaid interrupted, knowing that should be her priority. Clearly, she knew he was safe because she didn’t seem worried about him. Hopefully he had been in decent company like Sabine to keep him safe in the meantime, especially since Shailud was missing.
“Out of the question,” she stood, helping Kiev rise to his feet with a limp, “let’s go.”
Luckily the dust had allowed for easy footprints to track. Kaid had no idea where they might take her, but that was answered quickly with a blaring sound from the train. It was a last call siren, alerting imminent departure. They had to get on that train. Only one horse remained close by, Kaid struggling to rise in its saddle before lifting Mara up to sit behind him. The saddle was uncomfortable, the horse unstable, fear clearly pounding in its anxious heart. It didn’t help that the riders were just as nervous.
“What the fuck do I do, he’s not moving?!” Kaid asked, trying to lurch forward to get the animal to move.
“Kick his stomach with your heel,” she explained, sensing his abhorrent confusion, “gently, I might add.”
Kaid followed those instructions unenthusiastically, gripping the bridle firmly before the horse seemed to understand it was time to move. The train was already beginning to move, but luckily the palace remained on the outskirts of the city, meaning there was only open sand ahead to catch up. Kaid increased the horse’s stride overtime with more gentle kicks, ignoring the pain between his legs from an uncomfortable saddle and a jostling horse. The only thought on his mind was planning how to get out of this.
It didn’t matter who those men were. Kaid would ensure every single one of them would die tonight.
“Looks like we might be able to cut in front. Pull up by the engine, I’ll see what I can do to slow this train,” Mara shouted, having to overcome the loud sound of the locomotive and harsh wind against them. Kaid followed her instructions, guiding the horse towards the train which it certainly did not like.
Kaid could feel Mara slowly loosen her grip on him, adjusting herself to eagerly hop off and onto the train side. A ladder protruded thankfully on the side, Kaid targeting that to make it easier for Mara to dismount. Once close enough, Mara gripped the iron bars tightly with one hand, the other gently patting Kaid’s backside.
“Find her, Kaid. And, save some for me. Don’t do anything stupid,” she teased, “Be safe.”
“You too,” he nodded, watching carefully as she transitioned over. Her black hair ran wild with the wind, partially covering her face before she climbed up further. Kaid didn’t know if she’d know how to stop this train, or slow it down. It couldn’t be that hard, right?
The horse whinnied with fear, pulling away from the train and eagerly wanting to get as far away as possible. Kaid tried to jerk it back, but the stubborn animal already had enough excitement for one day.
“Stop. Fucking stop and go back,” Kaid seethed, kicking at it out of frustration. He regretted it, knowing it was merely a scared animal and nothing more. And it was having to transport a completely inexperienced rider. Kaid wanted to never ride anything in his life like this ever again.
Be gentle with it, his mother reprimanded, only adding to his guilt.
Kaid took a deep breath to relax his stress, leaning over to gently let his hand find the steed’s fluttering heart. Kaid felt his short curls dance in the wind, same as the mane nearly blocking Kaid’s vision. Yet, peace was felt, despite the fear. Fear would always exist. Experience only muted the tension, never overcoming it. Life was a daunting task. Just like the many Trials he had passed in Caladin, so was this another test.
Kaid pulled himself into the Void, this time, on purpose. The world froze around him, swallowed by black and velvet. There was no time to think or wonder how he pulled himself here, fully awake, from his own will. All he could do was calm this horse just enough before it would be free.
“It’s just you and me. No train. No wind. Just open sand to run. So run. Run, and you’ll be free,” Kaid whispered, full of wishful thinking the horse heard. Yet it must have, given Kaid felt his heart race slow to a calm pace. It was as if the animal heard a comforting lullaby, mere seconds away from lulling into sleep. It was comforted, and that’s all Kaid needed momentarily.
Soon enough, the wind was back in his face blasting sand to scratch at it. The horse followed Kaid’s gentle pull to the left, back towards the train. Due to the loss of speed and misdirection, Kaid was now at the center of the train cars. No matter. As long as he got on this monstrous machine, he’d ravage through every car to find her. There was no ladder or railing for him to find, no spot that seemed safe enough to fully make the jump.
Life wasn’t about thinking about safety, not in a moment like this. Jessamine probably didn’t think twice after being stabbed to enter a portal and find Kaid through an entire camp of enemies. He shouldn’t think twice either. Kaid slowly rose from the saddle, lifting himself up before slowly raising one foot. He felt his core shake with the tension of keeping himself up. It was now or never. Once his foot made contact with the saddle, he jumped, hands finding contact with the rooftop of the train and gripped it with all his might. Once his grip was secure, it felt so much easier to pull himself up.
He took the moment to catch his breath, watching the horse gallop comfortably away now. Sometimes, this world calls for people to use one another. There are those who abuse such a call for dominance, for deceit. If only more people saw moments like these, timelines intertwined even with strangers, as a brief moment of companionship. A moment to help each other, despite utter hatred or disgust, could alter any timeline.
“I’m never fucking doing that again,” Kaid exhaled, slowly crawling to the end of the car and sliding between the traincar connectors. Once his breathing finally returned to normal, he glanced through the windows. The car behind him was dark, no sign of life. The other, however, gleamed with bright lights. Laughter could be heard echoing through the heavy door. Laughter.
At least these men might die with humor still lingering fresh in their lungs.
Kaid opened the door, not realizing how heavy it was, sending rushing wind into the train car. The wind knocked multiple bottles of alcohol which had been pouring from the bar almost non stop. The raiders and kidnappers seemed to be in high spirits, enjoying the exorbitant amount of booze free for the taking.
That and the laughter all stopped upon seeing Kaid, not wearing similar black robes. What stood before them was an Uhkhtarian man, small cuts bleeding from his cheek from the harsh wind. His hair was disheveled, black curls frayed and uneven. His decorated kaftan was torn near the seems, half covered still in limestone dust. The usurper blade was unsheathed, Kaid ready to unleash all his energy into this room that was once so energetic.
“Shailud, you’re here early, aren’t you?” one of the men asked, glancing at the blade.
Kaid froze in his steps, realizing all of them didn’t appear very frightened by him. It could just be because they were already getting drunk, but they all looked at that blade with familiarity. Shailud was indeed a part of this, but a distant one at that. Did none of them know what Shailud looked like? This might work to his advantage.
“Where’s the Empress?” Kaid asked, his voice deep and commanding.
“Oh, she’s in the last train car, just like you requested. You weren’t supposed to see us until tomorrow, though,” one of the men answered, confused, but not enough to critically think of this circumstance.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Kaid lied, seeing the men all look at each other, “tell your man in charge-”
“You’re not in charge. You’re following our orders, remember?” they laughed, “Settle down, enjoy a drink with us.”
One man left the room, heading towards the other car presumably to tell the others.
Shailud wasn’t the mastermind. Kaid had thought he must be the one spearheading this act of war. No. Clearly someone else held something over Shailud, commanded him. It was just plans within plans, deceit intertwined with power. Shailud lacked real power, so who would have greater than him? Emperor Bashir? No, he wouldn’t risk something like this without much consequence. Unless…unless he was able to maim Jessamine in a way that ruined her forever.
A scream echoed loudly, reverberating off the walls. Kaid didn’t know if it was just the sound of the train whistle echoing from the inside at an odd pitch. But then he heard it again. And again. And again. A scream he had never heard, from a voice he knew all so well. They were torturing her. The wind carried those painful shouts into the remaining cars in a muted echo. The other men didn’t seem phased, going back to their drinks.
The scream had stopped but still echoed in Kaid’s head. His bottom lip twitched. His right hand clutched the handle of his blade tightly. His chest heaved with a rising anger. His fingers draped down slightly to the blade, letting it glide against its edge. He felt it cut his thumb, affirming to him it was sharp. How sharp it would be after this, he didn’t know.
Kaid approached the bar, letting his left hand grab the stem of a vodka bottle before slamming it into the face of the closest person to him. No words needed to be exchanged, not the kind civil men spoke with. No. These weren’t civil men, Kaid included. The only language that could be understood in this room was violence, and Kaid mastered it. They could hardly land a hand on him, clumsy in their own movements from alcohol, their visions blurred or minds not fully comprehending.
When Kaid blinked, the bar had no clear alcohol spilling from the counter any longer, blood had replaced it. Soft, muted cries were at Kaid’s feet, the men releasing their last breath of agony before dying. Kaid saw blood splattered against his kaftan and arms, speckled spots of crimson that he could even taste on his lips. His right hand ached from holding that blade of his, stabbing it over and over repeatedly. He sheathed that blade, knowing it needed to retire for the evening. His folded blade would have to finish the rest of the job or his newly possessed firearm.
He moved towards the other door, seeing one last struggling survivor bleeding out in the corner.
Removing the firearm he had picked up earlier, he loaded the next bullet into the chamber, pointing it right under the man’s throat.
“Your leader, who is he?” Kaid asked, “Answer, and I’ll let you live.”
“W-what? You should know who,” he whined, before realizing given the violent events that had just happened, the man in front of him was a liar, “P-Pestilence. But he won’t harm her, he won’t. We’ve been told she will cooperate.”
“Did it sound like she was cooperating?!” Kaid jammed the firearm further, pressing it into his muscles, borderline crushing his windpipe.
“Taking her Oblivion away is only a last resort. She’s in the last car. That’s all I know, I swear!” he pleaded. He was begging for his pathetic life to continue. From his voice and appearance he was young. Two years ago, maybe Kaid would have given this man a second chance. Kaid was no longer that man, however.
“Good boy,” Kaid smirked slightly, seeing the young man slump with relief. Kaid had to get to her. Jessamine was more than just her Oblivion, but to lose such a thing was like losing a hand. Maybe in days past, she would have wished for anything to take such a power away. But she had to give it away willingly, not forcefully. This Pestilence wouldn't care for her feelings, for her wants and desires. He would set this world aflame with holy oil and Kaid would definitely be the match to ignite it all.
As soon as the boy’s eyes closed, Kaid moved the firearm away before pointing at his forehead. He pulled the trigger without second thought.