Sasha peaked into Randle’s room. She expected to see him in his usual stupor, unmoving, unspeaking. Instead, he sat up on the side of his bed shirtless possessed by grogginess. “I’ve been out so long I just might be sober. This is horrible,” he groaned.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Could be better, but I’m gonna be up on my feet by tomorrow. I can feel it.” He avoided looking at Sasha’s worried face. “Thank you all. I dunno what I’d do without ya. Especially you, Sasha.”

Sasha knew deep down that she was happy to see him on his feet but couldn’t bring herself to smile no matter how much she wanted to. Randle noticed. “Something wrong, girl?”

She nodded. “Maybe I miss my brother.”

“Sometimes, I do too. Ley was always a pain in my side, but he did his best to protect you. Now I will too. It was my promise to him.” He let out a deep exhale after seeing Sasha’s surprise.

“Promise?”

“Yea. I’ve been lying to you this whole time, kid. But laying here so long’s made me start thinkin’ I don’t like the idea of dying a guilty man.”

Her left eye twitched. She didn’t respond.

“You should sit down. This might take a while. I’ve got too much to tell you.”

Sasha darted her focus between Randle’s relieved expression and the bedside spot next to him. “S-Sorry,” she stuttered out before exiting and slamming the door.

Randle clenched his fists. “Shit.”

She retreated to her room and plopped back on her bed; door locked. Primus spoke up. “If I had arms, I’d pat your back.”

“I know, Primus. I know.”

Her head filled with fog, so much so that she almost couldn’t think. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

The next day, Randle put his words where his mouth was. He was up and running, good as new, other than the occasional sniffle. Distance grew between Sasha and him. Neither of them was brave enough to address the elephant. After a hard day at work, Randle got dressed up in his most decent leather jacket and called everyone out for a word. He leaned up against a shopfront counter, hands in pockets, as Sasha and the twin guards hung around. “Good news. Today may be the day. Got word from the owner of that plot in the Bazaar District. He invited me out to meet with him tonight. Dinner at some fancy place I can’t pronounce.”

Abdul’s energy broke through the dull air. “Ah, nice, which restaurant?”

“What did I tell you? I can’t pronounce it.” Randle fell into deep thought trying to recall it. “Nict… Nekt al… Nekt al Uria?”

“Can I come?”

Xavier shook his head. “You never hesitate to voice your desires, brother.”

“So?”

Randle shrugged. “Why not. Maybe a bodyguard will make me come off as more professional. But if you don’t mind your manners or end up ruining this somehow, you’re fired.”

Abdul stiffened up. “Your wish is my command, Sir Randle Fletcher! I only own armor though. Got any church clothes?”

Xavier looked like he’d finally give alcohol a chance. Then Randle addressed Sasha and him. “It looks like you’ll be here alone tonight. Dunno when we’ll be back, but it’ll be late. That fine?”

Sasha nodded. “I have Primus, so I won’t be alone. You two have fun.”

Xavier did too, responding nonchalantly. “It’s my job.”

Abdul sneered. “Eh, you won’t miss me?”

“I won’t.”

“Rude.”

Sasha and Xavier sent off the pair. Before Abdul disappeared through the door in a burrowed suit too tight a fit, saber at hip, his brother called out to him. He turned to face Xavier who looked worried. “Don’t go too crazy now with the wine. You’re the worst kind of drunk.”

Abdul just chuckled before leaving. Xavier turned to Sasha with a grave face. “He’s going to ruin everything. Without a doubt.”

She returned a solemn half-grin to him. “I’m going to bed now, Xavier. Good night. Try not to fall asleep before they get back.”

He bowed and uttered a low confirmation. “Miss’s.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

After extinguishing every light in the house other than her bedside candle, Sasha fell asleep with ease. That was until she snapped awake to the dim light snuffed out. Primus spoke down to her in chilling, harsh whispers. She could barely hear. Sasha got up onto her knees, hair a mess, confused. “What is it, Primus?”

“Don’t open that door, Sasha.”

She found herself frozen there on her bed. “What’s wrong Primus? What is it?”

“It’s Xavier. I heard him. He’s—”, A low knocking sounded. Knocking grew louder and more instable by the moment. Primus growled. “Don’t open it. Grab me and run now. To the window.”

Sasha slid off the side of her bed onto her feet. After removing Primus from the wall mount, she stepped toward the locked window and panicked to open it as the bedroom doorknob jiggled. Then the rustling behind stopped with a metallic, eerie click. The only sound now was the wind. The door creaked open a few inches, revealing a black iron mask. Wide owl eyes. With a groan, Sasha thrusted the escape route open as the visitor watched in patience.

A hand crept in from the outdoors like a shade, grabbing her wrist there on the edge. “Pardon my intrusion,” a voice mumbled. The second owl stalked in through the opened window, his head tilted to the right in piqued interest. He and Sasha’s foreheads almost touched. “This is our hawk? Just a girl?”

Then the invader from behind vanished from the door, only to appear behind her. He towered two feet taller. Sasha slashed erratically at the first. Every strike missed to tear up her room. They blitzed her from both sides at once, the massive one seizing her arm and machina. Primus yelled at him, increasing his weight fifteen times. “You think you’re worthy?”

The big owl caught the descending blade in between his palms, straining as if he carried the weight of the world. It brought him to his knees, bearing and cutting down into the shoulder, cracking and splintering the wooden floorboards. “Arno, get her! Oh my god!” He sputtered out to his partner.

Arno sent a right then left hook to Sasha’s jaw, and then clenched her up tight with his hands grasping the back of her neck. Gut-wrenching consecutive knees to the stomach forced her to spit and wheeze for air. Ears ringing, she dropped Primus, who pierced through the floorboards into the cellar like a ballista bolt. The big owl wrapped Sasha up from behind while Arno fumbled for something in his pocket. A rag soaked in something strong.

“Calm down. You’re lucky to be wanted alive,” he demanded, muffling her mouth and nose with it. She bit and kicked with tears streaming until she didn’t.

Randle sat at the glass table with the polite Mr. Kenway, glaring off at Abdul who’d gone through his fourth glass of wine already. The guard was a horror of a lightweight gone off the rails. He had made the world’s worst first impression. Just minutes ago, they’d even witnessed him slap the waitress’s butt. Randle soaked in contemplative bitterness. This bastard’s ruining everything. My image. My future. That lass’s night.

Mr. Kenway looked down at his watch again, putting on a shitty masquerade of a grin. His brow twitched. “It was nice meeting you gentlemen, but I must take my leave now. I’ll reach out to you after I’ve made my decision.”

Randle did a slight bow in response. “Thank you for your time.”

Mr. Kenway left the two there early. Randle leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, and cursed. “Gods damn it all. Who needed dreams anyway?”

Abdul slid the old man’s glass over to himself. “Cheers~.”

Randle drug it back, downing it. “Haven’t you had enough, you bastard?”

“Ah, I can’t wait for this new place. Maybe Xavier and I will even have our own quarters. Haven’t had my own room since, well, I was a kid.”

His excitement made Randle sigh. “Let’s get out of here, Abdul.”

“Huh, where’re we going, boss?”

“Home, but you’re apologizing to that waitress first. And you’re gonna mean it too.”

“What did I do?”

“You’ve already forgotten? What an embarrassment.”

Abdul and Randle took the long way home amid the night, an arm wrapped around one another’s shoulder. The breeze blowing through Monestate from the westward cold front proved to be sobering. Abdul looked bleak. “I can’t believe I acted like that. Brother’s definitely gonna tell me ‘I told you so!’. Nothing I hate more than hearing that.”

Randle broke out into a deprecative chuckle. “Bringin’ a bodyguard along, you’d think you’d get to relax a little, but here I am lookin’ after your stumblin’ sorry ass. I ought to pay myself instead.”

“You’re stumbling too, and your accent’s really showing tonight, Sir.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry, forgive me. Can I have another chance? Am I really fired?”

Randle scoffed. “Never drink again and maybe I’ll think about.”

“Says the alcoholic.”

They made it to Troll’s Treasure. Randle fumbled with the keys in the dark, leaning up against the shopfront door. It creaked open. “Gods,” he mumbled. “It’d be my luck to forget to lock up in Low Monestate of all places. Can’t have shit in Low Monestate.”

Abdul followed him inside. “You did lock up. I watched you.”

The shopfront looked darker than usual. Eerier. Unable to see his other guard on duty, Randle called out into the shadows. “Xavier? Where are you? You didn’t doze off again, did you?”

Abdul added in his own calls, a nervousness to his voice. “Brother? Hello?”

Randle spotted Xavier’s usual wooden chair. He always leaned back in it; feet crossed up high with no fear of falling. It had slammed onto its back and snapped in two at the halfway point.

A wave of anxiety washed over him, so much so that Xavier completely left his mind. “Sasha?!” He yelled.

Randle fast walked to her room uttering, “Please. No. Please.”, over and over. He entered only to freeze at the destruction. Slash marks cut across her wallpaper while the furniture was thrown about in disorder.

He walked over to the opened window, wind blowing the curtains, and knelt. Droplets dripped down to fall off his chin and wet the floor. Randle found a black feather. He glared at it before smashing it in his hand. He found a hole in the floor. Peering into it, a familiar claymore giving off blueish purple light rested on the cellar’s concrete floor. “Primus? That you?”

“Old master, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the machina wailed back. Primus’s mournful voice bounced in that dark chamber.

An unhinged shriek sounded from the dining room. The most haunting, violent mixture of bawling and screaming Randle had ever witnessed followed. Not even the wars managed to birth such a sound. He rushed out to where Abdul fell. The guard dragged his nails across the floorboards and ripped at his hair. “What is it, Abdul?” Randle asked firmly.

Abdul tried to answer but only managed hicks that spiraled into more crying. He pointed a shaky finger upwards. Randle followed its rise until it pinpointed on a malformed, folded body. Tears broke out. He shook with rapid breaths.

Somehow, they stuffed Xavier into the wine cabinet.