It took Ado some time to prepare herself for travel, and would have taken a lot more if the damned bastard she was moving with hadn’t been so blase about the whole affair.
She was concerning herself with representing Silenos Shaiagrazni, and by extension House Shaiagrazni itself. Whatever that was. She ensured to dress herself well, properly, to cut as fine and commandeering a figure as could be managed, knowing full well that her sex alone would undermine any inferior efforts of diplomacy she might make. It was hard work, demanding hours seated and still while servants worked on preparing her, and Ado did not appreciate being hurried in its progression.
“You’re wasting time.” Baird said, as if he were speaking to someone less than a hundred steps above his station in the natural order. “Slowing us down, time means more than making an impression.”
Ado bit back her annoyance, forcing herself to explain things slow enough for him to grasp. It was difficult to even realise where his confusion lay, with that ridiculous accent. Every syllable from his mouth sounded thick and swollen, as if his tongue were bloated.
“We are embarking on a diplomatic mission,” She said, slowly, “Nothing matters more than making an impression, doing so will save our Master-”
“-Shaiagrazni isn’t my Master.” He interrupted, and Ado hesitated, stewing a moment longer in her annoyance.
“Our associate.” She corrected. “It will save our associate a great amount of resources and wealth.”
He nodded, then shrugged.
“But it probably won’t work, and the longer we waste trying, the more reckless we’ll have to be in assaulting Ironbane.”
Ado found her temper fraying further at that, but simply moved past the issue. There would be no reasoning with this one, she decided, and only a great deal of irritation to be found in the effort.
They set off soon enough, thanks in no small part to the rat’s incessant whining about any given delay. Departing by carriage, they were dragged along the road through the muscular strength of a smaller one of Shaiagrazni’s creatures, barely double or triple the weight of a warhorse.
She almost missed how laughable it was to consider such a thing smaller, but even that was quickly eclipsed by the pulling power of the creature.
It moved as if it were accompanied by ten more things of equal size, hauling the thousand-pound carriage along like it weighed nothing at all, accelerating to such an extreme velocity in so slight a span that Ado felt rather queasy for a few moments. It was like falling horizontally, an exponential rise of speed and momentum that lasted far longer than instinct told her it ought to have. Finally they reached a plateau for it, moving perhaps as fast as a sprinting horse might have unburdened.
“Not used to working with grotesqueries?”
Ado glared at the man seated opposite her, lounging back along the carriage’s cushions and no doubt dirtying them with those mud-crusted boots of his. Baird seemed altogether too relaxed, and far, far too pleased with her disorientation.
“And I suppose you were perfectly composed in your first close interactions with them.”
Ado saw the man hesitate a moment before his smile widened.
“As a matter of fact, I was. My first close encounter was fighting alongside them to crush a coup within Kaltan, and I can honestly say I adjusted within seconds ”She felt there was something being left unsaid there but she couldn’t exactly place what it was. “They’re really no more than just big animals, are they?”
In the way orcs were, she thought. Or giants. Or even dragons. Ado’s temper was growing shorter every time this man opened his mouth, and it seemed he’d finally found the last straw.
“Baird.” She replied, sharply. “Your name is Baird. And you are a Kaltan. Is there any relation to Finlay Baird?”
Ado had wondered whether he might deny it, but he didn’t. Seemed proud of the fact, even.
“There is, I’m his son.”
“Then you’re the son of a murderous lunatic.” Ado told him. She’d not expected to actually gain any effect from the accusation, but had hoped to at least see something in the way of a reaction. He only met her gaze and shrugged.
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“It’s definitely what people say. Stupid people, that is, whose parents were brother and sister.”
It was the disregard that finally burned away what was left of Ado’s patience.
“And how about the people who lost loved ones to his murderous rampage?” She snapped. “What about-”
“Every single fucking one of them deserved to die, and I wish I was old enough to have seen it happen. I’m half tempted to ask Shaiagrazni to reanimate the stupid bastards so I can kill them again myself.”
The burning vitriol in Baird’s voice actually gave her pause, stunning her into silence as she felt those cold, cold eyes fall upon her. Ado was suddenly left very aware of the fact that she was alone with the man, and in too confined a place for her magic to be of much help against his strength.
“I suppose we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” She said, by way of peace offering. He snorted.
“Until such time as I’m under your power, at which point I’m back to being a semi-civilised moron who needs a firm guiding hand to keep from upturning the natural order.”
Ado wasn’t entirely sure how to react to that, so she chose silence instead. Their journey was prolonged by the lack of conversation, but it was shortened much more by the ingenious efficiency of their motion. Leagues disappeared in minutes, and their pace remained tirelessly consistent as the beast pulling them along moved without fatigue or falter.
But Ado hardly noticed, because her eyes never wavered from where they rested upon Baird. She’d regarded him as little more than a simple beast before, and saw now what a mistake that had been. He was the worst kind of creature she knew of. A thing, not a man. A weapon that killed on its own. Such individuals were seen in court, from time to time. She’d heard tales of them, because they invariably did things to inspire tales.
Respect a man who can stomach battle, her brother used to say, because only one in three have that killing spark. But fear a man who can learn to love it, because not one in a fifty acquires that taste, and the ones who do will follow it far.
Baird had everything else about the other ones-in-fifty, she saw it all clear as day now even as he shifted in his seat to re-bury the tells. Ado’s mouth was dry.
What in the world was at the front of his thoughts, she wondered, to leave his gaze so dark and bladed in its focus?
***
It had been a while since Galukar had actually done anything in the way of ruling, and he’d almost forgotten what a damned chore it all was. There had always been a reason, after all, for his leaving Arbite to such a lengthy string of hands and councillors. He had always been a better King on the battlefield than in the court.
His thoughts were interrupted briefly by the opening of a door, hinges gliding apart with barely a creek, and rapid footsteps.
“I’m busy at the moment.” Galukar muttered, forcing his attention back to the document before him. What the bloody hell even was “requisitioning”, in the first place?
Something shifted behind him, and the air hissed for a moment. He heard a grunt of exertion, the strain of wood flooring bearing a sudden redistribution of weight, then his shoulder itched. Galukar hardly noticed, so work-laden was he, merely scratching the annoyance as he continued his mental exertions. It happened again, this time with a slight twitch at the back of his neck, and his slow mind finally stumbled upon the obvious.
Galukar turned, then frowned at the sight of a boy perhaps as close to ten as he was twenty. He was tall, though had yet to gain the breadth of manhood at his shoulders, and was holding a sword which seemed better sized for a man double his weight.
Two dents lay in the edge of the weapon, where, Galular imagined, the steel had struck his flesh and surrendered before its hardness. Not magical then, he was not so resilient as to break magical metal against his flesh. He sighed.
“What is this?” Galukar demanded, in no mood to be bothered during his work.
“King Galukar.” The boy snarled, as if the name were a curse. It was strange to hear so appropriate a reaction to himself. “You were…I looked up to you, my whole life you were my hero, and now you’re just some fucking dog of Shaiagrazni. Standing by while he kills my people, ruins my nation, steals my brother’s birthright and hands it off to a damned woman! Were you always a coward, or have you just fallen from grace?”
Galukar waited for some rush of guilt or shame, but none came. None had come in a long while, not really. Not for what he was doing now. He let his exhaustion show, watching the boy raise his oversized sword as slow as anything and bring it down with all his insubstantial strength. It was halted by the force of Galukar’s finger meeting his thumb, steel pinched between skin and almost snapping with the grip.
“You’re right.” He replied. “I am no hero at all, but I am afraid that I never was. You looked up to me for my deeds, I take it?”
Tears fell down the boy’s cheeks, perhaps as much for the physical exertion he was placing into wrestling Galukar’s fingers as the emotions at play.
“Of course I did!” He snapped. “Who didn’t!?”
Galukar met him with as honest and open a look he could manage, which wasn’t saying much. One couldn’t be an honest hero anymore than one could be a righteous villain.
“Then I have never been anything but a coward and scoundrel for so long as you have heard tell of me.” He told him.
It was that, at last, which stunned the boy into some semblance of coherence. He released the sword, letting it clatter to the ground as he stumbled back with wide eyes.
“You lie.” He gasped.
“I am telling you the truth.” Galukar corrected. “All the stories you have heard of my battles fought and won…They are true, for the most part at least. Those things happened. But I am not a hero for them. Just a powerful man prone to wanton destruction and killing. I became a hero when people approved of my murderous rampages, that is all.”
The boy looked torn between disbelief and yet more hatred. Galukar decided not to try and sway him one way or the other, just affirmed the facts as they were.
“Find yourself a new hero,” He sighed. “Or better yet, realise that they don’t exist. It’ll save you a lot of pain, and save anyone under your command a great deal more, if you face the reality of things instead of wrapping everything in fantasy and wishes.”