*1346.13.22**
Joram watched as the Belladonnas began to rouse.
The purging of the slavery seals had gone relatively well. Relatively.
The first one he’d worked on had proven to have a hidden feature that he’d somehow missed before it had activated. He hadn’t been fast enough to prevent the liquefaction of her brain, but a [True Resurrection] fixed that minor issue.
After that, he’d been prepared for the trap and had not only been able to stop further activations but had also managed to eventually find how it was hidden. After that, it had been easy sailing, as it were.
He wondered, not for the first time, who these women were. Had they had lives before joining the Belladonnas? Or had they been inducted as children? That last one was a popular choice amongst groups that instilled fanaticism in their… people.
He knew just how insidious organizations like that were. Snatch up a destitute child, give them food and shelter, and then the indoctrination started. Soon enough, the child was fighting for their “benefactors”, willing to die for the “cause”. But usually, they just killed for that cause.
He supposed that worked well most of the time, but adding the slavery seals was icing on the cake. That way, they would not only remain loyal, but anyone who managed to break the shackles of their upbringing would still be stuck. The only way out would be death.
So, he wondered how each of them had come to be where they were in life. Well, not right now, but what had led them to his doorstep, as it were.
They roused slowly, likely still trying to throw off their months of dreaming and determining if they were truly waking or not. Each and every one of them was in their own cell though, as he had no illusions that any of them would either be happy with their current situation, or the forced “rest” that they’d endured.
Heck, he wouldn’t put it past them to try to off each other in a misguided attempt to prevent questioning or something like that.
He wasn’t surprised that the first one to wake was the one who’d been the centre of that crazy array that had left him ragged. Between his natural regeneration provided by the Adamantium Body Technique and his Minds working overtime on the healing, he’d managed to survive that encounter. Though, it had still sucked.
Joram watched as her eyes finally opened. He was impressed with just how calm she was as she took in her surroundings. Well, her tiny cell. Not much to see there.
Given the number of hidden weapons he’d found on every single one of them, he’d chosen to have them stripped and dressed in simple “prison” clothing. Well, old cartoon style prison garb; white with horizontal black bars.
She didn’t seem phased by her change of attire, nor the attire itself. If anything, she seemed more surprised to be wearing anything at all. Which, upon further reflection, shouldn’t have surprised him. The lack of basic human rights on Dovaynia was… a thing.
Eventually her gaze made its way to where he stood outside of her cell. She took a moment to process her shock at seeing him alive and well before she visibly steeled herself.
“Why am I alive?” She asked, sounding as calm as could be; almost as though she was having tea with a co-worker or something.
“Well, that would be because I would like some answers,” he replied, equally casual in his tone. He even smiled pleasantly.
* * * * *
She was at a loss. No, perhaps “stupefied” would have been a better description for her current state of mind.
She knew for a fact that the Belladonnas had a reputation for not blabbing, as it were. Not only that, but even if she had been inclined to reveal any information regarding… just about anything, her “contract” would prevent that.
Deciding to play with the young and ignorant child, she smiled at him, then spoke.
“What would you like to know,” she asked pleasantly, keeping up the charade.
“What’s your name?” He asked, appearing genuinely curious.
She just about fell over, having more expected him to get right down to business, as it were. Instead, he’d already managed to throw her off balance.
“Isabel,” she replied with a shrug, relying on her years of training that every Belladonna went through to remain composed.
“Hmm, nice name,” he said, nodding to himself. “I am Joram, as you likely already know,” he finished with what appeared to be a rueful grin.
Isabel was reasonably sure that he was acting the “good guy”. Anyone capable of being able to survive Moonfall should at least be in the Immortal Realm. And to get to the Immortal Realm, well, you wouldn’t be as young and naïve as Mr Aneath presented himself to be.
“All right, next question,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “What’s your favourite food?”
Now Isabel was certain that he was both not taking this seriously and mocking her.
She settled for a mild glare and a slight frown.
Mr Aneath stood there for a minute before his mask cracked and he laughed out loud.
“Yes, I was mostly just messing with you there,” he said, shaking his head. “That said, I am actually curious. So, please. Do tell,” he said, still sounding amused, though she could tell that he was very serious as he asked this time.
Isabel pondered the pros and cons of lying to the young man, but ultimately decided that it would be pointless. Pointless to lie, as she wouldn’t benefit from it in any way. Pointless to exert the effort to remember the little lie that would have to be spoken. Ultimately, it didn’t matter if he knew or not, as trying to torture her using her favourite food wouldn’t work. Every Belladonna had been trained quite thoroughly when it came to resisting torture.
“Kebabs,” she said with a shrug.
“Kebabs, not kababs,” Mr Aneath asked, emphasizing the difference in pronunciation between the two very different dishes.
“Indeed, kebabs are better than kababs,” she said, then for some reason decided to expand on that statement. “Kababs, for as tasty as they can be, are ultimately a simple skewer. Now, a good kebab has many more variables that can, and do, enhance the experience. From the vegetables chosen to go into the pita with the meat, to the seasoning of the meat and how crispy or tender you choose to make it all the way to which sauces you choose to compliment those earlier choices,” she said enthusiastically, then reigned herself in.
She panicked slightly, wondering if she was under the effects of an array that brought out truth for its target, or maybe affecting her with a compulsion to speak, or be helpful.
Mr Aneath, for his part, just nodded along as though what she’d said, and how enthusiastic she’d been, had been completely normal.
“Hmm, good choice,” he said, nodding again. “I prefer getting the crispier cuts of meat to go along with a nice and spicy sauce.”
Despite herself, Isabel nodded her understanding of his viewpoint.
“But sometimes more tender cuts go well with a milder sauce,” she said, now fully engaged in the conversation. Because, if she had to look forward to being tortured for information in the near future, why not have a pleasant memory to fall back on when going through hell?
“True,” he said, now rubbing his chin. “Have you tried mayonnaise yet? It goes really well with the tender cuts,” he asked, looking her in the eye with such curiosity that she was taken aback for a moment.
Just what was this all about?
“No, I’ve never heard of that before,” she said, shaking her head. But now she was intensely curious, her desire to try that “mayonnaise” stronger than she thought it should be.
“Hmm, that isn’t surprising,” he said, then nodded to himself as though he’d come to a decision. “Reach into that slot on the wall and put that collar on and we can go have some kebabs,” he said, motioning to a panel on the wall that she hadn’t noticed yet.
Isabel hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a trap of some sort before just shrugging off the worry. If Mr Aneath wanted to harm her, there were much more direct ways to do so.
Once the panel was opened, she saw a simple black band that was sized for a neck. If anything, it looked more like a decoration than the temporary slavery collars she’d seen used countless times before. After another moment of though, she shrugged again, wrapped the band of fabric around her neck, and latched the simple clasp. She didn’t feel any different than before, which confused her slightly before realizing that the cell that she was in was likely an artifact designed to suppress her cultivation bases.
She turned to see Mr Aneath smiling at her and had to fight the urge to both snap at him and to not blush. She hadn’t realized just how handsome the young man was. She then found that it helped to remind herself how old she was. Then found that that also depressed her, so she stopped.
Mr Aneath held out a hand to her, passing through the threshold of her small cell. With yet another shrug, she took his surprisingly strong and warm hand in her much smaller one and stepped out of her cell. From there, she could see many more cells, each one containing one of her sisters. Their gazes varied remarkably from staring blankly at the wall to avid curiosity all the way to venomous as they glared at her.
She felt a sudden sense of shame for… colluding with the enemy. Being cooperative? Not resisting to her last breath? For finding her captor handsome and being oddly happy with the physical contact with him?
That last thought brought her up short. She didn’t stop walking beside Mr Aneath, but she did start examining her feelings with greater scrutiny. Since she’d woken, she’d noticed more than once that her thoughts and emotions seemed more… free. As though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, or tight bands across her chest had been released for the first time in… she didn’t know how long.
As she walked, she observed her surroundings, taking everything in. But she also diverted not a little attention to the feel of Mr Aneath’s hand enveloping hers. He hadn’t let go of her hand longer than it took to shift their hands into a more comfortable grip so that they could walk side-by-side while still holding hands.
She was no stranger to physical intimacy as, once again, every Belladonna was also trained in the arts of seduction in case their contract demanded such a thing. She even found herself trying to find any openings she could, out of sheer habit. Not that it would do her any good even if he’d been on guard. In fact, he was walking, relaxed as could be as they left her prison.
Once outside, her breath caught at the sight of fields upon fields of crops, then vineyards, and even what looked like an orchard in the far distance. She couldn’t see the sun, as it was fairly cloudy, but she guessed that it was early in the morning given the moisture she could see on the plants around her.
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But that wasn’t all. The smell of countless medicinal herbs on the gentle breeze that stirred her silvery-white hair nearly floored her. That so many valuable medicinal herbs were just out in the open was more than a little astonishing. That she could see several rare herbs and trees treated like common decorations said a lot about where she might be. Well, not where, but where. As in: a controlled location that she didn’t likely stand a snowflake’s chance of surviving in an inferno of escaping.
“We’re in a Small World…” she murmured to herself as she finally realized just how screwed she- and the others- was.
“That’s what people call it,” Mr Aneath said, nodding as he continued to walk, gently pulling her along for the ride.
Isabel thought about her life, how it had gone, and her many years with the Belladonnas. It hadn’t been all that bad, really. Certainly, there were times when she’d wished to end it all, to just die and not have to go through the training, and even some missions. The training had been the worst thing she’d ever experienced, and it had taken years to finish. And finish she did, as her slave seal hadn’t allowed anything else.
Her free hand unconsciously went to just below her navel where the seal was located. After another few moments of walking, she suddenly stumbled to a halt, shocked to the very Core.
“Wha-“ she started, but stopped, not quite able to finish the question as her brain practically locked up, panic threatening to completely paralyze her breathing.
She didn’t know how long she had frozen up for, but Mr Aneath was now standing in front of her, her hand still in his when she snapped out of it. Before she could even begin to articulate her questions, or sort out how she felt, he spoke.
“Yes, the slavery seal is gone,” he said simply, a faint smile ever-so-slightly lifting the corners of his mouth.
Isabel was proud that she didn’t let herself get distracted by how close he was, most likely because she was old enough to be his great-grandmother. Or her decades of training. Either one.
“How?” She asked simply, now staring into his very green eyes, searching for any clue she could get that might tell her more.
“Hmm, well,” he started, bringing his other hand up to rub his chin in thought as though he had a beard. “I studied. I experimented. Then I disjoined the enchantment,” he said simply before turning and leading her to a small table with two chairs that wouldn’t be out of place on the patio of a fancy restaurant.
She didn’t resist as he gently pulled her along, her mind whirling with the few words he’d said. For nine words, they sure said a lot while leaving out a ridiculous amount of information. Like: HOW?! How does a kid come along, beat down a Belladonna kill squad, then casually rid her of a slavery seal that countless people had tried and failed to do?!
Before she knew it, she was seated under a lovely tree with aquamarine and white blossoms that reminded her of morning glories. Her shocked mind briefly registered them belonging to the Mountain Dame tree, a shockingly potent medicinal plant who’s blossoms and fruit were highly sought after by Alchemists. Is it being used as a shade tree?!
Then that thought led to another, which then had her eyes seeking out the next tree in the park-like seating area.
Weeping Whiskeria, Vermillion Persimmon, Sage’s Tangerine, Liyue’s Lucky Lime… Isabel looked at and named as many of the incredibly expensive and sought after fruit trees that she could. Unfortunately, she was no Alchemist, or even remotely close to an herbalist. For as many as she managed to identify, nine more eluded her.
“It is indeed quite a collection,” Mr Aneath said from across the table, looking both proud and amused as he regarded the many trees.
Isabel could only shake her head. She’d been about to ask if some ancient alchemist had left this Small World behind but, to her, the answer was obvious. Just how lucky was this kid?
“It’s quite stunning,” she said instead, choosing one path of honesty over the other one that would have made her out to look like an idiot.
Mr Aneath nodded to that, a faint smile lifting the corners of his lips.
“I imagine you have a few questions,” he said, once again turning his gaze back to her.
Isabel nodded, the decided to ask the question that she felt was the most important one to both her and her sisters.
“What are you planning to do with us?”
Joram seemed to have expected that question. Which, really, was quite predictable of her to ask. But he still took a moment to think on it, or to pretend to think on it. She was under no illusions that Mr Aneath was a simple teenager, by any stretch of the imagination.
“Hmm,” he began, looking thoughtful. “I guess that would mostly depend on what your intentions would be,” he said, giving her a serious look. “If I were to let everyone go, what would you do? Would you go and try to make new lives for yourselves? Would you go back to being assassins? Would you try to exact revenge on me and mine for some reason?” He asked, listing off the many worries that anyone in his situation might have about just letting them go.
“More importantly: what would the Belladonnas do to you?” He asked, leaning forward slightly as his eyes seemed to catch her own and hold them through sheer will.
She’d already thought of many possible outcomes of what would happen to them should the Belladonnas find them alive, well, and without their slavery seals. None of them appealed to her, nor were they pretty. The simple fact was the Belladonnas would send someone to investigate. They would then have someone watch Mr Aneath, and possibly try to fulfill the contract if they still thought that it would be profitable.
But give it up entirely? As professional and dedicated to their work as they were, the Belladonnas were also practical. If the client refused to provide extra pay or compensation, the Belladonnas could, and would, drop the contract. It was one of their clauses after all. If the target was more… difficult than the client let on, or if the losses grew too large, then they had a right to renegotiate the remuneration for their work, or to end the contract entirely.
Doing the second wasn’t optimal, but it had been done. If the client became unreasonable due to the cancellation of a contract, they’d start getting marks against them. Marks increased the cost of any further requests from that client, and if enough marks accrued, they’d eventually be blacklisted.
The major problem that Isabel saw was this. She didn’t know who’d hired them. Nor did she know how affluent they were. If they were your average client, the loss of a Tier 6 scout like Imressa would have been bad enough. The loss of a combined Tier 5 and Tier 6 kill squad would be ruinous. But if the client was established enough, then the Belladonnas might just continue with the contract.
Which brought her back to her now missing slavery seal. How many of her sisters would be sent after Mr Aneath? Would he still have the luxury of capturing them alive the next time they went after him? Or would she be possibly left mourning a sister she’d known for decades?
Isabel shook her head, knowing that she’d be very unlikely to be able to live a normal life after this.
“If they even suspected that any of us survived, at the very least, they’d try to recapture us. ‘Rescue’ us,” she said, once again shaking her head.
“Makes sense,” he said, not looking terribly pleased with what he was thinking. “What would you do with your new-found freedom?” He asked, suddenly looking very interested in her answer.
Once again, she was both struck with her instinctual reaction and just how handsome the youth was. Her instinctual reaction was to lie to him, to tell him everything that she thought he’d want to hear. On the other hand, the rational thought of lying to the boy sent shivers down her spine. And not the pleasant kind, either.
That he’d both managed to capture her entire kill squad, and survive an array that could kill Immortals really put things into a weird kind of perspective for her. A greater clarity, as it were.
Which led her to seriously start thinking about what he’d asked. What did she want to do with the rest of her life? Even though she’d had the occasional thoughts over the years of what it would be like to be a “normal” woman, nothing had ever really taken hold. The very notion of being able to live her life for herself was mostly just a dream, and not one that she’d even remotely considered possible.
What could she do? She was very good with killing arrays. Her Mentalist side was mostly focussed on subterfuge and bending minds. She’d even been half-decent when it came to seduction missions. Killing various demonic beasts had been… fun? Fulfilling, at the very least.
Then it dawned on her that she was really only good at killing, and for some reason, that depressed her more than she thought it would.
She was brought out of her ruminations by Mr Aneath’s hand gently squeezing her own. Her eyes fixed on his hand, so much larger than hers, and so strong for someone his age. Well, maybe she was being uncharitable with that assessment considering many youths started their martial training early in life.
“It’s not like you have to make the decision right now,” he said, once again bringing her back to the moment. “You can take your time. Relax. Explore. Sample from the various restaurants here. I’m sure that you’ll find something,” he said quietly as he looked her in the eyes.
Isabel was, once again, taken by the strange young man. For as much training as she’d had over the years, and conditioning designed to help her ignore pesky things like feelings, she found that none of that mattered now. Now that her slavery seal was gone, she felt… light. Free. As though her lungs had only been at half-capacity this whole time and she could finally now take a full breath.
“You mentioned restaurants?” She asked, a small smile unconsciously touching her lips.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Mr Aneath said as he stood up, her hand still in his.
* * * * *
Nonna Serandour knew that she’d been a lucky woman. Not only had she been in the right place at the right time for many things that had occurred in her life, but she’d also managed to survive calamity. In the form of a Zhizun Zhanshi extermination squad.
Sure, some might say that she’d been terribly unlucky when it came to that. But the fact that she’d survived when so many other hadn’t… well, she knew that she was pretty lucky. Too many of her friends had lost just about everyone in their various lives. She’d been an orphan, picked up by one of the Aneath Clan at some point and brought back to Brightside… and left with a family there.
Yes, they’d been a kind family, but elderly. The couple had passed away, with no other family, not long after Nonna had entered the age of majority. Adulthood. They’d left her everything, including their small food cart that she’d helped with as she grew up. Heck, she’d even decided that she’d wanted to pursue the culinary arts due to how much her adoptive parents had loved food, as well as seeing how happy people had been to eat their food.
Now, she’d never gotten around to opening her own restaurant, the food cart being almost too much for her to handle on her own. But the thought had always been there, nestled in the back of her mind. But after the attack, she’d honestly wondered if her dream would ever come true, not to mention if she’d ever get another food cart to work.
But then she’d survived, as well as hundreds of others. Not too many of the survivors knew how to prepare and make food for large numbers of people. And they had needed the food. Too many people had been in shock after the attack, not able to even take care of themselves, let alone their surviving families.
So, Nonna had stepped up when the young Miss had called. She’d gotten back to cooking, preparing the food with as much care and dedication as she could. Good food was a balm to the soul, and she had fully intended on healing as many people as possible.
She’d then been pleased by how many people had stepped forward. Yes, there had only been about a dozen or so of them, but there had been a couple of people from the Clan Home that had stepped up to help. Bless them for their efforts, but she’d needed to help them along. At least they’d been willing, and able, to help.
Now? Almost two years had passed since then. A good deal of the survivors had chosen to settle in New Brightside. But enough had chosen to stay in the safe haven that the young master had brought them to. Not that she could blame them, as she was also counted amongst those who’d chosen to stay behind. There were enough people in New Brightside to take care of the food situation there.
But here, though, too many people still carried the emotional and psychological wounds from the attack. So, Nonna had chosen to stay behind in an effort to help heal them through the power of good food. And ice cream was indeed a powerful tool to help lift the spirits of those who consumed it.
It had only taken a few months to transition back to her, relatively, new dish. That she’d won the right to be the exclusive producer and vendor of ice cream in Brightside before the attack had made her a fortune. She’d even had magical tools to help her keep her product frozen.
And now she once again had those tools that allowed her to ply her trade. She couldn’t express just how thrilled and grateful she was to the young master for everything that he’d done for them, not to mention Miss Avi. Between the two of them, they’d saved both Brightside and whoever had remained from the Clan.
So, for the past year and a half, she’d been working hard to produce the best ice creams that she could. Even going so far as to experiment with new flavours that she thought people would enjoy. Some had been irrefutable failures, while others had been great successes.
Even when Miss Avi had started showing around the prisoners of the attack, the perpetrators, she’d taken a sort of grim pleasure in seeing how much they enjoyed her ice creams. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to forgive the people behind the destruction of her home, and the deaths of countless others. But even then, she took pride in the fact that they enjoyed her food.
Nonna also like Miss Avi, so there was that to consider. Miss Avi was a local hero, one that she’d been very pleased to see spending more time with the young master. Having grown up in Brightside, knowing that the young master would have to marry at some point, and that the person he would marry would have a prominent position in the Clan…. Where was she going with that?
Nonna shook her head. The matriarchal Clan she’d grown up under had been a good one. She really didn’t remember her life before Brightside, except for being alone and hungry most of the time. So, she really hoped that the young master would be able to take the Clan and New Brightside to a brighter future. Especially with Miss Avi. She was a good girl, that one.
Then Nonna brightened as she spied the young master enter the “food court”, as he liked to call it. He was getting tall, taller than she thought he should be for his age, but apparently the body tempering technique that he was using had caused him to mature much faster than a nine-year-old should have. But, he was a handsome lad, one she could have seen herself chasing after in her youth.
Well, not that she was old, per se. She was only in her thirties, after all.
Then she noticed the dark elf following along beside him, but also slightly back. Then she noticed him holding her hand, almost like they were on a date. Her eyes narrowed, taking in everything in a moment.
The dark elf’s somewhat shy posture, her youthful appearance, as well as how stunning she was with her obsidian skin and silvery-white hair and large purple eyes. Sure, she was wearing clothing similar to what the Trio had been wearing when she’d first laid eyes upon them almost a year ago…. But.
“Hello, young master!” She called out to him when they got close enough.
“Ah, hello,” he replied with a gentle smile as he looked over to her.
“What can I get you today?” She asked, smiling for all she was worth. For if the young master was taking another young woman around, what did that mean for Miss Avi?