The night was still young, and the crowd was fresh into the evening's activities. This intersection of three large roads in the southern part of the Asa Imperial capital was the site of a popular and famous soju stand. Small bulbs set a foot apart floated above them, emitting an array of different colors. Each type of fairy gave off a different glow; earth shone deep oranges and yellow, fire a brilliant red, wind and waters brilliant blues and turquoise. The whole rainbow was on display, giving a fun and festive vibe despite the small creatures trapped in their glass prisons, weeping at their fate. Boisterous laughter, idle chatter and attention seeking brags could be heard spilling out from the crowd. A number of makeshift tables, little more than crates or barrels, had been pushed out into the streets with the dying down of daily road traffic. Empty mugs, glasses and bottles littered the tables, the odd plate having held roasted green peas or squid tempura mixed into the mess.
Many were too drunk to notice the giant of a figure wandering up from the gloom, slowly making his way through the crowd with no attempt to sidestep the merry-makers. He towered above all in attendance, nearly having to duck to avoid hitting his head on the lights above. Despite his size, he made no noise, many of the guests letting out small yelps of surprise as he passed by without warning. His stride was long and determined, set on bringing him to the serving window of the Night Fairy. A random thuggish brute of a man backstepped his dancing friend, directly into the path of the Giant. As the thug bumped into him, the Giant gave an annoyed grunt, and half pushed, half punched the man away from him, sending the other flying headfirst into the onlooking crowd. But not a soul made to intervene, or to call out in anger. They all looked down at the ground, going quiet until he had passed.
They knew better than to get involved with him. Those that were too new to the establishment to know the Giant simply fell in line as they felt the fearful atmosphere. It was only after he had walked several paces further from each group that they returned to their conversations, albeit less jovially. An old timer, a patron of many a decade, was too busy watching his freshly poured cup, fearful of spilling the overflowing content, and found himself directly in front of the Giant. He looked up, thick eyebrows raised, and blinked several times rapidly.
“M’bad boss. Did’n think ya was comin round a’gun fer I died,” he gruffly stated, a small smile spreading on his face.
“Mmmmm…” the Giant grumbled, looking down at the white haired man. He couldn’t remember the man's name, he rarely remembered human names, but he recognized his aura as a man that had been around for many years, and had perhaps helped the owner on occasion. He huffed again, and rested his massive hand on the shoulder of the little figure.
A small gift for a man with no fear the Giant thought, gently flooding the old man's body with energy. It wasn’t enough to extend his life, or make him a fit young fighter. But it would ease many of his aches and pains for a few months at least. The Giant could never explain why he did or did not like any of these feeble creatures, but at times there were ones that he saw in a sympathetic light.
The old man let out a soft sigh, and stood a little straighter, perhaps more so than he had in many years. He smiled up at the Giant, a new light in his eyes, and stepped out of the way.
“Have a goo’un boss,” he said. The weariness in his voice was still evident, but he sounded grateful, even if he was unsure why he felt better. The Giant continued the last stretch to the window, where he set his hand on the sill, perhaps a bit too heavily for it let out a loud thump, followed by the sound of the metal holding it in place straining under his weight.
“Yes, yes, one second please!” came a bright, cheerful female voice from the interior.
Haven’t heard that one before the Giant thought to himself. A few moments later he could hear footsteps heading to the window and the wooden shutters were lifted.
“Thank you for waiting, how may I help...you…” her voice trailed off as the Giant lowered his head into view from the top of the half oval window. The young girl couldn’t be more than thirteen or perhaps fourteen years old. Old enough to be married off, but too young to be an adult. Overall, she was rather cute, a short bob cut with side swept bangs revealing brilliant green eyes, button nose and thick lips. The traditional serving gown was a bright baby blue, and the apron she wore was a light pink.
The Giant could pick out her good looks despite the fear that mired them. She had quickly gone pale and her eyes were wide as she looked up at him through the window. She was visibly shaken, and the Giant could hear her heartbeat double it’s tempo even as he made to calm her down. But there would be no need for him to do so.
“Myyy, my. Look what stumbled upon my humble little shop,” the voice came from behind the young girl that stood at the window. The voice alone was seductive, perhaps even provocative, but it had nothing on the woman that produced it. Her jet black hair sat done up in a beautiful display on her head, four kanzashi hairpins protruding from the sides, each with a small string of precious stones from their tips. The hair spilled out of the back and continued on, nearly touching her waist. Her deep, purple eyes sparkled coyly, her long lashes giving them a suggestive look. A thin stripe of red adorned the middle of her bottom lip, further exacerbating the tiny appearance of her already small mouth. Her overall face was both small and thin, and her chin seemed to come to an almost too perfect point. Her traditional kimono rested on her arms, exposing her neck, shoulders, and the top of her exceptionally voluptuous bosom to the world.
The kimono itself was an awe inspiring affair. A rich, royal purple with an extravagantly dyed goshodoki motif. The woman had matched this with a deep red obi, adorned with ornate geometric shapes of bright orange and white. Had it been anyone but her, they would have surely been arrested for wearing such colors outside the royal palace. Her age was not easy to pin down; she could have easily been in her late twenties to mid thirties, which only served to add another layer of mystical allure to her. Despite all of this, the Giant had never once found the woman attractive.
“The usual, I take it?” she inquired, holding her kiseru to her lips and inhaling. Even the way she carried her arms was alluring, her left laying across her body, holding her chest up, the hand coming to rest inside her right elbow. Her right hand held the pipe aloft, the tube laying down the center of her palm, the bowl extending out along her pointer finger. The Giant, unphased by the air she gave off, simply nodded. The coy smile that played at her lips as she gave a single huffing chuckle would undoubtedly have pierced the heart of any mortal man.
“Don’t worry about this one Aoi, he’s a real conversationalist if you look past his appearance,” she winked at the young girl before turning and setting her pipe down across the top of her smoking tray.
“O-of course Mistress,” Aoi responded, placing her hand on her chest and taking a quick breath. The Mistress pulled out a short, wide glass and filled it about a sixth of the way with water. She then whispered something as she reached above herself for a large, dark bottle. The water in the glass froze from the center out in a flash. As she brought the bottle down to counter level she huffed disappointedly at the ice.
“Oh, I never get it off center enough to look pretty,” she muttered, uncorking the bottle and pouring a small amount of the clear liquid into the glass. Handing the bottle to Aoi, she took a sip, her eyes closing appreciatively. Aoi took the large bottle in both hands and looked at her Mistress quizzically. For her part, the Mistress raised an eyebrow before motioning at the window.
Aoi hefted the heavy bottle onto the windows counter and slid it forward. The Giant placed a single Asa Imperial gold coin on the table and wrapped his hand around his newly acquired drink. The bottle, that had been so massive in the teens hands, appeared no more than a toy in the grip of this hulking man. He stood straight, and walked right out of view, past the door that led to the rarely opened sitting room on the other side of the interior bar.
“Whew,” Aoi sighed in relief, only just becoming aware how on edge she had been at the gaze of such a huge creature.
“No need to fear him my dear, he would never harm a beautiful young woman,” the Mistress smiled at Aoi, picking up her kiseru and taking another long draw.
“Who is he?” Aoi asked as casually as she could. The Mistress rarely shared information about her clients, which left Aoi’s quizzical nature in a constant state of unrest. If she was too obvious in her curiosity, the Mistress would simply tease her. If she wasn’t interested enough she would get nothing more than a “no one of concern”. This man was unlike any of the other customers Aoi had met in the few months she had been working at the Night Fairy. Despite the fear he had first caused her, the curiosity far outstripped anything before it. The Mistress, however, was not giving up anything tonight.
“Just…an old acquaintance.”
Just beyond the edge of the light surrounding the Night Fairy, a small alley cut off the main road, weaving between two story buildings on either side. The Giant had come to rest against the stone wall that lined the main road next to this alley. He crossed his arms and hunkered his head down into the high collar of his traveling coat. He took swigs intermittently as he waited, on occasion scratching at his chin. After a few minutes a short figure in a loose cloak with a deep cowl stepped up next to the giant, as if the shadows of the alley themselves had coalesced into the new arrival.
They flipped their middle and forefinger up out of the cloak, a small piece of paper between them. The two sat there, one with his bottle, the other with their paper, for a minute more before the Giant grunted. He lifted his weight off the wall, extending his free hand forward, a small, crystalline stone between his thumb and forefinger. The figure's head twitched back, as if looking at the Giant momentarily, and snatched the crystal faster than the human eye could track. Simply moving his hand over a few inches, the Giant grabbed the paper.
As soon as the paper was in his grasp, the shadow seemed to evaporate, melding back with the shadow. The Giant tracked their position for several seconds before unfolding the laughably small scrap of paper in his hand. He looked it over multiple times before snapping his fist closed around it. His fist shook as he stood there, smoke eventually rising out of his hand as he incinerated the message. He let his breath out in the slow, deliberate pace of one calming themself. He then made his way back to the Night Fairy, and knocked on the door to the sitting area.
Aoi, who had been directed by her Mistress to sweep around the tables, looked up at the door and then at the Mistress. The woman nodded once, and Aoi was shocked to find a grave look on the Mistress’s face. As she pulled the door open, Aoi greeted the Giant.
“Welcome in sir.”
The Giant was hunched nearly double to fit through the low door. Once inside, he removed his cloak, placed it on a rack and made towards the Mistress. She gave a half smile and pushed a large wooden box of potatoes out past the bar with her foot. Aoi frowned. How had her Mistress managed to push such a heavy box with one foot in single, large, sweeping motion? But there was no time to think on it, she opened her ears as the Mistress spoke quietly.
“Have you been well?” she asked, resting her lower back against the counter behind the bar, glass and kiseru still in hand. The Giant sat gingerly on the crate and let out a small sigh, likely because he had to keep his head cocked to the side to avoid the ceiling while standing. He took a swig from the bottle, sighed again, then motioned towards the Mistress. She examined her glass, shrugged and held her arm out. He poured out some of the clear liquid, then gently clinked her and his drink together.
“I’m...good,” he responded slowly, his voice deep and gentle. Aoi felt a wave of calm, a warm weariness, wash over her. His voice reminded her of her father all those years ago. She smiled, almost drunkenly, and looked at his figure again. His skin was an almost pasty white, like he hadn’t seen the sun much, if at all, in the last year. He was completely bald, with a thick beard covering his face. He had deep wrinkles around his sparkling gray eyes, and his brows were on the thicker side. He even looked like a father, albeit two or three times the size of a normal one.
“Just good? Surely you can give a beauty such as myself more than that?” the Mistress responded, a small amount of her usual enchanting speech imbuing her words. Aoi was snapped out of the trance the Giants words had put her in. She grabbed the side of her head and closed her eyes. It was like she had been ripped out of a dream suddenly, everything coming back into sharp detail.
“Please try not to put my employees to sleep, hmm?”
“Mmm...apologies,” the Giant responded after a few seconds of thought. The wave of calm washed over Aoi again, but this time the warmth did not follow. It was more of a security this time, like the feeling of knowing a parent was there to protect you. The Mistress smiled at him, a smile most would have killed to receive from such a woman. It was a happy, warm, loving and melancholic smile. One that spoke of a history. Of a desire to see someone happy, but knowing you can’t help to create it for them. She looked down, sadness playing momentarily in her eyes. When she looked up, it was gone.
“Surely you’re not here to just chat though. You never were one to take me up on that offer. And for you to come inside...”
“I had heard...stirrings,” the Giant responded, bypassing any comment. He took another swig of the drink. He looked at the bottle for a long moment. When he finally looked up at her standing to his left, his face appeared heavy; the lines more pronounced.
“The catastrophe...is…awake…” he finally managed. He looked back at the bottle and lifted it again, as the Mistress blinked rapidly in stunned surprise. Her face flashed with anger. Not the anger Aoi had seen directed at the odd customer that became too intoxicated and invited unwelcome hostilities. This was true anger. And fear. She quickly downed the rest of her drink, slammed the glass on the counter, and stomped away. Incoherent mutterings drifted back as she disappeared into the rear of the building.
The Giant finished the bottle, and twisted around to set it amongst the other empties in a crate behind him. He clearly knew the layout of this place if he hadn’t had to look or ask where to put it. He sighed deeply, slouching to rest his elbows on his knees. He shook his head slowly. Clearly what he had just said was taking its toll on him as well.
As Aoi was watching quietly from the sideline, Fuyuko wandered up to him slowly. When had she gotten there? Her thick black hair, straighter than an arrow, hung over her eyes in straight cut bangs. Her deep blue Kimono was gathered up in her hands as she stepped up to him, eyes downcast. She made a few indistinct noises, and the Giant turned his gaze upon her. He smiled gently at her, not unlike the one the Mistress had directed at him just minutes before.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Hello Fuyu...I would...appreciate that,” he said, his voice even more kind and gentle than before. She looked up at him, gray eyes welling with tears, and nodded excitedly. She quickly shuffled into the back room, and returned a moment later carrying another bottle. As she handed it over, the Giant laid his hand on her head. Fuyuko came to life, giggling quietly under the larger man's attention, and grabbing the cloth of his shirt in one hand. Her smile was almost infectious; Aoi couldn’t help but wonder at their relationship.
“Found it!” the Mistress exclaimed from the back. Fuyuko jumped, and looked down again. She took the coin the Giant offered and quickly returned behind the bar. Regardless of how kindly one might treat Fuyuko, she always came off as scared of everyone. The Mistress returned to the front with two scrolls while Aoi was gazing questioningly at the other youth. One of these was large enough to require both arms to support.
“Are...you sure?” the Giant asked, eyeing the scrolls.
“Yes, now take them. This is not a matter we can afford to play slowly, as you of all people would, or should, know,” she said gruffly. He simply nodded. Taking both scrolls in one hand and, setting his bottle on the ground, undid the latch over a tube strapped to the back of his waist. He slid the scrolls inside.
“And...if these...aren’t…”
“Then the last of the old guard will be no more.”
The laboratory hummed, fizzled and popped endlessly. Every form of magical, alchemic and botanical study was conducted here, and half of the experiments seemed to have a life of their own. Some, in fact, did. Faint blue light infused the whole of the workshop with an unearthly glow, and shadows distorted gruesomely as bioluminescent plants flared to life, before going dark.
A thin figure sat hunched at a large desk strewn with papers, a scholarly white and blue trimmed robe hanging loosely from his shoulder. His snow white hair stuck out at odd angles from under the beret embroidered with his country's insignia; a book before a large oak tree. He scratched at his head as he scribbled on one of the papers. As he worked into the night, a large black bird flew through a window and landed on one of the worktops behind him.
“Kaaww you have mail! Kaaww!” the sounds formed from its open mouth, it’s beak unmoving despite the distinct words it spoke.
“Yes, sure, sure, yes. Leave it there,” the white haired man spoke without looking up from his work. The bird cocked it’s head, bringing the two red eyes on one side of it’s head to rest on the man.
“Kaaww you have mail! Kaaww!” it crowed again. The man sighed, and put his free hand over his ear.
“Just leave it there, it's fine.”
“KAAWW YOU HAVE MAIL! KAAAWWW!” the messenger screeched this time, the sound reverberating around the high ceilinged room.
“GAH! Alright, alright! No need to get your feathers in a twi...st,” the man suddenly became alert as he saw his guest. This was not the usual messenger bird. These large, four eyed ravens were reserved for only the most important or urgent of messages. He stepped forward and pulled a small, tightly wound piece of paper from the tube on the its leg. Unrolling it, he read the contents.
The youngest moves.
The message was short. It required no detail. Quickly turning around he picked up his quill, scribbled a short response on the other side, and jammed it back into the tube. He lifted his arm and the bird jumped up, head jerking from side to side. Weaving through the assortment of gadgets and plants, the man approached the large window at the back of the room.
“Return,” he muttered close to the bird’s ear. It cocked its head one last time, eyes flashing, and set off into the night. He watched after it for several minutes, long after it had disappeared into the gloom. He was deep in thought; this situation required the utmost care. He could not approach the coming events without caution.
Turning from the window, he wound his way past all manner of tests and experiments; past tomes of and scrolls stiff with age; past clay pots and tablets at differing stages of rebuild; past all the various records he wished to keep safe from the destruction of time, only finally coming to a stop before a desk on a dias near the back, piled so high with paperwork and books its occupant could not be seen. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses giving a slight rattling as they were moved aside.
“Hubert!” he called. A slight rustling could be heard from beyond the wall of paper. “Hubert, we have important matters to discuss.” Whoever was on the other side gave a deep, regretful sigh.
“I would ave’ t’ought that coming ‘ere would be a betta option than teh slavery you found me in,” a heavy, baritone voice reached out in reply. “Little did I know, you are teh inspiration behind every slave drivers actions.”
The man that scooted his chair out from behind the desk was taller than average, well muscled, and had the complexion of the dark chocolate his continent was known for. His head was cleanly shaved, and his well trimmed goatee gave him a sharp and well mannered appearance. His eyes were coal black and sparkled with a knowing intelligence. The white scar that wrapped from behind his left ear to his right collar bone was the only sign he had once been a proud warrior.
“I still ave not finished teh work given me day before las. What manna of fuckery ave’ you brought me today?” Hubert questioned, eyes narrowing angrily.
“Yes yes, I’m such a horrible boss, having you work same as the others. How many times will you give me the same speech before you are satisfied?”
“I will be satisfied when you ave’ realized that you ova work me far more than teh othas, old man.” Hubert crossed his arms. “What is eet ya want, ya hack schola?”
The Scholar struggled to keep the slight smile he was feeling from showing. There had never been a man he more trusted and relied upon than this man. Despite his lowly stature as a slave when they met, the Scholar had recognized the man's intelligence at a glance and had known immediately he wanted him amongst the ranks of his Librarians. He had made the right decision when he bought the man's freedom. Now they were inseparable, and the Scholar wouldn’t trade all the knowledge in the world for his best mate.
But now was not the time for joking. He had to catch Hubert up on the situation, and make arrangements for whatever was to unfold. They could discuss his overworked situation at a later date.
“We are going into a state of emergency. Summon the council, I don’t care what they are doing, their presence is needed in the Hall of the Enlightened at once,” the Scholar responded, pushing the urgent nature of the situation into his voice. Hubert gazed at him for a moment, his frown changing from playful anger to worry. Nodding, he grabbed a set of keys from his desk, and made his way down from the platform.
“I take it now is teh time to trust your ancient nature? Save teh questions for later?”
“I would ask you to trust that we do not have time for idle chit chat. Rouse the seekers, we need them to set out as quickly as they can.” Hubert raised a brow at that. It was unusual to see the normally lazy and calm natured Scholar acting so gravely.
“What are we dealing with?” the darker man asked.
“A long forgotten evil has awoken.”
Massive oil paintings of posh looking aristocrats hung from the walls of the castle; flickering torch light and flashing lightning lent an almost demented life to their eyes as they scanned the ground before them. Suits of armor stood silently along the corridors, covered in layers of dust with cobwebs linking them to the walls. Fine rugs of silk, embroidered with precious metals, padded the floors, and an assortment of display tables loaded with a wild assortment of odds and ends interspersed the military arms on display. The high vaulted ceilings gave an overwhelming, yet oppressive, feel to the narrow corridors, which felt claustrophobic in the sections that lacked any of the highly decorated stained glass windows you would find in others. In all, the whole of the once proud military stronghold would have felt dead, if not for the strange giggling and moaning that echoed quietly through its halls.
On the top floor, situated in the back of the keep, two massive mahogany doors guarded against unwelcome intruders. Enormous metal hinges, nearly as large as a man, held the doors up. The ornately decorated brass handles looked comically small on the massive slabs of wood they were meant to open. Polished to a golden sheen, and lacking the dust that covered the rest of the internals, they were the first sign of life inside the castle. On the other side, the sounds of women in pleasure became more pronounced.
It was for this reason, because of these noises, that the thin, unhealthy man stood hesitantly. His skin was pale, nearly matching the color of a full moon, and seemed to have been pulled taut against his skull after first sagging down his face. His bloodshot eyes were ready to pop from their sockets; his thin greasy hair was slicked back along his scalp; his butler's attire was disheveled, if not clean and of fine making. Fidgeting with his bony fingers in front of his chest, he took several breaths to ready himself. The master hated interruptions during his meal.
“M-my…my lord,” he called out in a high, reedy voice as he pushed a door open and stepped inside. The large room was cast in deep shadows, the walls lighting only briefly as another bolt of lighting struck the surrounding mountains. The massive, circular stained glass window opposite the doors depicted a scene from the creation myth of the land in which the castle was situated. The only furniture was a truly massive canopy bed, thin burgundy curtains left tied to their posts. On the bed lay three beautiful young women, stark naked and panting heavily. One sat upright, holding the sheets to her chest, hiding her modesty. Their giggling had ceased and they looked both fearfully, and longingly, at the sickly man as he entered.
No, not at him.
“May I…help you, Silvester?” the cold, flat voice came from behind. Silvester swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on his forehead. His eyes bulged, straining against their bindings as his body quivered. He felt his heart skip a beat as the sudden cold threatened to suffocate him. The power in that voice, the pure, unfiltered hate that it carried, threatened to snuff out his mind as easily as a man swatting a gnat.
“I…sorry…my lord…you w-would, h-have have…he’s gone…please!” Silvester begged, unable to force his message out under the crushing presence of the man behind him. It took all of his will just to stay upright. The silence was maddening, slowly building the fear in the thin man's mind. He knew he was to never come in here at this time of day. But he had been instructed to inform his master in the case of a specific few emergencies, regardless of the situation.
“Speak up, Silvester. Your interruption has me impatient.”
“My, my lord. I…I am truly sorry, I am here at your own directive,” Silvester announced, dredging up every last ounce of mental fortitude he had left. He waited a moment for a response before continuing. “The blasphemous child has gone missing my lord.”
Silence, pure devastating silence, permeated the air. Anger, unfiltered rage and hate filtered off the figure behind Silvester. And a bloodlust, so pronounced it could surely be felt for miles. The frail man begged whatever gods might be watching to protect him. He had only done his job. Why should he be the one to suffer?
“Repeat that,” the icy voice demanded.
“My lord…the blasphemous child…”
“How?”
“I…I do not know, my lord. The report stated he simply…vanished,” Silvester was now shaking uncontrollably. He no longer cared what the message meant, he wanted only to crawl under a rock and hide. Hide from the monster that loomed behind him.
“You rang, my lord?” the calm, gruff, deep voice split the air, shattering the tension that had been building until now. Silvester thanked the heavens, the hells, all the magical beings or whoever it was that might have just saved his life. But he would not turn around. He would try to shrink down, and stay out of sight until he was dismissed.
“Tell him,” the master of the house again demanded.
“Master Benedict, I received an urgent notice from our watchers. The…” Silvester whispered, only to be cut off by his lord.
“That walking apocalypse dropped off the face of the world, apparently with no warning,” the master's tone was completely different when speaking with Benedict. More akin to comrades, despite their difference in stature.
“I see…if there was nothing else in the message, you may go Silvester,” Benedict said, his voice still calm and collected despite the anger evident in their lords.
“Thank you sir. My lord,” Silvester quickly turned and bowed, keeping his eyes averted. He shuffled out, bent double, turning slowly so his head was always facing his superiors. He closed the door behind him, releasing the breath he had been holding. If not for the magic that bound him to the fort, he would run. Far from the castle, far from his lord, far from the lands that his kind inhabited. This was his first time meeting the master up close, and he hoped it was his last.
“It is most unfor…I WILL NOT ALLOW HIM TO LIVE!...if they go at each other…” Silvester could hear only a few bits of the conversation as he quickly walked down the hall. He was so out of sorts, he did not notice the large, muscled man that appeared before him.
“What is going on servant?” The man had silver hair that stood on end in strange clumps. His teeth were noticeably sharp, and his pale blue, wolf like eyes scanned him like a predator sizing up its prey. He wore a long, thick, black cloth jacket that cut off above his elbows. Fur lined the top edge, and the garment was open revealing a bare chest. Simple gray pants and dark, clean traveling boots completed his attire. The leader of those mongrels the master kept around.
“Nothing the likes of you has any right to know!” Silvester snapped back, incensed that this mangy mutt had chosen to ignore his name. He hated their kind. All the others hated his kind. They, too, would be outraged by the lack of etiquette on display. Didn’t this bastard know he was a lesser species? “If you feel so inclined, you can try asking them yourself.”
“Perhaps I will,” the silver man cooly responded, eyeing the shriveled man sharply. He gave a small snarl and walked past, heading for the massive doors. Silvester clicked his tongue in disgust, and continued walking down the hall to any place that put him as far from his lord as possible.
“What happened?” the doors boomed open, and in walked Darick, silver hair glowing as the light from the hall illuminated him from behind. Benedict sighed inwardly. A poorer time he could not have chosen.
“Darick, please. Our lord and I were discussing matters of the utmost importance. Could you come back another time, or wait for me to finish here? I will hear your gripes then,” the head butler tried to urge the other man to leave. Keeping the lord’s rage in check was hard enough already, without this wild man adding fuel to the flames.
“No…no this is perfect,” Aakesh interrupted. Benedict shifted his attention back to his master. To any mortal, he was stunning. Long, rich and supple hair kept tied behind his back; broad shoulders, with well defined muscles; deep, wine red eyes; a handsome, rugged face. The embodiment of a gorgeous man. His appearance was not too hard, or sharp. But neither was it soft. His stance spoke of confidence, power and authority. It was exactly how he caught his toys so unaware.
“You two shall go,” Aakesh continued, “You will have access to all the supplies you need. Take no more than four others, they may be whomever you choose. Stay out of sight. Do not do anything…unsavory. If we are lucky, this problem will take care of itself.”
Darick’s lip pulled up in disgust as he eyed his unwanted master angrily. He would have loved to kill the man, if only the curse wasn’t in place. He clenched his fists, his pointed nails biting into his palms.
“As you wish, my lord,” he spat at Aakesh.
“I cannot afford to lose you Darick, I will not allow failure,” he warned, the unspoken threat clear as day to the three men. Darick spun on his heel and stomped out of the room, his rage barely contained. Benedict closed his eyes and sighed again. He would have to calm the other man down before preparations could be made.
“Anything else, my lord?”
“No, just take care of it. You will have no limits, you have free reign should the need arise,” the master of the castle spoke, looking his right hand man in the eye. He would normally never allow such a thing; far too often it invited unwanted attention. But he would not risk losing his most important pawn.
“As you wish, my lord,” Benedict placed his arm over his chest and bowed deeply. His resolve set, he made his way from the room.
Aakesh stood staring at the door for several minutes, his anger slowly building into a fury. How had this happened? Were those mutts completely inept? Was there something larger at play? Had his enemies found a way to control that monstrosity? Or had it finally used up its life? He worked his jaw as his gut twisted in a painful knot.
“DAMN!” he bellowed, his anger getting the better of him. He turned and glided across the floor to the bed, the long robe he had been wearing dissipating as he set upon the three human girls he had collected.
Their moans and screams could be heard deep into the night, before all going deathly silent.