Elinor returned to her room and throne before moving to the terrace with Violet and Edmon on either side of her. She stared down across a gorgeous nighttime image of the Nalvean Capital City. It certainly was a different experience than her own city fortress, and having the ability to penetrate the night as if it were day aided in its beauty.
Aileen had cleaned up the meal, setting everything in the corner of the room and separating the poisoned soup to its own area. She would send everything but the soup back to the kitchens to further fluster the people that knew of the assassination attempt.
At the moment, the girl was sitting on the edge of the rail guard, staring at the city below after getting permission. She was cute, talking to Emelina through their private connection about all the strange things that caught her attention.
Her Head Maid stood stalwart by Princess Tal’tamine’s side; although her Sleeping Nightshade Blade was supposed to keep the target comatose for up to five hours, if given a full dose, there was the possibility it broke within that time depending on the creature. It was basically RNG.
Castella was coming to terms that her famed High Ruler was a heretic … at least according to her inner ethical values as a Nalvean female. It was a difficult realization with the clash of her morals between revering her leader and the culture she’d been raised under.
The reverence in her voice when speaking about Nukulara had faded significantly as the night went on. It was truly impressive to Elinor; Nalvean females had such vitriol for the Golariex mingling with their species that it had poisoned their minds to the very core. There was no forgiveness for a male that engaged in such heterodoxy.
High Ruler Nukulara had a devilish pleasure that would give her a decisive advantage … if he didn’t consider the threat worth labeling her as an enemy of the nation before establishing herself well enough to use the threat. In any case, the bullets in her arsenal were increasing.
On the other hand, Sari’aél had explored the former Royal Chambers thoroughly and silently. She’d chosen to observe rather than speak about her past, culture, or interests after their first discussion.
Elinor tried zeroing in on the Seraph’s facial expressions and gestures, even the movement of her wings, to gain an insight into the ethereal woman’s mind. Having Herald of the Empress active the entire time was causing a constant drain on her Death Pool, but her Religious System just barely outstripped the cost with it always giving her sporadic bursts of energy.
Her Death Pool had increased to 3463 (previously 3324) and was now receiving at least 166DE on average per hour from her Religious System after she felt the Yaltha’ma and many Ri’bot from the Prume Clan believe in her. That gave her a staggering 4,980DE on average through a day, but given that her cap couldn’t hold that much, it would just be wasted if not used. Plus, the Religious System was continuing to level and expand with the Clavex that joined her ranks, which should help mitigate any sharp decline that might happen throughout the day.
After doing some of the calculations in her head, she figured it was manageable to keep her butterflies out, but it was closer than she’d like. The daily cost at 15 A.M. would be in the double-digits … she needed to be careful how she spent her Death Energy.
At its current level, Herald of the Empress lasted 50 minutes before requiring 5DE per butterfly currently out. The Seraph required 10, one for each Grade, meaning a loss of 50DE every 50 minutes and a total loss of 1,750DE throughout the day. It would have been unsustainable without the many followers she was picking up.
Sari’aél currently floated above her, glowing solid yellow irises sweeping various areas of the city; honestly, Elinor had no clue what she could sense or identify from this distance, and few instances in the past few hours had changed the Seraph’s expression. Her staple appearance was that of serene grace with the faintest hint of a smile on her full pink lips.
What had Elinor learned about the angelic figure? She had the shape of … well, an angel, the poker face of a professional con-artist, the grace of a swan, the curiosity of a child, did not fear death and had the confidence of a goddess.
There was one thing that seemed to really resonate with Sari’aél, though … the aspect of being weak. The attempts other creatures made, so infinitely weaker than her, at struggling to survive and build something to display their efforts. She’d never really explored different cultures, and what she was seeing interested her more than returning to the void of wherever she’d come from.
Elinor examined the city while pondering Sari’aél’s short responses to her questions and requests. According to what she’d said, the only thing she lacked was the feeling of being weak … powerless. Even the fact she died or failed to close what she called the World Gate hadn’t particularly frightened her; it only made her momentarily melancholy. She knew her people survived … it was a certainty to her.
It was a strange way of thinking and behavior that Elinor had a hard time puzzling out, yet could the very fact the angel could look into her own heart and mind be affecting her understanding, as well? It must be. Sari’aél was only weak for one moment in her entire existence, which allowed the Searing Concord to kill her, and that didn’t horrify her … it fascinated her.
The reactive nature of the Seraph to Elinor’s responses was opening what appeared to be a curiosity in Sari’aél’s mind. All she could do was continue to struggle to achieve her goals and see if that would be enough to draw in the angel.
So, Elinor went about her business, pondering what was ahead while showing Sari’aél how she viewed the world.
The Nalvean’s unique cross between Egyptian and Chinese architecture gave the whole capital a rather fantasy element that Elinor enjoyed. Her gaze swept between the seemingly endless ruby-colored lakes with several dozen ships still visible on the waters.
A warm breeze flowed up from the south, pulling Elinor’s tied-back hair to the left; she’d returned to the tiara-like shape that allowed her white locks to be braided. The citizens weren’t visible from so high up in the air, but the districts were becoming more noticeable with her study.
The Ri’bot district across the river to Elinor’s left, north of the palace, was far smaller with its single to double-leveled structures and population. The toads made for an excellent 2nd-hand citizen, almost a serf population for the Nalveans, and they enjoyed the benefits of living in a civilized, developed country.
It was an interesting dichotomy. The Nalveans lived in luxury with their silks, gathering, trade companies, and other merchanting endeavors, while the majority of their workforce came from the Ri’bot’s hard labor. The toads did enjoy their own days off and free time, but how they lived was entirely different.
Still, the fact of the matter was that the Nalveans didn’t see the Ri’bot as equals; there were benefits for them living within the established nation, yet the causal nature of the Ri’bot’s execution was handled during the Royal Council discussion made it clear how the Nalveans viewed the toads.
Crimes had been committed in the past between Ri’bot, and they dealt with it, but apparently, this was the first time the Nalveans ever took a judgment matter up themselves since this was the first time a crime was committed against a Nalvean … or perceived as Nalvean nobility with Yesenia’s connections in the Royal Court.
The news would help bring even more Ri’bot in the surrounding countryside to her banner, which Klaus had planned for and already had word spreading among the inner circles of the Clavex. They would then talk about it with Clanless or nearby Clans, and it would continue. One spark was all it would take for some to start an uprising and others to defect to her Empire. The seeds were being sown.
Four hours passed while staring down at the city and going over the plans ahead with Edmon and Klaus. Aileen gradually lost interest in the view and continued with her academic studies with Emelina inside, reading the Nalvean adventure series, further increasing her vocabulary and comprehension proficiency. It felt rewarding to Elinor, having a child to educate close by, and she was even somewhat a part of it as she so wanted. It helped to feel the bubbling emotions inside the young girl as she learned.
Camellia and her two companions had checked out the first three names on Klaus’s list, but they’d lacked the visible accomplishments within their living space and person to equal the magical technology attached to the princess’s spine.
The last two candidates were very far apart, and the nearest across a slightly hilly grassland; it often had armies patrolling its length for drills and personnel shifts between forts. It was the next option, but to get results soon, they’d need to travel during the day, which was fine for Imiunarus, and even Camellia could get away with it to a certain extent with her natural Thélméthra stealth abilities. Lecra’Moro, on the other hand, would have trouble during the light hours.
The Quen’Talrat Assassin’s abilities and gem-technology clothes were designed for the night; spotting a black mass the size of a giraffe running across the grasslands was bound to draw attention.
Imiunarus, her Nalvean Assassin connected to the Shadow Hand, said he would handle it, though, so Klaus put it in his hands. With the group’s speed and tireless nature as Undead, they should reach the location near the following dusk and return the next day to report their findings. Hopefully, they’d have the figure in hand.
Once the updates and strategizing were over, Elinor decided to test out the Nalvean baths. She wasn’t exactly sure if her Artificial Body actually could replicate sweat since she didn’t have blood, but there was saliva in her mouth. It was enough evidence to make her self-conscious the moment it crossed her mind. The thought of asking Edmon or any of her others she returned to unlife didn’t even flicker across her brain; a bath would solve it.
Emelina was thrilled by the prospect; she’d been using the bathwater from the tap with the cups and mixing her poison in it to provide a more straightforward method of administering a sleeping tonic to the princess.
Aileen followed Castella to prepare the tub; Violet would fashion a new outfit for her Empress while she was in the water.
When it was finished, Elinor noticed a strange herbal spice hung in the air when entering; apparently, several scented liquids were commonplace, but only the rarest and most expensive would be placed here. Edmon took up guard outside while Violet entered to begin her work, sealing the entrance with her web.
Sari’aél’s curiosity broke free upon watching her disrobe with Aileen’s help; she floated above the red pool of steaming water. “You use liquid to cleanse? This world’s creatures are quite … unique.”
A light chuckle escaped Elinor’s throat while she turned to view her naked body in the mirror; Aileen was unraveling her braid. “Liquids have always been used to clean where I am from. What is it the Children of the Sun use?”
“The purifying flames of the morning sun, of course,” she mused as if Elinor knew what that suggested, but given that her ability was translating correctly, the angel must have literally meant she cleaned herself by dipping into a sun.
“Huh … I cannot imagine your clothes surviving that,” she commented, shifting her gaze to stare at the angel’s curved figure.
“Hmm?” The Seraph shifted her radiant eyes to her breast. “Our attire is fashioned from Sunsilk and Radiant Gold … of course, it would handle bathing in the morning sun. If it did not, then it would incinerate upon the slightest release of our light.”
Elinor had the image of a literal sun the size of a pool descending from the skies, somehow not destroying everything around it as Sari’aél simply flew through it. “... I suppose it would be a swift bath.”
“It depends on what my aim was,” the angel replied, watching her wade into the stream. “... How peculiar. What does it feel like?”
A small, teasing smile brightened Elinor’s lips as she released a low puff of air; she didn’t feel pain, but that didn’t mean her weak Artificial Body couldn’t feel pleasure, which could actually be a weakness, she realized. “You could test it out yourself if you wish to join my side.”
“What a baiting answer,” Sari’aél whispered, yet there was the hint of a giggle underneath the serene tone.
The angel lowered herself into the pond, watching the flaming butterflies act as if the water weren’t even present. She hovered back through the unresponsive liquid as if she sat opposite Elinor, likely experiencing a part of it through the link they shared.
You really are smart and curious. What do you think? Elinor asked through the Nexus.
“... Mmh … much diminished by simply observing your reactions and internal response, yet still … unique. This is considered a pleasure?”
It can be. Did your people have pleasures?
“... Not in the same manner as you seem to imply. We don’t find enjoyment by the metrics you appear to experience. I would not do this often … although, if I were to regain a physical form, then I suppose I would not have the morning sun to bathe in, which might force this activity onto my daily routine.”
A new lifestyle.
“... It would be,” Sari’aél replied. “What would you do about the liquid that sticks to your skin and hair? Oddly, you remove your clothing but not your crown.”
That is the aspect of cleaning yourself, and if I removed my crown, I would not be able to communicate with you. Many of my abilities would cease to function. Elinor explained, rising to stand on one of the raised areas after ducking under the water to wet her hair.
Rising up, Elinor turned to smile at Aileen; the girl had undressed and was in the process of hopping over to her to help wash her body; the depth was quite a bit deeper since it was built for seven to eight-foot-tall salamander people with long tails. If the 12-year-old girl went to the middle, she’d vanish from sight; of course, so would she, which made Elinor chuckle.
It was a new experience having someone fuss over her in the bath, but something she had to get used to.
Sari’aél’s gaze watched the process intently, occasionally shifting her attention to Violet’s progress, fashioning a new set of garments for both Aileen and Elinor. After a short time, she hovered up a little, circling around the pair to study what she termed a strange ritual of passing a sponge across her skin.
Elinor realized a bit later that it would be much easier to dismiss her Artificial Body and reform it … in fact, she’d already done that recently when it died of poison. The incident hadn’t even connected to her thoughts of cleanliness. Although bathing was a pleasurable experience as much as eating, and it added something for her maids to aid her with. It also caught the Seraph’s attention.
She dispersed her tiara for a limited time, causing Herald of the Empress to reduce in range, trapping the angel to a much shorter distance, deactivating Minion Mastery and Prose of the Potentate across her entire Nexus until it was returned with her crown.
The eager girl’s soft fingers were gentle against her scalp as she applied the strange liquids Castella had recommended and washed her long white locks.
Elinor scooted to the edge of the smooth metallic spa, Aileen using the water-absorbent silk towel Violet had casually fashioned the moment Elinor decided to take a bath to dry her hair, and once it had been brushed out, she reformed the tiara.
She felt a little bad with how fractured her servants must have been across her Nexus, unable to communicate for a limited time.
Aileen spoke German, Elinor herself couldn’t understand any of her own creatures, and the noises they made were both terrifying and bizarre. Edmon, Emelina, and Klaus were the only people she could understand, and Emelina’s accent was difficult since her Spanish had a Mexican Chilango ring to it. The fast pace of the Head Maid’s phrases and emphasis on vowels, mixed with the echo-like Finish tone, was head-spinning.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
She was glad when Aileen brushed out her hair enough to allow her crown to return. Although, Sari’aél’s words were like a harmony of emotion filling Elinor’s breast and making everything else fade away whenever she spoke. She didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t have Prose of the Potentate II, and it was leveling at an accelerated pace after increasing its level to 5 and allowing its Grade to be increased to Versed, Rank 7. The exercise had reminded her how needed Monarch of Death III was.
The fact Prose of the Potentate was increasing in Grades faster than Monarch of Death was an interesting identification since it was used across her entire Nexus. Even if her crown was out all the time, it only registered as her use while everyone had access to the other.
Time swiftly passed, Violet crafting her a new, more regal green and black-designed outfit than her previous one. The frills, lace, buttons, and how it curved around her upper frame while puffing out around her legs was new to her collection. The boots matched the diamond patterns.
Aileen’s outfit had somehow turned out more cute yet trimmed down from her first dress to give the girl an easier time with her dashing movements. She was still a child at heart and had the energy of one in spades.
Sari’aél eyed the fashion with a serene poker face, but Elinor got the feeling she was judging it harshly by how long her gaze lingered on specific areas. Of course, she had no idea what type of fashion the Children of the Sun favored, but she had mentioned a dress on her reverse-bucket list.
Exiting the room, she spent a few more hours browsing the private library Nukulara had gathered for his Golariex Grand Duchess before heading out to meet Yesenia at Sari’aél’s statue, knowing the morning greeting would likely take place at the location.
The Royal Guards outside the room bowed as she left, Aileen staying to act as the doorkeeper and allow the Head Maid to give her full attention to the princess; a single hint of a scream or accusation could be the downfall of their entire plan, and Tal’tamine now knew she was on the hunt for whoever was mind-controlling her. Surely, she had instructions if that were the case, including suicide.
Castella guided their path to the elevators to exit the Royal Dignitary’s area of the palace.
Once reaching the ground level, her presence drew whispers and eyes; she ignored every gaze unless someone tried to talk to her. Of course, no one did.
There were several mentions of Castella’s beauty; a few passing elderly Nalveans having seen her in her youth, commenting on the drastic change. Of course, Castella’s insides flared with pride at the mutters. The silk Tal’tamine had forced her to wear when she’d guided her to the Royal Dignitary’s chambers was also of the highest quality and draped in a manner that marked her as a Royal Guard of a ruler.
The blues and reds wrapped a certain number of times around her chest, legs, and arms in a particular pattern were a fascinating thing to make a note of. Elinor couldn’t even guess at all the details, but the princess seemed to know her stuff because her presence was noticed in an instant, with Castella leading the charge.
Edmon’s intimidating presence followed, eyes locking on his dark black suit of armor.
It was impressive that so many Nalveans were out and about in the palace; it was 7 A.M., but considering the A.M. went up to 15 hours, it was still relatively early, and the sun was barely rising across the city.
She told Castella to point out any of the dignitaries that had been present during the meeting or anyone of significant importance, but no one along the halls appeared to meet that standard. Considering they were preparing for the 10 A.M. meeting to discuss her, it wasn’t surprising. They were likely still asleep or reviewing notes.
Since the bath, Sari’aél had returned to her silent observance, yet Elinor took notice of every area the Seraph floated, hands held behind her back in a graceful posture. Nalvean culture intrigued her in some unknowable way; between the text of their dreams written on the walls, architecture, fashion, and conversation, the early morning palace attendants and guards either looked at the circling green butterflies curiously or fearfully.
Arriving at the Art Museum, Elinor climbed the circular ramp. Is she there, Edmon?
“No.”
We’re first then. Elinor smiled.
Her smirk vanished once reaching the 4th floor. Sari’aél’s art piece was gone … only the pool of mist was left. That cunning snake… Elinor growled. How did she move it so swiftly? Surely it would have been noticed and would have needed specific stamps of approval.
The angel’s head shifted to the side with an amused smile while staring at where her body had once resided, silver locks bunching against her shoulder. “Fascinating, my physical form can change locations while you hold my spirit closeby. What would happen if you released me to return?”
Elinor’s emotions had moved beyond irritation and into the realm of mild anger. Sari’aél was the most critical priority, and Yesenia had made a move she hadn’t expected.
I don’t know, and I don’t wish to find out if I can help it.
Edmon was already communicating with Klaus and Castella to discover where it might have been relocated to; the Ambassador’s response made Elinor’s gut and jaw tighten.
“... Statue? Edmon, are you saying Sari’aél was located in an angel statue within the museum?”
“That is correct. You were aware of it?”
Klaus was silent, connecting a few dots while speaking to one of the Shadow Hand information distributors he had been staying with to quickly access specific intel.
Castella had no clue there were plans for it to be moved, but she was a lieutenant in charge of the northern branch of the palace, not the southern.
The Ambassador had a bitter tone when he reported. “The statue has been scheduled to return to Statesman Baltoma’s palace in the southwestern part of the nation … he put in the request a week ago, and it was approved by the High Ruler, seeing as it was his grandfather that brought it back from your fortress after Ke’Thra’Ma’s death and amid the Fire Wars.
“Yesenia was holding the transfer back with the influence of the High Seaweaver; the Statesman and he seem to have a friendship of some kind. I suspect Yesenia told him to send it with the threat of you resurrecting Sari’aél.”
Elinor’s mind blanked on the name. Who is this Statesman, Edmon??
He didn’t sound happy. “Baltoma is the one I suspect poisoned you. He was also the outspoken coward at the meeting with the second most influence among the Statesmen, which means we need to play nice with him for the time being … at least until we rally others around our own banner.”
She wanted to curse but restrained herself, taking a deep breath to calm the rage building in her breast.
Finding her wrist behind her back, Elinor composed her mind, compressing the flames to turn them to ice in her veins. A sound tactical mind was what she needed. She retreated into her own thoughts while Edmon and Klaus pondered solutions to bring to her.
Well played, Yesenia. It was a decent card in our blind spot since I didn’t provide Klaus with the needed information to foresee it. Well played … but no, a week ago … Demon was behind this from the start. Sari’aél must be a spirit he desperately doesn’t want me to have, which means I must get her on my side. What other traps has he laid for me to fall into?
Her mind blanked. She simply didn’t have nearly enough intel to make those kinds of predictions. They had discovered a few of Demon’s poisonous barbs he’d laid for her. The princess was the largest. Although, Baltoma himself was fair game. Poison … that was utterly worthless against her, and Demon knew it, which meant it couldn’t have been his plot. If it was Baltoma, he was working alone. It might be just the leverage she could use against him.
Edmon and Klaus were already ahead of her; when she joined their conversation, they were already discussing the matter.
“... Poison is a staple of Baltoma, according to my contacts, and normally he would quickly find the most likely candidates he might select, but given my current influence and our time constraints, he couldn’t discover exactly who it was, just the possible culprits.”
A dark chuckle passed through Edmon’s throat. “That is fine. Quick answers will suffice. How dedicated are these contractors to their clients?”
“Ah … good point,” Klaus hummed thoughtfully. “The rate would have been high given the target, which would hint at the stealth unit of the Shadow Hand, and of those that I’m aware were near the palace around that time … four come to mind from what data I’ve been given. Although, poison is a specialty for two, narrowing down the possible targets.”
“The price?” Edmon asked.
“... Hmm, if it was Baltoma, then far beyond our current funds. However, information is worth more. There are rumors about one of those assassin’s next targets traveling through the informants … a rare leak within the Shadow Hand. Giving him the name of a snitch within the organization is worth a lot more than various connecting dots he can provide to give us leverage against Baltoma.”
“Give me the details and Castella his location to guide us,” Edmon stated. “We need to influence him before the 10 A.M. meeting.”
They swiftly fell into step behind Castella as Klaus identified the assassin as a ranking member working within the Royal Guard, typically on duty by the front gate at this time.
She glanced back at their escort Lieutenant Nuvamir sent with them when she’d left her room. The two had been more than a little confused about their rapid changes of direction, but their focus had remained on the fluttering green flaming butterflies after hearing what it signified from the night’s watch.
Elinor couldn’t help a slight grimace as she saw Yesenia making her way toward the ramp with the High Seaweaver by her side and an escort of eight Military Seaweavers. The small smirk on the snake-woman’s face as she zig-zagged toward her was agitating.
“Empress Elinor, didn’t we have a business matter to discuss?”
The cold heat in Elinor’s gaze bore into the woman’s reptilian eyes while stopping in front of her. “I was anticipating it … now, I must attend to another matter. If you remain here, perhaps I will return shortly.”
Elinor’s shifted directions with her group as she finished her statement, dismissing the party without a backward glance. Sari’aél had already said she was uncomfortable with her hatred, but it was difficult not to feel the emotion with how things were working against her. Still, the angel’s overwatching presence helped to temper the fire in her heart.
She came to gloat…
“Naturally,” Edmon growled. “Will she use this to try and get her family returned to her? No, it can’t be … Demon doesn’t want Sari’aél returned to life. He’s likely scared of her.”
A light giggle came from the Seraph at Edmon’s statement; she didn’t expand on how she took his deduction, though. Of course, Elinor could imagine why the action was taken … in Edmon’s comment was the implication something was not terrified of her. It should have gone without saying … or was it that it wasn’t terror but awe of her … Elinor couldn’t be sure with the angel’s bizarre attitude.
We can’t be sure. Elinor sighed, releasing tension. Sari’aél might not even join us in the end, but I have to do everything in my power to secure her body in the chance she does find it within her to side with me. Even if she doesn’t … I can honor her radiance within our city…
Elinor trailed off … the angel’s influence had actually made her identify her capital as the property of her Empire, which included her Undead, and she’d even thought about Sari’aél’s heavenly presence helping the creatures within her walls. The Seraph might have even been passively interacting or influencing the Religious System within her.
Filing the information away, Elinor passed through the Nalvean palace halls at a brisk pace, with Castella leading the charge. When they found the guard in question, he was a little surprised about Edmon’s request to speak to the Front Gate’s Shift Leader in private.
Once Elinor was with him, alone in a room to make it more comfortable for the Nalvean … well, Violet stood beside her with Edmon outside the door, with both him and Klaus in her head, giving her advice.
Sari’aél watched from the ceiling, hovering horizontally along the wood overlaid stone.
Mocreln, The Shift Leader before her, took a deep, confused bow, refusing to lift his head; she noted his red and yellow-tinted scales, which had a uniform wave design. “Empress Elinor,” he said, giving a few gestures with his hand, “I have heard of your arrival into the Nalvean Kingdom and audience with the High Ruler, but I did not expect to be sought out by your grace … a Ruler.”
Elinor kept her hands held behind her back, giving the creature a neutral gaze; Violet’s monstrous spider form loomed behind him, ready to rip him apart. “I will cut past the foreplay, Mocreln. I know you are a ranking assassin within the Shadow Hand that deals with poison … and my soup just so happened to be poisoned … you passed through the kitchens around the same time my food was being brought up to me. Isn’t that quite the coincidence?”
The Nalvean was motionless, kneeling before her for a few more seconds. A low sigh passed through his lips, shoulders sagging slightly, still refusing to lift his head. “I … you have quite the network, Empress. Since you have not gone to the High Ruler or Head Royal Captain … might I assume you have some … alternative reason to be meeting with me, or am I to become like Lieutenant Castella?”
A small smile lifted Elinor’s lips; at least, this was going in her favor. He had been the main contractor to poison her. “... You misunderstand, Mocreln. I actually somewhat enjoyed the flavor … adding the poison to the spicy dish to mask the taste was an enjoyable addition. It provided a kick I wasn’t expecting.”
His eyes widened, head lifting with disbelief in his reptilian eyes. “You … ate it?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” Elinor giggled. “I am the ruler of the dead; you cannot expect poison to kill me. I did eat it … and I actually appreciate your clear honesty once caught. Would you give me the name of your employer if I asked?”
He seemed to give her a reluctant smile, but she couldn’t be sure given her relatively recent exposure to the Nalvean facial expressions. Still, Tal’tamine was excellent at teaching her odd Nalvean facial positions. “I am rather loyal to my craft, Empress Elinor … even if I do find the stories and rumors about you quite intimidating,” he swallowed, tongue flicking through his sharp teeth, “even more terrifying in person, knowing what you did to Lieutenant Castella.”
Violet shifted to her human form; silk swiftly closed around the Nalvean’s limbs and throat, pulling him taut. Suspended in the air, his throat constricted, and searching for air, more thread wrapped around his jaw, forcing it to remain closed. His body started to tremble with the strain of being pulled apart from the sockets.
Elinor casually walked to the nearby table, pouring herself a drink of red water with a secretive smile. “Is that so? How forgiving do you honestly believe I am … and if I have this information, how do you suppose I obtained it?”
His chest started to convulse with terror as silk slowly entered his left nostril, leaving the right open.
“I could make you suffer for eternity … think about that for a moment. Not days, not months … tens of thousands of years. Do you believe you won’t break? Hmm? I’ll allow you to make your decision … one more time,” she whispered. “Tell me who you worked for.”
His eyes squeezed shut, tears starting to stream down his scaled cheeks as Violet eased off the tension around his neck. The Nalvean’s armor was shimmering with a red tint, seemingly empowering his strength, but it was worthless against the Mythic Grade Thélméthra that bordered on Transcendent.
Mocreln shakily shook his head.
“Huh,” Elinor chuckled. “Just as I’ve heard … excellent,” Elinor praised, telling Violet to let him go.
“...” He gasped for air as the silk unwound around his frame, and he trembled on the floor, armor returning to its natural hue.
The Nalvean slowly stumbled to his feet, using the table as support; Violet followed his every action as he stared at Elinor with wide, bloodshot eyes. One’s mind operated on a different level when actually in a life and death situation, and with him suspended in the air, helplessly waiting like a fly in the spider’s web for her jaws to sink into him … he didn’t break.
“You seem confused, Mocreln?” She asked before taking a short sip of the red liquid and setting the gray wooden cup back on the table.
“I … I am, Empress,” he gasped, voice raspy and challenging to understand. “... My … my refusal is … excellent?”
“Indeed,” she replied, gesturing for him to help himself to his own cup and take a seat. He slowly complied, gagging a few times while rubbing his throat as Elinor spoke.
“You see, Mocreln, your refusal was exactly what I was told to expect from such an esteemed professional, which was why you were chosen for the task. I applauded such dedication to one’s craft, and I might have use for you in the future … professional loyalty like yours is hard to come by,” she commented, glancing at the cup of water.
Picking the wood up again, she had Violet slowly cut tiny layer after layer off the top, sending perfect wood shavings to the floor. Every piece caught the guard’s slick eyes. “I happen to already have a very decent guess as to who hired you. All I need is a few linking middle-men … and I didn’t come empty-handed.”
Once the water drew close to the edge, she set the cup back on the table, Violet continuing to cut the cup closer and closer to the base as Elinor walked away, turning her back to the Nalvean. “I’ve heard some rumors about your next target … seems a few of your recent marks have been tipped off, making them aware an assassination attempt was coming. I have it on good authority; your next target will be prepared.”
His jaw tightened, regaining his steel, but his hand holding the cup was still trembling while watching the cup continue losing its height. “... It has been … vexing,” he grunted. “The leak covers their tracks well.”
“What if I gave this … vexation a name?” Elinor asked, turning back around to give him a soft smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t dare expect such a professional as yourself to give me the identity of your employer … I don’t require it. I just need middle-men … the contacts they used to get in touch with you.”
“Will … they live?” Mocreln tentatively asked.
Elinor giggled. “Ah … well, a hand is a decent message … but a head is a promise,” she stated; Sari’aél’s current expression told her that she was finding the exchange utterly foreign.
The assassin took another drink and smiled, voice still a bit raspy. “Normally … I’d never even think of giving this away, but … for information on the Nalvean ruining my reputation … it’s a fair price.”
“Wonderful,” Elinor mused, picking up one of the small shavings and twirling it around her fingers as the water slowly spilled across the table with every new cut Violet made in the cup’s diminishing rim. “The mole in the Shadow Hand is actually an enemy of us both … it is the 2nd District’s High Handler, Rupilima.”
“The Ri’bot licking fool…” Mocreln growled, crushing the wooden cup in his grip. “He’ll tell me with his own mouth when I’m done with him.” After a long breath to stabilize his hatred, he gave her a smile. “Kimlira, Fourth Assistant Treasurer of the Grand Treasurer, was who I reported the deed’s completion.” He lifted from his seat with a deep bow. “Do not be a stranger, Empress Elinor … I am always available for a task.”
“I look forward to it,” Elinor replied, moving to the door. Edmon opened it as she neared, and Elinor exited, leaving the assassin to do what he did best.
Castella … take me to Kimlira. A dark smirk lifted her lips as Sari’aél hovered after her. We have our example.
A low hum reverberated in her throat. Demon, you’re a sloth at getting things done … will my network prevail at deconstructing all the careful planning you’ve done, or will you have more traps waiting to snare my advance—game start.