RE: Monarch

Chapter 64: Enclave XXXIV

Come to finish the job?

It was with that question that the air around us subtly changed. The man in red was far too professional to show any outward sign of tension, but the mess of bodyguards and personal attendants were not. Hands crept towards swords, mouths tightened, and the air in the room grew thick and heavy with mounting anticipation.

It occurred to me briefly that I could easily die there. Guemon was clearly misinformed, but his deathly condition changed the dynamic entirely. I wouldnt put it past the pudgy man to take me down with him out of spite.

I was not afraid. Perhaps, one day, my fear of death would return. But I still felt strangely detached. There was no fear. Only anger. And the strange, woeful, emancipating desire to light any fuse, apathetic of the powder keg.

The man in red moved ever so slightly, and I locked eyes with him. I raised a fist upward, then splayed them out in a gesture for an explosion, giving him a wicked smile. My message was clear. I would not make this easy, if it went that way. And maybe, just maybe, Id take him with me. It was more recklessness than confidence, but the man stirred, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

I ignored him, turning to Guemon. Id say Im sorry to see you so tragically diminished, counselor. I stared at him. But Id be lying.

His chuckles were weak, rattling noises that faded into coughs. Showing your true colors, I see.

I looked over towards the man in red. With all your grandstanding and dithering at the trial I thought youd at least be consistent enough to never hire a human into your employ. So dont talk to me about true colors, when you cant even stick with your small-minded ideals.

Show me the respect I deserve! He snapped.

Return my dagger, and I will.

The room grew dangerously tense. It was not beyond me that I was antagonizing the situation, but it was not a pointless effort. At the trial, Guemon had been relatively easy to unhinge. I was just several deaths passed being coy about it.

All at once, the rage drained out of his clouded eyes. He sagged, then indicated the chair set out at the foot of his bed.

The man in the red moved with me simultaneously, staying parallel. His movements were practiced and easy. It dawned on me why. Despite being nearly three feet away, he was staying within the range he was confident he could kill me in, before I killed Guemon.

Mentally forcing myself to ratchet down the hostility, I took a seat.

Just say something nice.

I pointed to the amoeba on his face. That looks unpleasant.

Guemon snorted. In theory, its supposed to purify and enrich the air. In practice, its like breathing through a wet towel, if the towel was constantly trying to fuck you in the throat. Somewhat apropos to his words, every time he breathed in, a portion of the ooze was sucked inwards.

Unpleasant indeed.

What happened? I asked.

Poison. A particularly nasty poison, fashioned from Garrote Cap. He glared at me. Exactly the sort spineless, shitheel, method youd be capable of.

I blinked. Garrote caps were valuable due to their almost godlike palliative properties when it came to fighting poison. Lillian told me that the fact they were dangerous when used in high concentrations was only recently discovered. The discovery was made by a hapless, short-lived governor who was continuously poisoned by his enemies. He eventually died from taking the powdered caps with every meal. Using them to kill was not only inefficient, it was borderline wasteful and morally dubious, even for poison.

Guemon shook his head when I conveyed this. Hugo found a patch of them in a side cavern near you and that red apothecary forage for ingredients. And I have it on good authority that youre more than competent enough to make such a thing.

I parsed that, filing that particular tidbit of knowledge away for later. Access to the ingredients and know how? Sure. But Ive not been within spitting distance of you for months.

His face clouded, as if he was deciding how much stock to put into my words. There was one window of time we crossed paths, and the assassination attempt occurred within that window.

When?

A few weeks ago, I met Ralakos for a meeting at his estate. There was wine involved, and a few hours later, I started pissing blood. Guemon said, and suddenly, I remembered. Ralakos had shooed me away, half-joking that my mortal enemy would be arriving soon, and I should make myself scarce. All at once, his theory seemed much more credible.

As much as I hate the man, Ralakos is not stupid. Guemons breaths were heavy. Especially when it comes to matters of state. If he intended to end my life quietly, it would not be nearly so sloppy. It would happen far, far away from him, with an ironclad alibi in place.

Unless his intention was to implicate me. My paranoia whispered.

And you assumed I would be so sloppy? I raised an eyebrow.

Youre a child. He waved my derision away. Children make mistakes constantly. Its what they do. More likely you than the high councillor, anyway.

And here I thought I made it clear at the trial I wasnt just some child to be toyed with.

He was silent then, struggling to breathe through the membrane that covered his nose and mouth.

Do you still think I poisoned you? I asked.

No. Guemon said, irritation clear on his face. Unless this meeting somehow ends in my death. Ive been waiting for a follow-up. He gestured to his guards and fortifications. You waltzing through the front door put a sizable dent in that theory.

Elphions beard. We actually agree on something. I leaned back in my chair. The front legs came off the ground and settled back with a dull scrape.

How unfortunate. Guemon groused.

Are you dying? I asked.

His mouth grew tight. It is death by another name. I will always need all this. Even if I dont die, my life will never be the same. He raised his arm and shook the tubes.

I heard you before. And I agree. But if you were to bet on it, how likely do you think it is that Ralakos was involved in what happened to you? I asked.

Right now? Guemon looked through the cracks of his boarded up window to the world outside. I wouldnt bet on shit.

----

I had training in Ralakoss yard with Jorra. By then, he knew something was wrong. We sparred, the clash of wooden swords raining together. I told myself that it was fine. That I was safe. That once the inscription healed I would never have to worry again.

But knowing something would not happen in the future did not have the after effect of removing it from the past.

Why was it so hot? The auric sun beat down at me, drenching me with sweat. Jorra stood relatively unrumpled, his eyebrows wrinkled in concern.

Idiot. Why did he come back for me. The fucking idiot.

I smacked him cross the forehead with my sword. He reeled back, his eyes flashing.

A solid hit. Erdos said from off to the side.

But I ignored the praise. I moved in on Jorra, pushing the advantage. I was the better swordsman, but not by that wide a margin. He was going easy on me because he sensed something was wrong. His concern was worthless to me.

A voice, somewhere in the back of my head, whispered something about how unreasonable I was being. Jorra had come to save me. He was my friend.

A king does not have friends. He has allies.

I swung viciously, not aiming for Jorra but his practice sword. It splintered, spinning up out of his grip into the air. I called the air, slamming it into his chest. Jorra rolled away and rose up, hand pressed against his sternum. He had the fire in his eyes now hed been missing, the worry and compassion gone.

A blade of water flew at my face and I dodged it by a narrow margin, but instead of going for his practice blade, Jorra bull rushed me, grabbing my legs and slamming me into the ground.

Cairn, stop

I broke his grip, tried to wiggle out.

He managed to snake around me and get his arm around my neck, his other arm pressing my throat into it, cutting off the blood flow.

Please stop He said.

But I was no longer there.

I was back in the cave. The asmodials crowded around me. A leather strap tightened around my neck slowly, so slowly I wasnt even sure it was more than my imagination until the vein in my forehead started to pound as my heart picked up, struggling against the bond. My hands and my feet were tied.

Still, the strap tightened. My eyes began to bulge. I held out a shaking hand, calling the air to me, trying to force it into my lungs. Theyd removed the manacles that prevented me from summoning. My success was diminutive. The air was too little, like a single raindrop to a man in a desert. Eventually, my eyes began to roll back in my head. My mind stretched like a rubber band.

I remembered Mayas cool touch, her light fingers on the back of my neck. How theyd cleared my thoughts, my pain. She wasnt here, but in those moments right before I blacked out, I could almost feel her there, holding my hand, willing my mind not to snap entirely.

Slowly, agony gave way to euphoria. A rush of emotion so pure and beautiful and light it nearly chased away the dark. Death was close. So very, very close. How I longed for it. Reached for it. In the darkness of the cave, the black beast reached back.

Then the strap would loosen. A lipless asmodial with a tattered blindfold and a face with the texture of a backwater road drove his fist into my gut.

They left me there, gagging for air, trying to reach for it though it would not come, straddling the gap between life and unconsciousness.

Only when I was a few moments from finally regaining my breath, would the strap begin to tighten again.

The look on my face must have amused them. Because they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. The arch-fiend watched from across the room, disinterested. Theyd long since stopped asking me questions. When they did, they were brief. It finally dawned on me that the asmodials didnt expect me to tell them anything.

They didnt care.

They smiled and snarled in the dark as I began to choke once more, their teeth gleaming white in the shadow.

Cairn. Breathe deeply. Follow the sound of my voice. The things youre seeing are not real. Theyre just echoes. A mans voice cut through the horrible images.

Someone was waving something in front of my face to fan me. I was drenched in sweat. I blinked the tears away, not knowing whether this was actually happening or another memory.

To my shock, Erdos was tending to me. His stern face was twisted in uncharacteristic concern. He fanned me gently, and raised a canteen to my lips.

The things that happened before you came here. His wording was carefully vague. That was the first time you saw violence, wasnt it?

I couldnt bring myself to answer.

Its like this, sometimes. Ive seen it before Erdos dabbed at my forehead with a cloth. Some men come out of violence seemingly unscathed. Then weeks, even months later, the savagery of it all hits them. They start jumping at ghosts. Sometimes they break down. He watched me knowingly.

How do I stop it? I could still feel the leather tightening, ever so slowly.

You take care of yourself. You stop blaming yourself for everything.

I met his eyes for the first time then, shocked at the accuracy of his words.

He stepped away from me, giving me space. Thinking that way is a trap. A soldier cant take responsibility for everything. The things youve done, the things done to you. Trying to account for them all leads only to madness.

Then what should I do?

Erdos face was soft, and for the first time I could see the resemblance between him and Bellarex. Its a choice. One youll need to make every day. You look the past in the face, and accept it for what it is. Then move forward.

I tried to take his words to heart. But the simple fact was, his concept of moving forward and mine were very different.