Monsters and Maidens (227 to 231)

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[227] [Kajou]

She was fighting a Valkyrie, and with every move she made, she had to remind herself that the maiden with blond hair and light gray wings was not Pan. No, Pan’s memory was leading her blade as she weaved and swung at the winged maiden.

Kajou was an Amazoness, and her power let her pull at that sensation. Of Pan swinging her sword, fighting until she could not move at all. Kajou would never be able to fight like her, she knew, but her opponent was a Valkyrie just like Pan. And for all the good her experiences should have given her, every time she tried to strike, she’d hesitate.

Because the best way to fight a Valkyrie was to only ever aim for severe blows, something that would disable or kill. Anything less they could ignore.

Kajou dodged the spear thrust, pushing herself closer to the leather-armored maiden she saw the chance to cut away at her thigh. And yet her body would not move, she barely tapped the leg, too shallow, she could only jump back and fight against her own doubt.

Pan was dead. Pan was dead.

Why did she see Pan’s face in a Valkyrie she clearly did not know and had never met? She had to focus on her goal, her objective, but her eyes could not move away from the spear-wielding maiden. Kajou felt as if under a spell, her mind a twister of scenes and thoughts.

Suddenly it was as if she was back in Coven, training in a dirt-covered field. Her sword rushed up to meet the spear, deflecting it. The maiden’s movements were precise but predictable. Someone who lacked experience against maidens who knew how to fight.

No!

She had to do this, she had to end it, she had a mission, she had a goal. She had to get a human and take them to Coven. She had to put a stop to this maiden or else the fight would turn too much in the knight’s favor.

Kajou grasped at the spear with her free hand and used it to yank the Valkyrie off balance at the right moment. Her blade swung, she would cut the maiden’s throat out, simple, direct, immediate.

And then she was back in that practice ring. Pan laughed and danced around her, and Kajou’s feet rooted on the spot, her eyes wide. Her attack slowed, slow enough for the Valkyrie that existed outside her memories to let go of the weapon and step back. She said something, but the Amazoness recovered, shifting her stance to hold the spear and the blade at the same time.

Her abilities kicked in, familiarity coming to Kajou while holding the spear. A weapon the previous owner had trained with plenty. That same owner now stood before her without weapons, wings dripping with blood, body covered in slowly healing lacerations. The fight should have been over, Kajou had the advantage, she-.

She was not alone.

The ringing in Kajou’s ears cleared up enough for her to hear the sign of retreat.

No, something didn’t make sense, they’d been winning,they’d been…

Kajou’s head snapped sideways. Some of the Court’s fighters were running, but the others were trying to stop them, pointing. Pointing at a knight that held the horn meant to signal retreat. The maiden carrying it had fallen, her blood staining the ground.

A diversion, to sow confusion.

Embla? Embla was too busy with too many knights, she’d downed three of them, the only real loss the knights had suffered so far, and it did not look like their advantage was dwindling fast. That snapped Kajou out of the memory, her eyes tore away from the Valkyrie and to the toppled carriage.

She should have kept her eyes on the blond maiden.

Kajou felt rather than saw the Valkyrie tackle her away from the carriage. There was a scream, but all the Amazoness heard was a ringing in her ears and the sensation of fists raining down on her face as if she’d entered a brawl.

Pan’s voice rang in her ears. The words were blurred but the meaning clear. She’d lost, she had to acknowledge Pan as the stronger of the two. The fighter, the one who got to use the sword during their journey to the Court.

Dropping the weapons, Kajou raised her arms, trying to protect her face. The punches were hard. She needed to break free, she had to-.

Kajou screamed. Her arm pierced by the golden blade, Pan glared at her, chiding. What had she done wrong? What had been her mistake? Her sister didn’t answer, not at first, merely waiting until she stopped grimacing before speaking up, pointing at the torn supplies.

Kajou blinked through sweat, heaving air, fists raised and glaring at the blond Valkyrie that glared right back. There wasn’t much of a chance to wonder what was going on, how she’d stood up, how they were now in a fist-fight. Her body was moving on its own, punching into the exposed gut and getting an elbow to the temple as retribution.

Pan sang a tune her adoptive mother loved. A tune about kings that fell and humans that bled. It was her favorite, and Kajou would often sing the lyrics. What were the words again?

Her ears were ringing, vision blurring. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to fight Pan. She’d lost her sister. Lost her to a monster that pretended to be merciful but strict. Barry… The bond. Something was off. Kajou felt like her head and heart were tearing apart. The pain wasn’t going away and she’d betrayed Pan. Staying with Barry, staying with the Court, it had been a betrayal.

Something was screaming inside her and Kajou realized it wasn’t just inside herself. She was screaming and punching at Pan. The blond maiden was trying to defend herself but Kajou kept punching. Why couldn’t Pan have swallowed her pride for once? Why couldn’t she see past the fact that Barry was a human? Pan had made them fail their mission.

But…

But…

Kajou panted and heaved, exhausted, too tired, something was wrong. She shouldn’t be this tired, not this soon, not this quickly. Or had she been throwing out every bit of energy she had?

Something moved quickly, approaching the carriage with a gigantic ax. Pan moved to intercept, arms wide, prepared to take the blow for the carriage instead. And Kajou moved in tandem, trying desperately to protect her sister. It was a split-second decision, the spear had returned to her hands and she’d thrust it at the attacker.

She barely felt the weapon as it tore through the metal, biting into her flesh and bone.

The world rang, a bell that thundered all around her. Was it her imagination? Kajou couldn’t tell, she found herself on the ground, bleeding. Her eyes were unfocused, but she could tell Pan had survived.

There was screaming, all was chaos.

But Pan was alive.

The tearing sensation inside Kajou’s heart snapped like a twig.

The… bond… broke?

It didn’t make sense. Nothing did.

Pan knelt next to her. Soft glowing hands making the pain go away, leaving her numb and tired. Where were the others? Kajou’s thoughts were slow to form, even as her eyes focused on Pan.

The face that met hers was angry and unfamiliar.

It wasn’t Pan. But she’d known that.

The realization brought Kajou’s attention back to their surroundings. The Court had retreated.

She’d failed.

[228] [Barry]

It had felt like a whisper to Barry. A soft little voice in his ear that had been speaking to him suddenly went quiet. It had barely been felt at the time, but it had been preceded by pain.

They’d been walking across the forest, and Barry had suddenly felt a stabbing pain and… something else. He’d seen it, a road, dirt, a sky, someone in armor. Pain, so much pain. His eyes widened in realization of what he was experiencing, his steps stumbling against a root as he clenched at his throat.

“They’re dying!”

The proclamation was loud and clear, and instantly the others stopped. Lady Dagmar turned to look at him with a scowl, while Lala had been the first to reach his side. Her hands glowed and the pain began to numb. But Barry’s mind was swirling with confusion and agony, neither of which were his own.

“They’re dying.”

“Who?”

“The others.” He stated, holding his head, trying to hold back the fear and panic that was pouring into him like a waterfall. “They’re dying. There’s a road, forest, and… some people in armor, screaming…”

It was so much information, all of it hyper-loaded with emotion. With sensation. As if someone was trying to shove everything they were feeling into his brain. They were dying, and they were desperately clenching at anything they could grasp. And the bond was right there for them to hold.

“They’re dying.”

His words bounced within the dark forest.

He was kneeling beside a tree that was taller and larger than any skyscraper he’d ever seen. He should be nervous, awed, afraid. Instead he was in pain, his thoughts suddenly somewhere else entirely.

“They must have been ambushed.” Dagmar declared.

“We have to help.” Barry pulled himself to his feet with Lala’s help, face pale and his brow drenched in cold sweat. “They need help.”

The elder maiden, the Warlock, looked at him and shook her head. “There is nothing to be done. We are too far, even if we hurried, we would not get there in time to matter. What of my daughter? What of Lady Embla?”

“She’s…” Barry scowled. “She’s alive, but I can’t tell much else. She’s angry.”

“She will do what’s necessary.” Dagmar nodded. “Let us not wait. The grove is near.”

“But-.”

“You are needed here, Barry.” The tone was scolding, her brows snapping together.

“My Lady.” Lala quickly spoke up, keeping her hand on Barry. “We should not rush him. If some of our sisters are dying, then the bond…”

Dagmar barely gave a nod, signaling they were stopping for the time being. Not that Barry was paying much attention, he was leaning against the tree and clutching at his chest. The memories of the feral in the hole came back to him and this… this felt different, muted, it wasn’t as raw and visceral. He could vaguely sense what was going on, but it wasn’t as if he were within their skin.

Instead, it was as if he stood besides them as they died.

He could not see their eyes, or hear their voices. Their thoughts were no more than fear, pain, and darkness.

Barry heaved, knuckles turning white. He couldn’t tell what their names were, or rather, he wasn’t sure who was who. It was a jumble. Was it because of the distance? Because he hadn’t gotten to connect with them as he had Embla? What did that say about the feral he’d been bonded to for more than a day in a hole?

He could only weather it out and wait, his heart beating a mile a minute and his gut full of rocks. They were dying, and all he could do was watch. He couldn’t even figure out how or why. A road, knights, fighting, anger.

“I should be with them.” He whispered under his breath, his cheeks were wet.

The only one to react was Lala, drying his face with her sleeve and holding his shoulder, giving what little support she could provide.

It took an hour, probably less, before the last of the maidens had passed away.

Only then did Barry’s senses allow him to turn back to the forest. The mammoth trees that towered over them, the roots large enough to be carved and allow houses to be built within. Everything about the place felt eternal in a way that the mind refused to comprehend or conceptualize properly.

“I… I think it's finished, it’s over.”

“Then we move.” Dagmar declared, turning forward and pressing on. For a maiden that looked one strong gust of air away from toppling over, she set a remarkably hard pace.

There were so many questions Barry felt bubbling in the back of his mind. What had happened to the maidens? Why had they died? Was there an attack? Dagmar and the escort looked remarkably calm about the whole thing. Lala, on the other hand, had grown pale and tense, her hand holding his tight as they continued their march through the umbra of the forest.

Even though it was midday, they’d summoned some orbs of light to ensure their paths were clear. The roots presented treacherous terrain, some hiding holes one could fall through and vanish into whatever lay beneath.

Barry remembered hiding in one such hole. The ferals, Mark, and…

With a sigh, he focused on his shadow. Orion was there, but she was tense, far more than the others.

“We are here.” Dagmar declared out of the blue. “Do not speak. The only reason we are alive is that they know of me.”

Barry had been about to ask who ‘they’ were, when one of the guards pointed upwards.

All eyes rose to the massive branch a hundred meters off the ground. Upon it was a woman, no, a maiden. Her skin was a pale moonlight pale, her hair obsidian black. She wore a simple green toga, and upon her hand was a bow that was almost twice her height. On her hand was an arrow that looked closer to a spear.

“They are the guardians of the grove. Show them their due respect. Any weapons you may carry, leave them here. Do not raise your heads until I instruct you to.”

Dagmar moved slowly, lowering her head and kneeling. She became still as her forehead touched the ground. The others were soon to follow, hesitant, they put down their swords, spears, shields, and bows. Leaving them on the ground.

Barry was without a weapon, but he was the last from the ground to lower his head.

Silence followed, and none moved.

There was a soft breeze, and the sound of ruffling.

“Move slowly, do not reach for your weapons, do not attempt to fight, do not say a word. Break this and you will die. Raise.”

Obliging, Barry raised, and froze.

There were hundreds of them.

On the branches. On the roots, all around them, some barely a handful meters away. At least fifty maidens that looked very nearly exactly the same if not because some of them were shorter or taller, their clothes slightly different here and there. Each of them was armed with the same kind of massive bow and spear-like arrows.

A hundred black eyes staring at them in deathly silence.

One of the guards screamed in shock.

Barry hadn’t even seen what happened next.

One moment the maiden had been standing there, shocked.

The next she was gone.

There’d been a heavy sound slightly behind him. Barry, slowly, turned. The maiden was there, pinned to the tree, a dozen arrows piercing her body. Dead so fast none had even registered it, perhaps not even the maiden. There hadn’t even been so much as a whistling sound.

Just silent brutal death.

He looked back at the maidens wielding bows, each of them holding the weapon at the ready, the arrows aimed at them. Barry felt himself starting to tremble and sweat.

“They are feral.” Dagmar hissed, raising her hands, exposing the white lines marking her body. “But even in insanity, they protect the grove. No threats, however minor, are tolerated. The only reason we are still alive is that they recognize me as a friend.”

The closest of the ferals approached, bow still at the ready even as she stared at the white lines running through Dagmar’s skin. The seconds ticked by in silence, Barry noticed the maiden’s eyes were unfocused, as if she were not really looking at anything and merely staring into infinity.

As if none of them were really there.

After what felt like an eternity, she lowered her bow. So did the others.

One by one, the protectors walked away, vanishing between the trees like they were nothing but an illusion. One by one they were gone from sight, but Barry knew better. The quiet lumbering forest suddenly had eyes and threats around every corner in ways he couldn’t have imagined even in his worst nightmare.

All of them, but one.

The maiden turned, walking slowly but purposely.

“We follow.” Dagmar declared. “Do not pick your weapons, do not make sudden movements. If you trip, stay on the ground, do not stand until I tell you.”

“Are… are they elves?”

“They are and they are not. They have forsaken their connection to the forest and the trees. It is a path taken only by those willing to sacrifice that part of themselves for the sake of their duty.”

Dagmar spoke in a slow voice, keeping her steps measured.

“It is much like the Warlock. Though they are of the genus of dark elves, the only way to become one is to give up that which dark elves cherish the most.”

Those words made Barry frown as he glanced from the old maiden to the guards and then Lala. “What is it that dark elves cherish the most?”

The only response he got was a smirk from the others.

[229] [Barry]

Barry walked quietly, slowly, following behind Lady Dagmar and followed in turn by the others. Their guide was a woman, an elf that wasn’t an elf, it seemed. Her hair was long and black, combed into a ponytail that reached all the way down to her calves. Her clothes were a simple set of green leather that had all the signs of repurposed foliage. She held a bow on her right hand, one that was twice her own height.

Barry didn’t see any quiver with arrows.

The maiden did not speak, she was feral apparently, but there was an air about her that didn’t feel wild. She felt… in control.

“Why… do they all look the same?” Barry dared break the silence after they’d been following.

The guide eyed him, and he felt movement in the corner of his eyes. But that was all.

Dagmar was the one to scowl at him. “Did my daughter not teach you how ferals reproduce?”

“I mean, I remember she made an offhand comment that young maidens could become pregnant on their own. Particularly ferals.” He declared defensively. “But that means they’re copies of one another?”

“Close enough. Now hush and follow, we are straining their patience enough already.”

Despite the vitriol in her words, the Warlock spoke with a calm gentle touch that Barry found equal parts reassuring and eerie. A part of him could probably prefer it over the more detached tone that always made him feel like she was speaking to a thorn on her side.

Though she was still doing that.

Barry was pretty sure it had to do with him being bonded to her daughter. Or maybe it was because he was human? The chiding tone never really felt that way. Always personal in some fashion, which he couldn’t really blame her much for.

A streak of color drew Barry’s attention away from the inner monologue.

They’d rounded past another of the behemoths of wood that made up the forest and entered somewhere… different. It was the woods, it was made of gigantic trees that stretched up into seemingly infinity, but it was different. The somber darkness was gone, now light streaked down all the way to the forest floor, beams that made the three large trees in the center seem that much more… surreal.

Where the forest of giants had grown tall, these trio of trees had grown wide. Their branches were thicker than buildings, spreading at least a hundred meters from the massively thick trunks if not more. They entwined with the taller trees at the very edge of the…

This is the grove. THE grove.

The realization feels like a physical force striking him.

Barry’s eyes widen and he realizes he’s not alone in this shock. Lush green thrives in every direction. The formerly chaotic and wild roots the size of small houses were spread evenly like spokes of a wheel. There are cottages on those very roots, small constructions that had seemingly been grown out of the very trees. And between the roots, where the ground was exposed… grass, flowers, and shrubbery. So much of it, a rainbow of colors that dots every available inch.

“Only walk on the roots.”

The warning brings a chill to the group, and everyone obliges, following, marching in a single line. As they approached, Barry began to notice something was… off. The shrubbery and flowers and grass were spread about in a way that appeared to have a design to it. Oblong shapes of vegetation that were spread uniformly with one another, forming irregular rows and rows. He could only frown at it as he tried to discern what he was looking at exactly.

They continued walking, marching up the root, each wide enough to work as a highway, and towards the massive trunk of the tree. And Barry’s eyes could not move away from the area that lay between the roots. Something about it felt familiar.

It didn’t click until they’d reached the trunk.

“It’s a cemetery.”

His eyes widened. Rows upon rows.

“They are alive, boy. That is why you are here.” Dagmar hissed at him as he stared.

How many were there? At least several hundreds, maybe more, definitely more. He was just looking at a fraction of the entire grove. What had Dagmar said? Hundreds of years of elves coming here whenever they started going feral.

“How are they alive?” Lala couldn’t help but ask, equally stunned as Barry had been.

“The plants keep them alive, it is part of their power. But these are the weaker elves.”

Dagmar gestured for them to continue, and so they did, marching. And Barry realized that each of the areas between the spokes of the wheels had different vegetation. While some had been shrubs, others had small trees, and a few even appeared covered in thick vines.

Each of them an elf, sleeping, slumbering, right under the vegetation, being kept alive, waiting… waiting…

Barry felt a slight shudder. The thought of it was depressing and morbid and exciting in equal measure. So many people just laying there, for hundreds of years. It was as if it had been plucked straight out of a fairy-tale.

If that was the case, what was he, then? He was no prince charming, and if he squinted at Dagmar, he was fairly sure she’d be a passable evil crone. That almost made him laugh, he made sure to keep quiet.

They circled around the trunk of the tree, walking over the roots, and walking down towards the tree closest to the center of the grove. It was much like the other three, but Barry couldn’t help feeling a sense of anticipation as they approached. The dark-haired protectors had emerged, on the branches, on the roots, atop the small huts built onto the trees.

Each of them looked at their group with those unfocused eyes that seemed to stare into infinity. They were staring through them as they approached, smooth treebark under their feet a clear sign these roots had been used innumerable times over the centuries. A place so old Barry felt like it was no different to one of those ancient cathedrals in Europe.

Except this was not dead stone. It was alive.

The air felt thick enough to leave a light taste in his mouth. Something that smelled of earth and tasted of wildberries. Barry’s body was tingling, his goosebumps ran over his body the closer they got to the main tree.

He saw their destination. It was a groove within the tree’s massive bark. Sunken like an alcove, and adorned in moss and flowers that were growing out of the tree itself. From a distance it seemed like a door, but the closer they got the clearer it became it was no such thing.

There was someone within the groove.

Her body rested into the tree, slightly inclined, the only thing about her that was visible was her face, the rest covered in moss and tree bark. It was a stunningly beautiful face that was just as severe. Her hair was a pool of gold, a wreath of red roses adorning her like a crown, her skin fair but healthy.

She looked like she were sleeping.

That she could, at any moment, open her eyes and stand.

“Who is she?”

“The first Elven Queen. A motherless maiden. Her name was lost to time.”

Gasps were heard all around, Barry could only frown. The question was apparent in his expression.

“It means she was amongst the first maidens created. Perhaps the only one left alive in this world overrun by humans and greed.” Dagmar nodded slowly at him. “It is our hope that you will wake her.”

“How?”

“Touch her and you will know.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled. “You must submit to her.  Her power is great enough even in her sleep it should be possible.”

He gulped.

Suddenly all eyes were on him, and not just those of Dagmar and the travel companions. The dark haired archers were looking at him as well, there was something to that look that felt dangerous and… hopeful. However feeble, however distant those eyes were, there was a twinkle of light upon them as Barry stepped forward.

He looked upon the sleeping maiden, and reached out.

His skin was buzzing, jolts running through him as if he were being shocked by the very static in the air. Barry’s breath caught in his throat the moment he made contact with the bark covering the nameless maiden’s resting place.

The world spun around him.

He was suddenly not in a grove.

Barry stood upon a hill.

He looked down upon a city. It was not of stone and wood but of cement and steel and glass. A modern city, he saw cars and people, he saw pavement and street lamps. Barry could only gasp and stare as the city stood, smoke and smog mixing in with claxons and the normal bustle of civilization.

And the next instant something happened.

A singular massive tree sprouted from the center of the city, towering over everything else, its roots spreading like snakes. More trees grew, and suddenly there were explosions. Fire and screams as the roots kept growing, almost as fast as the cars could attempt to escape.

The concrete broke, the roots squeezed the buildings to powder, vines grew and bent steel. The people screamed, moss growing over their bodies like slick oil-stains, they’d fall, and the grass would swallow them whole.

“Well?” The word startled him, and he turned.

The woman, the Elf Queen, stood next to him. Eyes of green peered through him, she was beautiful and terrible all the same. In her hands was a collar. And in her eyes he could see the deep unwavering anger. Impatience, expectation, and unwavering determination.

Barry felt the grass under his feet reaching up, tensing around his legs, tugging him down to his knees.

He didn’t wait, he fled.

The illusion broke around him.

The world spun back into existence.

He was on his back, drenched and trembling, his mouth had opened in a silent scream that had never managed to escape his lips.

“Barry.” It was Lala, her voice was a hiss, tense. “Do. Not. Move.”

It took a moment to realize what was going on. The protectors had their bows at the ready. Every single bow tense, arrows ready. Barry lay on the bark, hands open and eyes wide even as the closest of the elves had been aiming at him specifically.

“We will leave now.”

Dagmar’s declaration startled them.

“Wait, I-.” Barry couldn’t just walk out, not like this, not when there were other elves he could try and wake up.

More reasonable Elves.

“This is not by choice. You are no longer a guest.” The Warlock declared, her face a mask of calmness but her eyes filled with fury. “We have failed.”

[230] [Earl Vitchatt]

The Earl approached the gardens at a slow pace. Normally such a trip was for leisure thought or maybe a small escapade with his partner of choice. But today the air was tense, the guards stood at the ready. The garden was being guarded, for there was someone within the Earl wished to speak with, without any interruptions.

Captain Deneva remained out of the gardens as he’d asked her. Her complaints had already been spoken in the privacy of his room. But there was nothing to be feared in regards to this particularly troublesome guest.

Or so he would have thought under normal circumstances.

He found Rick sitting on one of the benches that observed the small fountain. The man was weaker than the average person, that the Earl knew very well. A pureblooded human, devoid of both intense training as well as the gifts that maiden ancestry could have provided. Even the Earl himself had some minor boons from some unspoken predecessor several generations back.

And yet, he could only look at Rick with apprehension.

The man had changed in some imperceptible way.

He remembered when Rick had come to his city the first time. A man that was of quick wit and cautious steps. A man that understood, at least in some way, the dangers of the noble game. There had been fire in those eyes.

Now it seemed as if he were more feral than man.

He clothed like a human, he moved like a human, he talked like a human. But there was something wild within him now. Something sharp that lay right behind that fire. It reminded the Earl of the stories he’d been told as a child, of the monsters that hid within the darkness of the forests.

Of things worse still even than the ferals.

“Sorry for making you put up all this hassle, Lord.” Rick stood and bowed in respect to him. Yet it did not feel like an expected behavior but a deliberate decision.

As if bowing were something he had to ponder upon.

“I was told your condition was stable, and it felt important.” The Earl returned the gesture, following the standard protocol and not allowing himself to be perturbed by what he thought he was seeing.

Rick’s gaze turned towards the fountain, his whole body tensed, as if he were ready to pounce at the clear liquid.

“I was the one who killed the Baron of Astunes.”

The Earl realized Rick’s eyes were boring into him the instant he’d spoken the words. There was little room for doubt, but the struggle was in trying to keep a straight face, to avoid showing any signs of shock or any other emotion.

“So it wasn’t you.” Rick stated.

That caught the noble off guard, he frowned at Rick as the man turned to look at the fountain once more.

“You suspected I sent those maidens after you?”

“Would you blame me for suspecting the possibility?”

No, he couldn’t. He knew too many who would have done exactly that to others. “What makes you sure it wasn’t me, then?”

“The surprise is genuine.”

“I could be shocked you dared to reveal it so plainly.”

“True.” Rick shrugged, relaxing. “It’s a gut feeling.”

That was it, just… nothing, so casual, so… The Earl scowled at this, he did not enjoy being toyed with, much less tested. “To kill a noble is a serious crime. Even if done in self-defense. I’ve sentenced people to hang for less.”

Rick stared to look at him once more. There was something in his eyes, something… blue. A flicker of it that gave the Earl pause.

“Will you?”

The question was simple, and it was something worth considering given the circumstances. He’d have expected Rick to make claims he would not, but it felt more like the man was prepared to deal with the consequences of either option.

“Was it legitimate?”

Rick turned to look at the fountain. “I was bonded to Monica well before even knowing the Baron existed. And the prick was trying to break that bond so he could make her into his toy. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Simple and direct.

“During the fight, the Baron tried to destroy my brain with the cursed coin. Dia didn’t let it come to completion, but it still took something. And…” His lips thinned. “... nevermind.”

The Earl didn’t quite gasp, but his brows did shoot up in horror. To put the curse of the five upon a human was a punishment that only the truly heinous would undergo. It was a tool only used in the most extreme cases regarding maidens.

There was little else he could say about the subject, especially when Rick was clearly leading the conversation. To where?

“You intend to leave, I take it?”

Rick nodded. “This doesn’t feel like home.” He gestured at the garden. “No disrespect, but though the luxuries are nice, I don’t think they’re worth the risk. Whoever sent the attack clearly had an agenda of some kind. It wasn’t just random happenstance.” His brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“And you’re sure it was revenge for the Baron?”

“I can’t think of any other legitimate reason someone would go through that trouble.” He gazed at the Earl with a weary look. “Unless you happen to know of one.”

This time it was the Earl’s turn to frown. “The only other reason I could think of would be Monica. But even that does not appear to fit. Deneva confirmed the attacker hadn’t tried to kill her. Your maiden certainly would not have been able to avoid such a fate at the time.”

“She only sought to capture.” Rick looked weary as his shoulders slumped. “I plan to head south. The kingdom is less developed there, far from… everything, especially politics.”

There was something else about his destination that Rick was not saying, but the Earl did not pry either. Instead he moved to sit on the bench next to him, crossing his arms and turning to look at the fountain.

“And the Succubus?”

“That’s something I’ll have to figure out if I ever meet her again.”

The Earl scowled. “She needs to die, Rick. Charmers are threats that have brought ruin to kingdoms. Some on purpose, others on accident, but always the case. They prey on the hearts of humans and maidens.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rick shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not like I can do anything about it if I never see her again.”

“I have a feeling you will meet her.”

“Probably.” This time he laughed. “In the meantime, does the kingdom recognize bounties? I’d like to report a slayed Vampire. I’m going to need some funds for the trip.”

[231] [Alice]

The instant they had reached Balet, only one of the knights went towards the castle. Just about everyone else was dropped in the Medicen building. Or rather, they went to the Medicen building and it was cleared out of all non-emergency cases and only then were they allowed to go inside.

It had been a miserable week after the attack.

But right now was not the time to be miserable. Now was the time to be angry, furious, hysterical if need be. It was the time to tear things asunder and destroy any who stood in her way.

Alice found herself wanting to tear off the head of two particular people. They just so happened to not be within the Medicen. Thus she marched up to the “palace” that looked more like a fortress. So far there had been four failed attempts to stop her, but having learnt how women like Miss Dodson got her way, she wasn’t about to relent.

“Get moving!” She proclaimed at the poor guard that she knew too well did not deserve what she was throwing her way.

“Alice?”

A single word, surprised, shocked, and it made the former psychology teacher whirl around to look upon the first of her targets. Her brain had been already half-way through her prepared rant that she nearly stumbled as she saw Rick standing in front of her. It took her a fraction of a second to recognize him for who he was.

He’d cut his hair short.

That was the first thought that came to mind.

The second was he was dressed like some sort of medieval soldier. A poor one. A strap of leather covered his chest, with several others protecting his arms and shins. There was a short-sword at his hip, and he looked like he was about to go stand guard somewhere.

“Rick.” She stated. It was a declaration of the name just to make sure she believed she was looking at the man she’d once known as a fellow teacher. “How… I mean.” A very quick shake of her head. “They have May.”

Suddenly, there was something in his eyes that gave her the briefest moment of pause.

“Let’s get something to drink. And you can explain from the beginning.”

***

“Talk to the Earl.”

And just like that, the twenty minutes worth of conversation and explanations of the ambush and the trap, of May getting kidnapped, of the black-haired maiden that had both attacked them and protected them… it all came to an abrupt end.

“What?”

“Talk to the Earl.” Rick replied, setting down the glass he’d been drinking from. “Or rather, I expect he knows about it already and is going to see what can be done.”

And just like that, the wind got knocked right out of Alice’s sails. She’d expected some sort of reaction out of him, not… this.

“And… you?”

“I’m leaving. South.” Rick said. “I need to… check on some things. And I’m likely going to have to deal with my own kind of problems. I think someone’s trying to stir trouble and I’d rather nip it in the bud.”

Alice leaned forward. “Rick, what’s going on?”

“I was attacked, one of them was a Vampire, the other a Sabertooth… like Monica.” He frowned. “Something’s wrong, and Monica’s been… off ever since. I don’t think we can stick around for much longer before she can’t stand it anymore.”

“Stand what?”

“The maidens, the sound, the smells, the rules, the tight constraining self-restraint that she has to keep going day in and day out, the horrible food, the timetables, the…” Rick paused, then grimaced. “Something’s off. About her, about me. I need answers, and my only leads are the Tigress clans.”

Alice leaned back as she heard this, grasping her hands and looking down at them as she tried to put together the pieces. She found there was one missing. “You suspect something else.”

“I do.” Rick nodded somberly. “I think that what the Baron did to me, those… that damage to my mind. It left holes. And I think my bond to Monica has helped, somehow, I don’t know. It’s like I know new things without knowing them.” Grimacing, he shook his head. “All I’m sure of is that I need to know more about Monica as a maiden, and not just as… Monica. Maybe she needs to know more about herself too. Either way, the answers aren’t here.”

How could Alice answer that? She couldn’t. She wanted to ask him to stay, to help. She wanted to tell him about her project, that the other students were on their way. Maybe… no. She shook her head. She’d never seen Rick this determined.

“Tom and Kat and Mister Gabriel doing alright?”

Rick grimaced. “Yeah, they want to tag along. Or more like Kat wants to tag along and the other two are getting dragged into it because of her.”

“You planning on slipping away in the middle of the night or something?”

“I think they could do more good for themselves and others staying.” Rick scratched his chin. “But that’s not really my choice to make. I’m just hoping more reasonable voices prevail.”

“You’re one to talk.”

They shared a laugh at that. Rick ordered another drink, taking the chance to look around the bar that was almost entirely humans. A great of them men. The former chemistry teacher leaned back against his chair, something in his eye appearing to get drawn to the bartender. A maiden with light blue skin.

“I want to find a home. For Monica and Dia. I want to settle down.”  The words came out of nowhere, he took a long sip from his drink. “Maybe I should just… ignore everything, find a corner to lay low and vanish. It feels like trouble is chasing us and I don’t like it.”

Settle down.

Now there’s a thought Alice had not allowed herself to consider for months. Her former boyfriend, her former life, her former career, her former… everything. She looked unto the idea of the world around her and…

“I don’t think this world could be my home even if I tried.” She proclaimed with a loud annoyed snort. “Too many things to fix.”

Rick looked at her sideways, raising a brow. “You planning to start making signs and starting rallies and protests?”

“Something like that.”

There was a moment of pause as he considered this.

“Don’t let your ideals blind you from reality.” He said solemnly. “That black haired girl you mentioned? If I were in your shoes, I’d look to bond with her.”

Alice almost recoiled at that. “What? Why?”

“Because she’d know where May is. That, and she attacked her own leader. You said as much yourself, something doesn’t seem right.”

“But why me?”

“Why not? If you have plans to change the world, then having someone with an outsider’s perspective to things would be useful.”

That made her scowl. “You’re talking as if she’s a tool.”

“For now, she might as well be.” He shrugged in response. “It’s up to whoever owns her to decide if she ever gets to be anything else.” A small laugh escaped him. “I’m also betting you’d thought about doing that already.”

Alice half considered emptying her cup on his face. But resigned herself to growl instead. “Yeah, I had. Helga’s… weird about her. Said the girl seemed more confused and lost than actually trying to fight. Maybe she was under the effects of something.”

“That and you might make her talk without needing to torture her.”

Her lips thinned. “That too.”

The sigh was a tired one.

“Got lots to do, it seems.” Rick nodded. “I’ll be hitting the road sometime next week. Have to finish preparations.”

“You’re just being a coward and running away before Miss Dodson shows up.”

They shared another laugh. “You got me.” He declared between chuckles. Then nodded along, and stood up, clearly ready to leave. “Take care of yourself, Alice. Things are a lot more dangerous than we thought they were.”

“I was ambushed, Rick. I think I know what’s up.”

Rough hands grasped her own. “Alice.” Rick looked into her eyes, and for a moment, Alice saw a flicker of blue within them. “I got a hitman sent to my house, for reasons I don’t really yet understand. And it doesn’t seem like I’m getting away from this mess any time soon.”

A chill ran down her spine, and she could only assent slowly.

Things were going to get complicated.

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Rav PSA: Chapters 232-234 (to be posted for Silver Tier next week) will be the ending of Volume 3.

Volume 4 might see a minor delay before getting started, but overall it will see some changes in style for the story (not the characters or anything like that), such as trying to put the narrative focus more firmly on Rick's plot and keeping the stories that aren't directly affecting it as bonus content on the side.