Monsters and Maidens (172 to 176)

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[172] [Rick]

“This breaks physics.”

Sitting on the large plush bed, legs crossed, Rick kept glaring at the book about ‘alchemy’ that he’d been provided by the maids as a “loan” from the Earl.

“How so, sir?” Dia, leaning into his shoulder, had been glancing at the book.

“Here.” He pointed at the formula that’d been written down on the yellowed pages. “It lists that the total mass changed. In a sealed environment.”

“Well, yes. Metal-based elemental energy interacts differently with an elemental stone than with a piece of wood.” She pointed at the start of the formula. “The properties of the elemental stone barely changed, but the wood gained weight.”

“Mass doesn’t just…” Rick rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Where does the weight come from? Does elemental energy have weight?”

“Sometimes?”

“So if a maiden just goes and uses a lot of that elemental energy, her weight abruptly goes down?”

Dia giggled. “Oh no, that would be crazy.”

He could feel the start of a migraine. “I think I’m going to need to look at the fundamentals. Is there any… alchemy… book that’s more basic than this?”

“I will ask, but I think this is as basic as it goes, sir.” She nodded with a wry smile. “Does chemistry work differently where you come from?”

“This isn’t chemistry, it’s…” He closed the book and sighed. “Science is something you can replicate consistently. It’s trying to figure out the building blocks and how they mesh. And this… this feels like I’m looking at an art book on how to draw. Except I don’t have any brushes.”

“But you have me, sir. And the kitten who must not be named lest she wake up.”

They both glanced to the side. Monica was curled up in a ball and sleeping soundly.

“I know you’re trying to make it sound reassuring, but it doesn’t mesh well with me.” Rick said. “It’s… to make alchemy I have to get my hands on a maiden with the elemental energy I want to use? And she must be talented enough to be consistent with her output? And… none of this really explains what elemental energy is. Not as an actual fundamental force.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give you a proper answer either.” She placed her hand on his knee. “I could tell you what lack or excess of elemental energy does to a body, of some of the more common afflictions pertaining to this, and the basics for healing spell casting, but…”

Monica’s ears perked up, her head rose, turning to the door. Two seconds after, there was a soft knock. Rick glanced at the Sabertooth, gauging her current mood. She wasn’t alert, merely curious, which had to mean whomever was knocking wasn’t perceived as a threat.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and a mousy woman stepped inside. With a pale complexion and gray hair, the maiden looked older than her peach-shaped face would have otherwise shown. She took a single step inside, barely enough to close the door behind her, and immediately stiffened like a board. Even if her eyes and ears were aimed directly at Rick, it was clear she could feel Monica’s presence.

“The Earl invites you to a boar hunt, sir.”

“Hunt?” Monica perked further, fully sitting up and glancing between Rick and the mouse.

Rick kept his lips locked into a passive expression. “When would it be?”

“In five days, sir. The Earl understands you may not have the proper apparel, and has offered calling for a seamstress.” She shifted ever so slightly. “Unless sir intends to head out to the city?”

“Oh god no.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He quickly shook his head. “No, no, just… thank the Earl for his offer. I would appreciate having the seamstress brought here. And thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

She turned to leave, softly closing the door behind her.

“Huh.”

“What is it, sir?”

“She’s the first one that didn’t run.”

“You think she might come back?” Dia chuckled.

“Honestly, I hope so. Monica needs to get accustomed to… people.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you’ve spent most of your time locked inside this singular room. This is not a great example.” Her tone had a slight humor to it, her finger poking his shoulder. “I may soon have to invoke concern for your health so I can drag you outside.”

“I know…” He shook his head. “And Monica is only going to take so long before she starts becoming bored with the monotony. We should start thinking about how to handle the hunting thing.”

Monica approached the bed, glancing down at him with a frown. “Rick hunt?”

“She looks giddy… why does she look giddy about that?”

“She looks like normal.”

“No, no, look at the tail.” Rick gestured. “It’s flicking. She flicks it when she’s giddy.”

Monica frowned, crawling onto the bed and poking him with her claw. “Rick. Hunt?” She asked more insistently.

“Alone.”

She quirked a brow and snorted. “No.”

“It’s not something you can argue, Monica. You can’t just ghost me everywhere.”

“Rick no hunt alone. Hurt.”

“I get that. It’s not like I have a choice.”

Dia giggled. Both Rick and Monica glared at her. “Monica doesn’t know half the words you are using, sir, but she’s clearly understanding your intentions.”

“I think it’s the bond. It helps… somewhat.” His shoulders slumped. He glanced at Monica. “Boar hunt. Only a boar, nothing else. Just…”

“Rick soft. No hunt alone.” Another poke.

“Small hunt.”

“No. Rick hurt.”

This time she poked the center of his chest, and he could only wince as he felt more than saw Dia’s expression darken.

“Sir?”

“It’s nothing, just a scare when she got a bit rough.”

“Sir!?” She raised her voice now. “Monica got rough!?”

“Not that kind. She got a bit tough, and I just had a thing.”

“Is this… oh, this is when I started feeling horrible all of a sudden!” Dia’s eyes widened. “I spent an hour doing self-diagnosis when I should have run over here! You should have told me, sir!”

“Rick no hunt alone.”

Monica’s poke knocked him onto his back, the two now leveling determined anger his way. He laid on his back, frowning. His lips parted as he tried to form the proper words to the two scowls aimed at him. Slowly he glanced between Dia and Monica. He could actually feel their concern. If he didn’t pay close attention, he might have mistaken it for his own. With a deep sigh, he just closed his eyes and leaned further into the bed.

“We have five days to convince Monica to not get in the way.” A sharp inhale. “And if we can’t, then… I don’t know what we’ll do then.”

“Sir?”

“As to what happened to you, I’m sorry I lost control like that. I shouldn’t have allowed it to get that bad.” Opening his eyes again, he moved to the edge of the bed. “I think I’m going to need to take a walk or something.”

“Rick?”

“But I can’t, because Monica clings to me, afraid that I’m going to die or vanish the instant she isn’t within pouncing range.” His brows furrowed. “But we can’t let that keep up.”

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the glares had been replaced with concern. His own gaze moved from Monica to Dia, and then back.

“Fuck it.”

Moving to leave the bed, he slipped his shoes on.

“I’m going to take a walk.”

Two steps towards the door, Monica had intercepted, placing herself between him and the exit.

“I’m going to take a walk. And you are staying.”

He tried to take a step around her, and she made sure to body-block his path to the door.

“Monica protect.”

“Yeah, well, this is Rick protect.”

Monica took a slight step back, confused. He took the chance and stepped around her before she could throw some more questions or, worse, block him. The feline shot him a strange look as he closed the door behind himself. On the bed, Dia looked on with her own concern.

The moment the door closed behind him, Rick took a sharp right and began walking. His mind was running through the number of meters he estimated he’d traversed. Twelve steps, thirty, sixty. It wasn’t until he’d been fully and entirely certain that he’d gotten outside of Monica’s incredible hearing range that he let out a long, withering sigh.

Slumping against the nearest wall, he took a deep breath.

That had been harder than he’d expected.

His heart was beating a mile a minute, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Regardless, now came the harder part. Waiting.

[173] [Rick]

Though Rick had left the room with the intention of just clearing his head, he’d been just about ready to run straight back in. He wasn’t sure why, but that was the feeling that was coursing through him currently, as he sat on a set of stone stairs and trying to pretend he’d intentionally stopped there for some reason or another.

He was right where Monica couldn’t hear him or feel his exact location anymore.

Rick wasn’t sure how he knew that, how he was so sure about it, but he knew. He was a dozen steps away from her becoming aware of where he was again. He was half sure that just talking loudly would let her hear him, even there. It felt absurd. His brain told him it shouldn’t be possible for her to be able to just hear him exist this far off from the room. Was it over twenty meters away? More?

And the only reason he had that sense of certainty was because he felt a sense of anxiousness gnawing at the back of his mind. A feeling that he was sure had to be Monica’s. But at the same time it was hard to separate from his own. Her nervousness was rubbing off on him in a way that made his back cold with sweat.

“Do you… need anything, sir?”

The owner of the voice meekly stood next to Rick, a Mousegirl with a long and plain maid uniform. The pale complexion and button nose were easily recognizable as the one who’d come into his room just a handful of minutes ago. “Just catching my breath.”

She nodded, head turning towards the corridor he’d come from.

“Would sir wish for some privacy? This place would certainly… draw attention.”

“Uh, sure, I guess, just not too far off from here.”

“The gardens are just down the stairs to the right. It is a good place to… catch one’s breath.” She paused for a moment. “If you follow the wall to the left, it leads to a small untended corner that is out of sight. Very few know of it.”

“Oh, thank you.” Rick rubbed at his forehead, slowly moving his fingers to his temples as he did his best to control his breathing. “What’s your name?”

“My name, sir?”

“Yes.”

“My Mistress calls me Little Mouse.”

“I see.” He let out a slow sigh. “And what’s your name?”

Her lips curled slightly upwards. “Little Mouse, sir.” She gave a curt bow and turned to leave.

Rick waited for a minute before he got up and began to make his way down the stairs. He attempted to mostly take in the views as he moved. The fortress had a definite medieval feel to it, but there were also modern aspects incorporated. The walls, though made with large stone bricks, were almost polished smooth, with barely a gap between the large blocks. The stairs were covered with a rug of some sort, dark green and rough to the touch. The illumination was more modern. No candles or torches, but rather constant stable lights within colored glass orbs placed on the walls. They looked electric, but when Rick tried to move a hand close to one, the tingling on his skin told him they were made with elemental energy somehow.

The door leading outside was guarded, the two maidens wearing some teal blue uniforms opening the way without prompting, wait, or question. They acted as if they were nothing more than statues.

“Thank you.”

The small comment caused them both to tense, though they remained quiet.

The outside world brought with it a breath of fresh air he hadn’t realized he’d been sorely missing. Sunshine and a cool breeze did wonders at the tension on his shoulders.

The garden was lush, just down the set of stairs there was a tunnel that had been built by having several trees entwine with one another, forming long archways. The trees were different from one another. Rick was no botanist, but he could at least see no less than a dozen just at a first glance. Each one had its own leaves and flowers, their own shapes, giving the tunnel an almost kaleidoscopic appearance.

Rather than walk through it, however, he glanced to the left, spotting a narrow space between the fortress’ walls and the outer edge of the trees. It was hidden well enough. He would have certainly missed it if not for Little Mouse’s directions. So he followed, finding his steps slightly irregular and uncomfortable, but the ground was well trodden, this space clearly being used often. Perhaps to allow servants to care for the garden from places inaccessible from within the tunnel.

Within just a dozen meters or so, he’d made it to a small clearing that had the stone walls on one side and the trees on the other. Under the shade of the tree, there was an empty bench.

Rick took the opportunity to reassess the situation with Monica. She was still nervous, and it was gnawing at him. Strangely enough, he was fairly sure he wasn’t all too far from her detection range. There was a mild sensation that if he kept himself to the wall and continued further into the garden, he’d eventually get closer to her.

It was weird, strange, and disconcerting. The emotions and feelings clearly came from the bond. They hadn’t been as apparent while traveling or while he’d been recovering. Something had shifted since that fight with the Baron, something that had been growing and hadn’t become apparent until now.

Or maybe he just hadn’t paid attention. He’d been able to draw pain from Monica while she fought. That wasn’t something that should be possible. Irene, the town psychic, hadn’t been sure about that either. She had certainly been emphatic over how little she knew about bonds. He’d have to find an expert in the field to be able to give him answers.

The sound of crunching dirt drew Rick’s attention.

“Oh, I didn’t know this was occupied already.”

The man was young, barely past his teens. His hair was long and smooth, his complexion thin and fair. The first thought that crossed Rick’s mind was that the stranger had been plucked straight out of some 90s boy-band.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just here to breathe.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Thank you, sir.”

He sat down on the opposite side of the bench, looking straight ahead.

Rick tried to get back into organizing his thoughts, but he could feel the young man looking at him every other second. He was trying to be discreet and failing. “Yes?”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Too late for that.

“You've got something to ask, I’m guessing?”

“Are you… you know, the one?”

Rick shot him a weird look. “The what?”

“The owner of… White Claw.”

“That’s me.” He sighed, slumping further into the bench. “Name’s Rick.”

“Right, sorry, I’m just being rude, I’m sorry.” The young man made vague hand gestures as he stood. “You’re clearly looking to relax and I just should’ve kept quiet.”

Rick looked at him from head to toe. The guy looked like one coffee cup away from imploding. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, Nicolas.”

“And what’s your trouble?”

The man fidgeted. “I don’t think they’re that important, sir, not compared to… well.”

“Compared to… what?”

“Well, handling such a dangerous maiden.” The man coughed. “A Tigress is already very dangerous. I’ve heard of how they’ve ripped their partners apart merely because they were not worthy. And you have one who’s shifted to an even stronger form…”

Rick’s back straightened slightly. “You know about Tigresses?”

Nicolas appeared confused for a split second, nodding. “Only rumors. They are very rare outside of the southern villages. And they’re infamously hard to bond, which is why they’re so dangerous. I once-”

“But there’s tamed ones.” Rick dismissed the warning. “What’s known about those? There’s barely any written material about them.”

“That would likely be because they were one of the stronger and most successful factions during the rebellion against the kingdom’s power. At least in the south. They are dangerous to humans since they’d never bond with-.”

“I’m asking about their culture.” Rick’s voice came out in a growl, meeting the young man’s gaze intently.

Nicolas paled, nodding quickly. “They respect power, above all else.”

“But what about humans? There’s no way a human can compare to a maiden in power.”

“Of course, even gifted humans are far weaker than maidens.” A very quick nod, almost eager, his shoulders relaxing and a smile emerging on his lips. “Which is why Tigresses are known to be violent against humans who try to impose on them.”

“Sure, sure, but what about the relationships?”

“I… am not sure what you are talking about.”

“When a tigress decides she will have a human, what happens then?”

“Well, they test the human, and if they’re not worthy, then…”

“Oh.” Rick blinked a little.

“Which is why they’re so dangerous. You should definitely watch out.”

“Hm… are you sure you don’t know anything else?”

“It is based on rumors. They tend to be very isolated, so…”

“Ah, a shame.” Rick nodded slightly, standing up from the bench. “But I think you've helped me a bit.” He moved to stand, dusting himself off. “Thanks.”

“I… you’re welcome?”

“Best of luck, Nicolas.”

Rick headed back through where he came from, leaving the young man to look on in shock.

[174] [Royal Knight Captain Deneva]

Royal Knight Captain Deneva sensed Rick approaching his room not because of his presence, but because the Sabertooth within the room had stopped pacing behind the door. The human was frustratingly hard to detect through his aura. It was weak enough Deneva was certain she’d seen newborn humans with a stronger presence. By comparison, the feline maiden that had remained at his side was a miniature sun. She held back nothing, and even when asleep her power was annoyingly washing over everything around her as if laying claim to it.

Deneva had seen cadets with better control over themselves. Still, she had to begrudgingly accept that the feralborn cat was strong enough any of the knights would not really be able to stop her. The Lord’s decision to put her on guard duty was understandable, but did he really need to make her act like some lowly maid?

“Excuse me, miss Deneva?”

It was the human, Rick.

“Do you need anything?”

She eyed him, acknowledging his presence. Everything about him was as feeble as his aura, yet Deneva felt her gaze gravitating towards his hands, as if a part of her half-expected him to attack. There was an intensity in his pose, his gaze, his gestures. Like an echo of the feral that was bonded to him.

Curious.

“Would I be correct in assuming that your orders are to keep a check on Monica so she doesn’t harm anyone?”

“Yes.”

“And would I be correct in assuming that if you saw the need to intervene, it would be seen as a failure on my part to handle her?”

Deneva kept her expression impassive as she spoke. “Yes.” Sensing a twinge of amusement from him, she wanted to frown, but she’d be dead before she did such a basic misstep in protocol.

“I would like to request a small game involving Monica. Though I guess the intent would be to consider it more like a training exercise. Would I need to speak with the Earl over the details? Or would it suffice to talk it over with you since you’re the captain?”

A game?

Deneva caught herself half-way into scoffing at such a proclamation. Her gaze moved upwards to meet his gaze. “It would depend on the details.”

With a nod, Rick began to explain his idea. The more Deneva heard, the harder it was to keep her expression impassive. One thing became clear: the Lord would have to be the one to approve of it.

***

“And you intend this to be a… learning experience?”

Deneva stood next to her Lord, the man’s aura hidden behind layers of enchanted protections, impossible to read by even herself. But it was easy to tell there was an edge of enthusiasm behind the otherwise dubious cadence of his voice.

“Yes, sir. I’ve been trying to seek alternate ways to teach Monica societal values, and I believe this may be one way to go about a rather important lesson.”

Rick, on the other hand, was a study in opposites. The human had the fearful aura of a thief that had been caught mid-burglary. Yet his body kept a tight appearance of confidence, almost calm. His tone was cordial and respectful, but his eyes held no deference. His words were controlled, but they were spoken in a hurry.

Deneva had stood next to his room for long enough to know the man to be weak and deferential to his own maidens. What they wanted, he gave freely.

“And what lesson would that be?” The Earl asked, pretending to be bored.

“Trust, sir.” Rick answered quickly enough. It was clear he’d expected the question. “Monica’s relationship with knights has been… harsh. She would sooner assume they would attack us than protect us.”

The truth in Rick’s aura gave Deneva pause. She urged her own aura to press against her Lord’s hand. A signal that the words were important. To Deneva’s senses, the statement had been true and not just in reference to the feralborn maiden.

“I see.” The Earl nodded slowly. “I will approve of this. Though you would understand the need for caution.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Deneva? How long would the preparations take?”

She would have to gather as many of the knights as they could spare. This was an opportunity for them as well, after all.

“Thirty minutes, my Lord.”

“Very well. Rick, you may leave.”

“Thank you, sir.”

A curt bow, and he departed.

The Lord waited until after the doors had closed before he acknowledged Deneva’s presence. “What are your thoughts on this?”

“He has no more control over his maidens than over the weather. The Rapha has some semblance of discipline, but it is clear that it is by no merit of her current owner.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, my Lord. It is in my humble opinion White Claw is merely humoring him. It is only a matter of time before her amusement runs out and disaster comes.”

“Are you suggesting I take her from him?”

Though his tone was calm, there was an edge of steel in his posture that brought a chill. She quickly spoke up, lowering her head further. “I would never dare presume such a decision, let alone suggest it, my Lord. Excuse my impudence.”

“I’ve been pondering on it. As you’ve said, he does not control his maidens. Yet it is clear he is not passive either.” A contemplative edge emerged on his plump features. “There is something about his ways that feels familiar…”

Deneva lowered her bow.

“What is your command, my Lord?”

He nodded sharply. “I think I would like to… surprise him.”

***

The sun glared down upon the dusty ground from its zenith.

Three fourths of all knights in the city had gathered in the training grounds. The orders had been clear, and everyone had moved with the discipline of a royal knight captain. Within the half hour, nearly a hundred maidens stood at attention. Save for a handful of exceptions, all high ranking knights that had been within the city were present.

And even through their stoic silence, there were murmurs.

Everyone had heard of White Claw and her owner. The fact that the two had remained locked up in the room had only fanned the flames of curiosity. Anyone with a bare minimum of perception of elemental energy would have been able to feel White Claw’s energy permeating over a third of the fortress, and anyone with heightened hearing would have surely heard of the nightly activities she and the human engaged in.

Now the mythical feralborn maiden was there in the flesh, pushing her presence outward with a level of force that was making the poor pink-haired Rapha pale. But it wouldn’t be enough to intimidate the knights. Deneva had long since ensured each and every maiden under her command could not be scared by cheap tricks.

“Would you do the honors, Rick?”

The Earl spoke with magnanimous grace.

Rick had been practically invisible. His aura was hidden within the downpour from White Claw’s own. If not because he stood in front of her, no one would have been able to acknowledge his existence.

“Sir?”

“You did intend to be part of this. You should be able to explain it better than I.”

“… right.”

The man moved stiffly towards the center of the combat training field. White Claw’s behavior turned her focus from the gathered knights to him. The intensity of her gaze would have made many a maiden freeze. Yet it did not appear to affect Rick as he turned his back on the Earl so he could address the gathered knights.

“I am looking to aid in training Monica to be more trusting. To do so, I will need volunteers for this game.” He gestured at the feline. “The game is simple. She will attempt to reach me, and the volunteers must stop her. But you must neither use weapons, spells, nor special abilities. The goal is to show her that she can trust your skills in ensuring a human’s safety.”

Deneva felt the Lord’s mirth as he called out to those gathered. “Any volunteers?”

As one, all hundred knights took a step forward. Next to Deneva, the Earl’s lips curled in amusement.

[175] [Royal Knight Captain Deneva]

“Monica hunt Rick. Knights protect Rick.”

Rick’s words had been simple enough, pulling up a chair and placing it at the center of the training grounds. Deneva stood next to her Lord, holding the umbrella and keeping a keen eye out for potential dangers.

“No.” Monica proclaimed, looking at Rick and then the six knights standing between her and him.

Each knight wore their full combat regalia, their visored helmets obscuring their faces. The murisium metal had been intricately carved with protective enchantments that would make even a Dragoness unable to bring them down in a single blow.

“Monica protect Rick.” The feline’s aura covered the entire field like an angry blanket, smoldering in annoyance and irritation.

“This is a game, Monica.” He replied, tone calm. “Monica hunt Rick.”

Deneva felt her hackles rise. Negotiating with one’s own maiden was a severe sign of weakness. One could never trust such a human would be able to accomplish a mission, much less survive without dragging someone else with them.

“Monica win? Prize?”

The feline was looking at the knights, all of them were captains of their own squadrons. Deneva knew none would individually be able to provide the kind of power that could outmatch White Claw on their own other than herself, but as a team? There was little doubt they would succeed. Even with the absurdly powerful aura that would have made recruits falter, there was little doubt on how things would end once they started.

“Yes, prize.” Rick calmly leaned into the chair, directing his words to the knights.

“Sex prize?”

Rick’s face turned several shades of red and then pale. None of the knights dared laugh, but the amusement passed over the auras of everyone gathered like a wave.

“Oh my.” The Earl chuckled, covering his mouth curtly.

“Monica, not now. Talk later, game now.”

“No sex, no hunt.”

“Come on…” Rick quickly looked around, and the knights avoided meeting his gaze out of respect. With slumped shoulders, the man rubbed at his temples. “Yes sex.”

“Orgy?”

“If you lose, I’m giving orgy to Dia.”

This time it was the Rapha’s turn to go from brilliant red to pale. The poor maiden would have likely shrunk herself to nothing if she had the ability to do so. As it stood, she locked her gaze to the ground and tried to blend with the surroundings.

“Monica win.” The feline proclaimed.

“You should prepare yourselves.” Rick’s voice carried softly, grasping at the chair he was sitting on firmly.

“Don’t worry, sir, we know what we’re doing.”

The feline took a step forward. “Monica hunt.”

Raising her hands high into the air, she slammed them down against the ground with concussive force. Instantly, a cloud of dust rose into the air all around her. Rubble and sand scattered in every direction. Deneva snorted, crossing her arms.

“What are your thoughts?” Her Lord spoke softly.

“A fruitless attempt. Even if they cannot see her, it is still very easy to detect-.”

Deneva froze.

The aura was gone. The absence of the overbearing presence almost deafening to her senses.

A hard thumping sound followed, and Deneva stepped to place herself between her Lord and the potential threat, the pommel of her blade in hand. The royal knight captain’s hackles rose as she sharpened herself. If this was some ruse to attack the Earl, then…

“From above.”

It came as a surprise that Rick had been the one to shout the warning.

As one, the six knights leaned to look in the pointed direction. White Claw had emerged right at the peak of the dust plume, the angle clearly intended to land squarely where Rick sat.

As one, they shouted. “Shields!”

Their coordination was impeccable. The six surrounded Rick, raising their shield arms and forming an impenetrable barrier. White Claw landed on it with a solid thud, though rather than move or roll off, she merely stood on top of the shields, tapping against them with her claw in apparent annoyance and contemplation.

“Heave!”

The knights thrust the shields upwards, sending the feline off. Though it did little, the feline landed with ease. Under normal circumstances, the knights would have moved to a battle formation and engaged White Claw, but without being able to use their weapons or elemental abilities, it would be a more reliable approach to prioritize becoming an impenetrable wall.

Deneva kept her nod of approval from showing. Someone might pick up on it and start thinking they could slack during training.

“She thinks the left flank is weaker.”

Rick’s voice carried over softly, breaking the silence. Deneva could see why the feralborn might think this way. The shortest knight in the group was on the left side after all. But only a fool would think this to be a sign of weakness.

“I see.” The Lord leaned forward in his seat, stroking his chin in contemplation.

“My Lord?”

“Just observe for now, Deneva. These are idle musings of mine.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

She turned her full focus to the knights and the maiden. It was clear the Earl had seen something she had not. Her eyes narrowed in close contemplation. White Claw was slowly circling the six knights currently surrounding Rick. The knights kept a formation that kept at least three shields aimed at the feralborn maiden at all times, the other three ready to supplement the defenses wherever needed.

They were gauging each other.

“She’s focusing on your shields. Probably wants to rip them off.”

True to his word, White Claw lunged straight at the group, her claws fanning out and ringing loudly against the tower shields. To a normal bystander, it might have looked as if the attack had been ineffective, but to an expert eye it was clear the attack hadn’t been intended to push through the shields. The claws found the edge of one of the shields, and White Claw yanked viciously, a move that would have normally been able to pull the maiden out of formation. But not against trained knights, the rest of the team had been quick to overlap the edges of their shields with that of their companion and, together, overcame White Claw’s strength.

She didn’t give up, however, switching targets to another. The knights weren’t as fast, but they had years of coordination. They needed to move far less to cover for the companion that was being focused on. The clash of claw against steel was beginning to ring louder, White Claw’s aura broke out of its confines and began to hammer down on the knights. The timing was impeccable, White Claw changed the timing of her attacks with her aura. Sometimes the aura would impact moments before her claws, and other times she would delay it.

“What are your thoughts on how she fights?”

“She’s not used to dragging things out.” Deneva declared. “She is trying to trick her opponents into opening a gap to quickly end it.”

“Do you think she’ll manage?”

“No, her only choice is to chip away at their defense.”

“And Rick?”

Deneva shifted her focus to the human. He was still on the chair, his aura all but invisible to her senses under the assault that was breaking out around him. The man was staring intently in the direction of White Claw, however, as if he could see through the knights that were standing in the way. It wasn’t until she focused on his face that Deneva noticed something was off. His brow was drenched in sweat, furrowed deeply, and his lips were moving. Whatever he was saying, it was impossible to make out with the ringing of the shields.

“He is talking.”

“He is telling the knights where Monica intends to attack.”

Deneva looked at the Earl in surprise. “You can hear him, my Lord?”

“It’s only a guess.” The man spoke, smiling in amusement. “Think of this fight politically, Deneva.”

“Politics is not an aspect I would dare presume myself able to understand, my Lord.”

“I am well aware, but try anyway. Who is fighting who?”

She turned back to the unfolding battle. White Claw had not relented, only grown faster. Her aura moved like a whip, growing more and more precise with her increasing speed. She would attack with it certain knights while her claws aimed for another. Deneva could only frown at the tactic, even she would have had a hard time against it. Yet the knights had yet to reveal a single opening.

Deneva would have answered the Earl’s question with the fight being between White Claw and the knights, but it felt too obvious. Her Lord would not have made the question were it as simple as that. So she focused further.

Her knights were moving flawlessly, they reacted to White Claw’s attacks without hesitation. Feints were ignored, empty attacks blocked with minimal expenditure. The movements were fluid, responsive, White Claw and their shields danced at an unheard tune. As if the knights knew exactly how and where the attacks would come from. A degree of performance she would’ve praised them for, even by her own standards.

And then she looked at Rick as the man’s gaze met White Claw’s determined glare with one of his own.

“No.”

“Yes.” The Earl nodded with an amused chuckle. “It appears he had another lesson he wished to teach.”

Deneva looked on as the battle continued, and frowned.

[176] [Barry]

Barry stepped into the prison cell.

It was a repurposed guest room. The windows had been closed, leaving the only source of illumination the enchanted lantern Barry had in his hands. The room had been cleared of furniture, there were only two occupants inside, both prisoners. Pan and Kajou sat on opposite sides of the room, both strapped to their respective chairs.

The guards had wrestled them into their chairs when Barry had come to visit. The arms of both of them were covered in lightly glowing tattoos, both their ankles adorned by rings of metal. Curses meant to sap their power and disrupt their abilities. Apparently there had been some prisoners before that had managed to escape because they’d relied too much on the protective enchantments of the room.

The two maidens had found Barry out in the wild, rescued him from a feral den where he’d been eaten. Kajou had been the kind one, insisting on Barry’s status as an otherworlder. Pan had not been so kind, to her, Barry had been little more than a human, and thus a threat they would be better off without. The result had been torture while being forced to traverse the forest, a constant threat dangling over his head like a sword. The experience had been months ago, yet it still felt fresh in his mind.

Barry would’ve loved to claim he could summon anger, perhaps hating them would make things easier. But looking at them, sunken eyes and pale, both battered black and blue, the only feeling he could muster was pity and regret. A part of it was the regret that he hadn’t been able to work up the courage to enter the cell in two whole days, already he could see they were both deteriorating.

Pan screamed into her gag, the sound almost entirely muffled. The moment Barry stepped closer to Kajou, the muffled shouts were muted entirely. The Amazoness looked up at him from her seat, eyes focusing for long enough to frown, then losing that sharpness ever so slightly. Barry removed the gag, expecting a string of insults and screams.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t convince Embla.”

The Court leader had been impossible to reach. They still shared a room, but Barry barely ever saw her anymore. She went to bed after him and left before he woke. The one time he’d intercepted her she’d refused to change her mind over the matter.

“It doesn’t matter.” She spoke with a raspy throat. “You shouldn’t… shouldn’t…” Kajou shook her head. “You shouldn’t let her manipulate you.”

“What do I do? Let you die?”

Dark orbs looked up at him from the chair, frowning. “What do you want, Barry?”

Barry had the words forming on his throat, but they did not make their way out of his lips. His fists clenched, stepping forward and directly in front of the Amazon. “Tell me.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“Is there a point?”

“I… I’ve been thinking about… things.” Barry lowered his head, clenching both hands together. “You just want to help your people, and you’re caught in this mess because of me. I just… you don’t deserve this.”

Kajou had been absently nodding at his words, closing her eyes. “And Pan?”

“She… she surrendered to save you. She’s not nice, but… execution? That’s…”

There was no answer. Kajou lowered her head, her body slumping against the chair and the maiden shaking her head. “Don’t you see?”

“See what?”

“What happens after you bond us?”

“You go back to your people.”

She sighed. “Will the Lady really allow it? Or would she get rid of us?”

“If she kills you after the bond forms, I’d know.”

“And would you know it was her and not ferals? What happens if the bond reaches its limit half-way to Coven and we are forced to turn back? After she attacked us, we can’t…” She paused, grunting, shaking her head. “We can’t trust she won’t finish the job.”

“And you’d rather just get killed?”

She breathed deeply, raising her gaze to look at the only other occupant in the room. “I…” Her eyes unfocused again, and Kajou grit her teeth. “I’m not going anywhere without Pan.”

Barry’s gut wrenched into a knot. “I’ll just bond you first, and-.”

“No.” Kajou shook her head. “Not without Pan”

He turned to look over his shoulder, the Valkyrie had been glaring at them, struggling against the restraints. A shiver ran through him, a soft pulsing pain made its way through his chest. A dark cave in the forest, a scream, a soft voice calling his name as brilliant blue eyes dimmed, the life taken from them. “I… I…”

There was no response, only Kajou’s silent stare. It was clear there was not much else she wanted to say.

Barry swallowed the lump in his throat.

Stepping out of the cone of silence, he could hear the words Pan was trying to throw at him through her gag. The next step felt heavier as he moved closer to the winged maiden, his chest feeling uncomfortably hotter as he had to struggle to meet those pristine blue eyes so full of loathing.

Six short steps and he was left standing in front of Pan. His heart was beating like a drum, cold sweat ran down his back. “… hey.” He croaked out the word, averting his gaze from Pan’s own.

The seat creaked as she tensed against her restraints, the metal digging into her skin, the immaculate brow creased into a deep glare.

“I’m not… I’m not going to remove the gag.” Barry coughed, avoiding to meet her gaze. “Just, hear me out, ok? You… you care about your sister, right?”

The response to the question was a heavy rattling as Pan thrashed against the bonds on the chair, trying to break free. Her voice was let out in a scream against her gag. Barry waited until the struggling came to a halt, awkwardly not looking her way and praying that the chair wouldn’t just break. The part of him that would’ve jumped away was tempered, at least a bit. Orion was in his shadow, he could feel that comfort permeating through him, dulling the fear.

With deep huffs, Pan finally stopped her fighting, hair wild and eyes searing into him even as she struggled to catch her breath.

“You… I don’t want you.” Barry spoke with a whisper. “I… if I never see you again, I’d… I’d appreciate it.” His hands tightened into fists. “And… and Kajou cares. You’re sisters, I can… I lost my brother, and…”

“Barry.”

Orion had spoken from his shadow, her hand had emerged out of the dark substance, fingers caressing his ankle. Barry noticed his hands were shaking, he stuffed them into his pockets to regain some control over them.

“She… doesn’t want to leave without you. If you… if you keep doing this, she will die. Because of you.”

He spoke in a harsh whisper, meeting Pan’s gaze.

It was as if she’d been slapped, eyes widened, fear and incredulity. It was only a second, a moment of vulnerability as she stared at him in disbelief.

The anger returned right after she screamed into the gag, tears running down her cheeks as she fought against the chair with renewed strength. It rattled and groaned, Barry threw one look at Kajou as she watched Pan, and then back to the Valkyrie fighting against the restraints.

“… think about it.” Barry whispered, turning to the door and leaving.

-----

And that's that! Deneva gets some PoV and Rick gets some traction. Wonder what'll happen with Barry?

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