TVisTV Book 4: Chapter 14 (RAW) (Patreon)

Chapter 14 - Breaking

"At its finest, rider and horse are joined not by tack, but by trust. Each is totally reliant upon the other." 

- Unknown.

Cornelia stirred again, something reptilian flashing in its dreams filled with raw gluttony. Stirred then rested once more, an instinct as old as the world telling the Hydra that her mistress was in no danger.

The monster, for it could only be called that, looked at her with something very close to hate in its eyes. This was not a creature from the storybook tales, and it did not hate as humans understood it. But there was fury, and there was hunger. 

There was the hot, simple desire to break the world beneath its hooves and to answer the insult it had suffered to its pride. 

Kill. Kill. All of you. Grind your bones to dust.

The thoughts crashed against Seraphina’s mind in broken, brutal fragments, dragged there by the Beast Lore amulet at her throat.

The young girl smiled, showing teeth of her own, and answered it within the halls of its mind. How?

Then, fearlessly, she knelt beside the creature.

A murmur passed through the gathered nobles. The minor lords and ladies of the North stood wrapped in fur and heavy cloaks, their breath misting in the cold stable air, their hands tightening around gloves, canes, and sword hilts. The mercenaries watched with less refinement and rather more honesty. Several of them took a step back.

Seraphina ignored them all, and she simply reached out and seized the unicorn by the forelock, just behind the horn. The beast’s eye rolled toward her. Its muscles bunched beneath its torn, forest-colored coat. Chains rattled, thick steel flecked with grey Dullstone groaning as it tried to jerk away.

Seraphina lifted slowly, almost gently, with one hand.

The unicorn’s hooves scraped against the stone. Its breath came harsh and hot, pluming around its fanged mouth as she forced its head up, then its neck, then the rest of its wounded body. The creature fought her with every trembling line of itself, but Seraphina only smiled wider, a beatific grin blooming across her face.

Around them, several of the northern lords made signs to the Goddess. Someone drew in a sharp breath. Someone else cursed under their breath and was immediately elbowed into silence.

Her grandmother only watched proudly.

“You have your father’s strength,” Duchess Adelaide stated with aplomb.

Little did she know the truth of it, Seraphina thought. Her powers came from a much darker source.

The unicorn whinnied and struggled, stamping at the ground as the chains clattered around it. It shook its mane in rebellion, wild-eyed and furious, its horn trying to spike the girl. And Seraphina just laughed.

Kill. Kill. All of you. But this time, the thought came weaker. Because this time, beneath the rage, there was a growing panic.

She brought her face closer to its own, close enough to feel the heat of its breath. No, she told it. I do not think you will, maidenless child of Iasis.

There it was. The hidden desire buried beneath all that mythic violence. The old wound at the center of its kind. The drive to emulate the first unicorn and receive the purpose for which it had been made: to bear the Mother herself upon its back for the First Journey.

That was why they sought out mortals pure in being. Maidens untouched, unspoiled, fragrant with innocence. Flowers not yet bruised by the world. Flowers they would eventually devour when boredom soured worship into appetite, all while knowing, deep in their marrow, that their creator had abandoned them.

A unicorn would accept only a maiden pure enough to ride upon its back. And Seraphina possessed purity. Not the soft purity of a meadow flower that had yet to bloom beneath a man’s touch, but purity of purpose. A sharpened thing, a beautiful thing. The purity of a bladed rose with spears for thorns.

The creature stood now, forced upright before her, and only then did its full stature become clear. It was almost as large as her father’s warhorse, Kicker, with muscle packed beneath its torn hide and a savage nobility that made ordinary horses seem like prancing foals.

Seraphina grasped its mane and prepared to mount.

If you so much as move, she ordered through the amulet, I will eat you for dinner, render your fat into bookbinding glue, and use your mane for my brushes. But first, I will have you gelded…

Before the unicorn could form an iota of defiance, she sprang onto its back.

It did not move. Not even a twitch, for the full force of the girl’s unnatural Charisma locked it in place, her threat sinking through hide, bone, until it rang against the creature’s very core. It did not understand all of her words, but it did not need to. And, for all its bestial rage, the unicorn believed her.

You have learned Improved Monster Taming (lvl.1)

Atop the beast’s back, the blonde girl straightened with all the pride of a conquering empress.

When my heart stops its beat, then you may have my flesh, she told it through the amulet. But until that day comes, you will do all in your strength and power to ensure it does not come before my natural span.

Her fingers tightened in its mane. This shall be our Covenant.

The beast stamped one hoof against the hard-packed earth of the stable floor. The sound cracked through the air like a judge’s gavel.

“I think I will name you Spike,” Seraphina declared, patting its neck. “Unchain him.”

The stablehands looked at one another. Several of the nobles’ hands drifted toward the weapons at their sides. Fear threaded through the stable air, much to the delight of the newly named Spike. His ears flicked, and his nostrils flared in anticipation. Something cruel and pleased moved beneath the surface of his equine eyes.

“Do as my granddaughter commands,” Duchess Adelaide ordered sharply, voice cutting through the air like a knife.

That was all it took to get them to move, and hesitantly, the stablehands moved to obey. One by one, the thick chains fell away from the Unicorn’s body and struck the floor with heavy, ringing thuds. The metal slipped from him, leaving only the marks they had pressed into his hide.

Spike was free of his bindings now. But he was bound by something far stronger than any solid chain. The girl could feel the tension gathering between her legs, muscles bunching and seeking a release. The Unicorn was thinking of rearing, or bolting, or perhaps throwing himself sideways and crushing someone for the insult of existing nearby.

“Good boy,” Seraphina said, her voice soft and musical as she stroked his neck. “Good boy.”

The words soothed the heart of the beast even as they insulted its pride. Spike snorted disdainfully, not quite fully broken. From atop his back, Seraphina’s gaze settled upon an unfortunate stablehand, a boy perhaps two years her junior. He had the pale, pinched look of someone trying very hard not to be noticed. Fate, being cruel and uncaring, failed him immediately.

She pointed a finger. “You there, boy.”

The poor thing went rigid.

“You will see to it that Spike is fed good hay and fresh vegetables. Blood mixed with his oats, and meat only sparingly. He may be kept with the other animals, and he will behave himself as long as he is treated well.”

The boy’s eyes darted to the Unicorn’s fangs, then back to her. He was almost quivering with fear,

“Of course, Your Grace!” he half-shrieked, his voice rising by a full octave.

“As you can see,” Duchess Adelaide declared, turning to the gathered nobles, “Elidion lies about my granddaughter’s dishonor. Make sure others know what you have seen here today. Let the truth travel to purge the lie.”

The gathered nobles rumbled and murmured, but they were forced to nod and agree. It was then that Seraphina truly understood the full scope of her grandmother’s ambitions. In the Empire, beasts like Spike were called Kirin. And it was said that the very first empress had ridden one.

This was not merely a birthday gift. It was not even simply proof of her purity. It was a statement and declaration louder than any gunshot; Whoever won Seraphina’s hand in marriage would be blessed by Heaven’s mandate.

Whoever had her hand would have a claim, however symbolic, to the Jade Dragon Throne itself. Her value had just skyrocketed into the stratosphere, the power in her blood, the lands she would inherit, and the symbolism of myth and heaven that the taming of Unicorn had given her.

She now presented an opportunity and a threat in equal measure to any who sought to claim her. Or she could make whoever earned her favor powerful beyond measure.

Poor Velens, she thought for one fleeting, venomous moment as she patted her new pet between the shoulder blades. He could have had all of this, and he threw it away for a silver-haired hussy.

Then she slid down from Spike’s back with practiced grace.

Silence lingered for several more moments as the weight of what had just occurred settled over the stable courtyard. Her grandmother smiled a knowing smile, her eyes bright with satisfaction and old ambition. Part of the generational dream of a great house had just taken form before them.

A small, treacherous part of Seraphina wondered if this had been her mother’s intention all along. Was every insult, every slight, every wound, and every lesson all of it part of some grand plan leading to this moment? The thought was born small and cold, but it had teeth.

Seraphina immediately smothered this newborn thought in its cradle, for that way lay madness. That very line of thinking stripped her of all agency, and Seraphina de Sariens would not, could not, tolerate being reduced to an unthinking piece of the grand game. 

She would be moved by no hand but her own.

The nobles began to funnel out, voices low and urgent. Some looked at her with awe, some with fresh calculation, and more than a few of them with fear.

Soon enough, Seraphina left the warmth of the stable with her grandmother, the winter air striking her cheeks a rose blush.

“No, Bern!” shouted a tall, thin man from among the gathered hunters, his voice cracking through the courtyard with the ugly force of something that had been left to curdle too long. “Klaes’ crew, Maddy, and Killan died so one noble’s get could prove to the world that she can keep her legs closed. No amount of gold is worth that. We were promised more.”

The courtyard seemed to tighten around the words.

“You were promised whatever it was my grandmother promised you. And you will be paid,” Seraphina replied, turning with a slow, offended grace, the hem of her ice-drake cloak shifting around just above her ankles as she moved. “You were not forced. You are paid help, nothing more, and you will apologize for insulting me so.”

Bern looked between his man and the young girl, his face becoming a battlefield of anxious calculations. Around them, the northern nobles and household knights turned their attention upon the tall, thin man with expressions of cold disgust, as if something filthy had crawled up from a sewer.

“I apologize, of course, Your Grace. And he will, too!” Bern offered quickly before twisting toward his subordinate. “Calden, get on your knees and apologize, you fool!”

The taller man clenched his hands until his knuckles whitened, his glare fixed upon the small blonde girl before him. His eyes flicked toward the guards, then to the Duchess, then to the nobles standing in their finery and arrogance, and Seraphina saw the calculations moving behind his face. Every one of them ended with him dead, if not today, then later, in some ditch, tavern, alley, or unfortunate accident upon the road. It was how nobles had always dealt with men of his kind, he no doubt thought. She had seen that expression before when she had been forced to “relocate” some of the less financially advantaged in her old life.

“Nah,” Calden said at last, spitting the word out like blood from a split lip. “I ain’t apologizing for the truth of it. We’ve been shortchanged. Nothing was worth what we had to go through, and now we can’t even speak of it? To swear a vow of silence on the Stone after what we did? Nah. If I helped capture a damned mythic Unicorn, then I’d better be able to tell the world about it.”

Seraphina sighed a forlorn sigh. They existed in this world too, it seemed. Would-be influencers, in this instance without the crutch of social media, instead wandered the earth proclaiming their fame and existence for all to hear. There was something almost comforting in the universality of the human species.

“I accept your challenge,” she declared.

Calden blinked. “What? You soft in the head?”

Seraphina smiled then, a viper’s smile, and allowed her gaze to travel across the gathered nobles before finally settling upon her grandmother. Privilege was a weight, certainly, but it was also a cudgel, and a properly bred woman knew how to swing it without ever appearing to raise her hand.

“You all heard this man of very common birth insult me,” she said, her voice carrying cleanly through the courtyard. “Not once, but twice. You heard him question my honor in the filthiest terms before my grandmother, before the nobles of Carcaronne, and now you hear him persist in his slander. If that is not a challenge to my dignity, then I confess I do not know what is.”

It was half a lie, and yet, Seraphina could feel it slowly dressing itself in the garments of truth.

Her grandmother’s eyes swept over the beholden nobility, cold and measuring, and whatever small resistance might have remained among them quietly withered.

Calden looked around and seemed, at last, to realize that the ground beneath his feet had changed while he was still busy shouting. “Fine,” he said, jaw working. “If that’s what this is, then fine. Not that I’m afraid of a little girl like you.”

The words might have sounded brave, but she heard resignation behind them.

“Ah, so you do challenge me,” Seraphina said sweetly, folding her hands before her as if delighted by his cooperation. “Then we are in agreement. Since I am nothing if not generous, I shall allow you the honor of choosing the weapon.”

“That suits me,” Calden said, though there was a new uncertainty in his voice now, a suspicion that he had stepped into a trap whose teeth had not yet sprung shut. He glanced at the knights, then at Bern, then back at Seraphina. “Hammers,” he said finally, with a grunt that tried very hard to be contemptuous.

Seraphina turned her head toward one of the servants lingering near the edge of the courtyard and used Identify on him. 

Lenin Kravitz - Servant (Human lvl.7)

Health: 78/80

Stamina: 26/31

Mana: 6/6

“You there. Lenin, is it? Fetch my man, Sir Frest. Tell him to prepare for a fight and to avail himself of a hammer from the armory.”

The servant went pale, bowed quickly, then scrambled away as if chased by goblins.

Only then did Seraphina return her attention to the lout Calden. “You did not truly think a lady would deign to fight you herself, did you?” she asked, laughing softly as color rose, ugly and furious, across his face.