Worlds of Carrion: Chapter 4 (Patreon)

4

Carina Korhil:

I was nervous regarding the upcoming dinner. I could admit as much. Even as I distracted myself by finding work to do and things to see to, I still felt the coiling knot of unease settling in my stomach despite my efforts. 

I could feel it catching up with me. 

Responsibility was something I knew. It was something everyone knew. That wasn’t what was bothering me, no.

It was expectation… consequences.

The knowledge that I could not fail. Because if I did, the weight of those consequences for that failure might be too great a burden to bear for all of us.

That was what turned my insides into masses of needles and spikes. It’s what turned my heart into a fluttering mass in my chest and made the inside of my mouth taste like acid.

I half listened to Wolsey and Deckard beside me, each offering last-minute advice and hurried explanations to any small detail they overlooked before. Neira joined us after a moment, dressed in midnight blue, subtly complementing the deep purple of my own dress.

When the servants came to escort us, I was both relieved that the wait for meeting the head of House Gilson was finally over and dichotomously dismayed that I didn’t have more time. 

Our escorts were polite. The man at my arm made gentle inquiries regarding the journey, Isa, my homeworld, and other such banalities. I was grateful for yet another distraction.

Marching through the halls, I noted the change in them; it was not a gradual change either.

The halls leading to our rooms were standard things, large enough for humans to fit comfortably and reasonably. Two astride, and just about double the height of an average human.

But as we approached the dining hall, the scenery changed. The halls became wide as establishment lobbies. The ceiling equally exploded in height. The carpets were a rich, deep red; another change from the marble flooring of previous hallways.

The doors leading to the dining room were just as ostentatious. Tall and thick, they opened with creaks on old-fashioned metal hinges. The distinct sound caught my ear, recognizing that it meant they weren’t using grav or frictionless technology, giving the room an air of… age... weight, almost immediately.

The main dining table was large, and there were already guests spread around the room. Small cliques and collectives. Allies or enemies. Deals large and small being struck.

I recognized some, but only by their heraldry. These faces were all strangers to me otherwise. All were vassals or protectorates sworn to Gilson by deal or by conquest.

House Corinth, the Raven house, I noted by the lady’s coat of arms emblazoned on her shoulder cape.

House Dobson, with the three iron bears of Tannith. Houses Epirm, Volkus, and Chir from the galactic east of us, near the edges of the Shroud and more… all had their heads of houses here… or at least their representatives. The Industrial worlds and their houses of Bracken, Cincal, and Valencio…

And that’s merely what I could recognize at a glance. There were more… many more.

I wondered how many of these men and women were truly loyal. How many strained at their leashes or snapped their jaws even. This… status quo was too recent to be as unbreakable as it seemed. Too many changes too rapidly for the old guard to stomach.

To be a lord of your worlds one year, only to be subservient the next must’ve been supremely distasteful.

After all, the thought was distasteful to me- and I hadn’t even struck the deal yet.

In spite of these stray thoughts, however, seeing it all here, arrayed in person, it became clear that Gilson truly had amassed a frightening level of influence and power in his short reign since inheriting his seat.

And now here I was, about to offer him the keys to the northern subsector. And Isa was just that. Planets needed food. Garden worlds were some of the few that could supply it in the necessary excess to sustain multiple worlds. 

More power, more influence to be hoarded.

The needlepoints of unease grew in my stomach before I could tamp them down. 

The necessity of it all did not ease this, even as I repeated the truth of it to myself. 

“Presenting the lady Carina Korhil, of House Korhil, heiress to the governorship of the planet of Isa, of the Hesperides subsector. Her attendant, the lady Neira Pelegos.” 

With the herald’s call, all eyes in the room turned to us.

I felt Neira shifting beside me, uneasy with the attention. 

“They’re staring,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Not much to be done about it,” was my answer.

Curiosity was easy enough to see in their eyes, suspicion as well.

Eyes that shone with other motives were there too. Some easy to spot, others harder, and no doubt some were just there from my own nervousness and distrust. 

Even at home, court politics were things that needed to be dealt with. This was the same, merely on a larger scale.

Needless to say, I didn’t like this place.

The gawking couldn’t continue indefinitely, however, and soon enough, someone did brave an approach.

“A new name. A new face.”

He was younger than most here, though perhaps he was still a handful of years older than I. 

Auburn brown hair, a set of opaque green eyes, his smiling lips were framed by a well trimmed beard with a smile that could be called charming, he extended his hand forward. I did the same. 

“Given that I know your name,” he began as his fingers grasped mine. He had an accent I noted; something I couldn’t place. “Mine is Ezrun, heir to House Riegal.” He finished with a bow to place a kiss on the back of my hand.

“I’ve heard of House Riegal,” I answered as Ezrun turned his eyes and smile to Neira beside me, taking her hand to offer a kiss to it as well. “Your people are known to have a long military tradition.”

It was true. From the quick, forced review of all houses under the dominion of House Gilson, Riegal was a small, almost miniscule, house by comparison, having under its power merely one world, a rocky desert planet with some habitable green around the equator. But for all their small size and lack of fleet, it was the only world that Gilson had refused to be drawn into a ground invasion, negotiating a rather generous client state status upon the Riegal’s.

Ezrun laughed. “Much to my father’s disappointment, I am not so much a soldier, yes?” His eyes glimmered, shining with some internal joke only he understood. 

Suddenly, the herald banged his staff against the tiles of the floor thrice. 

“Presenting, the honorable Lord Alexandre of House Gilson.”

I felt my heart do a small start in my chest and even as I turned my head to look, I found that I was… almost steeling myself just to look at him.

Was it normal? This nervousness? I hoped it was. All of my efforts coming here rested solely on if I could convince this man more than anyone else; to help.

Then I fully turned around and I finally saw him.

Alexandre smiled as he entered, walking with… almost a swagger. Self assured and confident. His golden hair was cut short, though even from here I could almost see the individual strands, with how well maintained it was. His skin was pale; from a man unused to sunlight though not to an unhealthy pallor. His clothes were gold in color, accented with purple colored leaves. 

He was very striking in his appearance to say the least. 

Was it ‘genetics’ or medical cosmetics that gave him those looks? His ruby red eyes hinted at the latter; I’d never seen eyes that were naturally that color. But the fact that he was shorter than most here, said otherwise.

I’d known many men in court back on Isa and even in the city amongst the ‘commoners’ who artificially enhanced their heights through medical means to reach the supposed ideal. 

As several of the nobles crowding around the door, moved closer, eager to shake the Lord Gilson’s hand and pay their respects; I cursed myself as I realized my somewhat shortsighted mistake.

I hadn’t thought to remain by the door; now in the middle of this crowd- well… my approach would be obvious. Woolsey had already warned me about desperation being exploitable- and simply making a bee-line for him now would certainly give the very impression I both wanted and possibly needed to avoid…

“Are you alright milady?”

Neira’s voice was a whisper in my ear, apparently my irritation was apparent. I schooled my features. No use bemoaning a mistake made. Learn from it- don’t repeat it. Not that I could afford many more. 

“I’m fine.” I whisper back without turning to look at her. “Just… thinking.”

Before I could continue thinking overmuch- Gilson, flanked by two of his personal guard swiveled his head our way, red eyes glinting as he smiled brightly.

Then he started walking towards us.

I stood stiffly; ramrod straight and wondering if he had seen someone behind me and was walking towards them instead. I was tempted to look but didn’t quite wish to make a fool of myself if he was moving this way.

With few good options, I opted for politeness, offering a curtsy, my purple dress flowing easily as I pulled its skirts to the side in the customary tradition. 

“Lord Gilson.” I whispered under my breath, head turned down and eyes staring at the ground.

But it appeared the lord hadn’t been looking at me, or anyone behind me. 

“Ezrun-” Gilson called, I could hear the smile in his voice- a voice that reminded me, again that this Lord was younger than most, younger than me. It was not the voice I’d imagined in my own head coming here. 

“Alexandre” Ezrun greeted beside me as I and Neira straightened. He stepped forward, clasping hands with the head of house Gilson before the two of them offered the other a quick hug that spoke of familiarity. 

“-you’ve been gone a while.” Gilson said. “Having a little too much fun on those pleasure barges.”

“Too much fun?” The Riegal heir laughed. “Only you would think someone could have too much fun.” He mocked.

Alexandre’s smile didn’t abate; and then those red eyes turned my way; there was no chance I’d mistake him looking at anyone other than Neira and myself this time. 

“And who are these lovely strangers?” The golden ‘lord’ asked. Stepping closer, and holding out his hand, I offered him mine, and he lowered himself to offer a kiss to the back of my knuckles; then doing the same for Neira just as Ezrun had.

“Lord Gilson.” I nodded. “I’m Carina Korhil, heir to house Korhil. This-” I gestured to Neira at my side. “Is my handmaiden Neira Pelegos”

I saw something behind those red eyes, the smile twitched on his face. “Ahh, our neighbors to the north deign to visit.” He said, loudly. Murmurs and ‘polite’ chuckles rippled across the room. “How fares, your grandfather Lord Desan; I must say I am an admirer of his-”

That caught me off guard, not just the declaration but his forwardness. “Oh? You know my grandfather?”

“By reputation only, unfortunately.” Alexandre answered with a sigh. “Very few I’ve met are quite so shrewd and dare-I say, cut throat as your grandfather.”

I had to work to keep my expression neutral.

My grandfather was the kindest man I knew. 

Where did this one find the gall to call him a cutthroat?

My hands tightened over eachother; and that was the only reaction I allowed as I offered another small curtsey. “You flatter me.”

Ruby red eyes gleamed and the closed lipped smile on his face seemed more calculating in that moment.

“I’ve decided-” He suddenly said. 

Before I could ask him… what exactly he decided- he turned away to look somewhere behind him. “Igvil.” He called. 

An aide, one I’d never even noticed before now- a short man clean shaven with mousy brown hair and unremarkable features that served only to make Gilson’s more striking by comparison- stepped forward. “Yes sir?”

“The lady Korhil, and her handmaiden of course, shall have the seat of honor at my side tonight at the dining room.”

Just as I hid my previous indignation, I also hid my surprise.

Igvil coughed politely into his hand. “Sir- I would remind you that the seat of honor today is held by Lord Melicoste… who’s-” 

“Igvil.” Gilson interrupted, the affable nature of his voice changing to something… altogether colder. “You know I do not like to repeat myself. I am aware of the situation with Melicoste, it will wait. Now do as I say.”

Igvil  hesitated for just a moment more, his eyes darting to me as if to measure what exactly his lord was, evidently causing such a fuss over before he bowed. “Yes sir; of course.”

With a bow and a sharp about face Igvil turned around and marched away as fast as he could, no doubt ready to rearrange the designated seating places immediately

I wished him luck, but I would hardly bemoan this stroke of good luck.

Lord Gilson offered his arm. “My lady; might I be your escort?” He asked, his smile showing white teeth.

I smiled back, lacing my arm with his. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

“Hmmm.” I felt the young man’s chuckle through where our arms touched, and tried to ignore the leering eyes following us.

Behind us, I heard Ezrun bow and speak to Neira. “Ms. Pelegos; might you grant me the honor of escorting you to the table?”

I could only imagine Neira’s mortification- cheeks blushing scarlet in embarrassment and surprise as she answered. “O-of course lord Reigal.”

—

The dining hall was immense; I could easily see two full length ballrooms fitting comfortably in its space; the high ceilings, painted with great sweeping frescoes of House Gilson’s history, were illuminated by soft, but clear pale lights that gave the long brushes of paint and cast shadows an almost living presence. I could see the ‘saga’ of the planet and the house that led it writ large across the tapestries.

They were beautiful pieces. 

I’m no art connoisseur but that was the truth in my amateur opinion.

They melded together, where one saga ended another seamlessly began, smoothly portraying the feats and accomplishments of each notable house leader, from the founding of the original colony, forward, hundreds of years of history.

Not all of it of course; it didn’t even reach the emergence of the shroud… though- thinking on it that would still be considered ‘recent’ in historical records. 

I turned my eyes away from the frescoes painted in the high ceiling above; and instead looked to the dining hall itself. Dinner wasn’t served immediately of course; this was a place for the nobles to play their games, and make their deals- My eyes passed over the tables and I had to wonder… Was Gilson arranging the seats in a way that placed strangers together? Or reinforcing existing alliances? Or, was he perhaps placing those who wouldn’t or couldn’t cooperate together, keeping them isolated?

All viable tactics I knew; but I also knew I wasn’t nearly versed enough in the politics of these houses or the local happenings in the sector to even make an attempt at an educated guess.

But even so, these were not my concerns; not by a long shot.

No, my concern was sitting to my immediate left;

“So, my lady, what are the recent happenings in the Hesperides sector?” Alexandre asked, smiling genially. “I’m afraid- given the challenges of the shroud on communication; we’re somewhat uninformed.”

My pause at that was fractional, but would have been noticeable if not for the fact that my drink was part way to my lips; bringing the glass fully to have a sip, giving me time to think. 

Was he sincere? On the one hand, communication, like travel, trade, and commercial transportation had been all but crippled with the emergence of the Shroud; but even we heard the occasional rumor and gossip from the other sectors, and for him to not know what was occurring around Isa, the ‘bread basket’ of the north seemed exceedingly unlikely.

Even so; I couldn’t think of a way to draw out the truth right now without being rude, so I erred on the side of caution, taking him at his word. 

“Mostly calm-” I hedged. “There have been some spots of trouble- but what place doesn’t suffer such in these times.”

I watched his face as carefully as I could, looking for hints and clues.

His smile inched upwards just a bit; a pleased glint in his eyes and the expression sent my thoughts racing again, warring with indecisiveness as to how much he actually knew.

“Indeed.” He nodded, bringing his own drink to his lips. “Hmm.” His eyes closed, head resting against his first. “I swear it’s just at the tip of my tongue.”

I raised an eyebrow at the non-sequitur. “Pardon?”

“That name-” He drawled, again to my curiosity; then his eyes snapped open and I could see something ‘click’ behind his eyes. “Pelegos!” Those same red eyes swiveled around past me and towards Neira, who I felt stiffen beside me. 

“I believe I remember where I heard that name.” He said, a delight in his voice.

I felt Neira’s hand at my side, and before I could act she clutched at my fingers desperately; as if begging me to somehow stop him from screaming it for the whole court to hear.

I was paralyzed, my protectiveness warring with my pragmatism-

Then, I was out of time, Alexandre leaned forward, not past or over me, but; thank every god that could hear me and Neira; just enough that he could speak without shouting.

“Are you the daughter of the former lady Jahira Pelegos?” His voice bloomed with a childlike excitement. “The, now infamous Ghoul Queen hiding within the Pulsar expanse?”

Neira’s fingers were nearly crushing mine in her grip and I both heard and felt the catch in her voice. “I-I”

“My lord Alexandre-” I nearly shouted, regulating my voice at the very last second after finally finding it. “The… family history of my Handmaiden is hardly why we’re here-” I said as gently as possible. “Perhaps… another time?”

He pouted- actually pouted. “Oh, I suppose you’re right.” He bemoaned, leaning back in his seat. “Affairs of state must come before indulgences don’t they?” He bemoaned, taking another sip of his drink. 

I nodded. “They do-” My brain scrambled for a subject a way to ease into what I actually came to speak about but not wanting to risk him getting bored again; I decided to just be forward. 

“We’ve heard much in Isa about your growing government here.” I said. “You’re bringing stability to the galactic south; we value that stability.” I nodded. “Isa is interested- in becoming an affiliated protectorate of Urun.”

I saw his eyes shine.

I had his interest. 

“Oh?” 

The smile he offered now was sharp, sharp teeth, sharp edges, and somehow, I felt as though I’d stepped into the sights of a predator. 

“That is interesting news.” 

I felt Neira’s fingers relax even as mine tensed around hers.

—

The remainder of the dinner was… exhausting… and after a time- exhilarating.

Once I’d put forward the offer, Alexandre’s attention had been reserved exclusively onto that subject and that subject alone.

Isa was, as I’d said, the breadbasket of the north; and in his hunger for conquest he knew, better than anyone, what exactly that meant.

To take Isa without a fight, for us to surrender willingly, was more valuable than conquering a dozen other worlds.

If Isa belonged to him, at least a dozen other worlds would follow in similar fashion if only to secure their food supply.

So yes; he was interested and excited, and his enthusiasm was almost infectious and my ability to negotiate potentially better terms for our protectorate status was stretched and pushed and challenged and it felt good to feel useful. 

But then, inevitably, the night wore on.

No deal had been finalized of course, I still needed to speak with Woolsey, Deckard and even Neira for their opinions. But needless to say, negotiations were off to a good start.

As I walked with Neira now; I took a moment to make certain we had some relative privacy before I leaned closer; whispering softly under my breath-

“Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer with her voice, she just nodded. Lips pressed thin and tight, eyes staring with stone like stillness ahead. 

Which was enough to tell me she wasn’t alright.

Jahira Pelegos.

I didn’t know the full story. I doubted any but the woman herself ever would. I simply knew enough.

Jahira had gotten on a ship one day, nominally, to return home with her daughter.

The ship, never arrived.

Several Galactic standard days later; a message arrived to the lord of house Pelegos.

Pay, or your wife and daughter will be killed.

The lord had paid, nearly bankrupting his house to do so.

One day later, released into the atmosphere on an escape pod, Three year old Neira had been recovered.

It was assumed Jahira was killed, or being held for further ransom.

But then- barely a year later- she was found again.

At the head of a small pirate fleet. Hailed as the pirate queen. The Ghoul Queen.

At that point, any picture became rather damning. 

Neira didn’t talk about her mother. About the shame of house Pelegos. She didn’t let herself think about the sleepless nights wondering what she did wrong as a daughter to be used as a ransom chip by her own mother; or the years of ridicule from others at the small court of house Korhil, or worse, their hatred when one of her mothers’ raids resulted in more and more corpses and lives ruined. 

No. Neira didn’t speak about her mother. 

To have it brought up here and now; as a novel curiosity- a bit of fun trivia…

No. She was not alright.

I reached down, clasping her hand in mine in as much support as I could offer right now; she clutched at my fingers tightly for one second, then two before letting me go.

We walked in silence and reached her door.

She didn’t even look at me. 

“If you need-”

“I am fine.” She hissed; emotion catching in her throat, every muscle taut with rigid tension. “Rest well my Lady.”

She turned away and the sting of hurt and concern plucked at my chest; I had to remind myself that it wasn’t me she was angry at as she opened the door and shut it firmly behind her.

I lingered outside her door for a moment longer; then kept moving.

I reached my room.

I showered, I changed, I stepped out into the balcony of my rooms, seeing the moonlight jungles and swamps surrounding the city far far below in a sea of forest greens and mottled browns. The gold and red of this tower, contrasting sharply with the landscape around me. A spear driven into the heart of the world indeed. 

I was tired, but my mind was active as ever, less running in circles and more sprinting in them. Revisiting each moment in the night, looking to assuage a niggling feeling of unease squirming behind my optimism. 

As I did, I realized something- and my optimism began to wither away; replaced by something far less favorable.