EL Official BK5 Chapter 17 - Every Klein Born Adds to my Misery. (Patreon)

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‘Remember what you have to do,’ Hasan’s words repeated through my mind in an endless cycle as I rummaged through his belongings in the dead of the night. ‘Just one drop each, that’s all it will take.’

Peronne had given birth only hours prior and Hasan had sought me out immediately. His hand snaked over my shoulder as he whispered in my ear. ‘Do as I say, or I’ll report you to Lazarus for treason.’

I’d followed the last letter he had me hide. It was collected by a human girl, a young pet in training, and she took it to the edge of the castle wall against the forest. She tied the paper to a raven’s leg and set the bird free carrying Ælferic’s insignia. 

It hadn’t taken me long to realize what was happening from there. High Lord Ælferic’s control over Leúchtend was slipping. Lazarus, his son, was unpredictable and hard to moderate. When his father left for Europe, he began a war with those to the south just to bolster his ego, despite Ælferic’s disapproval, and had won with ease.

With a military victory under his belt, Lazarus gained reputation and status. Rumors circulated that Ælferic’s reign could be over sooner than he hoped. After all, it’s hard to keep sovereignty over new lands from across the seas when the son you appointed leadership holds no loyalty to you. 

As a result, the High Lord began to formulate alternative ideals for the succession, and his own grandchildren interfered with that plan. I suppose it would have been unbecoming to appoint Wilhelm, the only other living Klein son raised by Ælferic, if there were other, more legitimate, heirs in existence.

He left Hasan at Leúchtend to handle the matter, and I was the disposable weapon selected to carry out the task.

‘You’re the one committing treason,’ I hissed in return to Hasan’s threats.

‘And you’re the only Fae who has touched those treasonous letters. A residue spell would be all it takes to ‘prove’ you were the one conspiring with Ælferic,’ he returned with nonchalant indifference. 

‘I’ve never even spoken with Ælferic,” I hissed.

‘So, poison the brats, and I’ll destroy the letters.’

I glared after him as he left. It wasn’t as if I had a problem assassinating the Klein brats I was enslaved to, it was simply that I resented Hasan being the one to outsmart me. Since then I’d broken into his room and office in search of those cursed letters only to come up empty. Now I’d resorted to searching his desk in the arts hall.

Ridiculous.

A soft click from the direction of the door indicated my time was up and I slipped away, hiding back among instrument cases. Edwin’s wide-eyed pet had entered. Her eyes glowed in the darkness as she glided toward Hasan’s desk, it seemed I wasn't the only one searching for something. I waited, in part expecting her gift to ‘sense’ my presence, but it seemed the shimmer-mask I wore blocked her abilities.

That was fortunate to know, given that Edwin’s secret storage space in the mountain tunnels was my next target. I’d learned of it by following his latest shipment from the shoreline, through the forest, and into the caves. 

Twice I’d become lost in the labyrinth of endless passages within them. The directions on the walls are misleading, designed to disorientate those entering the tunnels guided by light. But in the darkness, Fae energy glows on the ceiling, creating a map to follow through to the other side. 

The hidden passageways are dry and narrow. Lined either side by smooth stone, they leave surprisingly little dust should one happen to brush against them. The air within is cool, and eerily still so that sound travels well between caverns but is swallowed by bends in the tunnel.

Edwin’s stash was concealed behind the illusion of a boulder. To anyone untrained in advanced magics the visual of a stone in combination with a cool rough texture at your hand might have been enough to make you turn back. But I knew better. Energy crackled at my fingertips and the illusion rippled.

I stepped through into the cavernous space beyond and stopped awestruck. Hundreds of wooden crates set in cushions of straw filled the area. They were arranged haphazardly with some stacked tall enough to reach the ceiling and others in piles as short as a single box.

There seemed no rhyme or reason to the placement. Few containers were damaged, scratched or splintered from travel, while others that had been left opened as if abandoned in a hurry. He mustn’t have cared to close them, given no one else was likely to find this place, I presumed.

I traversed the space with similar indifference. The place was a hidden armory and I had no concerns over anyone finding out I was there. I took my time, breaking the arbitrary locks with magic and collecting pieces that caught my interest; arrow heads enchanted never to miss their target, a dagger with an empty space for a poison vial to sit, and bracelet cuffs that suppressed magic.

Most items weren’t fantastically rare, but the deeper in I searched the more obscure the items. I recognized the box I’d stolen the shimmer mask from, and opened it to collect the other two that remained. Having one was a miracle, but three? This probably made me the one person in the world with that many.

Eventually, I found what I was actually looking for, the long crate containing my scythe. My breath caught when I pushed aside the lid and caught sight of its strange wood-patten steel. I ran the pads of my fingers over the flat side of the blade and embraced the familiar pre-burning sensation as the iron concentration irritated my skin. 

Few weapons are made like this, from pressed iron so pure it was almost wrought. Moreover it was a bonding weapon, intended for channeling magic. It would ‘bond’ to the first person to channel energy into it, and would subsequently only respond to its owner's magic thereafter. 

Should the weapon ‘fail’ to protect its owner, and they perished, it would be discarded as useless for no other could use it in the same manner. My father had his father’s old bonding sword set on display in our living space, until the chateau was burned. He was the one who had taught me what these weapons were.

Containing my excitement I slung the scythe over my back and collected the remaining weapons in the box, a set of daggers, a pair of identical long swords and one shorter hilted sword. The decision was greed inspired. Why have one master weapon when I could have more?

Because of my gluttony I failed to notice the subtle change in the air. It grew warmer, and soon the hushed sound of something rough dragging against stone reached me. The faint jingle of chain froze me in place and I held my breath. I wasn’t alone in the cavern anymore. 

A gust of foul hot air against my back sent prickling fear across my skin and I turned slowly. Less than ten feet away swayed the bobbing head of a massive scaled creature. Its reptilian eyes narrowed to slits as it tracked my movement and its talons scraped gouges into the stone. 

I had disturbed a dragon. 

Shackles hung from its neck and the chain disappeared back past it somewhere deeper in the tunnel. This was why there weren't any other security measures. Few could survive a devolved dragon, and given that our magic is flammable, I was likely dead.

Scarcely daring to breathe, I glanced back over my shoulder toward the exit, could I make it if I ran? The low growl that vibrated my bones suggested not. It would attack the moment I moved. Swallowing hard I kept my gaze forward, but slowly began taking steps backward. Prey would run, a challenger would fight, and I was neither of those things.

Step by painful step, I backed away. 

It watched me with intense focus, giving a sound of warning from low in its throat as its mouth gradually began to open. Rows upon rows of teeth lined the interior of its jaw, and strings of viscous saliva trailed from them. It hesitated, as if deciding, before the fire organs at the back of its mouth began to click.

Maybe the shimmer mask was confusing it, but it had made the decision and I was about to be incinerated. My mind raced, searching for a solution to this problem as if I could think my way out of being flambéed. This was reckless, having a dragon guarding weaponry contained in flammable wooden boxes. One intruder and the weapons would be smelted all over again.

Some small piece of logic struck in the back of my mind. Fire erupted from the thing’s throat in a scorching torrent of heat, and I dove for the nearest open crate. If I was wrong, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be a pile of charred bones for Edwin to find next time he came to store more weapons. 

I landed in it just in time to watch the inferno curve away over the top of the crate. Repelling both heat and flame. The weapons were protected because the creature couldn’t reach them, and boxes were enchanted to repel conflagration! I laughed, dizzy with relief. That was why there were empty boxes. 

Dragon’s don’t choose who they want to roast, they just do, and Edwin needed protection too. I made it back out using the lid of a crate as a shield without losing any of my hard earned prizes. Victory tastes like adrenaline.

***

The separate halves of two training dummies hit the ground in satisfying succession. My scythe was even more impressive than I’d imagined. Resonance with it stretched my energy into a secondary edge that cut like a blade and the metal boiled fae blood on contact.

I pivoted into another strike. Learning its balance and movement was going to take some time yet, but that didn’t dampen my pride. I trained with it in the open, waiting for Edwin to notice and piece it together that I knew where his stash was. Moreover, I wanted him to know I survived that dragon.

“Markos,” Lucinde’s voice broke my concentration and the next strike missed, gouging the earth instead. She strode across the field toward me, interrupting training like the entitled brat she was.

The skirts of her dress brushed the grass and a platoon of guards traveled with her, two ahead two behind. Her hair was braided in delicate swirls up the top, while the rest fell down the length of her dress to the small of her back. Sparkling charms hung from her hair and she held her head high as she came to a stop before me.

I had been removed from my duties as her nanny, and as a result, we saw each other far less frequently. She had grown some in that time, but so had I, and now commanding all the height of a human eight-year old, her head was barely taller than my elbows.

“Lady Lucinde,” I greeted her with a polite bow, tipping my scythe away from her, “How may I serve you?”

“I wish to discuss the colors you will wear to the upcoming gala. Given our betrothal, it’s important we match,” she announced loudly and I forced a smile.

“Of course,” I agreed graciously.

“Good,” she turned on her heel to face the guard nearest to her, “I am safe with my future husband. Expand your watch to the edges of the field for danger.” 

Lucinde gave the orders with sharp authority and the men moved as she asked. They took positions spread out along the far edges, although they remained facing us. She was a precocious little brat, and I hadn’t yet figured out how to remove myself from our ‘betrothal’. 

“And what color would you like me to wear?” I asked with marked disdain.

The girl took a breath in, “Guards, which color do you think would suit me best?” She didn’t raise her voice when she spoke, and her lavender gaze never left mine, as if willing me to understand something.

None of them answered her and I narrowed my eyes, “They can’t hear you,” I commented, she wasn’t dumb enough to think they could. She was smart enough to check that they couldn’t. “So what do you really want?” I continued bemused. Perhaps she was mildly interesting.

Lucinde’s expression didn’t change, “I want to know who you are loyal to.”

“My duties are to serve the Klein family.” 

“Yes, but my father tasked you with looking after his children. So the question is: who does your true obligation belong to, our father… or us?” as she spoke her voice cracked and she snapped her mouth shut. 

At a distance, her posture didn’t change. Only I could see the quiver in her lower lip and the fear in her eyes, “Are you afraid of something, or someone?” I asked indifferently as I pondered her usage of the word ‘obligation’.

“My mother has birthed twin boys,” Lucinde stated as if I didn’t already know. Twins were nearly unheard of and second born sons are a distinct rarity. One would have to have their head in the sand not to know by now. Although in my case, I knew because of Hasan's insistence that I murder them.

“Our father has expressed his thoughts on the matter…” she continued, “…You need to protect my little brothers…” The last words were quieter, and I sighed to myself. 

She didn’t know who she was talking to. That I was the one they needed protection from, unless I could find some way out of it… I delayed by mistake, trapped in my thoughts. 

“…Please, Markos…?” she whispered more urgently for my silence.

As an only child, I couldn’t say I understood her concern for two blobs she barely knew, but I nodded slightly regardless as her guards began to move. They had grown tired of waiting. “We can wear blue to the Gala. That’s not something you need to worry about.”

The girl released a little breath that sounded like a sob and her composed facade cracked with relief, “I was so worried you wouldn’t like blue.”

“It doesn’t matter what I like, I’m ‘obligated’,” I commented, tracking the movement of her guards past her. “Now stop crying before they think I did something.” 

I gave the command quieter and she stopped immediately. The child wiped the tears from her cheeks and in moments her composure was flawless. She wasn’t well practiced at hiding her stress yet. But she was good at recovering, and smarter than expected. 

“Lady Lucinde, it’s time we return,” the tallest of her guards spoke.

“Has a time limit been placed on how long she is permitted to speak with her betrothed in private?” I mused, levelling a glare accompanied by a smile. 

“She has classes to attend,” he returned evenly.

“I can’t very well stand in the way of that now, can I?”

“You would be wise not to.”

Instinct made the fine hairs on the back of my neck bristle as my reptilian brain sensed challenge. Lucinde was forced to behave like an aristocrat, but she was still a child and it seemed her brothers weren’t the only Klein’s who needed protecting. Moreover, threats never sat well with me, and this young guard had made a mistake letting me see the indecent way his eyes tracked my little cousin.

He wouldn’t live to see the dawn.

*** 

“Take them,” Peronne pushed her two boys into my arms without hesitation, “They are never quiet, and if they get too close to one another they will pull each other’s hair. Be very careful not to get them confused, or Lazarus will be furious.”

“I won’t mix them up,” I assured with little interest. 

“Good. I will return for them in the evening.” 

Their mother left as if escaping the infants, and I took a deep breath in. That woman played a small violin for herself at any opportunity. This young, the twins were the most tolerable they would ever be. Once they learned to speak they would be a hassle.

Much like their sister, the pair were quiet blobs with no interesting mannerisms or personality. I fed and changed them before setting them down. Of course they wouldn’t sleep, and so I propped open a book and sat with them, allowing each of them a hold onto my littlest fingers as I read aloud.

“I was born in the year 1932, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull…” I began, reading to them ‘The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe’ with no nuance. It wasn’t a children's book, nor was I talking to them in anything other than dull monotone.

My voice was just noise for them. Something to keep their barely formed brains occupied and their mouths quiet. I’d learned from raising Lucinde that the key is simply to pay attention. When I finished one novel, I read medical journals instead. No reason my time with them should be wasted.

Evening came, and I missed the banquet because Peronne hadn’t returned. The half moon travelled from the horizon toward the opposite side. Shadows grew long and the oil lamps burned low… it seemed my mother wasn’t the only one who cared nothing for her children. Perhaps no mother did.

I won’t say I felt sympathy for the little blights, afterall, I wanted nothing more than to abandon them as well… But the sensation of loneliness I imagined they would feel if I did so kept me in place. Their existence wasn’t their fault, they had done no wrong. It wasn’t fair to be blamed for things they had no control over…

They slept as I watched over them in the darkness, and eventually, the door creaked open. Peronne returned shortly before dawn. “They are quiet,” she commented in a hushed whisper.

“They’re asleep,” I muttered, “And you are late.”

The woman shuffled, “I think you must have misunderstood. I said I would return when I could.”

“You said in the evening,” I corrected without raising my voice, “I have classes to attend, and it’s your job to raise them.”

“...Since they are asleep now, I’ll retire to my room without waking them, you may go,” she responded, ignoring my comment. 

“Very well,” I agreed without arguing. I stood as if to leave while Peronne disappeared into the other room. 

This was the opportunity I needed. I couldn’t poison them when I was supposed to look after them, but I could poison them as I left. Their mother would likely get the blame for not watching them, and I was fine with that. If not pleased. I waited a moment more to be sure their mother wouldn’t return before pulling the necklace and vial from my shirt. 

The twins squirmed like fly larvae in their crib. Bundled tight in their swaddles, they made soft irritated sounds as they struggled to break free before their tiny lips parted as if to begin crying in eerie synchronization, “Don’t cry,” I commanded. Could they sense danger?

If anyone heard them, I would have been in some trouble, but I was sure it couldn’t be any worse than what I was about to do. With their mother gone from the room I took the small vial from my neck. 

It contained only a handful of drops, and Hasan had said it would only take a single drop each. “Keep quiet,” I added as I uncorked the vial. Whatever it was, it was odorless, not that I dared lean close enough to truly smell it, just in case it was dangerous airborne.

My eyes moved from the vial back to the twins. I felt nothing for looking at them, their hair was dusted white, but their eyes hadn’t opened yet. Would they be purple like their mother and sister? Or Klein-linnage green, like their father and grandfather? I suppose in a matter of moments it wouldn’t matter. 

People place far too high of a value on children. ‘The promise of the future’, ‘untapped potential’, they tell themselves when in reality, offspring are easily replaceable and little more than a burden. The vast majority will never achieve anything of merit. They won’t change the world nor fulfill any meaningful purpose… 

‘You have to protect my brothers,’ my jaw set as Lucinde’s earlier plea surfaced in my mind. 

I didn’t have to do anything. So then why was it so difficult to tilt my damn hand? The clear liquid welled at the lip of the vial, it shimmered under the shine of the lights but still it wouldn’t tip. My muscles locked up. I was clutching the stupid little bottle as if it weighed a tonne. 

The problem wasn’t me, I decided, it was these little brats. I was hesitating because I couldn’t be sure it would drip into their mouths with them writhing the way they were. Irritated, I picked one of them up. Which one? How should I know? They looked the same.

I propped the child in the crook of my arm and pinched his face, forcing his mouth open. He squirmed, entirely unaware and utterly helpless… It wasn’t like this was my first time killing something. It wasn’t even the first time I had dispatched an infant, yet… I glanced back to the second child, …putain pourquoiiii…? (for fuck’s sake why?) 

My hand slipped and the vial miraculously emptied itself into the nearest pot plant.

The little worms would live, for now.

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