ELBK00 | Perception | Chapter 12 - The Facade of a Feral Creature Will Always Crumble. (Patreon)

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Achaicus Klein:

─── ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯ ──

Bright sunlight kissed the frost crystals that still clung to the slate and wooden surfaces of the castle from the night before. My breath made mist in the cold, and I pulled my coat tighter. The distant bustle of townsfolk stirring, and the slow, uneven clack of lazy strikes dealt by wooden swords drifted on the air. I stood, waiting beside a timber support beam atop a lofty balcony, gazing down into the courtyard below. 

Seldom used since the last class of Pets, it was once a paved training area with robust straw dummies to swing a sword at, and mounted targets that waited for arrows. I’d had it restored for the sake of the two small humans I’d found myself in possession of. A neat set, boy and girl, both with mousy brown hair and silver eyes. They were training before breakfast under Alvíss’s supervision.

The hard old man had griped and complained when I’d assigned him the task, but now he instructed them willingly. Like the conductor of an orchestra, he fussed and stepped in time to direct their strikes.  

“Mobility is of the utmost importance, you cannot be hit if your opponent cannot catch you,” he scolded the boy, Charles, for his stiff approach to combat.

“Yeah Charles~” Claire, the younger girl, chided in a tauntful manner.

“Shut it!” he responded, ignoring Alvíss’s instruction to bat at his sister like a goblin with a club.

She squealed, forgetting all her prior lessons as she fell back under the weight of his attack. Both children were, of course, wearing thick padding. Humans are fragile, and I didn’t want to risk them getting hurt. Each wack was cushioned against the padding with an airy patter, until the girl was crying tears of laughter. The sound echoed off the buildings and I caught myself smiling as I folded my arms, leaning against the wooden pillar beside me. 

They were strange little creatures, these young humans. Filled with spirit like that of a flickering flame, their faces are open books, large eyes carrying emotion and voices as shrill as squealing pigs. Not more than skin and bone when they arrived, they acclimatized better than expected.

Recovering from his surprise, Alvíss bustled over to separate them, clucking out a series of reprimanding words as he pulled them apart by the collar of their shirts. There hadn’t been children in the castle for decades, not since Lucinde’s youngest, and these two were unabashedly not conformative to our society rules. I would have to add some extra training in that area. 

“Still smitten with your little monkeys I see?” Markos strode toward me with his hands in his pockets and his own Pet trailing behind him. She moved in quiet rhythm with his step like a shadow.

“They’re far more intelligent than monkeys,” I quipped. This was as close of a distance as I was willing to let him get to my small ones, lest he decide to run some sort of experiment on them.

He glanced down to where the children were with a disgusted, mistrustful grimace. “Remind me why you’ve decided to keep them?” 

“Because this castle is mine, and I may do what I wish.”

“Oh? So then it’s not simply because they were a gift from your refurbished brother?”

I refused to dignify that remark with an answer. 

My eyes tracked movement at the edge of the courtyard as Àvila arrived through one of the corridors. Seeing the state of the children, now covered in dust from rolling on the ground, she gestured accusations at Alvíss for his carelessness. She had already bathed them once this day, and now she would have to again. 

With a final rueful scowl in his direction, Àvila ushered the children away. There wasn’t long before the dining hall would open, and if one missed the morning meal there wasn’t another until evening. 

Free from the humans, Alvíss shook the dust from his clothes and soothed down the sides of his bun, taming the straying hairs. He glanced up, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to me, but Markos gave a mocking little wave. The gesture earned a polite snub as the man turned back to collect the training equipment instead. Even among the other nobles, my cousin wasn’t well liked.

“Pleasent fellow, isn’t he?” Markos cooed, his voice laden with chiding. 

“Perhaps if you were friendlier, he would be as well.”

“Me? Unfriendly? Didn’t you see me wave?” he feigned aghast disbelief.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know that’s not what I meant.” I pivoted on my heel, and strode down the corridor toward the dining hall. 

Markos followed, matching my stride as easily as breathing. “Have you gained an audience with our resident little savage yet?”

I snorted, “No, it seems his keeper won’t permit it.”

He fell silent, ruminating on his thoughts without elaboration. I’ve always hated it when he does that. I can never tell if he’s being facetious or truly insightful.  

“Well?” I demanded impatiently.

“I have nothing to say.”

I stopped as if he’d slapped me, shocked. “You like him,” I accused.

“He’s entertaining,” Markos gave an unapologetic shrug before he realized I was no longer following, and turned back. “You disagree?”

My jaw set on edge. His interest in my returned brother resurrected the boyish jealousy I’d long thought extinguished. It lodged in my throat and I scrunched my nose against the tide of memories surging to the surface. My brother used to look at me like I was something unpleasant stuck to his shoe. Silent and disgusted he perfected looking down his nose as if we weren’t the same height.

Everyone thought him better for those four minutes of time he breathed before I. It seemed they granted him not only an uncanny talent for fighting and extraordinary control over his magic as if he’d had a lifetime of practice, but also the innate ability to be an asshole without consequence. Markos had always preferred my brother for the way their equally loose morality matched frequency.

“Keep him distracted,” I announced.

“Excuse me?” He made no attempt to hide his confusion.

“When my darling brother arrives for the morning meal, keep him there.”

Markos’s eyes glittered with fascination. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk to our savage little war prisoner,” I turned and stalked back across the breezeway without waiting for a response.

Nathaniel had attended every meal, morning and night, like clock work. Although only to fill two plates and leave, our cousin would have to find a way to stall him. I hurried through the halls and across the courtyard toward the tower the prisoner was kept in. If I was quick, the distance it took to travel across the grounds from the dining hall and back would grant me fifteen minutes even if Markos failed in his task.

Motionless guards lined the stairwell up to the landing, but none dared enter the hall where Nathaniel’s room was. I dare say he must’ve threatened them if they came too close, leaving the space empty. The air was chilled with the residue of magic wafting off wards engraved into the hard wood door. They snaked up the frame and across the main portion of the paneling. 

It was a combination of modern technique, with runes so old I could hardly read them. Power emitted from the barrier they created and I felt a fresh loathing boil in my chest. How much more advanced was this version of my brother? To be able to use magic like this? I ignored the small well of fear that set deep in my stomach and brought magic to my fingertips.

His writing reacted to my magic as if it were his own, and when I reached through to turn the door handle the metal lock clicked open. The door swung inward with ease, allowing a glimpse into the room. Once, this place had been nothing more than a storage closet. Our father banished my brother here after another act of disobedience that caused a scene, and the room gathered dust after his death.

Now, the grime was cleaned. Few sparse ornaments sparked on the shelves and a Vanir sat on the floor between the couches, polishing a crystal with a rag. I moved to take a step inward to confront him, but the barrier held in place. Disallowing me past the threshold. Interesting piece of magic.

“I haven’t finished cleaning up yet, just so you know,” he spoke without looking over when the door opened.  

“Reduced to cleaning like a common wench?” I asked calmly. At least it seemed my brother had the good sense to put him to work.

Mercurisson recoiled from his position on the floor like he’d been struck by a live wire, abandoning his cleaning task and disappeared behind the couch. 

I tried the barrier again. Its magic shifted like sand, but still I couldn’t cross. What kind of spell was this? Perplexed and irritated, I resigned myself to the understanding that I would have to force my way through it if I wanted to gain entry. No need to resort to that just yet.

“Are you finding your new accommodations pleasant? I presume my brother is a generous host?” I leaned in the door frame, folding my arms.

“What do you want?” Mercurisson sneered back in return.

“Now, now, there’s no reason to be hostile.”

“You lied to me.”

“Did I? I can’t recall,” I feigned innocence the same way Markos would, with an immodest shrug. 

“You told me if I could escape, I would be free to go.”

“And did you escape?”

“You put up a barrier!” he shouted back.

That was true. I’d come to him in his cell prior and looked down on his pitiful shivering body, frail from starvation and shivering with cold to offer him a simple deal: run, and if he could escape, he was free to go, but I’d made no such promises that it would be easy. The hope was that Nathaniel would kill him as he tried. Not all plans work out. 

“I never said I wouldn’t. Now, you’re going to do something else for me,” I continued casually. 

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

“No? You can drop this little act of yours, I’m alone.”

That information left a gaping silence, before Mercurisson stirred. He stood, slowly, cautiously, and glanced over to the door. His expression a perfect picture of mistrust and terror, he angled himself to see both sides of the hall past me. Nothing could hide the sharp intelligence coiled like a viper in his mind.

Satisfied that I was indeed alone, his gaze turned analytical. A faint smile touched his lips, hardening his eyes at the corners in a guileful smirk. “You can’t get through the barrier can you~?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

I left him to his assessment. Gone was the helpless facade, replaced by the reptilian calculations of a predator. He’d fooled us, once. We allowed him at our table, offered negotiations without realizing the futility of peace talks. He burned down an entire wing of the castle the moment we turned our backs. That would never happen again.

Satisfied with his safety, Mercurisson burst into manic laugher. Giggling like a child told a joke that was only half as funny as it seemed. “I’ll bet that’s a real problem for you, isn’t it? Seems the other version of you is stronger after all,” his voice held a mocking chime.

“Believe what you will,” I swallowed my temper.

“That’s why you’re here isn’t it? He’s a problem for you, isn’t he~?” 

No one could accuse him of being slow. “Are you willing to negotiate the terms or not?”

“I’m always willing. Just tell me what you want, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Charm radiated off him like perfume and I fortified my mental barriers against his salacious nature. “I want him gone,” I answered plainly. “Do that for me, and I'll grant you your freedom.”

“Mm~” he lounged back against the couch, pretending to think about it. “Now that does sound like what you promised last time, and then, well, I ran into a barrier now didn’t I?”

“What is it that you want?” I played along, exasperated. There wasn’t any negotiating with a savage.

“I want my freedom,” he snapped, “I want my mother’s contract revoked.”

“I will grant you your freedom,” I agreed.

Mercurisson laughed again, melting over the back of the couch like a puddle. “You want him gone that badly and he’s not counted under the contract. You don’t want him dead, you just want me to try so that I die. Isn’t that more accurate?”

I gave an indifferent shrug, “What do you do with two wolves but pit them against one another and hope they destroy each other?”

“And if I refuse? I bet I could call for him right now and he would come. I’m sure he’d be interested in what you have to say.”

An involuntary exhale of amusement escaped me. “My deepest apologies, it seems I’ve misled you into thinking you have a choice,” I tasted magic on my tongue. “Come here, step out of the barrier.” 

The command evaporated his confidence and true fear flashed in his eyes. I hadn’t been sure spoken magic could pass through the barrier, until it did. Unable to resist, he approached without being able to stop himself, and stepped past me out of the barrier. 

“Achaicus, wait–” Panic stripped his unbearable ego.

“Asphyxiate,” I gave the new order with all the malice of ten vipers. 

He dropped to his knees, gasping silently for breath though he didn’t flail like he had the first time I’d used this command.

“You gained an awful amount of self-assurance for someone so powerless. Did you forget who I am?” I walked a neat circle around him, “Should I command you swallow your own tongue for the insolence? Order you to jump from the nearest window?” 

The Vanir writhed at my feet.

“Breathe,” I released the command, and he gasped for air. “Pull your premolar out.”

“Please–”

It was a difficult task, but I let him try. Blood poured from his mouth as he pulled on the tooth with his fingers. Vanir teeth re-grow, as we had learned which made them an ideal method for him. Admittedly, he was getting rather good at extractions.

“Stop,” I stated flippantly, my brother might notice the missing tooth, if he didn’t notice the blood in the hallway. “Feel pain, thirty seconds, quietly.” 

He exhaled a ragged breath, blood and saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he trembled in pain. When the thirty seconds were up, I crouched before him.

“Now that negotiations are over, you are to watch my brother and report back to me. Strengths, weaknesses. Find out exactly what he wants. If he plots against me, I want to know. If the opportunity arises, eliminate him. You will keep this little meeting of ours discrete. You may not speak of this order.” 

“I want discretion of elimination…” he panted, “If you order me to do it whenever an opportunity appears, it will go badly, it’s too broad. What if an opportunity presents itself in the middle of some meeting? Give me the discretion to choose, and I’ll do it at the best possible time and opportunity.”

I considered the statement, hating that he was more than likely correct. It would be unfortunate if my sister were to be present or something like that. “Very well. You may have discretion of choice, so long as it is beneficial.” 

Mercurisson shuddered involuntarily under the weight of the orders. His complexion turning a chalky pale as he sweated with the magic until it settled.

“Return to the room, and clean yourself up before Nathaniel returns. You look disgraceful,” I commented, stepping over him as I moved to go. 

If my brother thought he could return and take my castle and titles. He was wrong.

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