The Alliance - 5. Chapter 5

Apparently, Ysabel Di Coteau had sent a carrier pigeon to the manor from the capitol that had arrived bearing news about Alexandre. It said that he had been located under odd circumstances, and that more details would follow soon. What it really said was that he was alive, something that everyone in the manor had been questioning. Of course, it was not unusual to the servants that Alexandre would disappear for days without telling anyone; however, the fact that he had missed both his own wedding and Talia's birthday, and had never even been seen leaving by the guards made many suspect foul play, or that he had run away. He knew that the general had been mad, given that the head of a guard named Nigel was now on a stick overlooking the main gardens. Nigel had been on watch duty the night Alexandre had disappeared. Alex’s disappearance had caused the general great embarrassment when a Monciet caravan carrying a nervous bride had arrived. He was forced to marry her off to some captain or other, and sent the offended family back home the same night. Hopefully, Carlin thought, the general won’t find out that I encouraged Alex to sneak out. Carlin did not want to end up like Nigel. Actually… Alex might kill me himself when he returns home. Carlin’s job would have been a lot easier if the Di Coteau man had gotten himself killed, and he thought of many ways that Alexandre’s homecoming could go wrong. If Carlin was blamed for this, his twenty-two years of life would surely be at an end soon. When Marta walked away, he watched after her with a look of worry. This is bad. Very bad.

***

Jezebel Di Coteau moved through the streets of the capitol, her black, hooded cloak swishing around by her feet. She moved quickly and silently, and no one even glanced at her as she passed by in her hood. It was what she hoped for - if someone looked at her face, there was a chance she could be recognized. The sun had fallen, and the black of her cloak made her nearly invisible against the black stone that made up so many of buildings in the Nabian capitol. She rounded a corner of the cobblestone street, and had to stop herself from speaking aloud. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Anger written all over her face, Jezebel thought about her cousin’s actions. Of course Alexandre had done that. He always gets the spotlight in our family. I can do anything he can with my hands tied behind my back, and the very ground he walks upon is glorified?! She glanced at a street sign, never slowing her pace. Now he’s all the officials are talking about, pulling that stunt with the gladiators. Even my own father believes he showed strength for the Di Coteau family, and represents what it means to be a true warrior. Turning right, she walked up a steeply inclined alleyway with silent steps. He even implied that Alexandre would make a great general one day?! Disgusting. If another member of our family was to rise to general, it should be me. Her face relaxed for a moment, and she rethought. Maybe Aunt Ysabel could rise before me. She would be good too. A few brisk steps later, and she had arrived at her destination.

From the rooftop of a neighbor’s home, she could see through the window of the home of a count that she was to assassinate. Realizing the windows were nothing more than large, arched openings in the stone with no glass, she smiled, knowing that her job would be that much easier. Her pupils dilated, and she went to work scanning the building. It only took her a matter of minutes to find the window that she was looking for. She waited, and watched.

About an hour later, the count that she had been stalking stood up from his desk, and walked out of his study. He had been working tirelessly, and it was about time for him to take a bathroom break. Jezebel flew feet first through the window, and made no sound when she landed on the hard stone floor. Walking over to the man’s desk, she took a glance at his disinteresting papers. Grumbling, she wondered what he even did to make her father, Damien, mad. She looked around the sparse room, glancing thoughtfully and a painting of the Nabian sunset. What a boring man. With a swift twist of a large amethyst ring, a secret compartment in the band was revealed. She emptied the powdery contents into a half-drank wine goblet on the desk, and walked back over to the window, looking wistfully at the sky. Why does my father never recognize anything that I do? She lingered for a moment, wondering when she would make general, and what her own manor would look like. I need to pick out which of the thirteen regions I want, she thought. Snapping her attention back to the present, she heard footsteps outside the study door.

The count walked into his study, and returned to work with a sigh. He took a sip of his wine, and picked up the top most paper on his desk. A high-speed Jezebel in black was jumping from rooftop to rooftop, her anger growing with every bound. It was rude to upstage her, and she did not appreciate the competition. With every official focused on Alexandre’s “daring” and “clever” plan to uproot Evangelo Mortisse and his illegal activities, no one would pay attention to her merits. In your time of need, Alex, she thought, do not count on me.

***

Luca was tired, and did not want another client that night. He had been with four men today already, and two of them had made him visit their mansions instead of just coming to the brothel. Many of the men he saw were wealthy and influential, and Luca knew that it was not likely they would ever be seen entering such an establishment. Unfortunately, Meko’s greed was such that he often forced his whores to walk to patrons if they so requested – Luca was requested a lot. Because he had visited two counts on opposite sides of the city, the boy had already walked several miles that day. It was not that he minded the walking. Far from it, he enjoyed moving through the streets, seeing the vendors and children at play, and pretending that he had some semblance of freedom. But when he was walking to a client… knowing what awaited him at the end of his stroll always seemed to sour things. Besides that, his rear end felt raw and sore, and he did not relish the idea of allowing another man on top of him. But the sun was going down, and Luca knew that he would anger his master if the count had reported back that he was late. Hanging his head, Luca slipped on his cracked leather shoes, a white smock with the design of bloodlillies on the sleeve, and walked out the door.

It was a cool night, and today Luca pretended that he was some nobleman’s son, off to visit one of his very rich friends. He walked through the richer areas of town on his way, and contemplated what it would be like to be one of them – what it would be like to be Alexandre Di Coteau. When the raven-haired boy he considered a friend had fought in the tournament, he was impressed. Alex was very skilled at fighting, and he made opening the bodies of trained gladiators look easy. When he had switched sides to survive, Luca had been awestruck. That kind of intelligence and will to survive was inspirational, and Luca had hoped at that moment that he could one day have that kind of control over his own life. When Evangelo had been speared in the chair right next to him, Luca felt fear course through his veins, knowing that Mortisse had been a friend of Meko’s. A splash of blood had hit Luca’s face, and he felt sick. Though he knew that it was a good thing Mortisse would be gone in the end, he was shook to his very core that a slave could do that to a master.

It rocked what he believed so fundamentally that Luca had called his own compliance into question, and he wondered what the gladiator would do in his position. He supposed it made sense, seeing Alex liberate himself by force. After all, that had been how Luca was taken. After a brutal raiding in his village by Nabian soldiers, Luca had been left as the only survivor of his family. Just eleven years old at the time, he hid under his bed until the fighting was over, and stayed frozen there for three days afterwards. When the Nabian slavers came through the wreckage, following the soldiers and combing decimated villages over for potential slaves, he had been pulled screaming from under the bed by his feet. A short while later, he was placed in a brothel owned by Yonin Meko and was forced to practice the art of pleasure for anyone that threw coins at him. In the moment that Evangelo had died, Luca thought for a fleeting second that maybe he could free himself from Meko. That will never happen, though. Luca’s hopes were dashed when Alexandre had revealed his identity as a noble, trained to be lethal from the very start. Sadly, Luca approached the door of his final patron for the day.

He had been there many times, and knew exactly where the count would be waiting for him. A handmaid with a fresh bruise on her eye opened the door, and beckoned him in. This particular manse was large, and Luca wished that he could own a home like it one day. Every decoration inside was lavish, surrounded in gold gilt and accented with dramatic flairs. Couches, chairs, curtains, and carpet all had elaborate black and red design on them, and expensive statues and vases seemed almost to litter the place. He had once seen the inside of the storeroom, which seemed to be a room simply for the piles upon piles of excess wealth that the count who lived here had. Walking down the hall and towards a grand marble staircase, he noticed the door to the storeroom wasn’t shut. There aren’t even guards, he thought. Walking up the staircase, he found a very rotund and hairy count awaiting him in the nude. Great. I have to bear him, but also have to look upon him too. Luca stifled a sigh, and shut the door to the count’s massive bedroom. Stripping as he walked towards the bear of a man, he stifled a sigh and gave the man a slip of paper with the requested payment. Money first was a rule. The count set a small leather pouch full of coins on the stand near the bed, and Luca counted them out. Meko had made all of his whores learn to count money, so he was never cheated. Confirming that he had the right amount of money, Luca climbed onto the bed and positioned himself so that the count could do what he wished. Please let it be over quickly.

Midway through the act, Luca had snapped out of his daydreams of being a proud gladiator that had ended Meko, and noticed the hands on his hips. With a gasp that the count took as a moan and replied to with a louder moan, Luca had one of the first empowering realizations of his life. Alexandre Di Coteau is not solely an inspiration or idol. I talked to him, and he is no different from me. Hell, we cuddled once! Though I have felt many hands on my hips like this, I can count his among them and that means that he is not incredibly different from everyone else. I can be like him. I will be like him.

It only took a few moments after Luca had gasped for the count to finish, which made Luca roll his eyes. Remembering what he had seen earlier, the small teenager made a decision, thanked the count for his patronage, and left the room with Meko’s payment rather quickly. On his way out of the mansion, Luca made sure that no one was near. He saw the maid with the black eye make her way upstairs, and snuck through the storeroom door in silence. When he entered, he paused momentarily at the ludicrous amount of treasure that was left unguarded on shelves, and began scanning. Quickly enough, he had found what he was looking for. He approached, and lifted it off the shelf gingerly. Yes. This will do. A thin knife made of ebony lay in his hands. The end of the hilt had been carved to look like a dragon, and it had two ruby eyes that were angry and looking for revenge. They reminded him of a certain general’s son, and he gave a weak smile before walking back through the storeroom door. He tucked the knife under his shirt, walked out of the expensive home, and began his walk back to Yonin Meko at a quickened pace. He had payment to deliver, after all.

***

After a lengthy bath and a very comforting release, Carlin flopped down on his bed, lying on his side with one muscular arm propping his head up. The shirtless man displayed rippling muscles that complimented his handsome face and coiffed brown hair, and he looked good even with a concerned expression. He had been thinking for some time, and tried to convince himself that he would not be faulted for Alexandre’s disappearance. Alex is quiet, and he seems to avoid his father at all costs. There is no way he would mention his conversations with slaves. But what if he talked to his mother? Carlin had heard stories about the Di Coteau demon, and knew that Ysabel was not someone he wanted as a direct enemy. No, no. With what I know about her and how Alex is, there’s no way he would talk to her. He probably is avoiding her more than he does his father. After all, he chose to live with Darion when his parents split, right? Carlin moved to lie on his back, and moved both hands over his forehead and back, pushing all of his bangs off his face in a gesture of anxiety. Shit.

He really hoped that Alex would spare him from execution, even if it were only so that he could punish him himself later. When he blew the candle next to his bed out, Carlin had convinced himself that this would be the case. Alexandre would bear the blame himself, just like he always did. He would quietly accept punishment, and go back to his routine of avoiding his family and training once the whole thing blew over. Carlin could remain a training slave, and continue to get to know the younger guy. Maybe he could even get Talia to join him in bed, after enough time. Fondling his restless erection, he thought back to Alex. Poor guy. He’s probably not even that bad once you get past the fact that he’s as likely to spear you as he is to exchange pleasantries. Maybe he just needs to get laid. Carlin increased the friction between his hand and his hardness. I could help him out… the dark haired man was handsome, and he was even kind of cute when he was angry. He’s also just as cold and as much of a challenge as his sister… but no, what was he thinking? What am I saying?

Though it was common for soldiers to get comfortable with each other while deployed, Carlin had never been with another man. In his mind, there were times for war and there were times for play. Tossing around in bed with others was just for fun and should be limited to when he was at home, and the willing stable girls and shy maids positively doted over him. Then again, there were also guys at home that probably would be willing. Frowning, he realized he never had been approached by any. Am I not good enough for them? His brows furrowed. Maybe I’m intimidating. Yeah, that must be it. Shaking his head to dispel this weird train of thought, Carlin withdrew his hand from the rough-spun linen pants he was wearing, and listened in the darkness throughout the camp. He heard a few of the women that worked in the kitchens talking about some dish they had made, and an older man complaining about Gibson’s quick temper. How boring. Don't the slaves here have anything better to do? Searching with his ears, a drowsy Carlin found another conversation that widened his eyes and woke him up right up. Another letter had just been received from Madame Ysabel, and Alex apparently had something to say about why he left the manor.