The Alliance - 7. Chapter 7

Alexandre was glad to have put two days of travel in between himself and his mother, and felt every muscle in his body relax when he had seen the skyline of Mullansburg. Madame Ysabel had been adamant about saying goodbye, so he had stopped by her home just before leaving. Everything seemed to be going well when he had departed, and the small woman seemed to have been in the same mood that she had been in all day. She was calm and collected, which was a bit of a rarity for her. Whatever the reason for her mood was, Alex was glad for it and hoped it would last. When she leant in to kiss both of his cheeks, Alex tightened and felt the very air change. He knew that his mother’s good mood had evaporated, and he pulled out of the kisses to see the same face with cruel, dangerous eyes. The women looked around with a scowl, and then back to Alex. Alex thought she might be mad that he was returning and she still could not, so he sat still until she spoke once more. She instructed him to tell his father and sister hello for her, and he nonchalantly replied that he would. Apparently, his response was too casual for Ysabel, and she pulled a knife to his throat. Alex wasn’t even sure where the knife had come from, considering that she had been wearing a black silk dress that was so form-fitted there was little left to the imagination and nowhere to conceal weapons. With more conviction, he had assured his mother that he would bestow upon the rest of the family her affections. That had been enough to satisfy the woman, and Alex left the city in haste. Thinking back, he came to the realization that the little black knife she held against him had been the obsidian necklace she wore. Its tip had originally dangled between her breasts.

Passing a tavern called The Pigsty and ridding the image of his mother from his mind, Alex laughed to himself. Perhaps I will have a drink. He was tired, sore from traveling, and the thought of returning home sober was not appealing. Once inside, Alex sat down and ordered a large ale. He was not fond of wine unless he was drinking the strong wines brewed to really make an impact on one’s functioning. After downing the ale, he asked for the barkeep’s special. It was some drink that came garnished with a bloodlilly, and Alex found it to be too sweet. Swishing the last bits in his mouth and swallowing with a puckered face, the young man turned towards the door. He figured that he would have to face his father eventually, and thought it better to just get it over with. Halfway across the room, he noticed a skimpily dressed blonde girl, and was reminded of Luca. That poor girl will probably have had every cock in this room before the night is over. Turning back around, he heard her obnoxious laugh and lewd comments to the men in the tavern. At that, he stopped feeling bad for her.

At least she enjoys her job. He walked out of the bar into the cold night air, and mounted the horse that Ysabel had lent him for the journey home. Thinking a spot on the animal was familiar, Alex realized that Ysabel had probably purchased the beast rather cheaply when the assets of Evangelo Mortisse had been auctioned off. He had seen the horse around the slave quarters of the Nabian capitol, and believed a redheaded female gladiator had used it.

I left that child in the care of Yonin Meko, he thought. Alex had noticed himself starting to feel bad for Luca, before he had realized what he was doing. I do not feel guilt, he thought. No, guilt was for the weak. It was not so much Yonin Meko that bothered him, as he had heard about the man and knew what he was capable of. Though Luca might have to endure a few beatings, there were few didn’t in Nabius. He felt sure that the boy could handle it, even if his blood was Ironian. I have handled plenty of pain in my life, and much of it and more had come from my own mother. Do not make me pity you, he imagined saying to the doe-eyed boy. But alas, Luca was left behind in the capitol, and Alex didn’t think he would ever get to speak to him again. He would never get to apologize. As for the potential molestation that might come from Meko… Alex knew the boy was used to that. His line of work was prostitution, after all. I am Alexandre Di Coteau. I do not feel pity. Not for my family, not for my enemies, and certainly not for blonde haired whores.

He moved on in his mind, shifting gears and smiling as he thought about some of the things he had done without guilt. One of his guiltless acts had been tonight, in The Pigsty. Pulling a glass bottle out of where he had hidden it in his cloak, Alex looked at the liquor inside. He had lifted it when the bartender turned his back, simply because it had been something to do. He began to drink atop his horse, and wondered if he could finish the entire bottle before reaching the manor. Looking back at the bottle and then remembering the household he would be returning to, he smirked. Of course he could.

He had gotten substantially drunk by the time he had turned off one gravel path and onto another, and had begun to urge his slow-moving horse into a trot when he noticed a very familiar tree, lit up by the moon. Turning in a complete circle and cataloguing the shrubbery, he knew exactly where he was. This is where they took me.

Alex took a long swig from a near-empty liquor bottle. Sure enough, he listened and observed to find telltale signs of bandits hidden on either side of him. Because he was mounted and wearing clothing befitting a lord, Alex doubted that he would be attacked. Still, he thought. I need to stop coming here so distracted. For a moment, he thought about shouting into the trees after the waiting robbers. He thought about gloating over the death of Evangelo Mortisse, or ranting about the kink he had put in the slaving business around these parts. With a bitter laugh, he thought about maybe killing them all. But when he felt his balance sway and the urge to lay in bed became overpowering, the young man lost his will and frowned sadly. “Whatever,” he said aloud. “Whatever!” Draining the bottle and chucking it against a tree, Alex urged his horse suddenly into a gallop. He had cleared the ambush point before the last piece of glass had hit the black soil below.

***

Alex had returned. Carlin had scrambled out of his bed when the news reached him, and he was wearing nothing but rough linen pants and a shirt as he raced from the encampment up to the main manor. One of the guards had seen him approach on a new horse, and two very loud handmaids had been discussing it as they walked past Carlin’s room. After being granted access through the outer gate on the pretense that he had forgotten to organize a weapons rack and Hadeaux would punish him the next morning, Carlin saw the boy walking up the lawn into the central manor house. He jogged to catch up, but slowed about ten feet behind Alex. When Alexandre came to a complete stop, so did he. The moon was bright overhead, and Carlin almost had thought that Alex wasn’t going to do anything except stand there. Suddenly, he moved. Alex whirled around in a quick 180 to meet Carlin’s gaze head on. Carlin looked at his master’s features illuminated in the soft glow of the moon and his breath hitched. When Alex slowly walked over, Carlin thought that he saw one clean line on Alexandre’s dirty face, following the path that a tear might have taken. Carlin blinked, and it was gone. A trick of the light. Nabians don’t feel anything.

“You,” Alex said quietly. Walking up to Carlin, he stilled, and stared. Moments later, he yelled, “Damn you!” and shoved a gloved finger into the taller man’s chest. Carlin stepped back a little, surprised, but not offended. He had encouraged Alex to leave the manor, and probably deserved that. He straightened, and looked closer. The dark-haired boy’s brows were furrowed, and Carlin knew he was doing everything he could to look menacing. It would have worked, but the training slave could see that the younger boy’s heart was not in the task. Alex wore anger like a mask, and Carlin was good at seeing through people’s disguises. He breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that Alex did not fault him. The look he wore was just his normal angry face, and it was not directed at the slave in particular. The son was not going to report to the father that he had a slave that needed executing, and Carlin would be safe. Apparently, Alex had taken Carlin’s sigh to be one of exasperation instead of relief and changed his mood. Carlin saw his face shift from sad resignation to an expression of actual annoyance, and held his breath.

“You don’t know what its like! You don’t know… I don’t like you. I hope you know that, slave. You don’t know and I don’t like him. You.” Carlin noticed that the younger man’s hand was still on his chest, and was puzzled, but enjoying the contact nonetheless. Noting that Alex was using him for support, he looked the boy over. Is he… drunk? Carlin looked and saw the sway, and the entire situation suddenly became humorous.

“I see that smile on your lips! What exactly do you find funny here? I will teach you to laugh at me tomorrow. Just wait and see. Training will be miserable.” The last word had been emphasized, and was practically spat out. Alexandre stumbled a bit closer to Carlin, and Carlin placed hands on his shoulders to steady him. The act brought out a look of childish annoyance, and it was all Carlin could do not to smile again.

He’s really cute when he’s angry, Carlin thought. He looked down at the boy, and fought the urge to push a strand of hair out of his face. Obviously uncomfortable with receiving the tender look from Carlin, Alex decided he had had enough and gave the man a weak shove. When Alex stumbled up to the manor and through the door, slamming it with a bang, Carlin knew that his master was going straight to bed and would be asleep within moments. Chuckling, he turned away from the main manse and walked back towards his own quarters. On the way, he realized what he had just tried to do. Wait, what? Did I just think he was cute? He’s a guy. I have always liked girls… when he reached the outer gate, he was shocked out of his thoughts by the guard.

“Get that rack organized?”

With a start, Carlin realized it was nothing more than bored conversation. “Yeah,” he said with an appreciative nod. “Thanks for letting me back in. It seems that everything is in order after all.”

***

Alex woke with hardly any headache at all, which surprised him. Looking out his window, he noticed that the sun probably risen within the hour, and it was time for his day to start. Groggily, he ran his hands over his face and groaned. Much of his memory from the past night was gone, and he struggled valiantly to make sense of how he had gotten back to his room. I don’t even think I tied up that horse. I think I just dismounted and started walking. Giving a soft laugh at that, he knew that some servant or other would have taken care of it. All of the sudden, he remembered snippets of a conversation with a certain training slave and a look that said somebody actually took interest in him. Carlin, he thought. Alex didn’t remember much besides being angry with the man, and telling him that today would be rough for training. Not wanting to appear like he had forgotten or didn’t keep his word, Alex used his washing bowl and dressed for combat.

When he arrived at the arena, Carlin stood their waiting for him. Jamison Hadeaux was there as well, telling the slave something about the angle of a blade when he approached. Carlin noticed him first, and stiffened. “Good morning, Carlin. Good morning, Jamison.”

Carlin relaxed a little, and bid him a good morning. Hadeaux was a little less friendly, but still greeted him all the same. “I am glad to see you so eager to return to training with me,” said the slave.

“I did tell you we would be training today, did I not?” Carlin’s lips quirked up in a puzzled half smile, and Alex knew that he thought he had forgotten.

“I didn’t realize that you were serious,” Carlin said.

“I always remember my words and take them seriously, slave.” Alex gave the other man a look that dared him to question the statement, and was satisfied when the slave said nothing in return. Just as he was about to open his mouth again, Carlin spoke.

“I didn’t know if you could remember anything last night.” Alex reared, and was amazed to find a smile on Carlin’s face. How dare he? Even Hadeaux looked slightly taken aback. But Alexandre’s actions did not match his thoughts, and he hesitated. No one had ever joked around with him like that before. Actually, most people tended to fearfully run the other way when they saw him coming. Unsure of how to react to the jape, he looked to Hadeaux. When the man did nothing, Alex decided that he would let it slide and do nothing.

“I hate to break up your… conversation, but I was told that I should inform you that your father wishes to see you in his office if I ran into you.” Hadeaux looked confused as well, also electing to ignore the backtalk from the slave.

“Thank you Jamison. I suppose I mustn’t keep him waiting,” Alex said with a downcast look. He then looked to Carlin, who hadn’t changed his stance at all. “You come too. We will train once we are dismissed” Carlin looked surprised, but nodded his head.

Though he didn’t want to show it in front of Hadeaux and Carlin, Alexandre was nervous. He hoped that his father wasn’t mad, and would be understanding. As Carlin walked in tow behind him, he realized that this probably was the first time the slave had ever been inside the main manor house. Usually, only slaves or servants that worked in the kitchens, as handmaids, or personal assistants saw the inside. Alex knew that Talia had snuck in a few of the more impressive guards for nightly activities, but otherwise it was strictly off limits. When they entered, Alex watched Carlin’s face closely. He expected surprise at the grandeur of the manse, but was surprised to see that Carlin had hardly reacted. He looked around a bit, but seemed to take the extravagance in with ease. After a few turns, Alex had reached the door to his father’s office. Glancing briefly at Carlin, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

General Di Coteau looked up when the pair had entered, but simply looked back at a letter he was writing as they crossed the marble floor. When Alexandre sat in a chair opposite the monstrous black desk belonging to Darion Di Coteau, the man said and did nothing. Alex remained silent, waiting for his father to react and growing more nervous with each passing minute. Carlin stood behind him, and eventually began to fidget. The only noises in the room were the soft scrabbling of a quill on paper, and Carlin’s fidgeting. The general spoke after what seemed like a decade.

“Who is this?”

Alex squared his shoulders and calmed his mind. “This is Carlin, my new training slave. He was taken from Tomacia.” Darion looked up and gave Carlin a quick once over. Scrawling a messy signature, he finished his letter and placed the quill in its stand.

“Gibson does know how to pick them. He looks strong. I am glad to see you have chosen a worthy training companion.”

Alex waited, and decided to be simple. “Yes, sir.”

Darion sighed, and Alex didn’t think he looked too upset. “You disobeyed a direct order, and embarrassed this family. I gave Marion Monciet my word that you would marry her.” Darion’s full gaze was on his son now, and Alex tried to make his face appear as neutral as possible. When he got no response, Darion continued. “However, I have been made aware of your actions in the capitol, and understand that your kill was time-dependent, being that it relied on the annual war games. I find your eradication of Evangelo Mortisse to be commendable, and consider your debts to this family’s honor repaid.” Alex fought the urge to sink into his chair in relief, and held his head high.

“Thank you, general.”

“It is my pleasure. You have made the Di Coteaus look strong and clever in front of all Nabius, and I have decided that you will make a great leader in the future. Before you are dismissed, know that a gift should be awaiting you in your practice courtyard. That is all.”

Alex nodded respectfully, and walked backwards facing his father for half the length of the room before turning around and walking out the door. When he and Carlin had both made it out of the office, Alex shut the doors and leaned against them. Holy shit, he thought. That was not what he had been expecting at all.

***

Down in the courtyard, Alex found his gift to be two beautifully inlaid swords, which gleamed in black and maroon. Noticing an ivory decal, he realized that there was a blade around the handle, which seemed to be some odd kind of protective mechanism. Looking up the length of the blade, he also noticed that the ends were curved in a very strange way, and he was confused.

“So… do you know how to use them? Mikhail showed them to me before, and I just…” he lifted his shoulders up in a gesture of unknowing.

Alex turned to look at his slave, who was rather handsome when concentrating. “I don’t,” he admitted while looking back at them. “But you are going to help me figure it out.” Carlin grinned, and went to over to the armor rack to suit up.

After a few hours, Alex was beginning to get the hang of the weapons that his father seemed to want him to use. They were certainly unique, and would stand out if he used them in public. Alex suspected this was part of his father’s intention, given that many high-ranking military figures and dignitaries – Ysabel Di Coteau included – had become famous for using unique or strange weapons in battle. Keeping that in mind, Alex pressed on with Carlin. Just a few hours before the sunset, Alex realized that he could hook the two blades together to extend his range. The blade over the handle of whichever sword he let go of then became the edge of the weapon, and Carlin had been whacked with it a few times. There was no damage done, as he wore heavy armor because of their using real blades that day. Alex began to think of new possibilities for the weapon excitedly while they battled, and eventually called a weary stop to training for that day. The slave looked grateful, lifting the visor of his helm and panting deeply. After a moment, he straightened.

“Thank you, Alex.” An invisible question from the general’s son prompted him further. “For not telling your father that I suggested you leave. I didn’t realize you were actually going out on a mission, and thought you might blame me for your disappearance.” Alex raised his eyebrows, and almost corrected the slave for using his name instead of his title. Sighing, Alex thought better of it.

“May I tell you something? You must never repeat it to anyone.” Carlin looked surprised.

“Of course, Alex.”

“I did originally go out on your advice. I dressed myself as a commoner, and only meant to go to Mullansburg for drinks.” Seeing the confusion on Carlin’s face, Alexandre continued. “I was captured and enslaved by Evangelo Mortisse. In the gladiator’s arena, I fought for my life like everyone else. Killing my captor was just a revenge kill, it wasn’t premeditated as everyone seems to think.”

“Oh. Wow,” said Carlin, unable to think of anything else.

“Yes,” said Alex sheepishly. “I’m not sure why I told you that, but you understand that if anyone were to find out the truth…”

“… then you would bring shame on your family instead of honor,” Carlin finished for him. The two looked at each other in silence, and Alex let some of the blood rush to his face before he regained composure. His cheeks were now pink, and he decided he would break the silence.

“You keep my secret, and I will keep yours.” He smiled weakly, and turned around. “Talia should be returning soon. I would like to speak with her. Goodnight, Carlin.” He walked away without so much as a glance behind him, and Carlin watched the boy go. Leaning against the nearest wall, he crossed his arms and looked down. After a few moments of deliberation, the slave came to a conclusion. Looking in the direction that Alexandre had just walked off in, he was beaming.