The Alliance - 24. Chapter 24

The captain’s retaliation had been predictable to say the least, in Talia’s opinion. I could have heard you coming from a mile away.

The large man that had commanded troops A14 and A15 was obviously angry over his being dismissed, and she knew that her brother had wounded the captain’s pride the previous day. The face she saw on him when Alex so blatantly disrespected him was one that all proud men wore. Grown men become children when they don’t get what they want. And now you’re here to throw your fit over it.

She expected the attack to come at night, when the party would be sleeping. She also expected that the captain would be cowardly and attack Alex at range, using a bow or crossbow. After all, it would be suicide to go close range into this group of companions, and the captain would know that. Even though Barclay, Roark, and Talia were just recently graduated from the Mullansburg academy, they were still forces to contend with. Alex was also a general, which was a status that no one could retain whilst being bad at combat. Thus, the revenge assassination would come from a hiding spot and at long range. As usual, she was correct. So predictable.

What Talia didn’t expect, however, was to have been beaten to the captain. When some of the bushes rustled near the company’s tents and sleeping furs, Talia knew that the time had come, and she prepared three throwing knives in her right hand. The blades fit perfectly in her palm, and holding them made her feel in control. Their balanced weights were exact, and Talia was ready to feel the satisfaction of sinking them into such a vile man. It wasn’t that she minded cruelty and physical torture, but the psychological damage that he had inflicted on the women of Tomacia in that camp bothered her greatly. No one should have to suffer that. Talia was never one to delight in the torment of others, except maybe in play or in order to promote her reputation. When it came to violence, she had only one goal, and that was quite simply to be the best.

She flipped one knife from her right to her left hand, holding it by the blade rather than the handle. Holding it out to where she knew the figure in the dark would be, she prepared to send the weapon soaring through the blackness and directly into his heart. But when the figure emerged from the bushes, she stopped.

He beat me to it? Talia looked over to where Alex and Carlin had been wrapped up together sleeping, and saw only her brother, who was still fast asleep. When Carlin had stepped out from the bushes, moonlight had illuminated a bare, muscled torso. In one hand was his enormous broadsword, and in the other, a head. Carlin was holding it by the hair, and tossed it onto the ground in Talia’s general direction. He nodded to her, and she walked over his way.

How the hell did he do that? Somehow, Carlin had read the man’s plans for revenge just as well as Talia, gotten away from Alexandre’s side without waking him, unsheathed his broadsword, beheaded a man, and returned to the camp all without alerting anyone else. Talia hadn’t even noticed he was gone. Perhaps Nabius has taught him a few things after all.

She gazed him up and down, noting the few red drops of blood that speckled his abdomen. He looked grim, even though his white teeth lit up in what was supposed to be a friendly smile in the moonlight. Talia hadn’t ever truly felt any sense of loyalty to anyone other than her family, but knew that Tomacians prided themselves on cohesion and honorable relations with each other. Even though she had nobody that was “hers,” Talia knew that Carl felt the burden of “his” people. Watching them suffer so greatly… I feel for him. Realizing that she actually cared for Carlin made Talia glance back over at her sleeping brother. His dark hair fell across his forehead in feathery curves, and he looked peaceful for once. Talia knew that this was one person’s doing, and that person was standing in front of her. In fact, he had even cared for Alexandre’s safety and wellbeing so much that he had adapted to Nabians, and could predict them well enough to find and kill one in the dead of night, all without disturbing his lover’s sleep. It was a strange way to indicate that he cared, but it was one that Talia appreciated. Maybe that’s the only kind of care I can recognize now, she thought with some concern. Violent interactions are the easiest to understand.

Talia looked up at Carlin, whose slow, but ragged breathing made each muscle in his chest and stomach form hard lines and ridges every so often. She knew that whatever fight had ensued wouldn’t have taken much out of Carlin, since she had seen his stamina during training. She looked him over once more, and finally spoke in a whisper, questioning his exhaustion.

“You hate it.”

“What?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Taking someone’s life.” She gazed into his blue eyes, and marveled at how expressive he was. Carl reacted to every sentence he heard, which was so different from the stony faces of Nabians that Talia had been surrounded by all of her life.

“Shouldn’t I? I only do it for the people I need to protect.” He scratched the back of his head, and looked over towards Alexandre. Talia opened her mouth, but paused. She saw his gaze towards her brother, and felt sadness envelop her mind. She knew that no one would ever care for her in that way, or stay up all night to ensure her safety. She gave Carlin a half-smile, and stood on her tiptoes to reach his face. She patted him twice on the cheek, and walked back over to her sleeping mats.

I will never be loved like that.

***

I never thought I would enter one of these places again. Luca threw his cloak over his shoulder, and walked straight through the entrance of The Lucky Lover.

With Eamon and another house guard flanking his either side, Luca felt like he must look strange. Both of the boys at his sides were much taller than him, and seemed only to emphasize his small stature. I hope I don’t look weak because of them being here… Luca’s thoughts drifted to the horrors of his past briefly, and he had to fight to keep himself from showing emotion. He jerked his mind back, and focused on looking in control and present. He knew Alex was shorter than most Nabians, and he constantly had Carl and Barclay flanking him. Both were giants, but Alexandre was still the center of attention. Of course, Luca was much smaller than Alex, but he felt he should be just as imposing in his place. I’m fine. I’m the steward of this region. They will respect me here. They have to.

Luca had taken to patrolling Mullansburg since ordering that the citizens be armed, looking for indicators of the city’s health. He had been in charge of supplying Mullansburg with food and goods, and overseeing what was exported and traded for some time now. To him, there was no way to gauge what the city needed if he didn’t see it for himself. Luca had increased the quantities of imported vegetables and grains, and was proud to see a decline in starvation rates. He was sure the noblemen of Mullansburg weren’t happy with him for cutting some of the luxuries that they were normally afforded, but Luca didn’t care. The charge of this place is mine now.

“This place smells like vomit,” Eamon said with annoyance. He never liked visiting the worse areas of the city with Luca, complaining whenever they did. Luca looked up at the taller teen, taking in his pale grey eyes and a dusting of freckles on his handsome face.

“Yup. This is actually one of the more high-end brothels, Eamon.” Eamon stuck up his nose in disgust.

In truth, Luca didn’t actually like Eamon very much. He was always there to guard him and watch over him, but Luca still felt slightly bothered by his presence. Eamon made advances quite often, always refusing to take no for an answer. Once, Eamon had rested his hand on the inside of Luca’s thigh while Luca had been composing a letter. At that, Luca had stood up and given the command to leave with more authority in his voice than he had ever known was there. Eamon had been shocked out of the unwelcomed touching, and left promptly. That night, Luca shed quiet tears in his bathtub and felt the hands of a hundred men before slide their hands up his thighs to grope him. Alfie had sensed his mood, and quietly sent a tray of food up to his rooms after.

Alas, Alfie and Eamon were all he had to talk to in the whole of his life at the estate, and Eamon was truthfully more annoying than anything else. He didn’t know if Eamon knew or cared about his old profession, or if Eamon had any interests in him beyond his body or simply talking out of boredom. But Alex trusts him, so I do too.

“Do you see the owner anywhere?” Luca knew that whoever owned the brothel would stick out like a sore thumb amidst half-dressed people all over the lounge.

“Well… would that be her?” Eamon pointed, and not subtly. Luca followed his finger to an older woman with a particularly unattractive mole on her face, who was slapping a girl no older than fifteen.

“Yes,” Luca grumbled, “I suppose that would be her.” He motioned his guards to follow, made sure the pin that signified his stewardship was plainly visible, and walked over to her.

“Are you the owner of this house?” Luca tried to use command in his voice, but faltered in the presence of so many whores. The woman looked over at him, and sized him up. Even though she probably knew who he was, Luca could see that the first thought on her mind was the profit he would fetch. Despair filled his mind, and he wanted to sink to the ground.

“Yeah honey, what do you need? You looking for work?” She leaned over with a foul smile, and Luca couldn’t think of anything to say.

“N – no, I… your brothel, I’m just here to… well, I’m – “

“I know who you are honey. You’re here to inspect the local businesses, I got it.” The old woman looked away and returned to saying something about the girl’s body. Evidently, word had gotten around that the current head of the Di Coteau estate was inspecting the city and making it known that he intended improvement for Mullansburg.

But in that moment, Luca had been reduced to nothing but meat and profit, once again. With one stare from this repulsive woman, Luca felt all of the confidence he had built drain slowly from him. He knew that his life was different from what it had been, but still felt the weight of his past crush down on him. Numbly, he walked around the lounge of the brothel, pretending to inspect the foods and furniture that the establishment offered. He saw children dressed in clothing that they should never have been wearing, and men leading boys and girls up less than half their age off to private rooms. He heard the roaring laughter of drunkards and whores that had turned to drink to satiate their pains long ago, and felt the exchange of money all in the air. Meko would like this place. He looked around at the workers of this place, seeing their drained expressions and the application of cosmetics that likely hid an assortment of bruises and welts and cuts. They’re all doomed.

When the owner of the whorehouse resumed slapping her employee, Luca woke from his stupor. The sharp sound of flesh on flesh startled him, and he felt the ghosts of stinging cheeks on his own flesh, reminding him of his cruel ex-owner. Wait. I can help them.

Luca saw the girl fall to the floor after a particularly hard smack to the face, her head hitting the wooden boards at her owner’s feet. The girl had bleary eyes, but Luca saw the face of a terrified Jack hit the floor instead of her. The mole on the old woman’s face morphed into a jeweled stud that Yonin Meko might have worn, and Luca saw The Lucky Lover’s lounge turn into a parlor of the capitol. He knew the pain that every man, woman, and child that staffed this place were in, and knew that he could save them. A voice that sounded like Jack’s came into his mind, and told him that he could do more than just survive. He had the resources now.

“Ma’am,” Luca said sharply. He fixed the owner with a stare, and she looked surprised.

“What?”
“Do you typically treat your whores this way?” he asked, nodding to the girl. The woman looked dumbfounded.

“What? Slappin them? Of course. That’s how they learn, everybody knows that.” She said the words so casually, and was about to return her attentions to the child on the floor.

“I see,” Luca said in a voice that demanded her focus. “In that case this business will be suspended from service pending further investigation, by my order.” The woman looked at him as if he was joking, and Luca continued on. “Your general Alexandre has set into motion plans for a great deal of change in Nabius, and it starts with stopping the degradation of human beings. Given that this is General Di Coteau’s region and I am here enforcing his will, your ban will be effective immediately. After all, where would we be if Mullansburg refused to embody these kinds of changes? This city should set an example for the rest of this country.” Luca gave a disingenuous smile, and curtly instructed a few prostitutes to start clearing patrons out of the building. When he turned back to face the owner, he was met with another brown smile.

“Honey, I’m going to do whatever I want, and that includes slapping bitches that fail at their job. I’d like to ask you to leave now.” She laughed in his face, making a hideous cackling sound while she picked the girl up off the floor by her hair.

Luca had enough, and turned to the house guard on his right. “Arrest her.”

The woman paused for a moment, looking incredulous. “Don’t you touch me boy!” When the guard hesitated, Luca decided that he would give her one last chance.

“You will clear this building out now, or be arrested for disobeying the direct orders of your acting general. I will have you shamed, executed, and your body displayed above the sign on your door. It’s your choice. I’ll be back in a few hours, after making my rounds of the city.” The woman’s stringy hair was coming loose from her bun, and now she looked angry.

“You cant do this to me you little fuck! I am one of the most successful businesswomen in Mullansburg, and I have powerful friends! Top officials stop here boy!!” Luca looked around the room, flashing in and out of his memories in the capitol. He saw a room full of distress and abuse, and knew that it was time for this place to see change.

“I don’t care,” he said, and turned on his heels. He walked out the door and into the street, feeling a refreshing joy in being so harsh to the woman that owned that brothel. He took in a breath of fresh air, and smiled.

Eamon turned to jog after him, stopping at this door and turning back towards the owner. “You’ve got a few hours. He means business."

***

Ysabel Clarion sat in the chair at her new desk, which she had brought into the large hall that General Pyconne once used like a type of court. Ysabel still felt that the room was ridiculous, but knew that it was much improved by the addition of a desk. Her chair felt like less of a throne now, and the hall just seemed like a really, really large office. It will do.

She glanced down to the stack of papers that she had, and began to work. She didn’t like that she had to take the claws off of her right hand to write, feeling uncomfortable at having just bare hands. Sifting through the stacks of paper, she pinned through whatever she thought was useless with the blades on her left hand. Many letters came from sycophants and slimy nobles wishing her congratulations on her position as general, and she discarded those immediately. Crop yield reports for her region, city statistics, and trade agreements passed her desk, but she decided to attend to those later. She made another stack of more interesting documents, one detailing an infections disease in a nearby town, and began to read through all of her mail.

What boring work. Maybe I’ll rip out Boris’s tongue now. She had since learned the name of the fat little man that was intended to be her assistant, and still found him just as annoying. She stood to go find something to do, just at the moment when the doors to her office swung open. The pattering of her assistant’s feet echoed in the hall and he ran over to her desk with frightened haste.

I guess that answers that. Let me put my claw back on.

“General Clarion,” he said with a low bow. Ysabel strapped on her thumb blade.

“Yes?”

“I have a letter for you, personal news. It’s from your niece.”

Jezebel? Ysabel decided that she might as well read it, and left the other four of her blades laying on her desk. No sense in putting them on just to take them off again.

“I’ll read it now.” She took the letter from his hand, and used the weapon on her thumb to slice through a wax seal and unroll the note. She sat back down at her desk, reading the letter.

Essentially, this is the whining of a child. Jezebel complained about the necessity of her learning command in the letter, stressing that her father Damien was not in control of his own troops. Ysabel had known this for some time, given that Damien had asked for her advice on multiple occasions when they were both in the capitol. At least Jezebel is right about that. The letter generally expressed that Jezebel thought her father was an idiot, a sentiment that Ysabel couldn’t agree with more.

She read on, smirking at Jezebel’s request to come stay with her for a while. Jezebel wanted the experience, and figured that her aunt could use her help in establishing order in her new territory. Ysabel smiled, showing pointy white eyeteeth and radiant beauty.

I suppose Jezebel is at least intimidating, even if she is as stupid as her father. She looked at her assistant, who was still halfway in a nervous bow. And the saints know I could use the help. I’m sure she has some other motive, but I don’t see the harm. Ysabel put the letter down, and returned to fastening the weapons on her hands.

“Boris, write a letter to my darling niece saying that she is welcome to come visit.”

“Right away, General.” He fumbled with his thumbs, and turned to leave.

“Oh, and have a room prepared for her.”

“Of course.”

“And Boris?”

“Yes, General?”

“When you’ve done that, could you please meet me in the first torture arena downstairs? There’s something I’d like to adjust. Bring a towel and some saltwater.”

The chubby man looked confused at that, but nodded his head. “Absolutely. I’ll do that with all haste!” He turned and scurried out of the room, and Ysabel began to sweep her long golden-pink hair into a ponytail with a smile.

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