The Bond - 4. Chapter 4

General Ysabel Clarion walked through the halls of her monstrous estate with nothing but imperceptible clicks from her black leather and snakeskin boots to follow in her wake. Ordinarily her captain of the guard Marcus, or her now-mute manservant Boris would have joined her, but she had sent the mute away and her chiseled guard was currently instructing the men she had drafted into her army. Over the course of her reign as general, a large mass of citizens had been coerced into her own private troops. A large majority of the poor in her region found better meals and more reliable healthcare by joining the army, and so they were inspired in the masses to do so. This could have had something to do with Ysabel largely shortening the supply of food items in trade in order to increase production of armor and weaponry, but the lady general wrote that off as details. She noticed that a strand of her long hair had almost completely lost its patriotic dye, and looked a strawberry-blonde. I’ll need to redo that before I go.

As for where Ysabel was going to go, she did not know yet. She was growing tired of walking down the same halls every day, and had decided on this particular morning that she required a change of scenery. Thus, she had Marcus prepare an ensemble of her best fighting men and women, and asked to have them ready for travel within the next three days. She felt this was reasonable, and was excitedly anticipating her inspection of what was promised to be a more refined army. If they are weak… they will know my wrath.

In recent weeks, Ysabel had been disappointed with what those under command could do. In reality, they were most likely a fine army, and could rival that of any other general in Nabius or any Tomacian legion. But Ysabel wanted units that could move in unison, and execute commands faster than any other army out there. Strategy had always been one of her strong points, and in order to implement plans efficiently, she needed the right group of people to do it. Briefly, she wondered what she would do this time if her army failed to meet her expectations. They’d better not.

Ysabel had been disappointed many a time with some of the figures under her control. She had noticed that several families – children included – had joined her army as a means of salvation from hunger, and they tended to stick together. Marcus had emphasized that familial ties within an army were excellent for unit cohesion and rallying the people together, but Ysabel disagreed. All she saw was men and women covering for their loved ones, work being distributed unequally and thus creation of weak points in her troops. She had already killed many of the slackers to send a message against laziness, but this seemed to prove ineffective. I’ve already made myself known as the demon. I need to do something extra… special if they are to take me seriously. She considered what her options were.

I suppose I could stage the war games on my own, with my own weaklings… she thought about what that would look like here at her camp, but decided against it. It’s too costly, I don’t want to build an arena with the finances I have no anyway. And Alexandre ensured that we couldn’t show support for that kind of pastime with his publicity stunt anyway. At the thought of her family – who was missing, and potentially in danger for all she knew – her eyes flickered dangerously and she and to stop mid-walk to breathe and calm herself. And that’s been done before anyway. She thought back to her brother Yago, who once had to deal with a family that had been living in his army and hiding out during each battle. They took his food and shelter and clothing, and repaid him with betrayal. To celebrate a victory on the battlefield the week after he found out about them, Yago had cooked the family alive and served them at a banquet. And he made everyone there eat. Every, single, one. Ysabel cocked her head to the side as she walked.

No. Again, done before, and that’s a bit much for me. Though Ysabel had indeed partaken in cannibalism before, she rationalized it as more of a spectacle for the battlefield, to have blood run down her mouth and armor after biting into whatever organ she had torn from an enemy’s body. I don’t get quite as… excited as Yago. Ysabel knew that she had a few loyalists to the previous general of her estate in her cells, and thought perhaps she would do something to scare the weak of her lands with them. They were outspoken against being subject to palatine authority, but Ysabel had squashed that movement quickly.

But there they are. Ysabel had completed her walk across the estate, and now stood on a balcony that overlooked her acres of fields for training. Next to a massive camp of tents for the soldiers was a small army, standing perfectly still in rectangular formations that formed a grid of people against a field of green.

“You’ve done well,” said Ysabel, smiling at the crowd before her. Marcus had approached quietly from another room in the manse, but Ysabel knew he was there.

“Thank you, General Clarion,” said Marcus with his thick accent. The man’s stature greatly outsized her, but all sense of command resided in Ysabel. She adored that. “Shall we go on the inspecting rounds? Here, I have presented only the most worthy soldiers to you. They are fighters, each and every one.”

“No, thank you though Marcus. I’d prefer to view them from up here.” The crowd was so still and quiet that she knew that every man and woman could hear her standing above them, and she could tell they were itching for an order.”

“March,” she said. The silence suddenly broke into a cacophony of rhythmic thumps, made by armor and boots alike while soldiers took steps in perfect unison.

“Stop.” They did. She looked over at Marcus, and raised an eyebrow.

“Grab the soldier to the right of yours’ throat.” The order was completed deftly and once again in unison.

“Squeeze.” The army showed no hesitation, and all began choking one another. There was still no silence other then a ragged gasp every now and then, and Ysabel let this continue.

“Harder.” All gasps died out, and Marcus leaned forward to look at his treasured army.

“Kill each other.” The general spoke clearly and softly, and a soft glow entered her emerald eyes. Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but she held a clawed finger up. Once the first person fell, she softly spoke “stop” and the army was released from its self-inflicted torture. Men and women gagged and wheezed, and Ysabel turned back to Marcus.

“I saw a boy in there. He couldn’t have been more than eleven.” Her look challenged her commander, and he lowered his eyes respectfully.

“He is a good fighter, and more vicious than most out there. Just this morning, he bit off the ear of a rival during drills.” Ysabel’s lips parted slightly to show strong white teeth, and she gave a small exhale that hinted at laughing.

“Very good. I trust you, and I trust that they are ready.” Ysabel leaned back against her balcony, letting body be displayed in the most tempting of poses to Marcus.

“Ready for what?” he asked confusedly.

“We’re going on an expedition. As you know, I’ve been advising my brother-in-law Damien for quite some time about all of those troops of his that have gone rogue. But what newly strikes me as interesting is a spy of mine that swears my son and daughter passed through some time ago, and eliminated an entire unit, or their captain, or something. I don’t think he knows what he heard honestly. Troops A14 and A15, I believe he said.” Ysabel paused, waiting for a response. Slowly, Marcus nodded.

“Two birds, one stone,” he said. Ysabel laughed, and spoke in agreement.

“Yes, I would like to investigate these claims but this is a bit besides the point. There is an army that needs controlling, and another army that needs experience.” Marcus nodded immediately.

“I agree. It would be wise to blood them soon. The men and women here are strong for you, but they can only learn so much in your backyard.”

“Excellent,” said Ysabel gladly as she motioned for Marcus to walk with her back down the hallway. She gave him another pretty smile and pulled her hair back, tying it up. “Lets go to war.”

***

Jezebel was sitting in a guest room at the Di Coteau manse, practically frothing at the mouth with rage. How DARE he insult me like this at MY family home! Well, my cousin’s now… but DI COTEAU. Fucking brat, I can’t believe that I had him in my hands and then let him live back then… if I had known he would become such a problem in the future I would have let that acid eat right through him! Alex… Alex… he’s ruined everything. And now he puts his whore at the seat of his desk and lets him treat me like filth coming to beg an audience with his pompous ass! Jezebel realized she had started pacing, and sat back down on the bed. It was late, and she had been in her room almost since her arrival.

In all fairness, she had been met with extreme hostility upon visiting the estate. Just above the main entrance hung her long-time friend Meredith, who had clearly been shamed and now was spewing entrails subject to the pickings of the birds. Guards had made her wait an unnecessarily long time to enter, and the decay of the girl dripped constantly onto her, her servants, and the cargo that she had brought on her travels. The insult told her that she knew she was under suspicion, but she had not been prepared for her greeting once she actually got inside.

Instead of Luca, a tall, sandy-haired guy with pale eyes, a light smattering of freckles, and the walk of a trained Nabian fighter approached her.

“I’m Eamon,” he said, with a bitter frown. He nodded his head downward in a respectful manner to him, and she smiled, batting her long lashes.

“Jezebel Di Coteau.” She found him quite attractive, and held herself in a way that made it clear to everyone that saw the two of them. She noticed Eamon’s eyes flicker to her rather provocatively displayed breasts, and smiled internally. When his eyes met hers again, she was surprised by the rage in them. She stood up a little straighter and used a voice that no longer suited the part of coquette.

“Do you know if the Master of the House is in?” she asked.

“Not for you, cunt,” replied Eamon.

The room went silent. Jezebel was so shocked by the statement that she said nothing. The servants and guards near the entrance also seemed to be shocked, and no one said anything. The silence was uncomfortable, and Jezebel hadn’t even regained her thoughts before he spoke again. Eamon coughed and cleared his throat.

“Erm, that’s his message to you. And Luca finds it difficult to get down the stairs to the main level at the moment – his use of a cane makes that hard.” Jezebel said nothing, and stared back at Eamon seething. “He’s recovering from a recent assassination attempt, and will not be joining you for dinner. But our chef, Alfie, has prepared a meal especially for you.” With that, Eamon turned his back on her, and walked away. Jezebel stood there stunned, insulted, and furious.

Later that night, she received a simple bowl of soup far later than customary for dinner. One sip told her that the chef had used rotten vegetables and old meat, and she threw the bowl on the floor in disgust. She had been in her room since, and could not sleep on account of her anger.

But what can you do, Jezebel? They know Meredith was yours, that’s clear. And it looks like Luca is in no mood to play games… no, no. Another attempt on his life while I’m here will be too clear. As obnoxious as it is, I can’t just kill off whatever nobility I would like. She inspected her nails. Even if they were just elevated to their status because my cousin decided so. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, and began pacing the room again.

His death has to happen while I’m not here. She sat on the bed for a long stretch of time, changing her position constantly and thinking, plotting. After a long bout of deliberation, her idol saint, St. Koba, inspired her. The imagery of snakes in the sculpture at her home gave her an idea, and she counted herself fortunate for always being well supplied.

Among the things brought in from her caravan was a Nabian black adder, which she had milked for venom and antidote for several weeks. Currently, it was well fed, but that was about to change. Jezebel thought back to her years of training under a sisterhood in which she, Meredith, and several other noble women in Ironia, Nabius, and Tomacia all were enrolled. Her instructor had been the famous Almanita Nandra, a great assassin of her time and genius with alchemy. Flora and fauna were topics that had been extensively covered in her training that was supplemental to academy learning, and Jezebel had always excelled. Thinking about the calm snake in its cage that looked like a stream of hot tar, Jezebel knew exactly what she needed to do.

The Nabian black adder was a fantastic creature, with venom that functioned similarly to an acid. Once it entered the bloodstream, it was only a matter of time before the venom corroded the heart and kidneys, and caused total breakdown of vital organs. More importantly, the adder was known for its unique living environment – bloodlily pits. The flower offered another kind of venom that similarly corrupted everything it came into contact with. Pools of water too near lily patches became acid pits that dissolved any creature unlucky enough to fall in and get stuck. The adder’s primary hunting method was to wait in the pools’ waters, and eat on the decaying animals that fell in. Jezebel remembered that Alexandre’s boy toy had once wanted to go swimming in one of these pits while she was there, and she laughed at his absurd stupidity.

But Luca will be the prey this time. Adders, she thought, are known to survive for long periods of time down in those pits. If nothing falls in, they go hungry for a while. And once that happens, they get more and more vicious. They can last for months without food, but anyone who’s ever come across one in that state of hunger hasn’t lasted long enough to tell the tale. She frowned. At least I’m pretty sure.

And with that, the plan was hatched. Jezebel didn’t take long to reach her caravan outside the manse invisibly. Donning a black silk cloak with a hood that covered her entirely in the dark night, she retrieved her precious caged animal, and scaled back up the walls from whence she came to enter her house with the most deadly weapon she could muster. Walking past her room and crossing through an entire wing of the estate, she was overjoyed with what she saw.

As expected, almost the entire guard was around the corner from the great office of the Di Coteau manse. She knew that was where Luca slept, and they didn’t seem to be taking any chances. Though for Jezebel, they were guarding the wrong place.

After sliding through the huge double doors of the general’s office here, Jezebel approached the great black desk that sat in the room. She noticed that her late Uncle Darion’s war axe was still mounted on the wall, and she felt intimidated by him even after his death.

But there will be no punishment for you. That powder was meant for Alex, not you uncle. Without wasting a breath, she got into the chair and set the snake cage on the desk.

It has to be somewhere that won’t be noticeable, but Luca will be sure to explore. Somewhere private, that he wont go into for a while after I’m gone. Perhaps a vault, or a weapons case or something… she looked around the room, but frowned when she couldn’t find anywhere.

Well I can’t just set the fucking thing right on the desk, she thought with frustration as she slammed a fist down on the surface. Just then, she heard two guards start talking. She listened in, holding her breath.

“Did you hear that?”

“What? No?”

“I thought I heard something coming from inside the office. Someone should make sure she’s still in her room.”

“I’ll go. You peek in there and make sure.”

Fuck.

Jezebel ducked below the desk, hiding in the leg space with her caged beast. The door to the office opened, and she felt the lingering presence of an inspecting guard. After a few seconds, the doors closed once more and she breathed a sigh of relief. Crawling out of her hiding spot, her hand slipped on a piece of woodwork attached to the desk and banged into a little piece of ornate scrolling. “Damn,” she swore under her breath. She was about to make a run for her room, but stopped when she noticed that the small piece of wood she had pressed had unlocked some mechanism within the desk and a secret drawer sprung open. It was perfect.

Looking in at some of the papers in the drawer, she saw names like Coyne, Cathcart, and Monciet. But there was no time to read, and so she took the snake out of its cage.

“This will have to do.” Placing the snake into the compartment, she slid the hidden drawer back and booked out of the room at all speed.

She knew the guard inspecting her room was walking, so she ran with all haste around the opposite side of the house, down hallways meant normally for servants. Her black silk cloak billowed behind her, and knocked a pot off of a display on her way back. Hoping that that would provide a temporary distraction, she rounded the last corner. She reached her doorway, threw open the doors, blew out the candle by her bedside, and leapt into bed throwing covers over all evidence that she was still dressed. She tried to still her breathing, and eventually caught the oxygen that she needed. Just as she was getting into faking the deep, slow breaths of a sleeping lady, her door opened just a crack and a guard peered in. Satisfied, he closed the door and left.

Jezebel smiled under her blankets, and let all the tension in her muscles leave her body. You’re done for now.

***

Adrian sat at a desk made entirely of ice; only a glass rectangle laid overtop the surface to make a suitable writing station transformed the piece into something usable. He was pleased that it was a rather warm summer, but not warm enough to melt too much of the infrastructure of the town or objects like the desk. This made the summer work easier on the people, who were already facing stressful times. As compensation for the goods that Nabius took in from the Illjard, most counts gave the Illjard soldiers. It was true that Nabius could supply the finest warriors in the world, and the Illjard lacked severely in military strength, but Prince Adrian felt that this was for good reason. The Illjard didn’t really have any domestic enemies, so most of these soldiers ended up on ships to protect against piracy. Of the Nabians that did live in the Illjard, they seemed to cause nothing but trouble.

Recently, a man of Tomacian descent had been found stabbed through the heart with an icicle whittled into a point, which had almost finished melting by the time he was found. Adrian knew that a prejudiced soldier in his guard had most likely used this clever murder weapon, and he had sent for the rest of the Nabians in his forces to board ships. Still, this was a problem.

In the Illjard, everyone knew everyone. People survived here - they didn't reall live. The only time that people could enjoy themselves was in the warmer months, which were still cold by the standards of everywhere else. With such a small population and the close friendships that come with the territory of huddling together through winter and just trying to keep each other alive, every funeral was a somber occasion. Walking through his palace this morning after the man had been buried was difficult, as every worker there was dressed in white. This was the customary color for occasions like weddings, funerals, and birthing ceremonies, and it told Adrian that every person in his palace had been at the funeral. Adrian sighed, and sat down to work.

I really hope I can bring some improvement to these people. They deserve it. Adrian set his mind to do just that after the funeral, and sat down to address a letter:

My friend Luca,

It has come to my attention that we have some business to discuss that is long overdue. I will explain more in person, but for now I would like to write you that I intend to visit Nabius soon, and will dock at the ports of your current territory, at the northernmost bay closer to Ironia. While I am visiting, I thought it might be practical that we hold a meeting open to all members of the Nabian aristocracy that wish to discuss business with me. I have contracts with quite a few Nabians, and would like to invite them to work out any issues face-to-face. I know that they aren’t exactly happy with a few of the things that you and I have been up to regarding imports and exports as of late. I would also love to meet you. Please let me know at your earliest convenience if you are willing to host such a meeting, or if I should seek out another venue. I look forward to it very much.

Yours,

Adrian Fray, Prince of the Illjard

Thanks for reading and all of the support/reviews guys