The Bond - 6. Chapter 6

Luca lay in somnolent delight and silence, as the light pouring in from his window illuminated the silk sheets and fur throws of his bed. He had been off and on in states like these for days, recovering slowly but surely. Some days he slept almost the entire day, only waking up to receive homely plates sent by Alfie. Eamon had recovered from his garish state of sleep deprivation since Jezebel had left, and now watched Luca as often as he could. In the time that he wasn’t doing that, the guard was running the estate with some advice from Luca, but making it appear as if the boy was healthy and well. Luca was eternally grateful for this, and found that he liked having Eamon around. The other man and seemed to somber up after Luca’s attack, and cut the jests and ribald jokes from his speech. Though a part of Luca almost missed the crude Eamon, he enjoyed being taken care of. This was done in a way that no one had ever done for him aside from Alexandre and Carl, and it made him think that there might be more to his guard than a sloppy vocabulary revolving around innuendo and personal gain.

Luca groaned, annoyed at how heavy his eyelids felt despite how long he had slept. Judging by the rumblings in his stomach, this most recent bout of slumber had lasted almost an entire twenty-four hours. Knowing that he should get up, Luca rolled over and brushed a pale lock out of his eyes. He got out of bed, slid on a shirt, and walked out of his room down a long stone hallway.

It never ceased to amaze Luca just how expansive the Di Coteau manse was. Now that he had more free time in his recovery, and the doctor of the manse suggested that walking would help his recovery, Luca had taken to exploring the grounds. This went rather slowly given that he relied heavily on the use of a cane to stay upright, but enjoyed finding hidden rooms and nooks. Just the other day, he had found a bath the size of the Di Coteau office. The water there was well kept and crystal clear, and servants used buckets heated by fires to ensure that the massive expanse was always kept warm. He thought he might enjoy the steamy waters this afternoon, so that was where he headed. On a side note, he thought, the mosaic at the bottom of the waters was really beautiful. I’d like to take a look at that more. Though Luca didn’t know the first thing about arts or fighting or the refined culture that seemed to mark noble folk, he enjoyed looking and perusing. The Di Coteau manse certainly gave him plenty of opportunities to do this, and he could relax knowing that today there weren’t too many inquiries that required his attention. Eamon can handle the complaints of a few farmers.

As he walked, he looked along the rows of paintings and sculptures that lined the halls. Nine out of ten times they depicted some sort of bloody feat, victorious pose, or one of the gruesome saints of Nabius. Luca hated that the color palate of all art in this country rarely strayed from blacks and reds, but occasionally found a piece that had a different subject matter. Hobbling around a corner, he noticed one such painting with vivid blues, greens and purples. Smiling, he paused to inspect it and immediately frowned. Though not doused in the patriotic colors of Nabius, the painting was of an apothecary’s trunked, stocked to the brim with poisons and acids and tonics. Luca remembered all too well what it was like to be subjected to the experimentation of a poisoner, and shuddered. Of course that’s what the painting was of. He moved on, heading still to the bathing room.

I wonder how long I’ll last, he thought. I can’t take too many more attacks on my person. He thought about the beatings that he had been through, the scars that he bore, and the enemies that he had made. He felt dizzy at wondering what he had gotten himself into, but continued walking down the polished stone hallway. There was a flight of stairs leading down a floor soon, and he moved to head down them. I used to be just a simple sex toy. And now… all of this. He thought about Jezebel and Ysabel, and their vicious appetites for carnage. He thought about Mullansburg, and the villagers there that either hated or loved him. He suspected there were more on the side of hatred, but knew that he had done a good thing in curbing poverty and hunger levels through his trade with the Illjard. And the Illjard! I’m friends with a prince, even if it’s just through letters. Luca shook his head, marveling at how he had entered such a life of danger and deceit, with death always looming around the corner.

Though I suppose life wasn’t much better before this anyway. He thought back to the grimy fingers of greedy men that had violated him, back to when he felt worthless to the world. He had gotten to the point of laying limp while men carried out their business on him, zoning out all of his own feelings to become a void of dark numbness. And Meko had hit me, quite often too. He spared the face – which Luca supposed he was lucky for – but I can still feel the blows of his fists between my shoulder blades sometimes. Luca felt sore at the thought all over again, and realized that he was just a few steps away from the bottom of the staircase.

Just a few more halls.

And then there was Jack. Just thinking about the boy made Luca feel weak, like he was unable to truly protect someone he cared about. He could still vividly see the face of the companion he had watched get beaten to death, twisting his face into what Luca thought might have been a smile in his final moments. Luca had heard the grinding sound of broken teeth moving in a dislocated jaw, and forced himself to stop thinking about it.

I have helped people. Lots of them, and lots in just the same position as Jack. The ghost voice of his friend was still heard often and loudly, but Luca had learned to let go. And though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Luca knew that he was strong, and Jack was weak.

I made it through Meko’s. I rose through the ranks, and made my life as good as I thought it ever could be. Though he still remembered being ripped from his life in Ironia vaguely, he know that he had been able to find some happiness in his work before. Patrons had clothed him in the finest garbs, and gave him endless treats and trinkets to show their – perverted, though dedicated – affection, and Luca had spread his wealth and joy to some of the smaller children in the brothels that he visited. By the end, he made ridiculous sums of money for his master, and stopped receiving beatings almost altogether. Now, in a much more favorable position, he did the same. He spread wealth from the Nabian elite to the poor, and saved a plethora of child and adult workers alike from the nastiest businesses Nabius had to offer. Mullansburg itself was a success in his eyes, given that the people there were almost all fed, healthy, working, and armed to defend themselves.

Even if there are people like Jack who can’t make it in the world, there are others who can. And in turn, those people can help the lesser ones out. Luca held his head a little higher, remembering that Alexandre had shown him that he could be of value, and Luca knew he could keep his unspoken vow to Jack to help out the less fortunate. He touched the scar over his heart where Jezebel’s acid had eaten through a solid layer of skin, and felt resolve, as if it were a badge of honor.

I think I can make it, and I think I can save the Jack’s in this place too.

Luca walked proudly, and started when he realized that he was at the door to his newly discovered pool. He realized that this must have been where Alexandre and Talia had learned to swim as young children. He wondered what inspired them to be so benevolent, considering they had grown up with such a lavish lifestyle. I think they want to help the Jack’s out too. He knew that Alexandre had felt belittled and weak in the wake of his father and family, and in the games. He had confessed so much to Luca the night before he had been tossed into the arena. But Talia…

She may be less obvious about it, but I know she’s go the right intentions too. He shook the thought from his mind, and looked out across the glistening water that was illuminated by light coming in from glass windows on the ceiling. Luca hadn’t seen anything like this before he actually discovered the room, and still marveled at its absolute beauty.

Steam rose in spindling columns from the blue waters, and licked the ornate walls and sculptures and plants that filled the room. The sun’s reflection off of the water was painfully bright, and he moved down the length of the pool to get away from the glare. He turned so the sun was to his back, and sat himself next to a carving of an animal he found most curious.

What on earth? It’s like a cow with wings for ears… and that nose… he looked at the long length of the statue’s nose, and scooted away from it. Strange. He removed his clothing, set it on top of the bizarre animal statuette, and slid into the water with a sigh.

The heat of the water and his skin – delicate from laying in bed so frequently in the past few days – both contributed to a light stinging sensation, which took some time to ease. The water was excessively warm, and Luca loved the feeling of weightlessness he had while in it. He dunked his head below the surface, making his light locks go a few shades darker. He waded out from the side of the pool, to a point where the water came up to his neck. In the middle of the water, he found a stone seat sticking up that was marvelously decorated in classical Nabian mosaic, and he sat upon it, enjoying the soak. He closed his eyes, and laid back.

He hadn’t noticed how long he had been here until Eamon burst into the room, looking slightly relieved.

“There you are. Oh. Ooooooh,” Eamon said with an exaggerated voice, looking Luca up and down. Luca knew the look of a lusting man all too well, and instantly shrunk into himself, noticing suddenly how very small he was. Arranging himself so the most important bits were covered in the clean, bright water, Luca looked up at Eamon, standing above him by the edge of the pool. Steam filled the room, and Luca imagined that his companion must be warm in the armor he was wearing.

“Yes?” Eamon looked like he was about to make a quip regarding Luca’s nudity, but evidently thought better of it.

“I uh, just came to find you, and update you. I noticed you weren’t in your bed.” Eamon looked bashful, and Luca could feel a flush creeping up his cheeks slowly.

“Obviously not. Did you satisfy the farmers that came in today?” he asked to distract the older guy from his train of thoughts.

“Oh. Yes. I gave them each a pig for the troubles they’ve been caused. It seems like a few of the house were a bit rowdy in their drunkenness a fortnight ago.” Eamon was looking Luca in the eyes, making every effort not to gaze disrespectfully.

“I’ll have a word with them. Is that all?”

“No,” Eamon said. “We’ve received more word from Prince Adrain’s vessel. I was thinking we might combine his appearance with the summit.”

“Summit?”

“Yes… the summit… of the Thirteen,” Eamon said slowly. He looked confused, and Luca felt that he was missing some kind of vital information.

“The Generals of the Thirteen? What thirteen?” Eamon cocked his head to one side, and gave Luca an imploring look.

“I guess you may not be aware, but the Thirteen meet to hold votes on important issues every few years. Traditionally, it’s the duty of the newest general to hold office to host the meeting, which would have been Elsa Torne for this year, in the Capitol. But since Alex took office after General Darion…”

“We have to host the meeting. Here.” Eamon nodded, and Luca felt concerned.

“Do I need to represent Alex in this meeting?” Luca asked with slight hesitation in his voice.

Whining officials and grumpy businessmen are one thing, but twelve generals…

Eamon laughed, and Luca snapped his attention to the guard. “No no, of course not, Alexandre will most certainly attend. We should just have the grounds set up to host them all.” Luca narrowed his eyes, and racked his brains.

“How do we know he’ll make it back in time? We haven’t even heard about the status of his mission!” Eamon’s eyes widened, and he looked as if he had a sudden understanding of the situation.

“You were asleep,” he said quietly. Luca waited for an answer, and Eamon paused briefly before he went on. “Well, the generals always attend this meeting themselves, its usually a pretty big event in Nabian history. And the issue that they’re probably going to call this meeting for…” Eamon looked up, smiling genuinely at Luca. “They made it, Luca. And they married, before the witness of a ton of Tomacians. We just got the letter from Alex today, stating that their wedlock is official and is a contender for recognition in the laws of Nabius and Tomacia.” Luca felt immediate joy in hearing this news, but simultaneously started to wonder what would happen in the wake of this event. If he knew, that means that every one else in Nabius would be finding out shortly, and there was no telling what kind of reaction would ensue. He stood up, forgetting completely about his nakedness and walked out of the water towards a towel and his clothing. He gripped his cane for support, and Eamon kept his eyes from straying while Luca clothed himself. They made for door, and Luca finally spoke.

“So you think we should combine the summit and Adrian’s arrival? Is that… okay?” Eamon shrugged, and used his spear as a walking stick while he moved alongside his hobbling friend.

“I don’t see why not. It’s more efficient that way, and I guess if anyone else in Nabius wants to do business with the prince they can just come with their general’s party.” Luca thought this was good logic, and nodded.

“That sounds good. I’ll start on the invitations as soon as possible, so I can send them out as soon as the summit is requested.” Eamon nodded, and spoke equally business-like.

“I’ll get started on the arrangements for the manse. Let me know if you need any help.” It was Luca’s turn to nod, and he was walking as quickly as he could with his cane for assistance.

“Let’s get this done. I’ll go talk to Alfie and the kitchen staff soon. We have a lot of work to do.” Eamon nodded, and the two walked in unison down the hallway, back towards the heart of the Di Coteau estate.

Oh boy.

***

Ysabel rode atop a luxurious caravan, pulled by two oxen and commandeered by an obscenely fat soldier that was supposedly able to crush a man’s skull with the use of just one hand. He’s huge, granted, but I don’t think anyone has strength like that. Too fat. The day was hot, and she noticed gleaming beads of sweat on the back of his neck through her window, while she sat in the cool shade with a fan that she was lightly lifting up and down near her face. She hadn’t broken a sweat on account of the shade, and was glad for that. Having newly dyed her hair again, she didn’t want maroon stains on the light grey of the sundress she was wearing. She went to the trouble of patriotism with the colors of her hair, as did most all fine Nabian women, and would have been very annoyed if she had to redo anything. Besides, I want to look good in battle. Blood was less noticeable when one failed to get it out of their hair if the hair matched blood in color.

Red, she thought, for the power in our hearts and veins, and the remembered blood of our valiant fallen. Men will certainly fall soon. She reflected on this part of the Nabian creed, and found herself wondering if Marcus, or the people not from civilized lands had similar sayings. Looking across the cab, she decided to ask.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, general?” Marcus replied with this question in a way that suggested he was taking an order, rather than encouraging her to go on.

“Do your people have words?” she asked. “Sayings, or creeds to live by.” He stopped for a second, and then began to answer.

“My father always said – “

“Not your father,” she snapped. “Your people.” He was quiet once more, deep in thought. Ysabel studied him, noticing how uncomfortable he looked in the lavish caravan that they were riding in. He sat straight up, rigid as a board on the plush couch across from hers, and the tiny soft pillows and furs seemed silly sitting next to a man of his stature and posture. Ysabel, on the other hand, was sprawled out on her own couch, displaying long golden legs on top of a velvet seat backdrop. The red of the cab interior was much darker than her hair, but she found she liked that.

“I suppose we do, General. During the celebrations of the sun and moon, during the longest days of the year, and at the start of each season, we all repeat the same phrases to each other. I would explain more, but it would be worthless to you.” Ysabel raised an eyebrow.

“I believe I get to decide what is worthless to me, do I not?” Marcus smiled, showing an array of straight, diamond-white teeth.

“You do. But it is in my clan’s old language, and there are only a few now who know what the words mean. I myself do not, and I would sooner not say something I do not understand to a woman like you.” Ysabel smiled at the compliment, ruminating on this.

“Yes, well. I suppose it is worthless then.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and reclined more, laying her head on a pillow. One blade on her ring finger punctured the fan that she had been using, and she tossed it to the floor. Just then, there was a peremptory rap on the door, and Ysabel opened a small eye slot on the door of her carriage, still in motion. She saw that it was the bookkeeper atop his horse, riding alongside the carriage, and she gave a terse response to the knock.

“What do you want?”

“A letter, General. It bears the seal of your son.” Ysabel swung the door open immediately, hitting the man in the leg and his horse on the rear. The animal whinnied in protest, and veered away from the cabin, and Ysabel closed the door to open a smaller cutout in its wooden frame. From there, the bookkeeper handed her the letter through the hole and she shut its entrance before he could say anything further.

“It is from him.” Ysabel recognized the seal that belonged only to him, looked over at her captain.

“Please open it,” Marcus said with a nod of his head.

Of course.

Ysabel tore off the seal, and read the letter, initially out loud. She read a formal greeting from her son expressing love and courtesy, and then drifted after she got past “I thought it would be best if you heard this news coming from me first, given that word will no doubt travel quickly…” she now read silently, and then sat up as straight as Marcus. The huge dark man leaned forward cautiously, unsure of what news she could have possibly received.

“He got married,” she said with some struggle in her voice, the raspier, jagged edge slowly coming into her throat. “To the Cathcart prince,” she said loudly, her facial features and voice almost completely not her own. Marcus saw the rapid and alarming dilation of her pupils, making her emerald eyes appear almost entirely black. Wordlessly, he got out of the caravan, making sure the door latched behind him. He beckoned for a horse, and began to ride along side it.

After some time, Marcus wondered whether he should go back in, for no noise came from where General Clarion was sitting. She appeared to be sitting quietly, alone, and Marcus wondered if he had made the right choice until he heard it.

Like the scream of a wild animal, the piercing shriek startled every man and woman in the General’s party for several hundred yards. The caravan seemed to rock slightly, and Ysabel shouted incoherent words in a deeper, more dangerous voice than Marcus had heard from her in a long time. He heard the splintering of wood from with in, the sound of what seemed like a piece of pottery shattering, and noticed a few feathers floating out of the barred, rectangular holes towards the top of the carriage meant to circulate fresh air. The howling, screeching yells made even his blood run cold, and he knew that the carriage would be entirely trashed, and unsalvageable after the next few hours. That is, Marcus hoped this rampage would last only a few hours.

He gave the command to continue moving towards the Tomacian front at full haste, reassuring the men that gave anxious looks towards where there General was as they listened to her livid howls.