The Alliance - 23. Chapter 23

“What did you say to them Alex? They even had their smith sharpen our weapons. Nice gal,” Mikhail said. Alex had expected his group to question him as soon as they had departed, but was surprised that Mikhail was the first to demand answers.

Alex looked out over the edge of the small boat they were on, leaning on the rails around the edge. He knew that his companions had all tried to be subtle about their leaning in to listen to his answer, but he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Carl had been on his case about that lately, but it was a deeply ingrained habit. He gave a small sigh, and turned around to address them all. Alright.

“While I’m sure you’re all curious to know, that is something that I’ll tell you later. Basically, what you need to know for now is that I’ve convinced General Nandra and her wife to allow us to proceed. Completing this mission is what I’m asking you all to focus on for now.” He looked around at the faces, and noted that they all seemed unsatisfied. Luckily, he didn’t have to go on due to an interruption from the captain of the fisherman’s boat they were on. General Nandra had provided the group with a discreet crossing of the river, but had warned that the camps of some of General Damien Di Coteau’s troops would greet them immediately once they got to the other side. Damien was currently waging war in a few riverside villages, trying to cut off additional supply lines into the heart of Tomacia.

“We’re nearing shore, sir. At this spot in particular I think you’ll meet troops A14 and A15. They’re a rowdy bunch, so they should hardly notice ya.” The man was commanding his small vessel towards a dock surrounded by red and black tents, and Alex sure enough heard the hoots and hollers of bloodthirsty soldiers. Judging by the songs that were being sung and the rhythm of drums in the air, they had been victorious in a recent fight.

“Excellent, and thank you. I trust General Nandra has made it clear that no one is to know of our presence here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, General. The man gave a respectful bow, and a grin that was meant to be reassuring. The fisherman was dressed in rags, so Alex guessed that he had been awarded some great deal of money for this task.

That should keep him quiet. Almost as if she could read her brother’s mind, Talia provided insurance, threatening kindly to hunt him down if he said a word.

The boat hit the dock with a thud, and Carl moved to help the fisherman tie it to shore. Mikhail led the horses they would take – also provided by Nandra – off of the vessel and onto the dock, and the party prepared for more travel. They were technically in Tomacia now, but still surrounded by Nabians.

“You should share with me,” Carlin whispered into Alexandre’s ear, while nodding to a rather large Nabian warhorse. Alex felt the heat of his breath on the skin of his neck. There were only three of the huge beasts, and six riders. Carlin gave a wink, and walked over to swing up into the saddle. It would be a long ride, with lots of close contact. Carlin looked back once he was on the horse, and gave the younger man a dazzling smile.

Damn it. Alex could feel himself turning red. It wasn’t from embarrassment, but more like from being caught off guard by Carlisle’s advances. Screw you. Alex felt himself getting heated over being heated, and was annoyed at the fact that he was displaying emotion. In truth, he was probably more annoyed at the fact that Carl sought out opportunities to fluster him.

If anything messes this mission up, its going to be him distracting me. He almost smiled at Carlin’s cheekiness, but thought better of it. Alex raised his head a little higher, regained his calm, and swung up onto the saddle for two. He inched backwards slowly so that Carlin’s stomach was on his back, and rested his hand on one of the Tomacian’s thighs. I might as well get used to it, I suppose. I can’t avoid him forever anyway. Especially not after last night.

The previous night, Almanita had provided everyone their own room, but hadn’t failed to give Carlin and Alexandre two that connected privately. It was similar to his setup in the Di Coteau estate, one room with a larger bed and another with a smaller one, likely meant for an attendant. When Carlin tentatively pushed open the door, Alex didn’t refuse him entry. He merely let him walk quietly through the dark, and climb into bed. Alex had originally meant to pretend he was asleep, but Carlin reaching out and grabbing his hand under the covers startled him enough into twitching, letting Carl know that he was awake. Carlin didn’t seem to press talking or working through anything at the time, though, which Alex appreciated. Instead, he wrapped himself around Alexandre and held him tightly, which Alex had again appreciated.

It was so nice to be held again. It’s been so long. Alex felt that way now too, reveling in the closeness of Carlin atop the horse. I miss him.

Of course, there had been some passionate encounters along the journey, when the tension between the two had gotten too unbearable and one of them lashed out in a forceful kiss, which led to quick grabbing and the removal of clothes from both. But last night… we did that every night before my father died. The cuddling was something that Alex was rarely comfortable with, and Carlin knew it. Thus, the affectionate slumber that had just occurred was a signal that both understood. The two were inching back towards reparation. Alex thought that maybe once they were finally in Tomacia’s capitol, the two could finally talk and set some boundaries. And the playful whispering and subtle touches that were going on atop the horse were missed. They could definitely rebuild the relationship back to where it had been, and further. Maybe then, I’ll stop being surprised when glimpses of that old us come through, like now. And then I’ll be less annoyed with myself for being surprised and… Alex drifted off into thought. The surprises of his feelings coming through were distracting him from his mission, which had one final difficult stage.

But upon reaching that stage, which involved crossing through the camps of troops A14 and A15 of another Nabian general, he was more surprised than any one person could ever make him. In fact he was shocked, and horrified.

***

Jezebel finished her second letter, putting her quill down. She blew on the piece of paper to dry the ink, smiling proudly at the maroon color it was drying into. She had been perfecting the right ink to write official correspondence with, and thought she had found the ideal ratio of blood to bloodlilly juice to use in it. It’s a nice color. Very Nabian. I should have a light armor made in this color.

Jezebel gathered her two letters, sealing them with the Di Coteau seal, modified slightly to indicate whom they were from. When the wax had dried, she carried the notes out of her room, down a large stone hall. She rounded a corner, sighing admirably at a statue of her chosen assassin saint, Koba. St. Koba was always a welcome sight for Jezebel, as a reminder of her inspiration and aspirations. One day I will be a saint too, and I will surpass you, St. Koba. The poisoners and alchemists of war will look to me. Not you. Jezebel smiled at her own thoughts, marveling in the idea of many choosing to dedicate their careers to her name. She also wondered if some other brilliant, underappreciated Nabian in the future would look up to her the way she did to Saint Koba. Would a statue of me be so comforting to another? Would it be some other’s favorite part of their home in the future? Probably.

I wonder how they will present me in the statues. Holding a snake, like Koba? Jezebel frowned. The statues had better make me look good. She looked one last time at the large marble statue decorated in gilt and ebony paneling, and continued on, remembering her plans. First, I have to get rid of them though. She still felt the cold fire of anger on her face and in her torso. Alex took my fucking spot as General. For this, Jezebel would never forgive him.

But yes, yes. The plan. So long as I stay focused, he’ll go down. He and Talia both. She ruminated on Talia and how she fit into her schemes, and reminded herself that Talia shouldn’t be underestimated. No, she needs to be involved too. That bitch is going to die. She looked down into her hands at two rolled up letters, suited to be tied to messenger birds and set things in motion. She smiled, and walked a little more quickly. When she finally reached the aviary, she was annoyed to see that her mailman and bird keeper had fallen asleep. She promptly slapped him across the face and off of his chair, where he woke with startled exclamations and a stream of cussing. When he shook himself of sleepy stupor and looked up to see who had assaulted him, he went pale and scrambled to get up. Reverently bowing his head, he tried to compose himself.

“Lady Jezebel. How may I help you?” He wasn’t making eye contact, likely out of nerves. Jezebel rolled her eyes and thrust the two letters into his hands.

“I just need you to send these. Do it now.”

“Of course. Where are they going to?” The man seemed relieved that he wasn’t being punished, so Jezebel thought about flicking a few drops of a new acid she had been working on onto him. Eventually, she just pointed at each letter in turn, and spoke.

“The first is to General Clarion, my Aunt. I trust you know where she is. The second is to my trusted advisor and mentor. You can address it to Almanita Nandra. Make sure it’s Almanita only, not Laura. I don’t want that old bitch knowing anything about this.”

***

It wasn’t the rape, or the wailing of children that had gotten to him. The screams and smells and general brutality of war camps were all familiar to Alex, given that he had commanded camps like these of his own during the conquest of the Monciet region in Ironia. He knew what these places were like, and how men behaved in the aftermath of war. His father had taught him to allow men to instill fear into the conquered, because it made ruling the people that much easier. Hell, Alex had even done some of the terrorizing himself, executing the Monciet men in front of their wives and daughters after the siege had ended. Fear was just another part of war, and even though Alex didn’t particularly find joy in it, he knew that it was necessary. The best Nabians' names were accompanied by dread, and the Di Coteau name was probably the worst; but, evoking terror in an enemy was one thing, and Alexandre saw something else entirely in Damien Di Coteau’s camps.

Alexandre’s group was skirting around the edges of the camp on their horses, but almost unconsciously was drawn in to the areas around some of the outer tents. The crying was what pulled them in, not because it was loud or expressive of horrible grief but rather the opposite. It was simple, soft crying that made one want to investigate. It was accompanied by the cruel laughter of men, and before Alex even knew what he was doing he was commanding his horse and his followers to take a passing peak at what was going on in the inner circles of the camp. When he rounded a red and black striped canvas tent that smelt of death, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Children. Alex felt sick at looking upon the grisly sight, maybe for the first time in his life. The bodies of children, even toddlers and infants were stuck on poles, pierced through and propped up by giant spears. They had been flayed, tortured, burned, and opened up, exposed to birds and insects that began to break them down as they died slowly. Some of the crying came from one who looked to be no more than eight or nine, with the flesh on her legs peeled back and exposed to the elements. But the rest of the crying came from their mothers, who were stony and cold. Alex took in the scene, and realized something key.

The soldiers are making the women do this to their own children. Their. Own. Children. This isn’t the crying of pain and hope. This is the weeping of despair.

All the while, soldiers around the ring laughed, raped, and tortured women who were refusing to harm their offspring. Alex knew that they had probably all refused, but could only withstand torture for so long. He wondered how long the women who had killed their own infants had lasted before giving in just to spare themselves the agony. He felt revulsion, and the taste of stomach acid at the back of his throat. Everywhere he looked, someone was either being opened up, or burnt, or violated by a multitude of men. Some of the children were being raped in front of their screaming mothers, who probably thought that they wouldn’t give in and hurt their child in their upcoming weeks at the camp. The mothers that were screaming were the ones that still had hope.

Alex didn’t even have to feel Carlin go rigid to know the face that he was wearing. It was a face of conviction and anger, but not the hot, vengeful anger that Talia and Alexandre would display. Alex knew that Carlin’s face was strong as steel, bleary-eyed, and ready to stop this. He also knew the faces of his companions without having to look. Roark would be looking away, while Talia would remain neutral and face the horror internally. Barclay probably had a grim, flat-lined face that looked head-on at the atrocity, while Mikhail would be on the verge of tears, trying to look away but unable.

And I… Alex didn’t know who he was in that moment, or how to react. No mother should do that to her child. He went numb, feeling scathing anger and overwhelming pity and irreparable sadness and sickening revulsion all at once. Never has Nabius needed to be so cruel. Never. When the thud of a cleaver made contact with the chopping block beneath it and an infant’s head rolled off, Alex jumped high on his horse. He crashed back into Carlin, who was still paralyzed. He saw the last of a mother’s soul leave her gaunt eyes, and the men who had their weapons pointed on her threw their heads back and roared with laughter.

Before he knew it, Alex had unsheathed his hooked swords and kicked his horse into high gear. While still atop the horse, he ripped throats out of soldiers’ necks moving towards the center of the ring. As he rolled off to the side for a dismount, he caught one soldier’s head on the top with one hook, and another under the chin with the other. The speed at which he had jumped off of the horse had caused him to pull on them hard and fast, and amalgamations of bone and flesh and jaw ripped out of their faces with disturbing crunching and ripping noises. He landed on his feet, spun, and took out two more while three daggers lobbed into soldiers that were advancing on him. Talia had released them from her hand all within a second of each other, and all three made satisfying thudding noises in soldiers that had been laughing just moments before.

“I COMMAND YOU TO STOP.” He had never yelled so loudly before, or sounded so intimidating. Alex stood in his strongest pose, challenging anyone to come near him while his swords were displayed out at his sides. At that, some of the advancing soldiers paused, and a few of the mothers looked vaguely his way with glazed eyes, barely breaking their catatonic states for just a moment. The camp was silent, and the other two horses of Alexandre’s party walked slowly towards him, their hooves making soft clicking noises that could be heard through everyone.

“And who,” a raspy voice said as a gigantic man stood up from the chair he was seated at, “the fuck are you?” Alex turned on him, knowing undoubtedly that this was the captain of these troops, probably known for his excessive cruelty and dangerous attitude. He looked the man directly in the eye with just as much venom as he was receiving, and spat onto his boot.

“I am General Alexandre Di Coteau of the Thirteen,” he said. He was doing all that he could to not stick a blade through the man’s face. “This operation will end, disband, and return home immediately. If you do not, you will all be stripped of all ranks, dishonorably discharged from service to Nabius, shamed, and executed.” Some of the men around the camp scrunched their eyebrows, seeming to wonder if this was legitimate. The captain opened his mouth to say something nasty to Alex, but he interrupted first.

“Shut the fuck up.” Alex looked at him even harsher, and the man obviously did a double take at being disrespected in this way. Alex guessed that it had been a long time since someone who had outranked him in Nabius had been out here. That’s probably true, given that his general is Damien. Stupid as he is, my uncle would never let troops fall into disorganization and chaos this badly. Alex glared at him some more, and slowly turned to face the men holding the women prisoners captive. He made a show of taking out his General’s badge and fastening it onto himself. It was clearly visible, and there was no mistaking who he was. This was especially true with the high quality armor and unique hookswords he was wielding. Only a general or someone very high up would have the kind of money that these items required.

“Release them and leave. Now.” He couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice.

“Your uncle gave us order to – “ the captain began before Alex turned back to look at him, and cut him off.

“You can tell my uncle to fuck himself. Even he would never allow this kind of disorder in ranks. When I return to Nabius, I will kill you on spot when I see you again.” Alex took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “Get this camp cleared out and go,” he said with a look that said he was on the breaking point, nearing a violent breakdown comparable to those his mother had. Talia and Carlin were right there too, he knew.

Alex heard the unlinking of some chain and cuffs that had been attached to a woman who ran forth and grabbed her child in an embrace, sobbing all the while. The soldiers around him looked like they didn’t know what to do, and started releasing prisoners from their chains and various instruments of torture. The women and children dressed in tattered remains of blue and gold that were once vibrant began slowly moving, but most sat still, wishing that they were dead instead.

Red, for the power in our hearts and veins, and the remembered blood of our valiant fallen, Alex thought. But not this red. This is not the blood that runs through our veins, my veins. The power in us doesn’t come from preying on the weak. It comes from a good heart, one that works and triumphs. Alex looked around him and knew why he was on this mission, why he was going to change Nabius. He knew that this is not what the red of his country should stand for. Black, for the stealth that we possess, and our fearlessness in the darkest of times. Well these are dark times indeed. And I most certainly will press through them without any hesitation at all.