The Bond - 15. Chapter 15

Jezebel sat atop a massive four-poster bed, arms crossed and fuming. The high ponytail that she always wore occasionally swayed with her twitches of rage, which coursed through her every time she thought of another reason why it was an insult to be in her cousin's territory during the meeting of the Thirteen.

All of the most important Nabians sit in and around the Di Coteau house socializing, waiting for the news. Affirming their strength. And I am here. Fucking. Here. Her rage mounted over and over again, making her feel more betrayed by Ysabel each minute. Sure, she had the ‘honor’ of running the estate in the absence of a general, but everyone knew that actually important members of the Nabian elite would attend the council of the thirteen, especially when there was a vote on an issue such as ending the war with Tomacia. Her presence would be missed in the encampments outside the house, marring her reputation and lowering her status. She knew this and so did everyone else, which made the letter she had just received from her mentor all the more infuriating.

Dearest Jezebel,

I write offering my consolation for your distraught at not attending the Council of Thirteen, but feel that I should remind you that your mobility in this world has already been guaranteed. Your ambitions have been rewarded, and the goal of prospering in this world as a woman was the initial issue that you came to me with seeking apprenticeship. Do not despair, for I see great things in your future, and your position under your Aunt’s guidance promises them. In your letter to me, you sought guidance as to how to proceed in retaliation, but I must stress that I do not believe taking vengeance is the wise course. You must hold steady.

Additionally, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you of the pillars of strength from your teachings. Remember that your greatest shortcoming is pride, and that you must actively fight it every day. Acknowledging and opposing your weaknesses is the mark of a true leader, a true woman of the world. Your sisters all fight similar struggles. I find a parallel between you and your sister Marion, who is now waging a battle to regain the power that she has always had. I trust that you will not betray this information to the rest of your family, and thus betray your sister in arms. Perhaps find comfort in writing her, and stand united with each other. Both of you could use the reminder that violence cannot consume all. Rather, you must approach issues with an open mind. Taking into consideration all stances on any issue is critical to developing a more wholesome education.

Write me any time for further advice, and remember that you always have your network of sisters throughout the continent.

Much love and respect,

Almanita Nandra

Jezebel reread the letter and rolled her eyes in annoyance once more. What shitty advice. I don't even like Marion, she's a mewling bitch. She had thought that Almanita would have provided her with a new concoction to test, or at least some sort of plan to manage her reputation among Nabians in a way that spited her aunt. She wanted at least something, some violent or cunning plan of action to get retribution for this clear insult.

Instead, I got this. She groaned, wishing for another manservant to spear. From the scathing note she received, her aunt hadn’t been too happy about her killing the servant Boris, preferring to have done it herself. Jezebel felt in no mood to appease her aunt, though. Almanita surely wouldn’t approve, but Jezebel felt no great love for her either.

Foul bitch. Always going on and on about her pillars and virtues. She heard a knock on the door, accompanied by a servant that announced that her meal was ready. Virtues, pillars, inner strength. What a croc of shit.

***

Eamon felt that he was at the precipice of death, his emotions gone and drained and nothing but a dark peace settling over him. He could not fathom a future any longer, a future now that Luca was gone and hated him.

A world where Luca is on the ice island. Away from me. Away from everything I could have given to him.

Eamon wondered when his feelings had gotten so strong, when he had gotten so wrapped up in earning Luca’s affections that he paid attention to no one else. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a single person since his first crush at the age of six, which had faded after a few weeks anyway. Ordinarily, he was ashamed to admit it but he would have even milked his blindness for what pity sex he could get, from whoever. He didn’t know how bad his face looked, but his body was still intact and his cock definitely worked. After going from looking at everyone to pining for a single soul… Eamon felt crushed. Crushed and alone, that the one thing he ever really wanted he would never get now. He could hardly even breathe or eat, and sleep was his only refuge.

When it rains, it pours. And now… its pouring shit down on me. I don’t know if I can do this. He sighed, which made his increasingly dried throat hurt. His body screamed for water, but his heart felt too downtrodden to even move. He decided that in spite of his crippling emotions, he should at least try to move. Perhaps the baths. Eamon got up, and went on his way.

At least the food in the saunas and cool water taste good. The massive bathing rooms were always mysteriously stocked with fruits and poultices made especially for healing, and it was one of the few places Eamon knew the route to well enough to get to on his own. When he finally arrived, he stripped down to nothing, feeling the steam wrap wispy fingers around his form. He could sense that there was no one else there with him, and something about that comforted him. He waded through the largest pool to find a stone bench that sat on the inside of one of the walls, a favorite spot of his. From there, he could lay his head out on the floor, his back against the wall, and let his feet float up towards the surface. Depression still brought havoc on him, but this position made him feel weightless, which for some reason was comforting.

Why do I even care so much? He’ll be happier without me in his life. A blind and scarred ex-soldier could offer nothing. No food, no money, no comfort… not even a handsome face to look at. He sighed again, shifting, and muttered a syllable of annoyance when his head hit one of the many statuettes that lined the floors and pools and walls of this room. He gripped at it, noting it was extremely heavy.

The shape of an elephant, I think. Or maybe that’s a boar… I don’t know. Toying with the heavy stone edifice, he managed to lift it up and into the water.

… Do I?

He put the piece on one shoulder, supporting it with both arms. He thought for a while.

Luca will be happier. He put the stone piece on his chest, and used all the might in his legs to push off of the stone bench. The weight of the thing sunk him immediately, and he felt that it took very little time for him to hit the bottom of the pool. He held his breath for a time, thinking only of the life he had lost to a snake.

Oh fuck! His first breath of water filled his lungs like fire, burning him and making him scream out beneath the surface. Every nerve in his body was strung out, and he felt as if his insides had been ripped out by prongs made of flame.

Fuck, fuck, I can’t, he thought as he began to struggle, his arms and legs practically flailing while trying to get the statue off of his chest. Every inch of his body was in intense pain, panic widespread throughout. Oh gods.

Eamon continued to flail, eventually gaining foothold on the stone floor and wall. From there, he was able to push the rock off of him, and scramble towards the surface. His head was beginning to get foggy, and an intense numbness began to build up behind his eyes, lulling him slowly towards release.

No!

He pushed and pushed, eventually exploding out of the water onto the side of the pool, vomiting what felt like gallons out onto a smooth tiled floor. He gasped for breath, wheezing loudly and gulping in air. Air has never tasted so good. By the time he was done, there were no other sounds in the room save the crackling of fires that generated flame and the rush of several waterfalls and features within the room. He regained his breath, realizing that nobody had been in the room or seen him there. Nobody would have witnessed his death, and he wasn’t sure that anybody would have even cared or noticed.

Fuck. Well it looks like that’s out of the picture.

***

Barclay and Roark were stationed outside of the bedroom, so Alexandre felt temporarily safe in the event of an assassination attempt. He didn’t think one would come so soon after the conclusion of the summit, but it was best to be safe. Generals had started slipping away from the Di Coteau estate to hole up in their own fortresses quickly after the resolution of the meeting, and by nightfall only half of them remained, all who had decided to side with Alexandre. This was a good thing, but Alexandre was alarmed to see that his Uncle Yago had not even stayed behind to discuss the matter. After the initial vote, all generals voted to retain their initial stance and make no concessions. Therefore, military prowess would be the deciding factor for the future stance of Nabius on the war with Tomacia. The generals who did not concede after defeat would be killed and replaced, and those that did would be allowed to retain their positions under a watchful Di Coteau eye.

Or I die, my armies along with me. And the people that support me and their armies too. But Alex preferred not to think about that, opting for positivity. We can win, he thought. But he knew he didn’t have the proper intelligence on his enemies, and even with the force of Tomacia behind him and the five other generals that supported him, he had no idea if he could match the strength of the opposing seven. He knew Giovanni Nandra wouldn’t contribute troops towards waging war against him, but he also wouldn’t send men to fight for him, either. Alex rubbed his temples, and went to the desk in his room to write a letter to Carlin to notify him of the result. He looked towards the door linking his room to a servant’s quarters that Carl had once occupied, feeling a twinge of pain in his heart. He wished that his partner was there to help manage the aftermath of his failure, wished that he didn’t have to do this alone. Just as he began to put quill to parchment, Alexandre heard a sharp rap on the door from Barclay, a knock pattern worked out beforehand that indicated he should open the door. Alexandre was wary still, so he approached his own door with a knife in hand. He cracked it open slightly to peer through, hoping that he would see a friendly face on the other side. Still, it was late, far later than customary visiting hours would permit. Who he saw didn’t exactly comfort him, rather exacerbating his paranoia.

“Uncle Devan,” Alex said while opening the door wider. He was cautious, and didn’t move to get any closer to his Uncle than Barclay and Roark would permit.

“Nephew.” His uncle’s voice was curt and gruff, his face a permanent expression of general annoyance. When he didn’t say anything more, Alex felt compelled to speak up again.

“Is… there something I can help you with?” Devan looked back and forth at Alexandre’s guards, eyeing them up and down. He was very clearly hesitant to say anything in front of them, but Alex was glad of their presence. He thought he might tell his uncle to not worry about them, but he doubted it would do anything to soothe the older general’s misgivings.

“I was thinking… may I come in?” The question was direct, and Devan looked Alexandre directly in the eyes when he asked. This made Alexandre freeze in place, his blood running cold.

Is he going to kill me? Devan Di Coteau was best known for his plight of assassinations that led to his eventual grab for power, which he had retained since he was a young man. Devan was brilliant when it came to removing officials from power through death, and had earned a reputation as paying attention to the long-term, suiting his strategies with careful attention to what would place him at greater advantages. Alex could see a clear advantage to Devan taking him out then and there, despite voting in his favor. Was his vote a lie? Alex was caught in the difficult situation of either shutting out an ally and family member, or potentially inviting in his killer. He looked Devan up and down repeatedly, and eventually made his decision.

He looks uncomfortable, and I don’t think that’s something he would display if he really intended to do me harm. But then again, this could also just be an act. He is one of the best at manipulation… Alex sighed.

“Come in. Barclay, Roark, let him through.” He stepped aside for Devan to enter his room, the most sacred of all safe spaces.

If it comes down to it, I think I could take him anyway. Well, I think. I guess I’ve never actually seen him fight.

Devan walked through the doors and past Alex, approaching the window on the other side of the room. He cleared his throat, and seemed almost nervous in his body language. Alex knew he had a reputation for extreme paranoia, and wondered if this was just that trait shining through.

“Nephew,” he began with another clearing of the throat, “I think its time we had a long talk.” Alex raised his eyebrows.

“I suppose that’s true…” he said calmly.

Considering we have virtually no relationship. Devan looked uncomfortable, and Alex didn’t know if he should do or say something to prod the conversation further.

“I came to warn you.” Alexandre’s senses heightened at that, and he wondering what was going to come next out of his uncles’ mouth. “Your Uncle, Yago… I want to warn you not to cross his path.” Alex frowned, not understanding what he meant.

“I’m going to have to, if he continues to resist.”

“Alex,” his uncle said more sternly. “I have information on General Clarion’s armies and spies that may be of use to you.”

“Go on…”

“They’re big. Bigger than all the rest of the generals of Nabius. His territory is small, but the men and women he enlists… they come from the provinces below the border of Nabius. From the feral tribes of uncivilized Ironia. They are… dangerous.” Alex was glad to have this information, but he didn’t see how it warranted a late-night visit.

“I see… thank you for the information.” Alex raised his hand to gesture his Uncle towards the door, when Devan grabbed him by the arm faster than he would have thought possible. Alex was instantly on edge, the knife in his hand raised and gripped firmly. He saw alarm in Devan’s eyes, and his uncle released him immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm.” Alex nodded, feeling the threat go. “I’m sure you have your reservations about me, from what you’ve heard. And I don’t expect that your parents ever led you to believe otherwise.” Alex nodded again. This was true, the rumors surrounding Devan Di Coteau were horrible, and Alexandre understood why his parents never denied them. Why have your children lower their guard around someone who potentially murdered his own family out of rage and paranoia?

“Yes. I try not to make assumptions, though.” Devan looked grateful for that, but still grim.

“Well, that’s wise on your behalf. But like I said, I came to warn you.”

“About Yago.”

“Right. Do you remember the names of your cousins, my late children?” Alex was sure he had heard, and recited them for Devan.

“Erin and Eric, the twins, your eldest. Then Mary, and Kate.” Devan nodded, looking somber.

“They died at the hands of family, but not me.” Alex eyes widened as realization dawned on him, on what his uncle was saying.

“Yago killed your children?” It was less of a question, more of a statement. Devan nodded. “I’m… sorry… why?”

“We got in a dispute over a taxation law. Nothing huge, but I did intend to restrict him of some power. It was at a previous council meeting, the worst day of my life.” Alex listened, not wanting to interrupt. “After the meeting, I had some business to attend to in the east. When I came back to my home, the twins’ heads had been sewn onto each other’s bodies. The girls were cut to pieces on the floor next to them and my wife disemboweled. When I saw Yago next, I knew he had done it. I knew, from that little smile he gave me when I saw him next.”

“But you took responsibility?” Another question, another statement. Devan sighed, looking Alex in the eyes and saying what sounded to him like something rehearsed.

“Under the laws of Nabius, familial disputes permit violence as a solution. If I did it, it would be legal. If Yago did it… he would face capital punishment.” Alex still did not understand.

“Why would you defend a man who did that to your family?”

“It was lose the family I still had in Yago, Ysabel, Darion, or retain those who were still alive.” Alex wasn’t satisfied in that answer, but Devan continued. “I didn’t have the gall to bring civil war to a country over my family. And you know that your mother would stand with her brother, and Darion would stand with her.”

That’s true.

“But civil war has been a long time coming, a shift in power has been in the works far before you.” This peaked his interest. “I just wanted to let you know. To warn you.”
“About Yago,” Alex said again. “I understand.”

“And, my nephew, I will stand by you when you dismantle him. You have my utmost loyalty. I believe that your intentions are to stop things like what happened to my family in their tracks. I believe in you, and what you stand for. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” said Alex, and he genuinely meant it. Devan put a hand on his shoulder in a warrior’s acknowledgement, and Alexandre returned the gesture. Devan’s message was clear, and the older general turned to walk out the door. Before he opened it again, he paused.

“There’s something else that you should know, in case something happens to me in the course of the next few months.” Alex waited, feeling the significance of this moment building with every word. “I kept up the rumor that my children were all dead, that Kate and Mary were the names of my youngest two. I don’t know if it was sheer dumb luck or excellent thinking on behalf of a house-servant that I have yet to find… but Mary was playing with one of the maid’s little girls at the time of the massacre. The other little girl that died…”

“… wasn’t your daughter,” finished Alex. “Kate is alive?” Devan smirked, though Alex didn’t know why.

“I never had another daughter. ‘Kate’ somehow came from the name ‘Kade,’ my youngest son.” Alex took in a sharp breath, floored by the news that he had another cousin who was alive. “He’s about your age now, living with a cobbler and his wife as their son. If anything happens to me… ensure he lives a happy life?” Alex nodded, thinking that he would pass this information on to Luca and only Luca. Luca was a man of the people, and would know what to do if the Di Coteaus were to be wiped out.

“Of course.”

“Thank you. He also… doesn’t know who is family is, or about his lineage. I don’t even know if he knows he was adopted.” Alex stored the information away, still reeling. “He’s in the town of Corinth, and the peddler’s name is Hawkins. If we make it through this, if Yago is eliminated… I hope you’ll come with me to meet him.” At that, Alex smiled.

“I would be honored to. Goodnight, Uncle.”
“Goodnight.”