The Bond - 17. Chapter 17

Adrian felt relief that he no longer had to deal with generals and the counts that they brought along with them to do business, but for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety. He had closed many deals and felt that he was probably ushering in a new brand of prosperity for the Illjard, but the Nabian elite were greedy, insatiable, and just a general pain to deal with. Almost everyone had left the Di Coteau house now, but the relaxation Adrian had expected to come following their departure wasn’t there. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. I’ve been successful when it comes to trading contracts, cemented my alliance with the Di Coteau family, and found a fiancé. And my advisors all say that I now have nothing left to do in Nabius besides networking because of the speed that I worked at… so what’s missing?

He thought of Luca, who was currently having dinner with Eamon. Adrian had wanted to dine with him, but the kitchen staff was busy helping to clean in the aftermath of the meeting. This meant that no one was able to take Eamon a meal, so Luca had volunteered to do so and Adrian said nothing. His mouth frowned to one side while he ate alone, and his sadness at being alone during this particular meal distracted him from noticing the guest that had entered the dining hall that he was in.

“I hear a congratulations are in order,” sad a sickly sweet voice behind him. All of the hairs on Adrian’s neck stood up, and he felt himself go paler than usual. Ysabel. She was the only other general left at the manse, and Adrian had been dreading the possibility of facing her one on one.

“General Clarion,” he said with a graceful smile. He turned around on his bench to face the silent figure as she slinked towards him. He noticed a letter in her clawed fingers, and wondered why she had to always wear her blades. He thought it was rather unnerving, which he later realized was probably the point. “What a nice surprise, I didn’t see you there.”
“Is it really?”

She’s direct.

“Of course,” Adrian said while continuing to smile. He hoped it didn’t look false. Her eyes showed amusement, and she moved on, which he was glad for.

“So Luca the whore?” Adrian felt embarrassed and angry that she referred to him that way, and couldn’t resist letting it show on his face. Ysabel chuckled slightly at that, and spoke up just before he protested.

“Relax, ice prince. I mean no offense.” Adrian did visibly relax, and realized that he probably shouldn’t be so defensive in the face of one of the most dangerous women in the world.

“None taken from me, then. Thank you for your congratulations. He will make an excellent leader, and the Iljardi will adore him.”

“That they will,” said Ysabel, which surprised Adrian. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she continued. “Luca has proven himself highly capable in my son’s stead. And his loyalty is absolute.”

“Do you know him?” Now, Adrian was genuinely curious.

“Personally not very well. But he survived orders of death both from my niece and myself. Typically, if I instruct death, people do not find a way out of it. And that deserves respect.”

“Why would you try to kill Luca? Especially if you know his backstory…” She shrugged.

“I thought it could have been a cover story, perhaps. He killed a high-profile sex trader, you know.” Adrian nodded gravely.

“He told me.”

“Yes, well. I didn’t realize that Yonin Meko was his master and abuser. Quite a story actually, the uprising of a slave. In Nabius, we do not judge where you come from. Only where you get to.” Adrian hadn’t thought about it like that, but he supposed that this was true. The Nabians respected power, and anyone could obtain that.

“And Alexandre trusts him implicitly. He trusted Luca enough to spare him from these commands, I assume. And I trust Alexandre and Luca both. They would both make the world a better place.” Ysabel nodded, and extended her hand with the letter in it. Adrian took it hesitantly, noticing a sudden change in General Clarion’s posture. It made him feel nervous, like she was stalking him.

“Trust… yes. Such a difficult thing to uphold, and my son has placed quite a bit of it in you. Perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re receiving mail from the Coyne family, then?"

Coyne, Adrian thought. Tomacians. Related to the Monciets, whom Alex recently conquered… ah. The last freestanding great civilization of Ironia. Ysabel seems paranoid. He felt backed into a corner, but addressed her coolly.

“I’m aware of Nabius’s relationship to the Coynes, but please understand that I represent the Illjard, nothing else. They provide us with food that cannot grow on the island, and their shipbuilders are superb. I’m sure this is nothing but a letter related to trade, General.” Ysabel looked unsatisfied. “You may read it yourself, if you like.” That seemed to satisfy her, and she abandoned the threatening looks.

“Very well. But recent reports say that my son’s men are… losing their grip on the Monciet region to Marion Monciet. She’s close with the Coyne family… I’m just here to give fair warning. If you betray my family, my son… I will hunt you to the ends of this world.” Adrian gulped, nervous.

“Of course. I – I would expect that.” Ysabel looked him over one final time, and gave a gleaming smile.

“Excellent. Then I suppose I’ve no more business here. I’ll leave you to… well, to your new fiancé and the many excitements of an upcoming war. I just wanted to pay my respects before heading out, I leave soon.” Adrian felt great relief in that. Something about Ysabel made him like and fear her equally. “Enjoy the exuberance of youth, and young marriage.” She paused. “There’s nothing quite like it,” she said as she walked away. Adrian thought there was something sad in the way she said that, a pining for romance that he desperately felt himself.

***

Knife after knife soared through the air into clunky wooden suits of armor that servants donned and ran around the courtyard in. Talia had requested as many suits as were available from Wilhelm’s forge to be put on the housemaids, so that she could practice her aim while being charged by foes from all sides. Servants ran around the yard ducking behind obstacles and trying to get near her, only to be hit with yet another knife and return to their starting point. Talia was pegging each and every one of the false pursuers repeatedly, and the training suits that Wilhelm and Mikhail had forged for her to throw at were beginning to splinter dangerously. She could tell that her servants were getting exhausted from the exercise, but she had to keep going to fight off the tears. Wrath filled her being, replacing the emotions that she refused to allow herself display. I do not cry. I am NOT weak. She continued throwing blades, until one dug deep enough into a suit that blood was drawn. It was a small cut, but she supposed she should take a break anyway. Sweat was coming off of her in rivulets, and she needed to catch her breath.

“My lady,” said the man who had gotten hit. “May I retire to dress this wound please?” He was afraid of her, she could tell, and that made her feel powerful.
“Yes, of course,” she said waving him off. The wooden armor on that one was getting ragged anyway. I’ll have to have more made. The man said his thanks, and headed off. He was only nicked, but she supposed it was prudent for him to stop. “You may all go, actually. We’ll resume sometime tomorrow evening.” There was a collective sigh of relief, and Talia rolled her eyes. I’m the one doing all the work here.

“Talia,” said a voice behind her. “Er, Lady Talia. Apologies.” She turned around to see Mikhail, standing there looking nervous as per usual.

“Mikhail! Just who I wanted to see." She clapped a hand on his shoulder, and the two began walking.

“Me? You wanted to see me?” Mikhail looked shocked at this, and Talia noticed that he seemed nervous. I must look upset or something - I'll need to get better at keeping my composure. I hope my trip to Tomacia hasn't degraded any posturing skills.

“Of course! As you probably know, I’ve already gone through most of the wooden suits the forge has made for me. I’d like to put an order in for as many as possible at the earliest available date.”

“Oh. Oh… all of them? My father made up a surplus stock while we were in Tomacia so that he wouldn’t have to make anymore for a while after you got back…”

“Yes, well, times are pressing. There’s a war coming on soon.”

“Right…” Talia looked at him expectantly, but Mikhail broke eye contact quickly.

“Is there something you’d like to talk about? I assume you didn’t come here for my ordering convenience.” Mikhail blushed, and Talia wondered if he truly was Nabian at all, with the way he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Yes. Well, um. I. Talia, are you okay? Ever since you got back, you’ve been distant, and to be honest you’re putting the a lot of the workers through the ringer.” He reached out to push a strand of hair out of her face, and she let him. She felt the caress of his fingertips along her cheek, and she took in every second of it. He was genuinely warm, and she knew the look of care in his eyes all too well.

“You’re very kind, Mikhail. But I have to tell you to leave the matter alone. Don’t stress about me, not with everything going on.” She took his hand off of her face, and put it back at his side. And I don’t deserve you. “And now isn’t the right time.” She turned on her heels, not giving him the chance to reply. Time for the baths.

By the time Talia reached her destination, the temporary relief that she had felt near Mikhail had completely vanished. Every nerve in her body sizzled with electricity, and she felt even more on edge than earlier. Bringing herself to the point of physical exhaustion usually helped, but she still had to keep reminding herself he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone. To her annoyance, the particularly large bathing room that almost no one else used seemed not to be empty. She looked through the steam to see Eamon in the largest pool, sitting on a stone bench that jutted out from the side and calmly reflecting on something. She stripped down as she surveyed him, folding her clothes neatly by the side.

Still so very handsome, but no longer permanently smirking… I think it’s an improvement. A little red around the eyes, but not much really… She waded neck deep, letting her hair float on the surface before becoming waterlogged and sinking slowly down over her shoulders.

“Who’s there?” shouted Eamon rather suddenly, surprising Talia. She thought she had been quiet, but he knew he wasn’t alone by his body positioning. His hair, normally sandy but darkened to a light brown because of the water, was slicked back and stuck out at the occasional location giving him the appearance of being rather wild. His hands went to cover a rather long member that she had already seen through the clear waters – and in the past, besides that – and she rolled her eyes. Men and their body issues.

“Who is it?” Eamon called again, with alarm in his voice. Talia went under the surface before emerging and answering right away, giving a dull ‘Talia’ in response.

“Oh. Sorry. Is this your bathing room?”

“No. It’s for the whole house. Though typically no one else had used it except me…”

“Ah, okay. Luca and I found it while you were off.”

“No worries. Come any time. Though I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t sink the statues.” At that, Eamon turned red and looked away. He mumbled something, but Talia didn’t hear what. After some time passed, she spoke up again.

“So how are the eyes? Still hurting?”

“What do you think?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Okay. And what about Luca? Weren’t you trying to get in his pants?” Eamon turned away from where she was, clearly upset.

“Shut up. It wasn’t like that.”

“Ah. Course not. So who cares if he gets swept off his feet by some gorgeous exotic prince right? I mean, its not like you’d have the confidence to speak out anyway. Though I’m not sure where that’s gone, I mean when you fucked me in the academy – “

“I said shut the fuck up, Talia,” Eamon yelled. That annoyed her, despite knowing that she had intentionally tried to get a rise out of him. Ornery, perhaps, but he’s got no right to yell at me.

“Excuse me? Not liking what I’ve got to say? Typical, so self-centered and blind. Ha. Well, literally now.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“You fuck off, Eamon. I get that everyone’s been coddling you and trying to be nice because you got hurt, but you’re not the only one… and the Eamon that I knew and trained with wouldn’t have been so sullen and brooding. You’re really pissing me off lately, moping about like there’s nothing you can do besides that. For fucks sake man.” She could tell that Eamon was surprised at being spoken to like that, but she felt he needed it and that not everyone could be so friendly. It clearly isn’t doing him any good.

“And what do you propose I do about it?”

Back to glum and depression. She shrugged, but then realized he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know. But how about not being such a pussy?” Eamon’s eyes really widened that time, and she thought she saw something close to anger or annoyance on his face.

That’s good, at least.

“Just get it together, Eamon. You’re not the only one who’s been fucked over here, and it’s not that hard to see that sitting around isn’t going to solve anything. We’ve got fucking work to do.” Newly motivated from this rather one-sided conversation, Talia stood up and walked up out of the baths. She walked naked out into the hallway, and back towards her room. Looking over her shoulders as she exited the entryway to the baths, she saw that she was leaving Eamon with a new expression on his face, and clearly a different state of mind.

***

Marion finished dragging the blade over her scalp one final time, removing the small tufts of hair that had sprouted on the top of her head. She picked a wispy gathering of hairs off of her straight razor, and through them in the face of her seated husband. His eyes showed rage in their glare at her, but his body was paralyzed and his mouth could barely move enough to eat. He made occasional groaning noises at her, but that had stopped after she threatened slaps to the face over and over in his defiance. I suppose a man can only take so much humiliation.

“Well my dear husband,” said Marion to the Nabian soldier strapped into a chair outfitted with wheels, “what a sad day.” His eyes followed her as she crossed the room, over to a desk with parchment and quills. “I’ve just learned that a dear friend of mine has passed away. She was a Nabian, like you.” Her husband made an indistinct noise, and Marion couldn’t tell if it was a noise of laughter or pity. Frankly, she didn’t care.

“I suppose I should write to some of the others, as per suggested…” she placed a letter from Almanita Nandra on her table, on top of a stack of other business papers. “And I think I know just the one to write to. After all, Jezebel Di Coteau not only has similar struggles in life as my mentor suggests, but I think she shares similar goals. Who knows? We’ll have to find out when I get a reply.” She turned from her husband, and began to put pen to ink.

Marion had worked out just the day before what might have transpired in the case of her sister Meredith. Jezebel was the only other sister in the area at the time of Meredith’s assassination attempt, and was clearly the more dominant of the two. As any good comrade would have done, Marion figured that Meredith had been assisting someone who had great power over her or had a strong bond with. Otherwise why risk – and in her case, give – your life to attack the placeholder for a Di Coteau? And who could never risk attacking any one family in Nabius besides a member of that family? Yes, Marion thought, I have to be right. Jezebel always complained about her cousins anyway, it would make sense that she’s going after them. Greedy bitch, she probably wants Alexandre’s generalship. But that can be used to my advantage.

And so, Marion composed a concise message to be sent to her sister in arms that would tell her one way or the other. Subtle enough to not raise suspicion, but clear enough that Jezebel will get the message if she is working against her own family. And if she is… Alex will definitely die.

Dearest Sister Jezebel,

I am grieved to hear of the death of our sister Meredith. Our Mother Almanita bids us get into contact to work through personal struggles together in the light of this tragedy, as she believes that we may face similar obstacles. She is so very practical to suggest connection, as always. I think we most definitely have similar motivations, and would like to suggest that we work together in the foreseeable future to accomplish our goals.

With the power and excellence of the Monciet territory controlled by Alexandre Di Coteau, and you, being his cousin, I think there’s nothing that we couldn’t accomplish on the forefront of such rapidly changing times. Your cousin has invited in an era of change as it is. I hope all is well, and that you consider my offer to truly eradicate the adversities that stand in our way through mutual cooperation.

Marion