Under Bound Boughs

Chapter 8

As in all tales… part one

Strolling in from outside, official persona snapped over his features like a mask, Asch was a study of cold brutality, irritation, and for the final touch he let his hand linger over the hilt of his sword. While the final touch would have been rococo… or far too much. At least that's what Noir had told him long ago when he'd asked what the word meant.

It also had overtures of tacky to it, but the Bloody didn't mind. He was dealing with terrified people, and terrified people made stupid mistakes.

It would be best to discourage those mistakes right from the outset.

So, while Natalia was being kind. Helping the old man to his feet and the like, the Bloody met the man's eyes and glowered. Best to reinforce the fact that while she was nice, he was not. The man paled, shrank back, even as Natalia apologized for scaring him so badly. All they needed was to talk, and well if the other five people hadn't thrown them out –one calling for the guards- well things wouldn't have gotten to this point.

Insane as it was, he apologized for that, granted the man was babbling almost as bad as Natalia just then… Rolling his eyes, Asch sighed, swept out of the room and made a tour of the house to make sure they really were all alone. Four rooms, one bedroom, a kitchen, visitor's room which from the stuff scattered about it doubled as a shop, and a rather dank dark span for bathing, or so he assumed with the tub imbedded in the floor and all and a privy pot tucked in the corner…

Dear Lorelei, the last made him do a double take. And he indulged the impulse because he was alone. A privy pot? Disgusting!

Asch firmly closed the door on that, wondering just how primitive these people really were.

It wasn't a very cheering through. But then, without fonons perhaps their sciences were truly limited. On the other hand, airs of superiority aside, without fonons neither he nor her majesty were much better off themselves.

Recalled glory, and actuality were two very different things after all.

From a room away, divided by bark thin walls, Natalia's voice carried very well.

"Here, please, sit. I'm sorry, we didn't mean for it to get to this point but..."

"Wh-what do you want?"

"To talk."

"Th…that's it? You aren't gunna rob me?" The old man whined in a nasal voice. Skepticism replaced terror for the moment. Asch resolved to fix that, make another appearance in a moment. "Or take me away to… to… it?"

"It?" Natalia queried.

The old man was silent a good long while, fear of… whatever… replacing his fear of them. Terror did beat out terror every time and all, not that that was a good thing. Leaning against the thin wall, Asch crossed his arms over his cheat, waiting along with Natalia though they were distant. Something nudged into his back and he turned expecting some crude, primitive decoration that would clink and rattle. Instead, he found a picture. Framed in (surprise surprise) wood, its corners were tucked into a groove in the wood, a knife had enhanced the depth, made one of the gouges, but three of the four were natural though. Somewhat lower than norm he had to bend a little to make out the details. It was a portrait, the artists initials tucked unobtrusively in one corner in scarlet ink. It portrayed a man, a woman, and a little girl.

The resemblance between the man in the picture and the one in the room on down was inescapable.

Clearly this old coot had family.

Leverage… or merely a tragedy whose details were to be unveiled?

"It?" Natalia pressed, trying to sound stern but her voice wavered, cracked about the edges.

He didn't blame her; he felt more than little unsettled himself, all claims to the contrary aside.

"It… I've heard... my brother's son was a guard you see, 'fore Ganser went bad," the man whimpered. And with that sentiment he set himself in the category of a fool in Asch's mind. People didn't "go bad" they were bad from the start. Going bad alluded to a chance of redemption, and considering the shining example of his "master" Asch knew that redemption was one of the shoddiest delusions the optimism called "hope"… "The eater of Worlds."

Enough was enough, fisting his hands he turned on his heel, marched back into the old man's living/selling quarters. Natalia was sitting on a counter imbedded in the wall, the old man himself was set in the rooms' only chair by her side. Their closeness irritated for some reason. He wanted to snatch her up, and just be gone from all this stupidity before it rubbed off and damaged them both.

"Do you take us for fools?" Asch snarled, startling Natalia who appeared to be believing this tripe. "Idiots," he clarified coldly, least the word fool was beyond them both. "Willing to believe that this is some fairy tale? Where monsters eat worlds, kidnap princess, and some radiant hero with a sword whose name is unpronounceable is just going to waltz out of nowhere and… and…"

And the old man was looking at him blankly; Natalia was favoring him with a look that promised a scolding later on.

"What's a princess?" The old man wondered.

The princess in the room nearly fell off her seat in shock at that. Eyes wide, she physically shook she was so shook. Asch found himself having to lean against the wall for support, as waves of conflicting emotion rose in him and tore down one of the few foundations left in his life.

"What?" Asch exploded, unable to hold it in. "You don't know... are you…"

The words "stupid or something" just wouldn't come out. Terrified, terrorized by their lord, yes, this man, all these people were… but he'd hold back the true heartfelt title of stupidity to these people for a while yet.

Licking her lips, a little steadier for now, Natalia found her voice. Ignoring the concern written on the old man's features, she clenched her hands, to hide the shaking. "Do... you know... what the Score is?"

"Nope, what's that? Something musicy?"

Well, Asch amended with a grimace, he'd hold back on his judgment for a little while anyway.

"How about Lorelei, Yulia Jue, Auldrant?" Asch pressed.

And, though they'd known, having picked the pieces up from observation and hunches, hearing it spelled out… Or rather seeing it spelled out -the man was looking at them both like they were daft- was something else entirely.

"Where are you people from?" The old man whimpered.

"Not from around here." Natalia explained quietly, eyes a little wild as she realized just how "not around here" it was.

"Wha' province?" The old man pressed.

"Provence? What the hell's that?" The Bloody groused, gripping his sword, trying to feel in control of something.

"You don't know that a…"

"You don't know what a princess is." Natalia pointed out, tone clearly screaming "I'm a princess" just then. It figured the old man didn't get it. He only winced at the obvious authority in Natalia's voice like it where a whip. "Like I said." She gentled her tone, wondering how something as simple as tone could invoke such terror. "We've things to talk about."

"A great deal." The Bloody added grimly. "Put up a closed sign or something in the window. You," both of them, really, "won't like how I deal with interruptions. Furthermore, you can scratch any plans about running off; I've got very sharp ears and a pointed temper."

He patted his blade, knowing that while overstated, some things were universal. The man paled, Natalia's look assured him she added at least ten minutes to her lecture for those comments. Or, maybe it was for the excessive use of puns. He tabbed on twenty minutes just to be safe. As the old man rose to do Asch had ordered the Bloody turned to Natalia, letting his mask drop a little. She, of course, couldn't understand why his face was so placid, or what the softening of his gaze meant.

"You're enjoying this!" She accused in a whisper.

"No," letting go his blade he shook his head, crimson hair tickling his ears. He kept his voice low, his gaze riveted onto her. "I'm doing what needs to be done. And if it wasn't necessary you wouldn't be following me and following my lead. And you know it."

A pause, she considered his truth, and nodded her agreement.

"If I did something completely wrong, wicked, whatever you want to call it, you'd shoot me dead yourself."

She winced, but didn't dispute the accurate assessment. To that he grinned. Nodded.

"It's your right, your majesty, to dictate the life or death of your subjects."

"You are Kimlascan?" She pressed, latching onto the most inane part, go figure.

"Was." He corrected softly, letting his gaze drop.

Further questions were cut off, not by choice, but because the old man had returned. Swallowing confession, and pain, a bitter brew he was far too familiar with, Asch let go of the past for this moment and focused on the present.

Natalia, as before, followed his lead.