PART 2
The Following Morning
"It's so pretty!" Raphtalia raised the first coin she's held under a casino spotlight. The bright beam bounced off the silver and sprayed dazzling specks of light on her face. She released an appreciative sigh.
"Should be easy enough!" Killua announced, standing atop a barstool in front of a crowd of demi-humans. "Keep the place tidy, dust up the machines, dispose the trash, make sure the bar is stocked with alcohol, have a bartender at hand 24/7, and keep at least two guards on the observation deck by the alarm system."
"And by alarm system…" A cat demi-human raised his hand. "You're talking about those two ropes that are tied to bells inside your guard room?"
Since they were gathered next to the bar, in the center of the gambling hall, it only took a turn of the head to see what he was talking about. A room with a large open window, transmuted from the ceiling, oversaw the entire area like a balcony. It was built above the Dragon Hourglass, which had a silk curtain drawn over it. The bar they stood in front of was stacked with shelves of alcohol, while rows of slot machines, pachinko arcades, card tables and roulette wheels stuffed the atmosphere with a variety of sparkling noises.
"Yeaaa…" He spoke slowly. "…guard room…" He tried not to laugh, thinking about the hot-spring tub and gyroscopic-maze-shaped pinball arcade inside, which Hajime designed to be almost impossible to win. Even for himself. "Either Kazuma, Hajime or I will be in it at all times, so if anyone is causing trouble, yank a rope and we'll be down. Though, I'd recommend trying to drop Hajime's or my name first. That might shut 'em up."
The shoulders of some demi-humans relaxed when hearing that. Others slowly smiled when they thought more and more about it. Some even pumped their fists. Only a small few remained concerned.
"Ah, Shield Hero-sama!" Raphtalia raised her hand.
"Don't call me that. The names Killua."
"Oh…" She looked down, twisting her hands, then looked up again while crinkling her forehead. "Um…Killua-sama?" To her, he was still the prophet she had heard of only in legends. And though it wasn't nearly as heroic as anyone would have imagined…technically, she had been saved by him.
He noticed her body language and sighed. "Yea?"
She fidgeted her shoulders, frowning slightly. "Should we call you if…if the nobles try to do anything mean to us?"
"Look…" Killua rubbed his forehead with his index and middle fingers. "I get that nobles don't like you guys, but you're not slaves anymore. You're minimum-wage bartenders and janitors now. So try to handle whatever you can yourselves, but yes, if they keep pushing…let them know they can always talk with your Boss."
"Oh…" She released her crinkled brow, then tilted her head. "What's a minimum wage?"
"You're holding it." He pointed at the silver coin she held. "A wage is what you get paid for work. And you're getting paid the smallest denomination available-"
"Um…actually, Killua-sama?" A mole-man in glasses held up his index finger, speaking in a nasally voice. "The smallest denomination of currency is actually copper, not sil-"
"Oi, dude! Shut up!" The cat demi-human scolded in a whisper, tightening his eyes. "We're getting easy silver outta just as easy work!"
"HEY!" The mole-man snapped back in a whisper. "I'd rather he be aware of this now, rather than pay us in what he thinks is the lowest currency, only to find out later he's wrong! You know how angry he might be-"
"Uh, guys?" Killua waved his hand at them. "I already know copper is the smallest. But our customers are mostly nobles, so technically, silver coins are our smallest denomination. Your daily pay is a single silver."
The cat and the mole and stared at Killua with intense, excited eyes. They pulled out the single coin every demi-human received upon walking in, thirty minutes prior.
'A villager can live on a mere 20 coppers a day!' The mole gawked.
'And we get a whole silver?!' The cat smiled.
Killua nodded, seeing their faces. "So, you guys get the gist now?"
The cat demi-human saluted hard. "AYE THE FUCK AYE, KILLUA-SAMA!"
He squinted at him. "And don't call me Sama!" 'It makes me think of my butlers back home…' That thought edged upon another, but he cut his mind off from trailing any closer to it. "My name is fine enough…" He lowered his head in thought. "Or Boss, is technically acceptable I guess." He mused aloud to himself.
"You got it Boss!" The cat and the mole yelled.
"Wha…" His eye twitched, then he closed them in defeat. 'Whatever!' "Anyway, congratulations everyone! On this day, you've upgraded from slaves with absolutely nothing, to minimum-wage workers in extreme poverty! Now get to work."
After a combined cheer, Killua hopped off the barstool and made his way to the door. As he was leaving, he saw the little tanuki girl climb up in his stead, proceeding to give a speech as to how their "second chance" has finally come.
"And it's all thanks to the Shield Hero!" He heard her say.
A vein bulged on his forehead. 'I'd rather you called me Boss!' He decided not to say anything. He walked outside, shielding his eyes from the east-risen sun. In the distance, a stone wall was erected, surrounding the town much like the one Hajime transmuted around Ur. The shop keepers and home owners within the walls didn't voice any opposition to it. Whether it was because they honestly didn't mind it, or they saw it futile to say anything against it, Killua didn't know. 'At least it's not bothering anyone.' It wouldn't matter if it did anyway, since it was a necessary precaution.
"Ah, Shield He-oh, I mean, Killua!" Erhard the blacksmith pulled him out his train of thought. "Would you like to buy a filolial egg?" He cocked his thumb back at his store.
Killua narrowed his eyes at him. "I just gave you those like an hour ago, and you said the same thing then. I don't want any."
"Aw, c'mon! They're handy for pulling carts!" He said, smiling his friendly businessman grin.
"Hajime has a mana-powered vehicle…what's the point of owning a feathered horse after that?" He returned his own grin.
"HA HA HA!" Erhard put his hands on his hips. "Can't blame a man for trying! What happened to the slave dealer, anyway? You must've ran him outta business, buying all those slaves from him…"
"Actually." Killua raised his brow in surprise. "The chubby mustache dude was gone. I think we scared him out of town. It was some new guy there, and he sold me everyone at a discount." 'That, and I'd feel like a real dick, only buying half of them.' "Anyway, it's not like we don't have the money for it."
Erhard blinked. 'Oh gee, I can't imagine why he'd run...' "Y'know…" He cleared his throat. "Those demi-humans will be middle class citizens in a few months, at the rate you're paying them." He crossed his arms and looked at Killua, smirking. "Although I'm a bit jealous of their easy pay, I do gotta say I respect that!"
"Few months, huh?" Killua shrugged. "That's too long. We're aiming to leave this world sooner than that." Erhard laughed, but Killua continued, looking up at the sky. "But even before that...I doubt if things are going to remain like this until the first Wave in 13 days."
Erhard stopped laughing, pulling his smile back. "What do you mean?"
"That King…" Killua turned only his eyes to Erhard. "It would seem he was keeping a certain country, filled with their kind, at bay." He cocked his head back at the casino.
Erhard furrowed his brows, drawing his mouth into a straight line. "You're talking about Siltvelt."
Killua nodded. "I've been asking around, gathering information. Apparently he was some sort of hero that was key in stopping their attempt at world conquest, right?" Erhard nodded back, frowning. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a field day, knowing he's gone now. To be honest, I actually am expecting some sort of military action to be taken against Melromarc soon. My guess would be, they'll act before the first Wave so they can let it finish off what they can't, or just to conserve their resources. From what I understand, the country's most likely to act are either Siltvelt or Faubley. They both seem to have reason to."
"So then…" Erhard rubbed his chin. "The reason you've employed demi-humans…it was to give yourself bargaining leverage in case it's Siltvelt that comes?"
"No." Killua replied nonchalantly, causing Erhard to jerk his head back with a shake. "We just needed cheap workers." Erhards brows then twitched in disbelief. "But it does have its side benefits along with that. Yes, it might make us look good for Siltvelt, but to be frank, I bet the Queen is gonna be pissed when she returns. If we can avoid another fight, that'd be great, as I'm tired of making enemies every step of the way. Then I learned that she's an advocate for demi-human rights, so I figured it'd make her happy, at least, if we employed them here."
"Uh, hey…Killua…?" Erhards brow was still twitching. "I can't help but notice you seem really…unconcerned… about this whole situation. What with a looming war and the Waves and all. In fact, the thing you've shown the most care for is how annoyed you'll get at the Queen."
He looked up in thought. "I'm leaving the battle plan against the Waves to Hajime, and I'm not too worried about a few armies." 'I'd rather fight them than the Chimera Ant King and his guards any day of the week!' "I can bring down tanks and fighter jets myself, so they can come and bring it all they want. The wall I had Hajiime transmute around here is for you guys, honestly. It'll give you something to hide behind, at least."
"Ah!" Erhard turned his head, looking at the wall. "Well, thanks for that!" He then raised a questioning brow. "So what are tanks and fighter jets?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. They're war weapons…" Killua looked around, looking for a way to explain himself. He then pointed at the mountainous bluff where the castle once stood. "To put it in perspective, a group of them have enough firepower to take out the castle. Not as fast or as powerfully as Hajime did, but that should still give you an idea."
With but a glance at the empty bluff, Erhard laughed under a nervous sweat. "Hey…Do you actually need that shield?!" He thought back to when he tried to sell him a sword, feeling rather foolish at the prospect.
"Well, it's got a lot of cool features with it, and Hajime and I found a way around its biggest inconveniences for me. But need?" He shrugged. "Idunno yet. We'll see." He turned and walked toward the casino. "Anyway, I just felt like checking on the wall and making sure nobody was poking at it. Just be prepared for some big changes in your daily lives!"
Erhard was left scratching his head. He then put some serious thought into their conversation. 'He's right. If Faubley doesn't do anything, Siltvelt definitely will.' This realization rooted a deep, icy fear in his chest. He looked over at his weapons shop. 'I might…have to actually use those soon. It's been a while…' He sucked in a sharp inhale. "Hey, Killua!" He turned to Erhard, still with that nonchalant expression. "You mind if I borrow some of those new workers to help me forge some extra weapons? I'll pay them handsomely for it!"
"Sure!" He yelled back. "Just don't use the on-duty bartender! They're important!"
"Pfff-HAHAHAHA!" Erhard threw his head back, holding his stomach. "Ah, man! That's all your concerned about? Sheesh, what kinda monsters have we summoned, huh!?" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Even if Siltvelt and Faubley were to join forces…I don't think we have to worry much here, as long as we stay close to this place."
He believed those words, but it was going to take more than mere belief to quell his anxiety.
The Following Evening
The sun touched the horizon, sinking into it, allowing the fall of night to slowly smother it. Groups of demi-humans walked by a freshly tilled field, trudging heavily with slow steps. Some forced weak smiles beneath tired eyes while others could only stare vacantly with slack faces.
They had spent months of arduous labor, squeezing sweat out of building muscles, to pack the field edge to edge with crops. Their grueling toil was to be paid off by the fruitful bounty they would have reaped of their own efforts. Now, however, that tender love and care would bloom and rot without any of its hard-earned tastes savored.
Hulking canvas sacks tightly bound families most precious belongings together. They proceeded to cram them, squished together, with heaps of others in a series of chuck wagons. The only sounds were that of creaking wood, thuds, bangs, and a few unenthusiastic conversations. Dozens of homes were about to stand empty and lifeless.
On this night, an entire community of demi-humans prepared to leave the domain that had treated them so well. Well enough, that the nobleman who owned this rare domain had collected all his gold and silver, divided it evenly through several pouches, and entrusted more than half to be distributed among demi-human families. This way, he reasoned, if they encountered bandits, he could pay them off with a few pouches of coins on himself, while still having many more spread among demi-humans most bandits wouldn't think to check.
'It would be unwise to keep all a filolial's eggs in the same basket…or so the saying goes.' He told them, hiding other valuables, such as jewelry, in their belongings. Simply for their trading value. He anticipated a long, exhausting haul, and it was his duty, as their domain lord, to be sure they could survive the trip. Funds of any sort were an exceptional need for that end. The reason they were leaving, though, was due to a message that the Queen had personally delivered to him.
"Faubley is going to war with us…" The nobleman stood by his window, watching the demi-humans with a wistful look on his face. As always, the gentle smile he wore never faltered. "Poor Queen Mirellia. I can't begin to imagine her stress. The desperation she must be feeling…" His voice was just as gentle as his smile. "And poor Princess Melty…" He let out a deep sigh, expression becoming thoughtful.
Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed his two maids, one blonde, Edith, and one black haired, Grecia, standing by the dining room entry. On their backs were leather rucksacks, packed with belongings they couldn't bear to part from. They both looked down at their hands, not knowing what to say. Edith looked up first.
"Melty looked so sad." Her voice was soaked with sympathy. "It hurts just to think about the look on her face."
Van Reichnott turned around to them, pushing his gold-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. A silence passed between them. All he could do was share with her a sad smile, letting her know he understood how she felt. Grecia had trouble keeping eye contact though, let alone settling her hands.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again, in a matter of moments, unable to relax her rigid posture. Edith wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but it was taking everything she had to keep herself composed. Van figured a change of subject was due. He tilted his head and closed his eyes, letting his smile grow in reminiscence of happier times. "I can't believe that this is our last night here!"
His smile was contagious. Grecia couldn't help but return one similar. "I do admit, the time that's passed since yesterday afternoon has been extremely nerve-wracking." A quick, high-pitched laughter slipped through.
"I certainly wasn't expecting a sudden visit from the Queen and Princess!" Edith gripped the straps at her shoulders, her blonde hair framing a tightened expression. As if clenched muscles are what prevented her from falling apart.
"Hm." He nodded, hoping to validate her calm exterior. "But it's a good thing that we were able to help everyone get prepared in such a short time. It's just too bad this couldn't have happened after our crops had grown…" He turned back to the window.
The maids walked to his side, looking out at the fields too. In silence, they drank in the sight, a small pain in their chests at having to abandon it all. Without noticing, the sun had dipped even lower, taking with it a touch of its gentle warmth. Edith saw that Grecia looked about to cry, and Van noticed too. They looked at each other without her noticing.
"We should store our belongings down in the foyer-" Edith suggested from Grecia's left. "-Prepare ourselves now for an early departure before sunrise. Since we'll be carrying these on our person, we can just leave them there."
"I agree that is best." Van spoke on her right. "We've packed our more practical essentials in the carriage already. These, we can keep close." He lifted his own pack and started down the hall, the maids following closely.
Grecia's walk was unsteady. Her feet were a hairs width from dragging every step. Her foot caught the floor at an angle more than once, almost face planting her each time with the weight of her rucksack. Her mouth crumpled in embarrassment. "I apologize…I'm unusually clumsy today."
Fortunately, Edith walked with a purposeful stride, free of hesitation. It made catching Grecia a quick and easy feat. "It's just nerves. No one can blame you for it." She smiled gently, doing her best to emulate the effect that Van's smile had.
As they stopped in the hall, from the most recent near-trip, Grecia took the moment to voice a concern. "Van-sama…" She fiddled with her wrist collar, speaking in a pitch higher than normal. "What do you think of the heroes that have been summoned? I mean, in terms of how they'll handle the sudden influx of demi-humans?"
"I've been concerned about this too." Edith added, speaking evenly and seriously. "I know the Queen said she's excluding families that own slaves, which should keep the amount of people migrating somewhat low…but just the population we have in our domain alone will flood the capital beyond living capacity!"
"Ah, that's true…" Van replied, still in that gentle, soothing voice. "But, according to the Queen, these heroes are most unusual. Apparently, both the Shield Hero and the Spear Hero have brought with them powers of their own, unlike anything we've seen. And though their notable lack of mercy does worry me to an extent…" He turned his smiling face over his shoulder, encouraging them to walk with him.
"The fact that they haven't taken any action towards demi-humans should readily reveal their opinion of them! They have done neither good nor bad, and in a way, that in itself is a good thing. This may imply we can act in favor of demi-humans, and they will pay us little mind!" He turned back forward. "We'll find a solution. At this point, I'd rather focus on getting us all there safely first."
They carried their bags down the stairs to the front foyer room. Lavish cotton curtains were drawn closed over windows on both sides of the hickory double doors, leaving only an arched window above the entryway to provide light. The sunset cast a peculiar color, like blood on fire, slamming it onto the floor, cut apart by the stretched shadows of the window grids.
Its last dashes of warmth bid farewell with a caress on skin as they walked through it, placing their bags against the floor-draped curtains by the left door. Grecia swung her rucksack off, impatient to release her back of its weight, and its strap accidentally caught on the slide bar of the iron bolt latch. She sighed an embarrassed chuckle, slumping her shoulders. "My luck, of course."
Edith put a hand on her shoulder. "It's only because we keep it unlocked, it caught." She looked her in the eyes steadily, but non-invasively, and smiled. "Not a matter of bad luck!" She helped her slide it off the iron bar, large enough that her fingers wouldn't even touch if wrapped around. "That, and you swung it off while walking past the lock!" She poked fun at her impatience.
Grecia cleared her throat, forcing her limbs to relax. With two hands, Edith slid the bar to and fro, double-checking that the rucksack hadn't dislodged it from its position, unable to lock again. It slipped into the latch slot bolted on the right door, fitting perfectly, then slid it back out until it rested solely in the ironwork of the left door. This way, if any of the demi-humans needed to request their attention, they could let themselves in. Van wanted them to feel welcome at all times.
Van watched their ordeal silently, finding amusement in their unintentional shenanigans. "It's good to see you two can still laugh in a situation like this." His soft tone was rich with empathy and gratitude. The crimson kiss of the sunset colored his pale face with the hue of a blush. The maids were stuck staring for a moment, taken back by the sight, before nodding together with a gentle smile that only his could beget.
They then split up to fulfill separate tasks before resting for their last night. Grecia and Edith went to the kitchen, gathering remaining non-perishables into hefty potato sacks should their trek across the nation require food stops. Grecia was especially productive, tackling the task head on to distract herself. Edith took note and made sure to keep her busy.
Van was sitting at a desk in his room, writing a letter to the next person that should come to inhabit the mansion after they leave.
"To whom this may concern, I ask that you take good care of this mansion. It has served many generations well, and it deserves to fulfill that duty until its structure can no longer bear weight. Also, as a reward for finding this letter, kind stranger, I shall inform you of an escape passage beneath the master bed of this room. There are a few false entrances hidden throughout this room, but all except one lead to dead ends.
Lift the rug, and you shall find a door which slides open, revealing a ladder than leads to a crawlspace through the walls. It shall take you to a room beneath the floor, which leads to a piece of wall that is fragile enough to be kicked out. Fortunately, I've never had to use it. I pray that you don't either, kind stranger. Feel free to construct more throughout the mansion, beyond just the master bedroom, if you wish. It is a regret of mine that I've never been able to do so."
He folded the note and hid it in a compartment within his ostentatious wardrobe, just one of many family heirlooms. He walked into the corridor and knelt before a wall, decorated with portraits of his forbearers. He paid his respects; clasping his hands in apology for the familial legacies he'd have to leave behind. His expression turned inward. Though he could have made room for certain heirlooms, it would have come at the sacrifice of practical items for himself, the maids and the many demi-human families he was leading. They were his top priority.
"Is there anything from here I should bring on my way down?" Van poked his head into the kitchen. "I'm going to check on everyone outside before calling it a night."
Grecia lifted her head, wiping her brow of sweat. "No, we should be good, thank you Van-sama!"
"We'll follow you down in a minute or two, we're just about ready here as well." Edith topped off a sack with edible goods. "Oh!" She spun around and grabbed some candles off a nearby window sill. "We forgot to light the lanterns by the door earlier, so here! So you don't trip on something in the dark!"
Grecia's head fell limp, staring up open-mouthed at the ceiling. "I feel like that's something I would do."
"We'll give you a torch then." Edith snickered.
The three of them shared a chuckle, then Van continued to the stairs. As Edith warned, it was dark at the bottom; to the point the arched window camouflaged with the black of night. 'The clouds must be out now, the moon was quite bright yesterday…'
He lit the candle and carefully placed one foot beneath the other, step by step. As the visibility dimmed, he felt the hair raise on the back of his neck. By the final stair, he was surrounded by a blinding black. The goosebumps crawled up his neck to a prickling on his scalp. The candle light spread around itself spherically, beating the darkness back hardly farther than a foot.
Van had to keep his steps slow and steady, lest he bang his shin against something unexpected, or trip. Dropping an open flame onto the floor would not bear happy consequences. He shuffled closer and closer, the faint light being aided by muscle memory. The seemingly-endless darkness was playing tricks on his mind, teasing his instincts with a feeling like he was being watched. He shook his head, feeling silly. 'I know this house inside and out…and we have no bat demi-humans in our domain either.' After several more inconvenient seconds, the double hickory doors, with the iron bar slid across and locked in its latch, came into view.
"Finally." He sighed to himself, resuming his usual smile immediately after. He looked up at the lanterns by the door. 'Should I light these, at least for tonight? Although I feel uneasy leaving them to burn unattended while we sleep, I should think some people outside must not be able to sleep now…' He looked back to the top of the stairs. 'Perhaps I'll just wait for Edith and Grecia to come down, and we will leave a lantern and flint by the front-' Van's thoughts halted. With the throb of his heart, it began racing, pushing a sudden coldness in his chest down his arms and into his fingers. The little flame flickered as the candle quivered in hand.
"Didn't we…" He saw it just moments earlier, but the detail hadn't registered. "Didn't we leave that unlocked?" The slide bar that Grecia hooked her rucksack strap onto…was locked in place.
"You did." A baritone voice vibrated against Van's spine, forcing an uncomfortable tingle up it, stiffening his back when it passed. His eyes went wide, revealing the whites around his blue irises. A sudden, overwhelming sense of dread simultaneously stabbed him through the front and back
He spun around quick, holding the candle up in the air to try and shed light on the speaker. Heavy footsteps, like enormous tree trunks slapping the floor, shook the ground while drawing closer. Van jumped at the sound each time. Every step grew louder, and each shake grew stronger, as a large, inhuman creature made its way to him.
The edge of the candles glow brought a faint image into view, more shadows then features. Shoulder width double the size of Van's slim build dominated his sense of self. He felt small and powerless. Hulking muscles teeming with bristly black fur spread across his peripherals, propping up the head of a horned beast, looking down at Van with an arrogant smirk. A minotaur. To his other side, luscious locks of thick burgundy hair trickled around the menacing features of a lions face, spilling below into a flowing beard.
"It made breaking and entering quite easy. Thank you." The lion beastman leaned his head forward, showing himself. The candle flame reflected so fittingly in his fiery orange eyes.
"Wait…" Van's voice shook. "I know of you! You're…Jaralis? From…" He felt sick to his stomach when the information connected.
Jaralis flashed his sharp teeth, revealing four thumb-sized incisors that hooked over the rest with carnivorous design. "Siltvelt, yes. And the big guy here is Irafel."
Van exhaled through his nose, noisily, failing to hide his nerves, yet forcing something hard to that gentle smile he always wore. 'I'm weaker than both of them…I'm at a severe disadvantage…but that's no excuse to lose control of myself!' "I'd say you're pretty far from home. What are you doing in Melromarc?"
"Heh!" A chuckle slipped through the lions maws, blasting a hot gust against Van's face. "We're here on behalf of the Sword Hero!"
"Wh-what?" Van took a step back, eyes bulging. "Impossible! Why would that be?"
"Oh yes, that is no lie!" Jaralis lifted his chin, looking down at Van. "Believe what you will, Human! How does it feel, knowing that one of your precious prophets has sicced your worst enemy on you?!" Irafel put an arm around Jaralis, bending down to get a closer look at Van's face. Jaralis narrowed his focus on him, not wanting to miss a detail of his reaction. 'Delight me with your despair, you feeble human!'
"I wouldn't know." Van never broke eye contact, never faltered his confident smile. He embraced the fear and his struggle against it. "I'm rather fond of the Shield Hero, personally."
"Huh?" Jaralis did a double take, confused. Irafel barked out a laugh that shook Van's chest.
"Didn't you see the demi-human settlements outside?" Van opened his hand and swept it towards the door. "They are no slaves of mine. They are my people!" He stepped toe-to-toe with Jaralis, feeling offended that they dare mistake him for a despicable slave owner.
Jaralis and Irafel were honestly surprised. They hadn't considered it when sneaking onto the property. After all, it made no difference to their intentions. Jaralis swung his hand, right to left. Van started wheezing. It was an unnerving and disgusting sound. The kind that can only be made when an unnatural hole is opened in the neck.
Jaralis tipped his head back, sneering. Van fell to his knees, his face level to the freshly used knife, dropping the candle and clasping his throat for dear life. The little flame flickered but continued to burn. Irafel kicked it away, rolling it toward the window curtains to the right of the door, opposite to where the bags were. Where the hem of the curtains just touched the floor, nothing in its way.
"…It's still dark down there." Grecia commented from the top of the stairs, letting out a nervous, high-pitched laugh again.
"Van-sama, are you down there?" Edith called out, passing Grecia and taking the first step down. She was about to take another, then stopped. "C'mon, let's just grab some more candles from the kitchen."
The curtains finally caught; flames rushing up the flammable cotton. The sudden rush of light revealed a terrifying scene. Standing there was a lion beastman, holding a freshly used knife, and a Minotaur, gripping a trench mace almost as large as Edith. They watched them with nasty grins. Kneeling before them was Van, clutching his throat as blood spilled between his fingers. The maids froze, dropping sacks of food. The sight shocked the breath out of them, causing a pressure in their chests from forgetting to breathe it back in.
Grecia's mouth fell open, bringing trembling fingertips to her paling lips. Edith moved excruciatingly slow, her mind trying to warn her to run, but her disbelief and shock rooted her still, stuck staring at her source of panic. Van looked at them. The gentle smile they had always known him to have, was nowhere in sight. A look of absolute horror made a stranger out of his own face.
"RUN!" His voice was hoarse, gurgling, spewing blood that streaked down his chin. "SURVIVE!" His bloodshot eyes shook with the desperate need to squeeze his last words out audibly. "TELL QUEEN…SILTVELT…INVASIO…" Pale skin turned bone-white and he fell forward, never moving again.
Grecia lifted her shaking hands past her lips, clawing her fingers just below her eyes, heaving shallow breaths in rapid succession. Edith shook her head and cried. Jaralis opened his sharp-teethed jaws, and bellowed a roar strong enough to rumble through them. Irafel charged at them. This set Edith in a sprint. She grabbed Grecia's cold shaking hand, not letting go, and pulled her around a sharp turn. They ran toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
The colossal foot-smashes of Irafel shook the walls around them, and they could feel that he'd catch up in less than five steps. Then a wooden pipe with metal thorns tossed out between them, rolling to a stop in front of the two woman. A short wick out its top was shrinking under a sparkling flare.
"IRAFEL, GET OUTTA THERE!" A raspy voice snarled as loud as it could. The minotaur skid, forcing his feet to crack through the floorboards right behind them, but stopping instantly. Then he leapt behind a corner to guard himself.
An insane chanting sung from far down the hall. "EX-PL-ODE! EX-PL-ODE!"
'EXPLO-' Unlike Grecia, whose thoughts scrambled hysterically, Edith's panicked mind boosted her nerves into hyperawareness. She grabbed her without time to explain and threw them both down on the ground, laying as flat as possible. The wick disappeared. The pipe bomb exploded, blowing metal shards through a 360 degree radius. "AAAAAAHHHHH!"
The shockwave hit them like the kick of a horse. It muffled their hearing, leaving a loud ringing that disoriented them. Due to Edith's quick thinking, she minimized the amount of their bodies they would expose to the fatal spray of shrapnel. Unfortunately, since she threw Grecia down in front of her…three metal fragments managed to find her legs and feet. One lodged in her right thigh, one dug deep into her left calf, and one blown all the way through the foot of the same leg.
"EDITH!" Grecia sat up, trying to help her to her feet. Until she was grabbed by the hair and slammed on her back. It punched the breath out of her. A wolfman pinned her down, hovering over her face with his tongue hanging out. One of his eyes had a milky iris that veered off to the side, while his good eye exuded an unreasonable lunacy.
"WAIT! PLEASE!" She shouted.
"You'll have to excuse him." A raspy voice said. Grecia lifted her head, seeing a tiger demi-human lean against the hallway, pressing a foot down on Edith's stomach. On his back were two scabbards, sheathing scimitar swords. His face had a line of gnarled skin cut diagonally through the fur; a battle scar between a set of mean eyes. "He's psychotic, that one."
"Rengir says I'm psychotic?!" The wolfman spoke with the tone of a strident hiss. "Human, how am I crazy …" He looked back down at Grecia, desperately blocking her face with her arms. "When you're the one who tries to guard themselves with such delicious chew toys?! Wouldn't you prefer a faster death if I just ate your head right away?!"
Out of sight, Edith could hear Grecia whimpering and moaning, repeating her begs for mercy. Edith's face became pained, apologizing to Grecia in her mind, knowing how terrified she must be after how nervous she's been all day. Edith cupped her mouth, eyes watering hysterically, prepared to die. With her injured legs, a strong foot shoved into her stomach, whilst surrounded by trained demi-human mercenaries armed with weapons and explosives, she saw no hope for herself or Grecia.
Then Grecia screamed. Violently, desperately, morbidly. "MY ARM! PLEASE! STOP!" Her screams evolved into something inhuman; a hoarse, instinctual noise that pain and despair can only produce when mixed during the torture of a brutal death.
Edith's eyes popped wide, looking around panicking. "G-GRECIA!"
"EDITH! EDITH HELP M-" Her voice, unrecognizably hoarse, was cut off by a gurgle and growling.
Edith's mind went into shock, retracting her acceptance of death. It drew a blank. Her own instincts were traumatized into a shut down. She felt hollow inside…but that emptiness began filling with a surge of irresistible energy. In an instant, she hyper-registered the exact area her leg wounds were, Rengir's foot on her stomach, and Irafel standing between her and Grecia dying.
In other words…the only obstacles between her and the master bedroom was Rengir's foot and some painful wounds…and the pain from those were subsiding under an energy rush. Flames climbed the stairs, licking the ceiling with insatiable hunger, reminding her that Van's body was burning in it. The image of his horror and desperation flashed in mind…his last breaths used to scream the words "RUN" and "SURVIVE". Even in death, he managed to inspire Edith one last time. Her nerves ignited in a hysteric burst of adrenaline.
Rengir's balance was thrown off when Edith lurched from underfoot, smoothly breaking into a sprint down the hall, leaving bloody footprints. Rengir's unsteady stance blocked Irafel from chasing after her in that same instant, but it takes more than shaken balance to render him harmless. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a scimitar and swung it at her. She didn't even notice the skin-shallow slash that caught her between the shoulder blades. By the time she slammed the door, Grecia's screams had been silenced forever.
Rengir's perpetually angry eyes burned furiously. "Irafel, go kick that fucking door down!"
The minotaur stomped up to the master bedroom, attempting to open first. Locked, of course. Rengir growled when he saw him try it, knowing it already to be futile. "Kick at the handle, you'll dislodge the lock from the wood."
"Got it." Irafel's voice rumbled deeply. He lifted a knee, cocking his leg back, while grounding his body weight on his other foot to support the upcoming attack.
Then a pipe bomb, with its wick already lit, rolled next to him, stopping with a whack against the door. There was no time to pinch the wick out, let alone cast water magic.
"SHIT! MOLOK WHAT THE FU-" Rengir growled as he and Irafel sprinted down the hall, dropping down flat the same way Edith and Grecia had. It exploded, destroying the door into several hundred shards.
Molok cackled a deranged laugh, bouncing on his feet as his loose tongue flapped against the side of his bloody jaws. "These things are so fun!" He pulled out another pipe bomb, bringing the flint up to the tip of its wick. He stopped when the blade of a scimitar pressed into his neck. Blood dripped from his lips and onto the blade, like a premonition of what was to come. Molok cowered in front of Rengir's bloodshot eyes.
"I told you…" He spoke through fanged teeth. "Those are for offensive use only, to CONSERVE MANA! NOT WASTE LIKE FUCKING TOYS!" The tiger in him came out, roaring more than speaking, causing Molok to shrink back and whine like a scared wolf.
"Hey Rengir! I think she might have jumped out the window!" Irafel yelled from the bedroom.
Inside, dusty debris of the door and the pipe bomb coated the floor along with wooden shards. It covered up the blood of Edith's injury, hiding her trail. Rengir looked at the window. The glass had been completely shattered, but its frame was still closed.
"No. She's in here somewhere. Strip the room apart." There was a large bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a closed closet. In the closet, there were two entrances, one requiring a key lock, and the other leading straight into a hidden passage. Behind the wardrobe, there was yet another crawlspace. Then on the underside of the desk, there was a key strapped it, and it opened the lock in the closet.
"Which one?" Molok asked, looking around with jerky movements of the head.
"I don't know…but I'm betting some are fakes." Rengir drew his brows together, looking just as mad as always.
Irafel, in a fit of frustration, grabbed the bedframe and flung it up, slapping mattress and all against the wall. Beneath it was a rug. There were streaks of blood on it, and it was curled up at a corner. Irafel ripped the rug away. He chuckled deeply, strong enough to immediately catch the others attention. "Rengir…we found her!" He smashed the hidden door away with his trench mace.
Molok looked at the secret passage and the blood that led into it. His good eye shined with eager sadism.
"Molok, after her! You'll fit through there the easiest." Rengir ordered.
Jaralis waltzed into the room, just as Molok slid into the crawlspace. Behind him, the fire was swirling in the hallway, eating away at every inch of the mansion. Rengir shook his head. "You couldn't have started that after we left? We're still after one of them!"
Jaralis huffed with an arrogant smirk. He walked toward the window, smashing out its frame until the hole was large enough even for Irafel to fit through. "We're not humans. We can survive a jump from this height!" He looked up at the sky. "Anyway, if the girl does manage to escape…Uralsi will catch her."
Meanwhile, Edith had reached the end of the crawlspace. It was blindingly dark, and the floor was hot with flames broiling on the other side of the floor. Her timing was just right so it hadn't spread through the insulation and into the hidden crawlspace yet. She kicked out the weak piece of the wall and made it outside.
She circled around from the back of the mansion, the flickering orange from the windows illuminating an optimal path, then she cut through the fields. She tripped a few times on the soft, freshly tilled indents, getting dirt into her wounds, but the urgency coursing through her wouldn't let her stop. She pushed her endurance to her limits. It was only a few hundred feet away from the burning mansion when the four Siltvelt mercenaries appeared, running after her. Her only choice now was to yell as loud as she could.
"RUN! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!" Several doors to demi-human cabins opened. As Van expected, there were plenty individuals who were too stressed to sleep, worried about their migration in the morning. They responded immediately to Edith's wailing. They wrinkled their brows above baggy eyes, looking on with concern and fright when they processed the burning mansion. They still hadn't gotten the message. "IT'S SILTVELT! WE NEED TO WARN THE QUEEN! SILTVELT IS INVADING MEL-"
A winged demi-human swept down from the sky, grabbing Edith by her shoulders, lifting her off the fields. Those who witnessed it felt their hearts drop, eyes locked on in ghastly disbelief. Their chests tightened, every breath applying pressure against the ribs, heart pounding with worry. They watched powerlessly as poor Edith was lifted higher and higher.
Edith, herself, watched the ground shrink beneath her kicking feet. "PLEASE! DON'T DROP ME! I BEG OF YOU!" Her heart sped, making her chest vibrate. She felt dizzy and breathless, her mind repeating the same words in a panic. 'I'M GONNA FALL, I'M GONNA DIE, I'M GONNA FALL, I'M GONNA DIE, I'M GONNA-'. Then the bird-woman let go of her.
"AAAAHHHHHH!" The demi-humans covered their mouths, going breathless, some crying out with wide and teary eyes, as Edith dropped. She flailed her limbs helplessly, screaming the whole way down. Until a crackling thud caused dirt to fly up in the air. She didn't make another sound or movement after that. The bird-woman in the sky flew in a circle, her underside illuminated by the burning mansion across the tilled field. She then soared down, joining the other four mercenaries making their way to the settlement.
"Uralsi!" Rengir pursed his lips. "Was that the last one? We only found three people in the mansion."
"Positive." She replied with an unpleasant chuckle. "I've been circling the property for almost an hour now. There's more demi-humans here than there are regular ones."
"You mean weak ones." Jaralis smirked, walking with his chest out and shoulders drawn back. There was a gleam in his eyes as he approached the demi-human settlement.
Molok cackled, licking his teeth with a wild look in his good eye. "We need more tasty ones."
"Give me one that could put up a good fight, at least." Irafel dragged his trench mace through the dirt, digging a deep line across the tills of the field.
Their figures cut like apocalyptic oracles against the blazing flames consuming their beloved nobleman's mansion. All the demi-humans were outside now. Families hugged each other as brave men stepped forth, shielding the women and children, with nothing but farming tools to defend themselves.
"We're an elite team of mercenaries from Siltvelt." Rengir said, eyeing them with an annoyed glare. "We've taken out armies with better training and bigger numbers than the lot of you attempting to defend easy targets with poor weapons. Stop it."
"Brethren!" Jaralis stepped forward, flashing a huge smile, showing off his teeth. "Are we not on the same side? You are demi-humans on Melromarc soil! They treat you, superior beings, as accursed wretches!" He spread his arms wide, tilting his chin up. "Cease this foolishness! Come with us! We will show you the way that kings are meant to live!"
"Shut up!" A rabbit demi-human raised a pitchfork. "Van-sama was a good man! A true noble! You're nothing but terrorists if you're willing to murder good people for your ends!"
"When in enemy territory..." Rengir lowered his stance, speaking in a calm, raspy voice. Then he darted at the rabbitman. A long eared head rolled across the ground. "...trust not the slave's decree of their master's virtue." The other men backed away from him, holding their farm tools uncertainly before themselves, shaking in fear.
"You got two options…" Rengir said, beckoning Irafel to walk up to his side. He followed suit, smacking his trench mace into his palm with intimidating ease. "Either come with us back to Siltvelt and renounce any ties with Melromarc…or die." His eyes squinted, bending the gnarled line on his face. "There is no negotiation."
Uralsi lifted her head, stretching the feathers out in her neck, observing the forest behind the cabins. "Molok, go sniff out any runaways in the woods. Demi-human or tasty human." Uralsi caressed Molok with her wing. "They might've been hiding from me."
The milky eyed wolf nodded and snarled. He circled behind the group of demi-humans, slithering into the dark forest with predatory intent. As he slipped by, children squeezed their eyes shut and desperately clutched their parents, most crying. Sobs and snivels bounced throughout the crowd, while some just gasped in attempts to regain control over their breathing. They were trapped. With Molok just behind them while Rengir and Irafel stood before them, they saw there was no escape.
The roof of Van's mansion caved in, cementing the reality in that they had lost their former way of life. No, not lost. It was stolen from them.
"Oi, Jaralis?" Rengir turned his eyes to him. "Really…Did you really have to set the place on fire? If we attract any Melromarc knights, or even worse…Faubley soldiers…I'm gonna cut your hands off and stab a note onto you, saying you did it."
Jaralis tipped his head back and laughed, unbothered by the remark. "Rengir…This is a domain that is friendly to demi-humans… In Melromarc." He grinned, looking back at the inferno he caused. "Chances are, the knights here wouldn't care much for a place like this anyway."
The demi-humans that once could privy themselves as lucky, now found themselves at the awful end of a heartbreaking disaster. It was bad enough when they had to leave their crops to wilt. It was worse when they had to leave their homes and lives behind. However, now, they had to betray and blaspheme the honorable name and goodwill of a man who did everything in his power to give them happiness. What awaited them next, was a life led by a lie, and watching their children become brainwashed by those very lies, in a nation they never wanted to join.
It was a case of tragic irony. People who had done nothing but good, met an ill end, while a family more worthy of the fate those people suffered, were spared mercifully due to a serendipitous stroke of luck. All across Melromarc, similar situations were occurring to even more people, while fates more fitting for involved parties had struck as well. The country was being encroached upon from every angle, being slowly devoured by hostile forces with their own agendas, and no form of retaliation thought possible by any of them.
Except the Queen. She held out hope, putting her faith in a fact that has still evaded the world's attention. Yet, even she had a whole day left before she would reach the capital.
