Disclaimer at the start of the first chapter, but again, I do NOT own any of the rights to Overlord and its respective content.
Brief AN: So, I don't know if it's just on my end, but FFN is acting kinda weird for me right now, especially when I log on. Main issue is my updates aren't showing properly on my end, which is kinda frustrating. I've had to re-update the last couple of chapters because they haven't been showing at all. -.- Not overly happy about that, but it seems on par with FFN and its glitchiness at times. This is why I crosspost... Has anyone been experiencing similar issues with FFN over the last couple of days (can't access stats, updates not working/showing, etc.)? Anyways, updates will still continue as per normal. Here's hoping for its resolution over the next couple days. Enjoy.
Suggested rating for this chapter is: M
- Strong, bloody violence
- Sexual violence
- Strong language
Chapter 10: Born from Blood
The remaining time before the dinner was spent at the inn, grabbing more information from random, drunk patrons, and pickpocketing the odd coins. Honestly, it was petty, but they had to start somewhere.
Sygil had a plan, and he had the means to enact it. All he needed was to finish probing for information from Beovhan and Clair and he could begin to enact the first stages.
Currently, both Sygil and Maxmillian were headed back to the mansion to meet up with and have dinner with Beovhan and Clair.
They could see lights emanating from several of the windows in the multi-story building.
"Remember. We must be on our best behaviour. We're here as guests for now." Hopefully things would occur smoothly.
By now, they were at the front door, and Sygil wasted no time in knocking three times.
Clair's muffled voice could be heard from inside, calling them to wait a second as she came over.
The door opened, and the pair were greeted with the sight of Clair, dressed in a more elegant dress this time, complete with red flowery embroidery over a deeper pink cloth.
Sygil had to resist frowning at how deceitfully peaceful she looked, so he opted to brush his disgust aside and enter the mansion politely with Maxmillian in tow.
Clair led them both through the living room to a large and elaborate dining room that easily spanned the full length of the house.
The height of the room extended into the second floor, as evidenced by the balcony running along the inner wall of the dining room lengthwise. As Sygil entered he could make out several bookshelves behind the balcony on the second floor, with deep shadows cast by the absence of light.
Four impressive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, running directly above the table and helping to illuminate the room in a faint amber colour. However, the real source of light came directly from the lit fireplace behind the head of the table to the left, casting deep shadows from the high chairs at the long table.
The table itself could seat eight people on each side, plus an additional person at the head and foot of the table.
The table was a dark oak, with four white, cloth placemats and associated cutlery prepared for everyone. A glass of what Sygil presumed to be wine had been prepared for each of the four seats.
Beovhan could be seen seated at the head of the table, a cheerful smile plastered on his face.
"Ah, you made it!" He exclaimed, to which Clair responded cheerfully. "Indeed dear, and just in time too, dinner is just about ready!"
Clair gestured to the two seats opposite of hers for him and Maxmillian to sit at. Sygil was conscious his jacket/suit was rather dirty, and so he took it off to hang on a nearby seat, however Clair cut him off.
"There's no need to set it there. I can get it cleaned for you while we eat. It'll be ready and dry in an hour. Trisha!"
Not two seconds later, the maid practically came running from the room on the right. "Yes mistress?"
Clair gestured to the jacket Sygil was currently holding. "Take Sygil's jacket to Parmela to be washed and dried. Then come back and serve dinner. Be quick about it!"
Trisha bowed, before moving to Sygil to relieve him of his jacket. "Yes mistress."
As she grabbed the jacket, Sygil quietly observed the fresh cut and bruise on her right cheek. As she left, he could hazard a guess as to why she was sporting such an injury.
"Please, sit down. Dinner will be up in a minute," encouraged Clair, interrupting Sygil's thoughts. He did as he was told, as did Maxmillian.
"So, how was your visit in the town?" Beovhan was the first to speak up.
"Enlightening," replied Sygil politely.
"That's good. So I wanted to ask," began Beovhan curiously.
"I overhead you say you were part of the military, and your companion appears to be in uniform, correct? Could you tell us what exactly happened for you to be out here?"
"Yes, well," began Sygil, "Maxmillian and a security detail were escorting me, when we were attacked by bandits in the forest. We got separated, and as a result are trying to regroup."
"I thought you said you wound up in the forest and were lost?" Beovhan inquired, confused.
"Yes, well that was after we woke up in the forest," a half-truth. "We were lost, and then we got attacked. And now we are here. Really, there is not much more to add than what was mentioned."
Beovhan seemed to hum and ho, before dropping the matter reluctantly. It was clear from Sygil's tone he didn't want to discuss it any further. Frankly, Sygil didn't exactly bother to plan an alibi out since it was unnecessary and a waste of time. Not that it would even matter anyways. Especially with what was to come.
"I noticed the flowers in your living room vase. Alarosacea?"
"Yes, actually," Beovhan was quick to respond. "I'm surprised you know its name. Not many people do."
"Actually, it was Maxmillian who told me what it was."
Beovhan quirked an eyebrow. "Oh really now?"
"Yes. I was actually wondering where you got it from?" If he could find out, he might be able to procure more of it, and possibly even further ingredients.
"We actually got it from a trader last month. Surprised it's lived as long as it has. Smells really nice, though," supplied Clair, who was finishing taking her own seat.
"Where is this trader, then?" If Sygil could find the source of the flowers, then perhaps he could acquire his own supply.
"Oh, he's a travelling merchant. Comes around roughly once a month. Say, dear, when abouts should he be here? It's been a while."
Beovhan cleared his voice. "Roughly, I'd say, a couple days now. Been nearly a month."
Sygil catalogued the information. "What exactly does he sell, then?"
"Oh, the rather pricey things, ornaments and other nifty items. Some pretty valuable goods hidden away amongst his stuff. He's a bit expensive, though. Doubt you'd be able to afford what he offers." Upon noticing Sygil's raised eyebrow, Beovhan seemed to realise how offensive that might have sounded and was quick to amend his words.
"Not that we mean you're poor, but it is a fact that his goods tend to sell quite expensively. His items usually cost gold."
So apparently gold was one of the higher currencies. Typical of medieval society. Then again, even modern contemporary society placed much value in authentic gold.
"I'm not too concerned about the price. Moreso just interested in what he might have to offer. What's his name?"
"Oh, his name's Reginold. Rather nice fella," smiled Beovhan fondly.
At that moment, Trisha returned with two large trays containing several plates of warm food.
Clair was quick to supervise where each plate was meant to go, and for who, even though the meals all looked identical.
It shouldn't really matter where it goes? Sygil was somewhat puzzled, but perhaps he was overthinking it. Then again, he still had a gut feeling about Clair and Beovhan.
Trisha left with the two empty trays in hand, before eventually returning and standing to the side of Beovhan, waiting dutifully for another order.
"Well, eat up!" began Beovhan cheerfully, before he and Clair both began to consume their meal.
Both Sygil and Maxmillian shared a subtle glance, suspicious of the meal before them.
It wouldn't surprise him if they had attempted to poison him and Maxmillian, Instead, he decided to open up a new conversation.
"So how many mercenaries do you have working for you? It would surely be expensive to maintain their services?"
Beovhan finished chewing on a piece of meat, before loudly swallowing and gesturing with his fork.
"You'd think it would be, but again, with the free slave labour we have here, it means our costs are considerably cut down. Plus, the mercenaries help contribute to our little economy here, buying our products and services, so it all works out really well in the end. Especially with maids like Trisha here, we can easily make 100 silver a day on the maids services alone sometimes. It all works out really well in the end, actually," Beovhan seemed convinced, and he proceeded to cut into another piece of meat.
Sygil smiled tightly. "So how many mercenaries do you have to help run this place? Surely you can't expect a small handful to manage such a large property with so many slaves and the 'savage tribes' as you put them?"
Beovhan smiled forlornly. "Not as many as you'd think. I actually have hired… 23? Some of the finest in the Kingdom, too! They've worked for me for the past couple of months."
"Only a couple months? But surely you would have had some security or guards before then also, right?"
Beovhan sighed, placing his silverware down. "Unfortunately, I had to rehire some new ones, after the previous lot died. Not exactly pleasant at the time."
"If I may ask, what happened?" Sygil was curious. Was there another threat lurking about? He would rather not deal with the associated hassle, but if there was, it would need to be dealt with.
"Oh, just a bunch of fools, that tried to assault one of my shareholders. Caused a lot of problems, so they had to be removed. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about that, as they volunteered to deal with the problem at hand. Free of charge, too."
Now, this was interesting.
"Who exactly are your shareholders, then? I thought you just supplied to the Kingdom?"
Beovhan seemed to hesitate, however. "That's… nothing you need to concern yourself over.
"Besides, I can't go telling you all my business secrets." Beovhan threw a small wink at him, changing the mood of the conversation.
By the time I'm done, I will know it all.
Sygil chuckled lightly. "I suppose not."
Sygil decided to stall and cut into the steak on the plate. He assumed it was steak? Maxmillian mirrored his actions, but also refused to eat anything.
"So, how long have you owned this property? I'm assuming you are the legal owner, sanctioned by the Kingdom, correct?"
"Oh, yes that's true. I've owned it for ten years now. It was originally owned by the Kingdom, but lack of maintenance, and poorly trained and equipped workers meant that it was a liable asset that was costing the kingdom too much money to maintain. It was originally going to be divvied up between the nobles, but I offered to buy it, and in exchange for keeping more of the profits upon taxation, I would sell only to the King. Some of the other nobles kicked up a fuss, especially considering I was only a merchant at the time. Wealthy enough to just afford buying it. Within three years I turned Merigold into a prosperous little town."
Sygil hummed. Privatisation. Does explain some things.
"I'm assuming since it's privatised, that explains why there is no active military presence or Kingdom sanctioned security?"
This time, it was Clair that responded with a forlorn sigh. "Well, that's only partly true."
Sygil looked at Clair curiously, but Beovhan answered instead. "What Clair means is, essentially it was the nobles that wanted this land. They either wanted to own it completely, or if not, see it burnt to the ground. However, the King refused. They felt entitled to the land, but I was willing to pay considerable coin, because I could see its potential for a long-term investment. Unlike the nobles. The King was more than willing to accept, after all, gold goes a long way to financing your kingdom, or your pockets. The nobles had no choice but to accept his decision, and they were pretty rank about it."
He took a small sip of wine, before addressing Sygil and Maxmillian with thin lips.
"They managed to convince the King that, since the land was now privately owned, they had no obligation to defend it and waste money on its security and wellbeing."
Sygil managed to fill in some of the blanks. "And since you essentially nearly bankrupted yourself buying it, they figured you would go under in no time due to bandits, the tribes and other financial hardships."
"Yes. Essentially, it was their way of giving me a big 'fuck you' since I spoiled their little self-entitled plans. Especially since I'm not of noble blood." By now, Beovhan was sporting a sour look, before adopting a smirk.
"So imagine their surprise when within the first year I had already established a somewhat competent labour force. All free of course. Those rotten bastards thought I would go bankrupt on just hiring the labour alone. They forgot a little something though. When I bought the property, I also acquired the rights and ownership of Merigold. And I used that to also help generate revenue to support my farming. Once the first shipment reached the capital, they were surprised. None of the produce was spoiled, and it was of considerable quality. Much higher than even they managed to generate when they owned it originally."
Beovhan let loose a low chuckle. "Oh the looks on their faces when I told them business was up and running, and that the next year's harvest would be even bigger. And of course, it was."
Sygil remained silent, letting Beovhan speak.
"By the second year, I had established a full labour force, gotten the town up and running, and even managed to bring in a couple new residents to help keep the town running. That seemed to piss the nobles off. I then managed to start hiring a full protective detail. 20 mercenaries. Small group, but ex-soldiers and adventurers. Well trained. Easily Gold level and above. By the third year, I had recovered all of my losses, including hiring the mercenaries and helping restore the town. By then, the nobles wanted the land back because of the money I was making. They demanded I hand it back since it was originally government property. Of course I didn't, though. I bought it, and I kept to my end of the deal by supplying only to the King, and therefore I could do as I saw fit. That pissed them off even more. They tried to threaten me into handing it over, hiring criminals to harass me. Of course, they weren't the only ones with connections," he smiled deviously.
"By the fifth year, everything had been sorted out, and we all came to a mutual understanding. They had to begrudgingly accept that I now was both wealthy and powerful, and they couldn't dip their grubby paws into my profits. Now… things have been smooth as glass. They still do piss-all for giving me protection, but if my property were threatened, because of my value in supplying to the King, they would be obligated to send an army to defend it. Of course, since it's privately owned land, however, I would have to fork the bill, and keeping an army on standby costs a pretty coin. So it's only ever if in an emergency. It was one of the mutual understandings we came to."
Sygil absorbed all that was told to him like a sponge. Beovhan had revealed more than he realised.
Much of the dinner was spent with mostly Sygil, and sometimes occasionally Maxmillian, asking questions while trying to avoid consuming the food before them. Mostly trivial things were revealed and discussed.
"So is the property set to be inherited, or sold, when you retire, or what…." Trailed of Sygil, hoping to elicit an answer.
"Actually, we are thinking of leaving it to our child," supplied Clair fondly. Judging by the way she was glancing at and rubbing the top of her noticeable stomach bulge, she was referring to her unborn child.
"So is that your only child?" Asked Sygil with a smile on his face.
"Yes. Beovhan Augustus the Second. I think it has a ring to it!" Proclaimed Beovhan proudly, resulting in a scoff and roll of the eyes from Clair.
"So unoriginal. Besides, we don't know if it is a boy even."
"Well, whatever it is, we will grant our child with the best life possible." Beovhan had a loving and fond smile on his face as he spoke, locking eyes with Clair who returned the smile.
I almost feel bad for what is about to come. Sygil crushed those thoughts just as quickly as they came, however. Now was not the time for emotional compromise. His life and his sister were at stake.
"So, I hate to be a bother, but you did want to discuss some employment opportunity with Maxmillian and I, and so far we have managed to steer the conversation away from that." Sygil tried to maintain a light tone of voice, not wanting to come off as rude. It was unprofessional, after-all.
"Ah yes," Beovhan cleared his throat before diverting his full attention to Sygil and Maxmillian.
"Now, I know you said you weren't interested earlier, but I implore you to consider what I have to offer."
Sygil had to resist rolling his eyes. That's just what I asked you.
"I'm always looking to employ people around here, both in the town, and as part of my personal work force. I figured, since you'd be staying here for a while, that you'd appreciate having a job to earn some food and shelter?"
Both Sygil and Maxmillian shared a quick glance.
"I never stated that I was interested in staying here, nor am I looking at working for you or anyone." Sygil narrowed his eyes at Beovhan, who tried to press again.
"But come now! Surely you'd appreciate a good, stable job – " "- Did you not acknowledge the part where I made mention that Maxmillian and I were part of a military detail. Even if I wanted to, we are under no obligation to serve anyone else." That was a lie, but they didn't need to know that.
Beovhan seemed to furrow his brows.
"Hmmpf. Fine. But you should eat up, you haven't had anything! Neither you or your compatriot Maxmillian!"
"We're not exactly hungry…" Began Sygil warily. He still kept getting a bad vibe from the man, and right now, it seemed to intensify. However, before Beovhan could continue, the front door could be heard opening, followed the loud metallic footsteps indicating heavy armour.
"I'm here for her, like you promised. 10 silver, now come with me you dumb animal."
There was no mistaking Cain's voice under the heavy armour as he gestured to Trisha.
Clair seemed to splutter, unimpressed. "Really, Cain?! Now?! Can't you see we're-" "Yeah, I can see you're talking with your husband to…" His voice seemd to trail off as he recognised Maxmillian and Sygil.
"Cain, was it?" Mused Sygil.
"The hell they doin' here?" Gestured Cain to Sygil and Maxmillian tersely.
"We're in the middle of having a conversation," began Beovhan in exasperation. "Why can't you come back later."
Cain waved his arms in protest. "I'm not here to interrupt. Just here to borrow your maid is all. Here, I got the 10 Silver here now," he reached into a pouch and produced some coins, before Clair sighed.
"I suppose it'll be fine. We can get one of the other maids to clean up for dinner until Trisha is available."
"I suppose," relented Beovhan. "At dinner though, Cain? Next time, can you NOT interrupt me during a discussion Cain. Especially at meal-time." His face was pulled taut as he shot a pointed look at Cain, who seemed indifferent. Or not. Sygil couldn't tell with the armour.
"Sure, whatever." Cain spoke without real care behind the words, chucking them out as if they were part of a boring recital. He barely dropped the coins on the table near Clair when he reached over and roughly grabbed Trisha by her arm to pull her away.
Sygil didn't fail to notice the look of discomfort on her face as he started to drag her to the door way he came in from. He also didn't fail to notice the opportunity before him.
"Actually, Maxmillian and I need to relieve ourselves. Could you be willing to point us where to go, Beovhan?"
"Oh, of course. Cain!"
Cain came to a halt when Beovhan called out to him, seemingly irritated judging by the tightening of his gauntlets.
"Could you lead our guests to where they can relieve themselves. Thank-you."
He didn't even wait for Cain to dispute as Maxmillian and Sygil stood up and walked to where Cain was.
"Fine..." hissed the armoured mercenary in annoyance. "Come with me. Don't get lost on the way back."
"Charming personality," muttered Maxmillian with a roll of his eyes. Sygil couldn't agree more.
As they left the dining room, no-one noticed the frown on Clair's face as Beovhan looked at the untouched plates of food where their guests were seated nought but a moment ago.
The group of four were standing at the base of a stairwell which led to the second floor. Currently, Cain was pointing down the far end of an adjacent hallway.
"That door leads to an outhouse, which you can use. Now excuse me, but I have things I need to do."
With what Sygil assumed was a contemptuous sneer, Cain hauled the hapless maid up the stairs to somewhere, leaving Sygil and Maxmillian alone in the hallway for several quiet seconds.
"Maxmillian."
"Yes sir?"
"I believe it's time for us to begin acquiring our dear slave's loyalty."
"It is as you wish, sir! What would you have me do, sir?"
"I need you go back to the dinner with Mr and Mrs Augustus, and keep them occupied. Once I am done talking to Trisha, I will come down so we can visit and discuss the terms of an agreement with Beovhan."
Maxmillian couldn't help but allow a savage grin to form on his face, already knowing what his Creator was planning to do. He bowed forth to Sygil, placing a hand over where his heart was. "Of course. It is as you desire."
"Good. Stall them, but don't harm them. Yet…." Sygil needed some time to prepare, even if briefly.
Maxmillian stood upright, a resolute expression plastered across his face, before he left Sygil alone and went back to the dining room.
All alone now, all Sygil had to do now, was find where Cain had taken the maid.
Since he had a rough idea of what Cain intended, he knew he was likely looking for a private room. Looking at the stairs, Cain had gone to the second floor. All he needed to do was search for whichever room the two had likely gone to.
Climbing the stairs, he was greeted with a long hallway that extended in both directions, plus a smaller hallway directly in front of him. Pausing, he tried to guess which direction Trisha was taken.
His gut instinct told him it was probably down the right hallway, since it went the furthest.
As he began to leisurely stroll down the hallway, he instinctively tugged on his right glove to tighten it.
Coming to the end of the hallway, he was greeted with several closed doors on both walls opposite each-other.
"Just let me go!" A muffled feminine voice could be heard behind the far door on his left.
Guess that resolves the mystery of where Trisha is then….
Standing in front of the door, he could hear some more muffled speaking. Figuring there was no time like the present, he reached for the door handle, twisted the knob and opened it.
"Yeah, you fucking bitch! Scream for me!" An audible smack could be heard, and Sygil caught the tail-end of Cain back-handing Trisha across the face.
He was greeted with another rather repulsive sight, though he did not let his disgust show.
Currently, Cain was stripped down entirely naked, rubbing his visible erection into Trisha's dressed stomach as he held her pinned against the wall, desperately trying to undress her.
Judging by her distraught and disgusted look, Sygil could easily piece together what was occurring before him.
Cain somehow didn't notice Sygil enter the dimly lit room, too engrossed in his sexual lust. Trisha, however, shot her eyes to him as he closed the door behind him with an audible click.
"Ah, Trisha. Just the person I was looking for!" Exclaimed Sygil politely.
That seemed to gain Cain's attention, who immediately spun around from his victim to face Sygil with a look of shock on his face.
He sputtered out indignantly, face red with anger. "What the-! What the fuck are you doing here?!"
Sygil slowly strode forth to the duo, walking around the bed, and blocking any chance of escape.
"I'd just like to have a word with miss Trisha."
Flicking a wrist, he summoned a Shadow Hound, its smoky silhouette taking shape, with its snarling envisage resting clearly on Cain with a hungry look. Cain's face morphed from indignant surprise into terror, seeing such a supernatural monster being summoned.
"That's not a problem, is it?"
Cain glanced to the side where his sword was resting atop of his armour and haphazardly thrown clothes.
"Don't worry, I'll get to you in a moment," reassured Sygil. "Though, I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Sygil, seeing what Cain was intending.
Cain realised the situation was not exactly to his advantage, so he released his grip on Trisha who started rubbing her face where she was smacked.
"Fucking leave me alone!" There was no mistaking the fear in his voice.
"Then stay silent. I just want to discuss some things with Trisha, and I'd hate to have to rip out your tongue to keep you quiet for now." Sygil allowed a small smirk to form on his face as Cain's eyes were glued to the shadow hound that was slowly coming closer, letting loose a low growl.
Sygil diverted his attention back to Trisha, who was currently eyeing both him and the hound with caution.
"Hello Trisha," he began, offering a disarming smile.
"I don't think we've been fully introduced. My name's Sygil Amadeus. Would you mind telling me your full name? Please?" Being polite would go a long way into establishing a hopefully beneficial relationship. Cain's whimpering could be heard.
Currently the shadow hound was directly in front of him, its teeth mere centimetres from him. However, Sygil ignored it all. The hound wouldn't attack him unless provoked to do so. Or he ordered it to.
Trisha remained silent, a wary look in her eyes, so Sygil continued. "Not too talkative? That's alright. I understand you're a little sceptical right now, but before you cement your opinion of me, allow me to at least offer a 'business proposition' for you, and your enslaved brethren."
Trisha still maintained her silence, and only Cain's soft whimpers could be heard. "Get this fucking thing away from me, do you hear!" Cain whisper-shouted. Sygil ignored him, however.
"I want to, and am capable of, give you your freedom back. I can see to it that you are never abused ever again, never made the slave of a selfish monster of a 'master'."
He noted Trisha's dead, yet desperate eyes, were starting to level up with his own.
Good. He had caught her attention, so he continued his case, ensuring he spoke gently and softly.
"You, and your fellow slaves, would be free again under me."
"Why should I believe you. All the other humans have lied to us, and done nothing but hurt my sisters and I." For someone with such dead and desperate eyes, there was no mistaking the steely contempt under her voice.
He let his face fall into a more neutral expression. "I make it a professional practice to never lie, and I won't sugar-coat it. Your freedom will cost you. While I can ensure you and your sisters are delivered from slavery and harm, I will expect something in return. Something only you and your sisters can provide."
Trisha's gaze somewhat hardened in disgust. "We're not playthings for you!"
"I can assure you, my intentions are anything but."
He strode over to the adjacent wall where Trisha was and leaned back on it, crossing his arms, never removing his gaze from her.
"I intend on solidifying my own control here, and your current masters are in the way of that. By the time this night is over, I will control all of Beovhan's assets and property, and that would include his slaves. Such as you…. However, that would also leave me with many liabilities," he shot a distasteful glance to the pinned Cain, "and therefore I would have to remove them. And slaves make for unhappy and therefore unreliable employees. I would hate to have to terminate everyone, as that would leave me with nothing." With that, he stepped off from the wall and approached Trisha, who seemed to subconsciously straighten up.
"Of course, if you and your sisters were to pledge your fealty to me, then you would all be under my employ, and therefore my protection. So what say you? I can personally deliver to you and your enslaved sisters your freedom, your safety and provide you protection. You will never have to fear being abused again. No-one will rape you again, hurt you again, try to degrade you. You will have proper homes and housing, clean food and water and be paid for your work without having to worry about being harmed. All I ask for is you and your sisters undying loyalty." He held out his hand for her to clasp.
Trisha seemed to stare at his hand tentatively, before looking up at him with resolution.
"And sell myself out to another human who will lie! I was raised with more honour than that."
He couldn't help but frown at her stubbornness. "And Gallheia didn't sell you out?" That seemed to strike a nerve in Trisha as she defensively spat back at him, proving his theory of a connection between the two.
"How dare you! She would never!"
Sygil was just as quick to retort, however. "Then how come you are still a slave for so many years? Where was Gallheia when you and your sisters were killed and captured. Where was she all this time when you and your sisters were held captive? Where was she when you were humiliated and degraded, tortured, beaten and raped?"
He could see each point he made seemed to visibly shake her resolve, as she was forced to contend with the possibility.
"The way I see it, she abandoned you. You and your sisters."
"No," she protested weakly. Sygil didn't care, however, and he continued coldly.
"She never cared about you or your sisters, otherwise she would have attempted to rescue you all."
"That's not true," by now her voice was cracking. She was almost at a breaking point.
"Then why did she leave you all to such a terrible fate?"
By now, he could see several tears beginning to form in her eyes as painful memories resurfaced.
"Because… because we weren't strong enough. We were too weak…." Her voice was now pitiful and warbled.
"You're only weak because you choose to be. Instead of acknowledging your situation and trying to become stronger, you've allowed yourself to wallow in your despair. That is why you are weak. Not because you couldn't win against insurmountable odds. But because you allowed yourself to remain a victim."
By now, she was beginning to cry, though she tried, and failed, to repress her hitched sobs. Was it cruel of him to make her feel this way, especially in the face of all the abuse she had suffered over the years? Conjuring up terrible memories? Perhaps, but it was better this was addressed now rather than later. Besides, he could use her flood of negative emotions to help guide her into the direction he wanted, and so he pressed on.
"However, where Gallheia sees weakness, I see strength. Despite everything, you have persevered, and survived. It takes strength to continue on with such resolve. So you aren't truly weak. You're just lost."
Sygil pursed his lips as he sighed, lowering his hand before turning to face where Cain was, the shadow-hound growling in his face. He could hear the odd, faintly hitched sob from Trisha.
"I can offer you a chance to feel strong again, freeing you and your enslaved sisters. And considering what I am offering in exchange for so little, I think the price is well worthwhile. However," he adopted a more hardened tone as he strode over to the petrified mercenary.
"I only offer this opportunity once. I suggest you choose wisely, for you might never receive such an opportunity again… especially by the time I am done tonight."
By now he was standing before the mercenary. He slowly turned to face Trisha again, who now looked conflicted.
"So. What will it be?" He opened his arms as if to strike a welcome gesture.
Trisha glanced at him and then back at the mercenary, who decided to brave speaking.
"Do you truly think you will get away with what you are planning?!"
"I already have," shot Sygil with a smirk. "All that matters at this point is what side you take Trisha."
"I… I…" she sounded defeated.
"I know. Perhaps a little incentive, and a show of good faith is needed," suggested Sygil, shooting a glance at the cowering mercenary.
He shot his left hand forth, wrapping it around Cain's windpipe and constricting his airway, before hoisting him off the ground. The hapless mercenary struggled with all of his might, but he was barely able to let loose a gurgle, let alone try to pry the Sygil's vice-like grip.
"I'll give you a choice," he began. "Cain here was going to rape you; abuse you and hurt you. And I know you don't like that at all. So, I'll let you decide his fate."
Trisha's eyes seemed to widen a little bit at this, her full attention on him.
"You can either release him. Or, you can just say the word, and I'll kill him, right here, right now. Or, you can take that sword," he gestured to Cain's sheathed sword resting atop of his armour, "and you can kill him yourself. No matter your choice, I won't stop you. But I think, regardless, you have a right to choose your own destiny. And if you serve beside me, I can grant you that."
He let the words hang in the air, while Cain began to more desperately struggle.
Trisha seemed to remain silent for several agonising and tense seconds, internally contemplating her choices. Was this really a chance to be free again? To help restore the freedom of her sisters? And reclaim her stolen honour?
Looking at Sygil, and then Cain, one last time, she struggled to come to a conclusion. If she wanted her freedom, she would have to take it, but she ultimately didn't know if she could trust Sygil.
Hardening her resolve, she looked Sygil square in the eyes. "And how can I trust you?"
"You can't. It's a risk you're going to have to take." Sygil's words weren't exactly reassuring, but so far, he seemed to be projecting honesty with his intentions.
"And what would you do with him?" She gestured to Cain.
"Would you like to find out?" Suggested Sygil playfully, enjoying every moment of Cain's terror.
"Let's see… I promised I would get to you, Cain." Now, Sygil was diverting his focus back onto Cain, who was struggling to breathe by this point.
"Now, when we first met, you were a bit of a prick anyways, but this?" He gestured to his stripped state and Trisha. "This takes the cake! Now, I'll have you know that, while I don't have a problem endorsing murder, torture or genocide even, I do have standards as a professional. And rape? Rape is soooo unprofessional," he drawled dispassionately.
"Torture, murder, genocide, war, extortion and profiteering, while all technically depraved in their own manner, can be moulded to serve a purpose. Rape, though? Well, unless you want to demoralise your victims, it serves no real purpose. All rape is, is just a sign of an immature individual who fails miserably at self-control, constraint and is solely interested in self-gratification without concern for consequence or ramifications. All it does is show how pathetic, stupid and utterly useless you are. And I don't like useless people… Especially, when I am trying to create my own empire." He tightened his grip on Cain's throat, as each passing word become harder and colder.
"And you know what I do to useless people?"
Sygil grinned savagely, while Cain's eyes seemed to bulge with terror.
"I discard them." And with that he released his grip on Cain, shoving him forward with the same arm, whilst his right hand shot over his left shoulder, summoning his sabre. And with a horizontal swing, he cleanly cut through Cain's neck before he could protest.
There wasn't much blood, his severed head resting on his body, teetering briefly before his body toppled over unceremoniously, with his head dropping straight down and landing with a dull thud.
Trisha watched on with shock, surprised when he summoned his own sword.
She watched Cain's head briefly roll on the floor-boards, before glancing back at Sygil who had by now dematerialised his sabre as if he never had it to begin with.
"Well, that takes care of one thing I suppose," commented Sygil off-handed, before facing Trisha again.
"So, what will you do? Will you join me, or are you going to squander your opportunity?"
Maxmillian couldn't help but allow a small sneer of contempt to mar his face after being subjected to questioning by Mr and Mrs Augustus. While he was ordered not to be directly antagonistic to the couple, he didn't have to like them. And he had plenty not to like about them.
His Creator was sceptical of the meal prepared, and so out of curiosity he had attempted to discern if it was poisoned. Either he lacked a sufficient enough ability to detect poisoning, or they were just that good at hiding it, but he couldn't detect any poison. However, he did run an appraisal on all plates presented. And suffice to say, there was evidence of magical tampering on both his and Sygil's meals, but not on the couples.
He couldn't exactly detect what it was, but there was something. Therefore, he refused to touch the meal, and simply stalled for time until his Creator would return.
And return he did.
"I apologise for taking so long," came the despondent voice of Sygil, who was just now entering the room through the doorway he had exited.
He strode over to the table where Clair was, while Maxmillian stood up and approached Sygil.
"Sir!"
Maxmillian's low voice caught Sygil's attention and he stopped in his tracks until Maxmillian caught up to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.
"You were correct to be suspicious of the meals. I have detected magical tampering with our meals only. Unfortunately, I cannot determine what exactly it is. Are we going to proceed?"
Sygil allowed himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, before opening them with an exhale.
"Yes," he quietly replied back, gesturing to Beovhan. With that Maxmillian stepped back from Sygil and walked to behind Beovhan, who was currently looking at the duo quizzically.
By now, Sygil was behind Clair.
"So Beovhan, since you own this property, I would be correct in assuming that you signed a deed, or some other legally binding document to prove you have ownership of this land, correct?"
"Well, yes? Might I ask what you are doing, you haven't touched your dinner at all?" Beovhan was acting confused, as was Clair.
Sygil rested a hand on Clair's shoulder. "Oh well, business before pleasure unfortunately." And with that, he summoned his sabre, placing it directly against Clair's throat.
Beovhan's eyes went wide, but Maxmillian had already drawn his own sabre and placed it against his throat, holding him back with a firm grip on the shoulder.
"What are you doing!" exclaimed Beovhan, while Clair shrieked.
"I am conducting some simple business," replied Sygil innocently. "I'd hate for things to get messy, so I suggest you calm down and remain seated."
The couple had no choice but to concede.
"Now then, let's start with a simple question to sate my curiosity. What did you do to our dinner?"
"What are you talking about, we didn't do anything?! Unhand me at ONCE!" Beovhan was roaring in protest.
Sygil frowned, while Maxmillian tightened his sword around his throat.
"Then why, when I conducted an appraisal, did I detect magical tampering?" snarled Maxmillian.
Clair's eyes went wide with shock, and Beovhan suddenly glanced furtively at her. The actions failed to go unnoticed by both Maxmillian and Sygil.
When Sygil didn't get a response, he sighed. "At this stage, I suppose it doesn't matter. What does matter, however, is this property, Beovhan."
"What do you want…" spat Beovhan, all pretence of being a kind, cheerful man gone.
"Simple," grinned Sygil. "I want you to sign over the deed for this entire property, surrender all of your assets and wealth to me, and I want Clair to release the seals on the slaves so they are freed."
Beovhan looked at him as if he grew a second head.
"You have got to be joking. On what world would you think I would ever do that?!"
"This one," retorted Sygil sharply. "Now, we're all going to take a trip to your office, where you will draft a new deed signing over all of your property, assets and slaves over to me. We will all sign it, since legitimacy is important after all. From there," he faced Clair, "you will undo the magical seals on the slaves. Failure to do so…" He summoned two of his shadow hounds, their snarling envisage helping to persuade Beovhan to see his point. Fear could make an excellent motivator, after all.
"… will result in a fate far worse than death. Of that, I can guarantee."
Beovhan shot a furious look at Sygil, trying to act brave in the face of such monstrosities.
"You wouldn't dare! You need us alive if you even hope to get what you want!" Beovhan was certain of it, Sygil wouldn't risk killing him or Clair.
Sygil raised an eyebrow in disinterest. "Hmmmm. That's not quite true, though…. I need you alive to sign over the assets. Clair, here though? While killing her would mean the slaves couldn't have their seals undone immediately, it would only be a temporary inconvenience at best." He adopted a cruel smile as he lowered his sabre to rest gently on Clair's rather noticeable stomach bulge.
"And let's not forget about your unborn child. While I would hate to have to kill a child, especially one that's not even born yet, but I'm not averse to it if need be. I would suggest you don't test me, Beovhan."
Clair's breath hitched, though she daren't move for fear of resulting in harming her unborn child. Beovhan, however, looked like he wanted to kill him, but it didn't take long for him to realise the futility of his situation and sigh in defeat. Though, such defeat looked as if it drained him of his very soul as he slumped down at his seat, uncaring of the sword pressed against his throat. And so he whispered in a meagre and pathetic voice.
"I… concede. Just don't hurt them, please."
"So long as you conform." Sygil slowly removed his sabre, gesturing for both Clair and Beovhan to stand up, to which they slowly did, careful so as not to provoke both the sabre wielding men and their supernatural pet hounds.
"Now, Beovhan, if you would be so kind as to lead the way to your office. And remember, no funny business." The warning was clear as day.
Beovhan tightened his fists in frustration, before releasing them. "This way," he gritted out. Sygil allowed a satisfied smile to remain plastered on his face.
Beovhan's office was cluttered with various books and records. Despite this, however, he still managed to keep it somewhat organised.
A rather large office desk sat in the centre of the room, with two guest chairs sitting in front. Behind the desk were several wooden shelves, each containing stacks of parchment, scrolls and other items to help catalogue and record daily business proceedings and the like. A large, gold-framed painting of some family member hung on the wall to the side, while several candles helped illuminate the room to be much brighter than expected.
Sygil gestured to the two guest seats. "Please, take a seat Clair. Beovhan. Find the deed for this property, and a clean parchment. Don't waste my time."
Clair took a seat uncomfortably as she watched her husband open a drawer to start procuring what Sygil wanted. Meanwhile, the hounds scattered to the sides of the desk.
After about a minute of uncomfortable silence, Beovhan produced both the deed and a clean paper parchment.
"Good," smiled Sygil, walking over to sit behind the desk, while gesturing for Beovhan to take the remaining empty seat, which he did reluctantly.
"Now," began Sygil, leaning forward, whilst Maxmillian kept his sabre wrapped around Clair's throat.
"Let's have a look at your deed, shall we?" And with that he grabbed the deed from Beovhan, taking note of several official wax seals melted on, and began to read.
"I, King Ramposa III, hereby decree that the property surrounding, and subsequently, the town of Merigold, are to be considered the lawful and rightful possession of Beovhan Juda Augustus. For the exception that you supply all produce harvested solely to the acting Government of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, you are hereby granted full and complete ownership of the town of Merigold, and all surrounding land for a 2 league radius in either direction, reduced taxation on all exports and subsequent profits at a set 15% per annum. As the sole, legal owner of this property, while you are hereby granted certain exemptions, you also acknowledge that you are entirely responsible for said property, and under no circumstances will you be reimbursed, whether due to poor investment choices, unsustainable crops, natural or religious disaster, or invasion.
You agree to the bill of sale of 115,000 Gold, while agreeing to the terms provided.
Signed: _Ramposa III_ B.J. Augustus_ ".
Sygil laid the deed down on the table, looking at Beovhan. "Now, I want you to write exactly what I tell you to, word for word. No exception. I needn't remind you of the penalty for failure to comply?" He shot a glance at Clair.
Begrudgingly, Beovhan had no choice but to accept, so he grabbed a quill on the table, the clean parchment, and placed it in front of him to write.
"Now," began Sygil. "Write after me."
"I, Beovhan Juda Augustus, hereby pass inheritance to my successor, Sygil Amadeus, complete and full ownership of all properties, assets and labour previously and currently owned, including the town of Merigold, as decreed by the Bill of Sale approved by King Ramposa III.
All financial, property and labour assets are formally recognised as belonging to Sygil Amadeus, and to do with as he deems appropriate.
Signed: _ ."
Sygil spoke slowly and deliberately to allow for Beovhan to keep up with writing. After several minutes of waiting for Beovhan to finish transcribing, Sygil took the unsigned but otherwise completed new deed from him to read and confirm.
Everything was written exactly as he specified, so he allowed a satisfied smile to creep onto his face.
He gently sat the new deed down besides the old one.
"Now that we have done the first part, we are all going to sign it, and you are going to stamp your seal upon the deed to further legitimise it." It was an order stated as fact.
"You can't be so preposterous so as to assume you can get away with this ridiculous crime you are committing," shot Beovhan.
"Crime you say? Oh my dear friend, this isn't a crime, this is a simple business transaction whereupon you have agreed to transfer all of your assets and property to me as part of an inheritance. And you are going to agree to it, especially if you value you and your wife's life…."
"This farce of a contract would never hold valid under a Court of Nobles! It's obvious to anyone that you have forced us to do this under duress! We have rights within the system, and you will not get away with this!" By now, Beovhan was snarling at him, some spittle flying.
Sygil couldn't help but be amused at Beovhan's hypocrisy.
"Rights, you say? Like the rights you afforded your labour task? Kidnapping, enslavement, sterilisation, torture and sexual slavery? Those rights?"
By now, Sygil was laughing.
"Ah, that made my day. But," Sygil's laughter began to fade, "you are still a hypocrite."
Clair shot a hateful look in direction. "So we should accept you trying to rob us of everything?! Even though you are doing exactly what you are preaching is 'wrong'?!"
"Yes. Because unlike you, I haven't lied. My intentions are always honest. Whether they are harmful or not is subjective to perspective, but I never lie, especially to myself. Such dishonesty is a disservice to one's goals."
Sygil shot a hardened glare at the couple before him.
"No matter the pathway you choose in life, you should always commit to it with unwavering devotion. Don't dare try to hide behind your choices with false words and lies! You chose to seek personal benefit via exploitation, but now that you are no longer in control, you try to lie, not only to me, but yourselves! That is just pathetic, and proves you are nothing more than a coward. You have committed yourselves to this path, so you should accept its outcome, no matter what it is. After all, you reap what you sow."
He leaned back in the chair slowly, locking eyes with Beovhan. "I know that despite everything, we are all made of sin. We live a life based on sin, so for any of us to preach moral superiority is hypocritical from the get-go. The way I see it, karma is working its sweet way back to you."
"Then know that you'll get your comeuppance," spat Beovhan hatefully.
"Oh most likely," smirked Sygil. "However, I have to wait a little longer. You're first in line after all."
Leaning forward, he slid the new deed over to Beovhan and Clair.
"Now. I think it's due time you signed this." The whole time, he had a smug smile plastered on his face.
Beovhan slowly grasped the quill, shooting Sygil a filthy look as he reluctantly began to sign the parchment, before passing it to Clair.
"Contrary to what you might think, young man, this is not valid at all."
"But it is. You wrote it after all, and you have signed it." Clair finished signing it, so Sygil took it back and added his own signature. "Congratulations, and thank you for this wonderful business transaction. Your generosity is unparalleled." He shot a savage grin at Beovhan, just as knock on the door outside the office was heard.
"Ah, right on time," exclaimed Sygil. "Come in!"
The door opened to reveal Trisha alongside two mercenaries.
The mercenaries were both from the bar earlier. One was the woman with blond hair and emerald eyes, while the other was the large, muscular and heavily scarred mercenary sporting the buzz-cut and goatee.
"Please, come in everyone," gestured Sygil. Trisha entered and quickly stood to the side, while the two mercenaries uncertainly entered. That was, until they registered several things. The first was the sword Maxmillian had pressed against Clair's throat. The second was the two smoky shadow hounds sitting either side of the desk. The third was Sygil sitting behind the desk with a smug look on his face.
Instinctively, they both drew their swords, but before they could, the shadow hounds leapt up, ready to attack while Sygil spoke calmly.
"Welcome. Now before we get all jumpy and overreact, I would like to remind everyone that we are currently in a rather curious predicament, where violence is currently ill-advised. Please put away your swords, or you won't receive payment for your services."
The woman mercenary was quick to adopt a defensive stance, ready to defend and attack, while shooting a hard glare at Sygil.
"What are you talking about! Unhand Mr and Mrs Augustus right now!"
Sygil deftly grabbed the freshly signed deed, standing up to proudly hold it for the two mercenaries to see.
"Why, I am referring to the newly signed deed stating me to be the legal owner of this property effective immediately. That means I am now your new employer. So I suggest you lower your weapons, and please! Come see the deed for yourself. Maxmillian, release your sword from Clair. I am sure she knows it's futile to try anything."
Maxmillian did as he was told, and the two mercenaries cautiously strode forth, wary of the newcomers by the desk. The scarred mercenary leaned over to grab the new deed, glancing over it and noticing the signatures.
After both mercenaries finished reading over and confirming its authenticity, the same mercenary handed it back to Sygil. And then he spoke in a deep voice.
"We were hired by Beovhan, therefore our contract is with him. Not you. Now, I suggest you step away from these two, and come quietly with us."
Sygil couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, you fool. I own Beovhan's assets, including your pay. He can't pay you anything, not anymore. Therefore, your 'contract', is null and void."
The mercenary's eyes narrowed, and he spoke again.
"You are an upstart brat. Unless you have a death wish, stand down."
The hounds started to growl and snap their teeth, and Maxmillian placed a firm grip on Clair's shoulder, sabre at the ready.
Sygil wanted to facepalm at the mercenary's idiocy, but refrained from doing so.
"You're a mercenary. Your loyalty is to money only. Not to anyone or anything else."
The mercenaries both readied their swords, and the scarred one spoke again coldly. "We have a contract currently, and you are a threat."
Sygil sighed in exasperation, placing both hands on the table he was leaning over. "And you really want to go this way? Think carefully, because I don't offer second chances to employees."
The mercenary ignored him, and stated, "Stand down!"
The words had no sooner left his mouth when a materialised shadow spike erupted from the ground and impaled him from the posterior, running inside through his abdomen and chest and shooting out through his mouth and the bridge of his nose. A loud squelching sound could be heard from the piercing of flesh.
Clair and Beovhan looked on with shock , both of whom were tasting sweet freedom again. Meanwhile, the female mercenary was temporarily stunned and wondering what was going on, until Sygil spoke up disinterestedly.
"Now that's dealt with, I would like to know your thoughts on the matter. Are you soldier of fortune, or a loyalist?" His hard gaze bored into her eyes, testing her. And she knew the answer she should give. She was a mercenary after all.
"I'm a mercenary. Are you looking for my services?" She asked cautiously, hoping that was the right answer. Sygil looked at her satisfactorily. "Excellent. We'll discuss payment and your new contract shortly. For now, though, I want you to spread the word to your fellow mercenaries about your new employer, and have all of the slaves gathered in front of the house in fifteen minutes."
"Of course," she bowed quickly, before practically running out the door, leaving them all alone again.
Sygil allowed his smile to form into a frown. "That was rather lacklustre. Here I was hoping perhaps your mercenaries would prove more interesting, rather than so… mundane."
However, he clapped his hands, switching to a more happy expression.
"Regardless, let's first have a look through your financial records. Need to know what I am paying out for mercenaries and the slaves anyway." And with that, he turned around and began to carefully rummage through some of the paperwork, ignoring the protesting form Beovhan and Clair, eventually finding a stack of documentation relating to financial records.
He quickly hoisted the large, heavy stack onto the table, before rolling the two deeds and placing them in his pant pocket, the top part of the paper protruding out. He didn't want to crease them quite yet, after all.
"Let's see what you have here. Expenses, more expenses. Lodging, rent, food and water, more and more expenses…" He spent the next several minutes quickly skimming through the documents while Maxmillian and the hounds kept the couple at bay, keeping any protesting in check. Finally, Sygil found the document he was looking for. Or rather, it was a small stack of documents bound together.
"Ah, a categorised summary of all expenses, investments and profits on a monthly basis! Let's see what you have." He had an almost child-like excitement in his voice as started reading through the first page.
"Total earnings so far at 3,323,440 Gold." He glanced back up at Beovhan. "That's what you have saved up currently on you? Not bad. Let's see." He started to look through more of the financial records, noting monthly costs and how finances were distributed and to what, alongside variations in profits and losses. What he was looking for, however, was the payments for the mercenaries, alongside an additional costs covered and provided for.
"Ah, here it is! 6 gold per month per mercenary. 23 mercenaries, therefore… 138 gold a month, which equals… 1,656 gold a year. Not bad. Considering two are now dead, that means they can expect a slight pay increase. A fair trade off for switching employers, wouldn't you agree?" The question was rhetorical, but Beovhan answered it anyways.
"Fuck you."
Sygil merely rolled his eyes as he continued.
"Now, what's this? 40,000 Gold to be set aside every six months for undisclosed payments? Interesting. I wonder who to? Mind telling me what that is for, seeing as it is disclosed in here from what I can see?"
However, before he could get any answers, something else caught his eye.
"50 Gold per slave sold. Quantity last month, three?" He quickly looked at Trisha. "I didn't know he sold your sisters?"
However, she was quick to respond.
"He's never sold my sisters. We've always been kept together ever since we were enslaved. He always sells the other ones."
"Other ones?"
Beovhan was quick to hiss in anger. "Quiet you damned bitch!"
The shadow-hound closest to him however snarled at him, moving closer and thus causing him to press back into his chair.
"Actually, I would like to know, seeing as all of your former assets are now mine."
"That's none-" "- He drugs unsuspecting travellers and sells them as slaves," interjected Trisha.
Beovhan's eyes wanted burst from their sockets, and Clair made to stand up, wanting to desperately beat Trisha to a bloody pulp, but Maxmillian roughly held her down in her seat.
"Really now?" responded Sygil with fascination that seemed to only build dread in the pits of both Beovhan and Clair's stomachs.
"So, the magical tampering of our meal was related I assume?" Sygil already knew the answer, however, with everything beginning to click and make sense.
"No!" disputed the captive woman. Sygil just sneered at her.
"Did you really think such a simple trick would work on me. I haven't gotten this far in life by simply trusting people generously to the point that I would accept a meal from an overeager stranger."
However. "You dared to poison the Supreme Being?!" Maxmillian was seething, and before anyone could react, he delivered a fierce smack across Clair's face. She let out a painful yelp and was quick to hold her face, blood dripping from her nose.
Sygil merely frowned.
"This… this is problematic," he breathed out, pursing his lips. "We'll deal with this matter later, however." He shot a pointed look at Beovhan, before slowly walking around the table, leaving the paperwork lying on the desk.
"Right now, I have an announcement to make, and you're both going to help me with that."
Maxmillian hoisted Clair up, and Beovhan reluctantly followed suit.
"Trisha. Can you do me a small favour and grab my jacket if it is dry please? Then meet me outside."
Sygil then opened the door and began to walk out, with Maxmillian and Clair in tow, and Beovhan reluctantly following.
As Trisha left to go grab Sygil's jacket, Clair glanced over her shoulder to Beovhan, who merely nodded in affirmation.
He wasn't going to surrender his property and assets quite that easily…
Outside, the group of four were greeted with the sight of 21 armed mercenaries standing watch over more than 40 huddled slaves on the street. The street lamps illuminated everyone, bathing them all in amber light.
As Sygil strode forth, he called out to everyone rather loudly.
"Greetings everyone! My name's Sygil. For those of you wondering, I am now your new employer, as can be proven by this very deed which Mr Augustus both so generously wrote and signed." He held open for all to see the very parchment he had transcribed for him.
"As such, all financial and property assets, as well as conscripted labour, enslaved and hired alike, is now under my control." He observed a mix interested and disgruntled looks amongst the mercenaries, with the same woman mercenary standing in front of a group of mercenaries.
"Now, to first address the mercenaries. Your contractual obligations have been rearranged to the new owner of this property, which is me. That means, Mr Beovhan is unable to pay for your services any longer. Instead, your payment has been defaulted to be my responsibility. While we will discuss the new terms of service now that you are under my employ, I will say, there are several changes which you can anticipate."
A mercenary cut him off, however. "Yeah, for starters, I ain't working for some pish-posh snobby cunt that barely looks 30." Sygil redirected his attention to the mercenary that spoke as he stepped forth.
Like his fellow mercenaries, he was dressed head to toe in armour which concealed his identity, and he wielded a rather large battleaxe strapped to his back.
"I was hired by Mr Augustus, not you, so you can shove your proposition up your fucking ass!"
Sygil chuckled. "That is fine. If you wish to leave, I'd much prefer so than deal with the headache of a loyalist. Though be warned, if you try to stop me, it won't end well…."
Sygil tore his gaze from the mercenary and glazed over everyone else. "Regardless, for those who wish to earn substantial money, I am looking to contract your services. And that includes the now former slaves."
That seemed to garner some murmurs, though Sygil continued.
"For those of you enslaved, I am offering you your freedom, safety and protection, in exchange for loyalty which will be rewarded. You will be paid for your services" – "This is preposterous!"
Another mercenary interrupted him this time. "Why should we listen to you? Who the fuck are you anyway?"
"Yeah, for starters, these animals should be lucky to be kept alive, and now you want to free them?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
Another mercenary began to speak up. "Who the fuck put you in charge."
"I am in charge because I am hiring your services, and only I can currently pay you since I am the legal owner of all of Beovhan's property and assets, including his financial. So unless you'd fancy losing your paycheck, I suggest you listen." Sygil narrowed his eyes, his voice hardening.
"And the slaves are to be freed, because that is what I said so." All of the slaves were looking at him with curiosity. He noted that they were all female, adorning the same animal features as from Gallheia's tribe.
He could hear footsteps from behind, and turning his head, he was greeted with Trisha arriving with his jacket.
"Ah, thank you," he relieved her of his jacket, placing it on and buttoning it up. It was mostly dry, though a couple parts were mildly damp, but he paid it no heed.
"Now, for those true mercenaries amongst you who are willing to take on a new contract with higher pay, I suggest you strongly consider whether or not you'd serve someone with no money anymore, or someone who can offer you better opportunity and put your services to real use. What will it be?"
Some of the mercenaries began to murmur and talk amongst themselves. They had just recently been informed that Sygil had legally taken control of Beovhan's assets and was now technically in control of the finances. However, there was some discontent. He was no more than a bandit to some, who had just taken everything though thievery and brute force. Besides, their contract was technically to Beovhan, not him.
"Now Clair," began Sygil redirecting his attention to the pregnant woman. "I made a promise to Trisha, and by extent to her enslaved sisters."
That caught the attention of many of the slaves and some of the mercenaries.
"I want you to undo he magical seals on the slaves, starting with Trisha."
At first, Clair didn't respond, but then, she slowly started to chuckle. "He… he…. Hehe… hehehe!"
Sygil couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at her antics as she began to madly laugh.
"And why should I listen to you?!"
At that, both Sygil and Maxmillian's eyes narrowed.
"These slaves are mine and my husband's property. Not yours. And the same goes for the mercenaries. We hired them, not you!"
Beovhan was the next to step up and speak confidently.
"Exactly! You might think just because you have a piece of paper you own everything, but the truth of the matter is, the real world isn't so fair. I paid for these mercenaries, so they are loyal to me!" There was a fresh fire in his eyes, and several of the mercenaries seemed to become rather motivated at that, beginning to brandish some of their weapons.
Clair wheeled on Sygil and spat in his face. "Precisely!" Sygil instinctively waved a placating hand to prevent Maxmillian from going ballistic.
"I put those seals on those miserable savages to keep them in check for a reason. They are designed to be nearly impossible to remove! Besides," she placed a hand on her hip arrogantly. "Even if they could be removed, I don't want to. You can't force me to do anything. Any of us." By now, she was sporting a smirk of her own.
Several of the mercenaries stepped forth with their weapons, about five counted Sygil.
Trisha cautiously stepped back a little, while Beovhan moved slightly behind Sygil, who raised a finger as if to lecture.
"First, let's make something clear. They are mercenaries, not your own personal royal guard. Their true loyalties are, and always will lie, to money. Which is something only I now possess."
Clair raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"Secondly, that piece of paper proves to the whole world that I now own this property and all of its assets. Whether you like it or not. And thirdly, if you can build something, then you can most certainly destroy it."
His eyes bore straight into her very own. "You put the seals on them, you can remove them. And whether you like it or not, you will remove them."
Beovhan's chuckling suddenly rang through the air as the same five mercenaries started to walk closer weapons brandished.
"That's a good one! However, I think we've all had enough of this charade. If you surrender, then perhaps your fate might be more lenient." There was no mistaking the confidence behind Beovhan's words.
Sygil paid them no heed, however, focusing his attention on the five mercenaries that beginning to form a semi-circle around him and Maxmillian.
"So, are you five loyalists then? More loyal to Beovhan than to coin?"
Most of the mercenaries where standing back, either out of curiosity, a change of heart, or the belief that this fiasco was about to come to a close.
"Oh we're loyal to coin. It's just we prefer people we know that can pay us, and I doubt you can kid," came the muffled voice of an older mercenary wielding a double-handed longsword.
"I see then, so you've made your choice then. That's unfortunate." Sygil's voice almost sounded sad as looked slightly downcast. And then he looked back up coldly, with a voice of steel to match.
"Kill them."
Before anyone could contemplate what was said, the shadows around the five suddenly came to life.
Several predatory roars could be heard as three smoky silhouettes charged from the shadows, rapidly taking on the form of shadow-hounds.
Before the mercenaries could react, the hounds were upon them, and the onslaught began. Or rather, the one-sided slaughter.
One mercenary flew backwards in an explosion of blood, as if a truck had rammed him full speed, spraying his blood far out into the street.
Another mercenary was savagely ripped in half, spilling blood and entrails everywhere with a scream, his armour doing nothing to protect him.
The other mercenaries fared no better, unable to attack or defend themselves, instead victims of a mindless massacre that was rigged from the start.
Everyone watched with a mixture of shock and horror. No-one could have predicted this, yet it was happening before their very eyes.
The mercenaries to the side were somewhat grateful that they weren't caught in the onslaught, as the shadow-hounds seemed only interested in those five mercenaries. The slaves only stared in dull surprise, though some were secretly glad to see the mercenaries brutally killed.
The screams quickly died down, with the hounds now busy just ripping apart the remains of the five bodies, turning the street into a stained crimson colour.
"Now that the loyalists are gone, let's –" Sygil didn't get to finish his speech when suddenly Beovhan produced a dagger from within his clothes, swinging overhead for a fatal backstab. As he did that, Clair suddenly ducked down and twisted to face Maxmillian, and with one word, cast her spell.
"[Fireball]".
Maxmillian's reactions were just as fast however, and before Beovhan could bring his stab down, he swung his sabre upwards fast and hard, slicing off Beovhan's knife-hand, sending a small spray of blood shooting up into the air like a small, temporary geyser. However, he was left vulnerable to the Fireball that suddenly engulfed him, covering him completely in flames.
By that point, some of the remaining mercenaries started to hesitantly reach for their weapons, unsure of whether to intervene at this stage or not. Sygil, however, was on Clair like a hawk.
With a single swift motion, he swept her legs from under, and as she fell, he shot his hand around her throat and roughly hoisted her into the air.
The flames on and around Maxmillian died down, and to everyone's surprise, he was unharmed. Even his clothes were unsinged.
He delivered a swift kick to Beovhan, sending him toppling over as he clutched his bloody stump, wailing in pain.
"Such a nuisance," gritted Sygil absentmindedly to himself, before roughly throwing Clair to the ground.
As she hit the ground, she noticed Maxmillian was unhurt and now standing over her, his sabre levelled at her throat.
"How… how are you still alive?!" She croaked, her throat sore from Sygil's vice-like grip.
"Did you really think such a weak spell would have any effect on me or my Creator? You foolish savage." There was no mistaking the contempt behind Maxmillian's words.
Sygil growled at Clair. "I warned you not to try anything, and yet you didn't want to listen."
By now, Clair was afraid. And none of the mercenaries were keen to intervene with the shadow-hound spacing hungrily between them and Clair.
"I gave you chance. Both of you. Yet, you didn't want to conform. Admirable, but foolish." He glanced at Trisha, who seemed somewhat jumpy when he called her name.
"Trisha. Come here please." She tentatively stepped forth.
He returned his focus back to Clair. "I want you to remove the seal on the slaves, starting with Trisha."
He turned around and began to walk where a whimpering Beovhan was.
"But, I can't! Even if I wanted to, the seals are designed to be nearly impossible to remove. It would take too long," she protested weakly.
Sygil roughly hauled Beovhan up, who struggled to break away from his iron grip.
"Then allow me to give you some motivation." With those words, he summoned his sabre, and before anyone could react, he thrust it deep into Beovhan's stomach, who let out a gurgle in pain. Clair couldn't help herself, she screamed in horror.
"BEOVHAN!"
Sygil let him drop down and curl into a ball, weakly clutching both his bloody stump of a hand and perforated stomach that was oozing blood.
"Like you said Beovhan. Life sometimes isn't fair." There was no remorse in his voice as he flicked the blood off of his sabre.
Clair tried to stand to rush to her husband, but a gesture from Sygil and Maxmillian roughly held her back.
Sygil slowly strode to her, dematerialising his sabre.
"I know you can use healing magic to treat him. And he'll need it, because your husband is going to die soon. Stomach injuries are some of the worst and most painful," he began analytically, ignoring Clair's distress.
"With each passing moment, more of his gastric acid is leaking into his body, burning it and causing unimaginable pain."
"Please," she pleased, her face becoming a ruined mixture of tears, snot and blood from earlier. "Please, let me help him!"
Syigl crouched down to her. "Well, you can," he goaded. "After you release the seal from Trisha. After she is completely freed. Then, you may go heal your husband."
She stared at him with tears in her eyes, wretched sobbing coming through. "But I can't. It's too hard to! Please! Just let me…." She choked on her own words, and Sygil stood up, staring at her devoid of emotion.
"Then consider this good motivation to succeed. And you better hurry too. He might not last long enough if you dawdle along."
Clair's sobbing could be heard, alongside Beovhan's moaning. The commotion had resulted in a few townspeople coming out to investigate, only to be shocked or disturbed at the carnage littering the street.
Some of the mercenaries had begun to quietly chatter amongst themselves, and were unsure of what to do when Sygil stepped up to where the slaves where, looking at the mercenaries slowly, before his eyes settled on the woman mercenary from early.
Slowly rubbing his hands, he decided to break the relative silence.
"So. About that proposition earlier. Who's looking for some work?"