Chapter 17:
"You lied to me," Billy growled. The princess glanced away, her face changing to a strange, ugly color like a day-old bruise. She could feel his rage, and she knew of nothing to soften his anger. She'd been so close, and now she felt as though she'd lost it all. On his side, Billy found himself recalling his father's words. This woman was handicapped. She was handicapped by her birth as a person of privilege in a world where so many people had only dirt. How often had Bonnie simply failed to see the immediacy of a problem until it was literally kicking her front door in?
"You must never lie to me again," he whispered. The humbled princess got down on her knees and swore that she wouldn't. "Full disclosure," he whispered. "Every gaffe. Every problem. Everything on the table. I will give you the same." Nodding, face flushing a vibrant purple, Hamest swore that she would tell him everything. "Ok," he said. "We're going to get on an airship. This evening. Get your things packed." The Lizard Princess got up and rushed out of there like her hair was on fire.
Elsewhere in the palace, Nieve was throwing a Royal Tantrum. "My guards," she howled! "Y-you just gave him the only soldiers we had!" Odessa rolled her eyes. So much for learning valuable lessons. "You understand that those guards aren't worth much more than spit right now," she muttered? Nieve howled curses at her, but the older woman was unmoved. Her eyes were on the power she saw on the horizon. Finn the Human was holding fast to his power, but he was middle-aged and getting older. Young William was his first-born child and the obvious choice to inherit the throne. A part of her would have preferred the King's daughter, but that was her prejudices speaking. William was the clear favorite.
And William would need an heir some day.
Oh, there were a couple of Royal Brats in the queue ahead of any child Nieve might birth. Ragnhild, Abeiuwa, and Noemi had been working on the problem, with Ragnhild being particularly industrious. Still, things had a way of happening to Royal Children. If they played their cards right, a member of the Muscle Kingdom's Royal Clan might inherit the whole shebang someday. And this idiot was worrying over guards that were little more than ceremonial window-dressing right now. "Go to him," Odessa insisted! "Show him that you care!" Her voice was pitched to sound cheerful and encouraging, but there was an undercurrent of menace there. Odessa hadn't given up her bodyguards–far from it.
Nieve shut her mouth, as her grandmother talked her through how she was going to go down to her husband's office in something slinky and seduce him. They were going to get nasty on his desk, and she would get the Royal Baby her grammy so coveted. The young woman listened, but she was more shocked and terrified of the way things seemed to be getting away from her than lusty or excited.
Meanwhile, Billy himself had gone down to his office to find his lieutenant. The Froyo-person was, as usual, camped out behind his desk, looking over the day's business. He'd been carrying more since Billy got himself dragooned into doing his dad's job for a few weeks while Finn recovered. Organized to a fault, Leo had been doing just fine, taking the slack as if he'd been running multiple armies scattered across Ooo for his entire life.
The pale Froyo-person hardly glanced up from the document in his hands as he sardonically asked, "aren't you supposed to be honeymooning?" "I'm about as good at it as you are," Billy retorted. That made Leo Pedersen laugh. He and Lina had hardly gotten any time to themselves before getting dragged into another mad adventure. "Come down with orders for me to rush off somewhere," asked the older man?
Stopping before Leo's desk, Billy said, "nah, man. Need you here, actually." That made Leo frown. It hardly made sense, unless this was a social call. Billy was supposed to be honeymooning, so that was more or less out of the question. Even if you factored in what the younger man had actually been doing the past few days, it made little sense.
Sitting down, Billy laid out exactly what had happened to end his adventure in patience with Nieve. Leo found himself muttering curses. "You know she didn't get anything done, right," the soldier rumbled? Billy sighed heavily. "We talked," Billy replied, and it was clear from his tone that it hadn't been sweet-nothings. "I gotta' go get this straight, Leo," Billy sighed. "It's..." "Our open right flank," Leo replied. "The Tesla Barriers do us no good if somebody can just march around the southeast end and get on a few boats to cross the sea." And while that wasn't as simple as it sounded, it was hardly an insurmountable obstacle. Resting his arms on the table, Leo asked, "what're you going to do? You're only taking a few handfuls of men."
That was the sticking point. Billy didn't really know himself. He had a few options. He could do walls of ice. It was still cold enough that they'd last a while. Unfortunately, that was a very temporary answer. "That's why I need Lina to dig me up a qualified brain, Leo," Billy said. "Somebody who can be spared to go over to Lizard Kingdom to work up the extensions to the wall that they need to secure their capitol. If I can get the capitol secure, they have somewhere to fall back to." And Billy would have somewhere to send help. It was a decent plan for the information they had and the time available.
"In the mean-time," said Billy, "I need you working things with the Jungle Guard. If Nadia gets this Tesla-machine built for Jungle Kingdom, that will give us more troops we can put in the field. They won't be happy about coming north. That's going to make them prickly as fuck..." "...but they can maybe head into Purple Kingdom or act as a back-stop in Laurel Kingdom," Leo rumbled. Billy nodded. Just so. The Peanuts were decimated, but Ingrid was far more interested in getting back north and east to the barrier than going to Laurel Kingdom.
The two men broke off their conversation in favor of a trip down to the barracks to see what else they had to spare. They might find themselves rushing to the bandit kingdoms to deal with an incursion if things went sideways in Lizard Kingdom. They spent much of the afternoon there, with Billy returning to the palace late in the day, leaving him just enough time to pack. That was the task he was involved with when Nieve came into his quarters–the quarters he'd been sharing with another woman.
The young princess was dressed in a slinky black dress with no back, letting her firm, medium-sized boobies swing free. Her long black hair had been teased out just-so and glistened like obsidian threads. Billy, his mind on what he was likely to find in Lizard Kingdom, never slowed down. Nieve stood there a moment staring at him as he looked over his short-sword and daggers. "You're not even going to speak," she muttered. Billy finally looked up. Studying her a moment, he asked, "gramma?" Her face went hot. "You won't have to duck me for a while," said Billy as he hitched on his weapons. Her jaw hung, but the soldier was already moving, his mind on something more important than a failing marriage to a woman that wanted no part of him.
Shouldering his bag, Billy headed out. No more suits. It would be jeans and a shirt, and he was delighted. He wasn't sure how his dad had managed to get himself used to this. Of course, he'd be dipping out on all the annoying princesses and their endless complaints and requests too. Arriving downstairs, the big man found a car waiting on him with the leader of Nieve's bodyguards beside it.
And Hamest.
The Lizard Princess was standing beside the car looking both demur and fetching all at the same time in a severe grey dress. Her expression was strained, making her look older. He could see the distress from ten feet away. Ah, the mess that was a woman. The young prince strode up and slipped his arm around her waist before kissing her cheek. She was trembling, and the gesture calmed her somewhat. Taking her bag, the young man headed around to the back of the car and handed the two bags to the driver. Taking the princess by the arm, he helped her get settled inside before sitting down beside her.
"Not used to this, eh," he asked? The thin woman shook her head. She was barely used to the idea of riding on a train. But she was from the edge of civilization. She'd only seen airships as they flew over her land headed elsewhere. Rarely, they'd deigned to land in her homeland to trade. She'd never been aboard one herself. Billy took her hand and held it as if to say, 'everything's going to be ok'.
Meanwhile, in the Grey Forest, Bronwyn sat staring at a ledger book and seeing nothing on the page. Her mind wasn't on the figures contained within. Her mind had been returning to the business of Barry's death again and again. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. She kept going back to the strange conversation she'd had with the dead man occupying the nymphs' jail. She didn't understand him or any of this.
She couldn't understand how a man could accept that his wife cheated on him like that. She'd grown up thinking that a man and a woman got married. They raised their kids together, grew old with each other, and moved on to Dead World. That was what life was supposed to be. She'd seen how strangely complicated it could get with her adoptive grand-uncle. Finn had been married to two women for most of her life. At the same time, she'd lived in what she thought was a pretty conventional family.
As she'd grown older, she'd begun to see things that she hadn't recognized before. She'd come to realize what it was that nymphs really did when she'd caught her father with one when she was fourteen. Nymphs were ho's. They would fuck anybody–especially if there was money on the table. She'd developed an ugly contempt for Finn's second wife and daughter. She could hardly understand how Simone put up with the pair or why she would accept them in her house. Bronwyn had just assumed Finn had her cowed or something. The idea that maybe Simone really did care for the pair was alien. It had been at least until she'd encountered Roger Abel.
The humanoid had been Darcy's willing dog–tolerating all her abusive antics–as she philandered her way through life, dining on fine food while he was out earning their living in the dirty, dusty world of the hunter. He'd been shocked, horrified, and grief-stricken to find out that someone had murdered the little bitch, and Bronwyn was sure he wasn't faking the reaction. He'd loved that little cretin. So why would he murder her? And if he didn't, who had?
Rising, the plush puppy put the ledgers and documents aside. This wasn't making sense, and things that didn't make sense had the capacity to drive her straight up the wall. Patrick and Fionna were doing nothing to help on the matter, having repeatedly stated that it was an 'internal matter' for the wood-nymphs to deal with. Really, Bronwyn thought that Fionna cared more about her precious wall than the murder of one party-bear. If she wanted this solved, Bronwyn was going to have to solve it herself.
It was odd but strangely liberating not to have a chauffeured car waiting on her when she exited the rather rustic hotel she called home just now. She'd grown up with this life, and she would have to admit to having been spoiled. She was a spoiled child, used to fine things, and that had somewhat contributed to her loneliness. It was going to take a lot of husband to manage her, and she was well aware of that fact. In her mind's eye, she saw him–a big, manly fellow swollen-up with muscles, old enough to be worldly, and young enough to appreciate a beautiful woman. And rich. She'd told a couple of would-be suitors to shove off because she knew she'd never be happy enough with them to make them happy with her. Why make two people miserable? In the right now, living in this primitive shithole was a kind of grand adventure.
The heiress headed across town through late evening traffic. This excursion was as much about clearing her head as about the investigation. As she took the turns, she found herself thinking about Fionna of all people. Fi was married. Fi had kids. She was younger, but she had a family. Bronwyn envied her happiness even if it kinda-sorta looked like she'd settled. Happy is happy, Bronwyn, she thought. Even Star seemed happy with her gangster.
Pulling up outside the rooming house, the plump half-bear got out and stood staring up at the window. Vivian had been inconsolable. Her serial-philandering shitbag of a husband had gotten his just desserts, and she was left crying. It felt, to Bronwyn, that she was missing several lessons here. The only unhappy soul seemed to be her. Muttering curses, the plush puppy headed up the walk and knocked on the door. It took a long, long while for the landlady to answer the door.
"Hi," said Bronwyn. "I think I missed something when I was cleaning out my employee's shit." The old nymph frowned at her a moment. "I just... need to look in the room one last time," said Bronwyn in wheedling tones. After a pause where the half-bear considered pulling out her wallet, the old nymph relented. Bronwyn swept in, skirt swishing, heels thumping on the worn floor. She immediately headed for the stairs. This place, like so much in this mad little land, was poorly built and fitted by a hand that seemed to have swayed back and forth between calm lucidity and madness.
Nymphs used to drug their husbands. She remembered that from somewhere. They drugged men to make them compliant. At least they had, until Finn's wife came on the scene. Emeraude the enigma. That was what some whispered in this place. She was the most un-nymph-like nymph in history. She'd had seemingly as much contempt for her kind as Bronwyn did. It seemed mad, but the little madwoman was changing this place. For the better. Bronwyn would have had to admit that Emeraude–'E'–wasn't what, or who, she'd thought.
Arriving in the still-wrecked scene of the crime, the pretty half-bear stood there in the entry, staring around her, seeing nothing. What was she missing? Something was wrong here? Why would someone murder Darcy Abel? If her husband didn't kill her, why would someone want to murder her? Nobody should want to kill a nobody like Darcy. She wasn't important to anybody except Roger Abel. And Roger was just as much a nobody–a patsy for nymphs, brought here as a glorified slave and so accustomed to his enslavement that he'd stayed on after being freed. They'd just murdered her and thrown her body on the floor like she simply didn't matter.
The thought hit her like a stroke of lightning. It was Barry who'd taken the brunt of the violence. It was Barry who'd been stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. Darcy had been treated like so much collateral damage–killed for the crime of just being in that room. It was completely out of character for a love-crime, unless the person was in love with Barry. More thoughts came unbidden, as she became more and more convinced that Barry had been the true target of the attack. They'd all been focused on Darcy and Roger because, on the surface it made sense. Everybody knew that Darcy was cheating. If you didn't look deeper–if you never questioned Roger himself–you'd think that was it.
Somebody wanted Barry dead, thought Bronwyn, really, really dead. But who? Vivi had been on the Island of the Bears the whole time. She was with their family, with an unshakable alibi. She was the most likely person to want the fool dead. Barry was a nobody–only interesting because of who he worked for. It was a thought–an epiphany–that left her chilled. Barry had worked for her family for ten years. He didn't quite know where the bodies were buried, but he knew things that TRR didn't want to be widely known. Had someone compromised him? Did someone push him to talk? Or did he see something he shouldn't have?
Turning around, the pretty woman began asking questions of the landlady. The plump nymph did her best to answer, though she seemed a little reticent. Bronwyn found herself wondering if this woman weren't covering for someone. Paid off, thought the young woman? She'd done the deed a couple of times herself. That was one of the dirty jobs you did when you came in at the bottom and wanted to work your way up to partner. You went and squared away ugly little scandals. She knew what people looked like when they'd been poorly paid off. She always coached her little problems, teaching them just what they were to say when the inevitable questions came. Breaking off the conversation, the plush puppy headed for the door. Something was very wrong here, and she had a terrifying suspicion that Barry had paid with his life for something that her father was doing.
As the plush puppy drove away in her wreck of a rental-car, the landlady stood at her window, peering out through a crack in the curtains. She had her phone in her hand, in ernest conversation with the very interested parties that had paid her to forget the ugliness that had happened in her home. She'd had no idea that the murder would cause her so much grief. Nothing like this had ever happened in the past when she'd had to take part in something nasty. She'd not been able to rent the room since the murder happened, and now it was costing her money.
On the other end of that line, Gemma listened carefully and spoke in soothing tones to the fool woman. The last thing she needed was to spook the idiot and have her run to the Lawkeepers. It appeared that it was time to make another disappearance happen. She'd had to be careful about that. Emeraude was back, bringing Holly and Voletta with her. She'd be deep down in everybody's panties, checking up on things that her predecessors rarely cared about. Voletta, especially, would be a terror, hunting for any hint of a crime. "It'll be taken care of," Gemma burbled, in soothing tones. "You'll be paid. Don't worry about it. Right. I'll send somebody around." She hung up on the fool.
A half hour later, a pair of unsavory looking humanoids strolled up to the back door of the rooming house. Knocking on the door, the two men waited for the old woman to come down to meet them. Cracking the door open–you couldn't be too careful in the Grey Forest–the old nymph stared out at them. "Gemma sent us," said the ugly man on the left. He flashed a handful of gold coins. The greedy witch's eyes went wide, and she gleefully opened the door.
The second man had a different kind of payment hidden under his cloak. As the nymph reached for the coin, he rammed his dagger up under her gizzard and straight into her heart. At the same time, he grabbed her mouth, stifling her scream. The two men shoved the little bitch off the knife and back into the house. They'd have to work fast before anybody came looking. The name of the game was to chop her up and make the problem disappear.
As the two thugs moved into the house to tie off dangerous loose-ends, the Ice-Prince was closing in on his destination. The airship was one of the smaller machines that the Grid-Face people kept. The ride across the skies had been quite a bit different than Billy had been expecting. He'd expected the smaller ship to be much more nimble than the big, lumbering giant that Princess Nadia typically flew in. And while he appreciated the luxurious spaciousness of the Grid-Face Princess's travel arrangements, he sort of liked the idea of being nimble and able to get to places that others couldn't. At the same time he was a little surprised to find that this almost-dainty machine handled the skies not quite so well as the larger aircraft. In particular, it seemed almost to bounce when they hit a pocket of rough air.
Maybe it was skill. Nadia and her uncle were two of the most skilled pilots amongst their people. Billy found himself wondering if the two women flying this machine had the chops that Nadia had. They'd gotten the machine up in the air right enough, and they'd kept it in the air in the face of a pretty nasty storm that had blown up in their path. At the same time, well over half the troops in the cargo-box were sick, and Billy was a little green around the gills himself. Hamest had retired to the water-closet. And stayed there. Her first trip on an airship was not going well.
Hours into the trip, the crew came onto the intercom to announce that they were on final approach to the Lizard Kingdom. Billy hustled forward to get a good look at what he was dealing with. He hadn't let on, but he was worried. The three envoys had been traveling for days since the enemy army had been seen prowling the wilderness. Billy feared they'd arrive to find that the city was fallen and its people put to the sword. He had no idea what to do if that were true. It was a thought too awful to contemplate. Would have gotten at least a distress-call over radio, he thought. They should have seen something. No news was, in some ways, good news. Still, as the ship descended, he held his breath and crossed his fingers.
The small craft bounced and buffeted as it passed through layers of cloud, and a corner of Billy's mind wondered how the pair managed to steer without being able to see the ground. Still, his focus was outside, on the city, as they finally passed through the last layers of cloud. He could see layers of dirty, late-season snow scattered on the ground. The fields around the city were still churned-up and muddy from the battle the previous year. The city itself looked much the same as before–with walls that stopped short of the sea, granaries and slaughter-houses out on the beaches and wharves, where they stood waiting to receive shipments from villages up the coast. The city was, in short, just as vulnerable as it had always been. Life was about to get very interesting.
Shorter upload this week. Setting up the next big crisis. Of course. And a little more busy with work. :p