Blood on the Sand
Chapter 12: The Balance of Power
Jon Ammens sat at the long white wood table looking over one of the first copies of his latest pamphlets. Below him, the printing presses were busy churning out the pamphlets to be distributed throughout Hueco Mundo. The noble families had ignored his pleas and so he would reach out to the common Low Arrancars, the more liberal minor lords, and the least established nobles.
"Does it meet with your approval?" the head-printer asked.
Jon looked up at the lanky Arrancar and smiled.
"It does. How many copies have you made thus far?"
"Approximately one hundred and fifty," the Arrancar replied. "We should have thrice that amount by the end of the shift with all of the presses working."
"Good. That means that we can begin distribution in the Southern Plains. I trust that many of the common Arrancars will be pleased to get away from Barrcae Rureaux's iron fist."
"Yes, and then they'll be free to choose their own leaders and representatives. Once the other lands see the possibility…"
"Revolution throughout Hueco Mundo," Jon said, relishing in the possibility. "The once great Houses will no longer rule with the old social superstitions. Instead, they will either help change the face of Hueco Mundo or be swept away."
"You sound almost sad about that."
"I would rather have our revolution be one of ideas and promises fulfilled; not by meaningless bloodshed. However, if bloodshed is necessary then so be it."
Sedem Sanctam
Sedem Sanctam was the center of the Faith and, as a result, was one of the grandest cities in Hueco Mundo, rivaling even Las Noches. Unlike Las Noches, the palaces and monuments were open to the night sky. However, they all paled to the grandeur of the Cathedrali Fidei.
It was made in the style of Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome with the statues of the Twelve Arrancar Saints and the Twelve Prophets surrounding the court where worshipers gathered with the silver dome shining above them, waiting for the great ornate doors to open. Inside, the worshipers would say their prayers to any member of the Twelve: the King, the Queen, the Father, the Mother, the Knight, the Maiden, the Cleric, the Crone, the Archer, the Huntress, the Smith, and the Weaver. However, there was a Thirteenth, one that no one prayed to, except assassins and the dying. This was the Faceless and there was no image devoted to this deity.
It was to the Thirteenth that Orexis Grindina was secretly praying to despite the statue of the King towering over him on his throne. His grip tightened on the message he had received, but he made sure that the item that came with the message was properly concealed and yet easy to reach for when the time came to use it.
"Illustrado Grindina," someone said.
Orexis looked up and saw that one of the Fraters, called the "Dirt-robes" by the Illustrado, was standing over him. Orexis thought he recognized him because of his dirty blonde hair, but decided that it didn't matter. The Fraters had no ambition except to feed the hungry and heal the sick. They cared nothing for rank or the rich trappings that came with being officials in the Faith.
"What is it?" Orexis asked.
"The Capataz wishes to see you in his chambers," the Frater said. "He says that it concerns a matter of great importance."
It probably concerns this war between four kings, Orexis thought.
"If the Capataz calls then I must follow."
Orexis followed the Frater. Worshipers were entering the Cathedral, prepared to say their prayers. He had a feeling that if the war progressed then the Warrior and the Mother would be the most popular deities, replacing the King and the Maiden.
The King brings justice. The Maiden brings love. The Warrior gives fortitude. The Mother gives comfort to her children, Orexis thought.
"Gentle Mother," one of the prayer asked, "please give comfort to my son in this time of strife. Embrace him in your loving arms. Let the sword not pierce him or the arrow strike him."
"There's going to be a lot more prayers like that," the Frater said. "I pray to the Queen to bring peace to the land."
"How do you think that will happen?" Orexis asked, not really interested.
"When the Faithful remember who was anointed to reign before the Five Houses rose from obscurity."
Orexis paused at that. According to legend it was the Five First Houses who were anointed to rule.
"What do you mean?" Orexis asked.
The Frater did not respond. Instead he gestured to a staircase leading to the Capataz's chambers.
"This is far as I go," the Frater said.
Orexis nodded and watched the Frater leave. He sighed and ascended the stairs until he reached the wooden door at the top. He opened it onto a long hall that was lit by candles. He walked down the hall, not looking at the tapestries on either side. He felt uneasy with how deserted the hall was. Normally there would be chamberlains and Illustrado in the hall going about their usual business.
It made him wonder why the Capataz would summon him to a meeting this private.
When he opened the gilded door to the Capataz's chambers he was not surprised to see the old man waiting for him at the table.
"Illustrado Grindina," the old man said and nodded.
"Capataz," Orexis said and bowed. "What purpose may I serve you?"
"Please, sit," the Capataz said and gestured to the chair across from him.
Orexis nodded and sat down. The two men sat in silence for a moment.
"The reason I called you for this private meeting is to discuss the matter of who the Church is to support."
I knew it, Orexis thought.
"Why would you wish to speak to me about this?"
"It has reached my attention that you've been in conference with Phayne Andjo."
"Wh-what do you mean, Capataz? Why would I…?"
The Capataz held up a hand and glared at Orexis. Orexis fell silent.
"I know that you've been contacting Phayne Andjo, trying to make a bargain. However, I forbade any of the clergy to reach out to any of the claimants to the Throne of Las Noches. I made it clear that the Church will remain neutral throughout this ordeal. The Church is for all.
"Yet Phayne Andjo would try to use us for his puppet. If he succeeds then the Church will no longer be the instrument of the Twelve, but rather the instrument of a corrupt king.
"I will not let the Church become a whore to any monarch."
"So, you called me here to scold me?" Orexis asked, his anger was building in him.
"I called you here to give you a chance to repent from the sin of greed. You are an Illustrado, as I was, and I would hate for an Illustrado to make a whore of the Holy Church to an ambitious lord. It is our duty to maintain the purity of the Church."
Sorry, old man, but the Church has lost its chastity a long time ago, Orexis thought.
"Tell me," Orexis said, "how pure was the Church during the Leonisran Dynasty? Did the Church not make deals with the golden lion to ensure it would remain in a position of power?"
"That is not the point," the Capataz said.
"Oh, isn't it? Did you not make a deal with Reygal Leonisra and another with Baraggan Luisenbarn to secure your office?"
"H-how did…?"
"Does that really matter?" Orexis asked, enjoying the fear on the Capataz's face. "What matters is that I know and there are certain pieces of evidence that may find their way to the Council. Now, I know that most of the Council members are just as corrupt as you, but they'll be more than willing to overthrow you in order to keep their secrets hidden. Those who aren't corrupt will force you out in order to maintain the 'Sanctity of the Office.'"
The Capataz was silent and, for a moment, Orexis thought he had him.
"So, you'll be willing to blackmail me," the Capataz said. "You're willing to use information that means nothing."
"What?"
"My dealings with Reygal Leonisra and Baraggan Luisenbarn are well-known among the more senior officers. They could have voted against me, but they did not. Instead, they all understood that my dealings were for the greater good of the Faith. Your dealings, however, are for your own personal gain.
"I know that you always wanted my position. You thought that you were so clever in keeping it hidden from me. Unfortunately, you're just like your brother: too full of appetite to be able to do any real thinking. If you agree with Phayne Andjo then he will use you as a marionette. You'll be bending your ass to him so that he could impale you with his cock."
Orexis sighed and looked down at the old man.
"Do you honestly think that you will keep your position for long? You may know about my dealings with Phayne Andjo, but you don't know about his plans."
Orexis took out the letter from his robes and put it on the table.
The Capataz took the letter and opened it. As he read, his eyes widened. He looked up at Orexis who was now leaning close to the old man.
"Your days are done, you old fool," he said as he grabbed the old man by the robes with one hand and took out the small capsule that came with the letter with the other. He forced it into the old man's mouth where the saliva would dissolve the coating to release the poison.
The letter itself only had two sentences above Phayne Andjo's signature and seal: "No obstacles remain to take the Church except the Capataz. This will make it quick and look natural."
Orexis waited for the old man to die before taking the body to the bed chamber.
The Crossing
"You…Bastard!" Cirucci yelled and slapped Skullak across the face.
Skullak raised a hand and rubbed the sore cheek.
"Ow, Cirucci, that hurt."
"Good. I'm glad."
"But…why did you…?"
"You're just going to give me up so that way you could get that old bastard's support. You…"
"Cirucci, you don't know the whole…"
"Oh, I know. The throne is more important than me. I never thought that you would…"
"Lady Sanderwicci, please, calm down," Avery Gilga said. "The only reason why Skullak agreed to it was because I advised him to."
Cirucci looked at Avery, eyes wide.
"Y-y-you? What do you…?"
"I know enough about my father to know that if Skullak didn't agree right away then he would take it personally."
"He would do the same thing if he decided not to go through with it, right?" Cirucci demanded.
"Naturally, but if my brother, Stevan, was to decide to not go through with it then Skullak would not have to follow through on his end of the deal," Avery said.
"However, Ecydis would have to keep his end of the bargain in order to avoid the open enmity of the other Houses," Skullak said. "Avery knew that the spies from the other Houses would overhear the deal and Ecydis knows this."
"How does that help you?" Cirucci asked.
"It's quite simple," Avery said. "My father is worried that some of the other Houses could form an alliance to build a canal that would bypass the Crossing altogether. Right now it's only four of the more Minor Houses talking about it, but if my father was to do something against one of the Major Houses in the open, such as breaking a contract, then a couple of Major Houses could get involved."
"That way it could provide the funds to make the canal a reality and that will cause the Old Scorpion's stranglehold on trade to fall apart," Skullak said, smiling.
"What if Stevan decides to go through with it? He accepted the proposal," Cirucci said.
"Trust me, Stevan will not marry you," Avery said, smiling.
Cirucci didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted.
"It's nothing against you," Avery continued. "My brother just doesn't like the prospect of marriage. He's…not like many of the other Gilgas."
"What do you mean? Is he…you know?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Avery said shaking his head while trying to keep from laughing. "He just has no libido of any kind. He prefers a good business deal over carnal delights. The only thing that rivals a business deal for his amusement is making father as miserable as possible. The idea of a canal that could leech the Old Scorpion dry was more than enough to get him to side with us. After all, it gives him an alternative to facing father in open combat."
"That's…devious and brilliant," Cirucci said.
"It's merely being practical," Avery said and smiled. "Father will be trapped in a bind and he walked right into it. Skullak, you have the support of House Gilga regardless of what happens. My father may be a pompous hedonist, but he's not foolish enough to break a promise he made in the presence of witnesses. Now, which of your opponents do you want to focus on?"
Nido de Víboras
Vallae sat next to Barrcae's throne, becoming ill with the sight of many of the same companies who once swore allegiance to her father swear allegiance to the Black Viper of House Rureaux. Barrcae looked anxious.
Obviously the failure to get the support of some of the more Major Houses is gnawing at him. Good.
"The Company of the Scarlet Sword swears allegiance to House Rureaux," the dark-skinned man dressed in bright scarlet robes over dark grey armor said as he knelt.
"Emperor Rureaux accepts your fealty," Barrcae said. "Rise and serve your Emperor."
The dark-skinned man nodded and took his place at the base of the dais with the other mercenary commanders who had already sworn their oaths of fealty. Vallae looked to where Lord Reighardt stood ready to announce the next name on the parchment.
"Announcing Gerr Hoyt, leader of the Blood Goats," Lord Reighardt announced.
Vallae was repulsed by the man who came forward. He was tall and lanky, dressed in a ratty brown coat over rusting armor. About his neck he wore a necklace made of coins and another of rotting fingers dangling from braided locks of hair. He wore a cloak made from the skin of goats with a goat head serving as a hood; its horns were stained with dried blood and decorated with scalps. His mask fragment was in the form of four goat horns protruding from either side of his head. However, this was not what repulsed her.
She was repulsed by his face. His eyes were maroon flecked with black and seemed to nearly bulge out of his head. His nose was large and bulbous; places where the veins burst could be clearly seen. He sported a long, thin white goatee with gold rings tied by the strands of hair at the bottom. His long, oily black hair was framed his thin face. His large, purple tongue darted out from between his thick bruised lips to lick at the cold sores at the corners of his mouth. He made an awkward bow.
"Thire," he said in a bleating voice with a heavy lisp that seemed almost comical. "The Blood Goadth have come to thwear their oath of loyalty and rethieve proper compenthation."
There were some snickers from those assembled. Hoyt straightened and looked around as though daring any to continue. His maroon eyes flashed their hatred and Vallae felt a chill run up her spine.
He may not look like much, but he is dangerous, she thought.
"Gerr Hoyt, it is not your place to talk about compensation in my presence. You shall do that when I summon you," Barrcae said. "Is that clear?"
Hoyt looked back at Barrcae and bowed.
"Yeth thire, yar clear ath crythtal."
Someone laughed. Vallae did not see where the small throwing knife came from, but one moment one of the commanders was laughing and the next there was a knife sprouting from his forehead. The man dropped dead.
"NO ONE LAUGHTH AT ME!" Hoyt shouted. "NO ONE, YUH THNIGGERING FOOLTH! NEKTHT ONE WHO LAUGHTH WILL BE GUTTED AND I SHALL MAKE A THACRIFITHE OF THEIR CORPTH TO GET FUCKED BY MY MEN! ITH THAT FUCKING CLEAR?"
No one laughed. They looked at him in terror and then looked to Barrcae. Barrcae's face maintained some semblance of calm, but Vallae could see that he was struggling to control his temper.
"Hoyt, the next time you unsheathe a blade in my presence will be your last. Is that clear?"
Hoyt looked at Barrcae and was about to say something, but stopped. It was as if he knew that if he said anything then he could say "goodbye" to any profit he would expect, if he was lucky. Instead, he bowed. After he swore the oath of fealty to Barrcae he stood with the other commanders who did their best not to look at him. After all of the other mercenary commanders who were present had sworn their oaths of loyalty, Barrcae had them line up in front of the dais. Barrcae rose and raised his halberd over them.
"Commanders, I accept all of your oaths of loyalty and I shall hold you to them," Barrcae said. "Now, some may say that the wisest course is for me to stay low." He looked at Reighardt who adjusted his pince-nez before looking down at his feet. "However, such caution is a sign of weakness. Every victory I achieve will prove that I am worthy of the throne. My first aim is to crush Felix Marceaux as he is the most powerful rival at the moment. To do so, I must first defeat his brother in battle and put his head on a spike."
High Tower Pass, The Eastern Mountains
War drums beat and war horns sounded from the other side of the pass as Julius Marceaux observed the Andjo forces. The standard of the golden double-headed eagle on a midnight blue field of House Marceaux fluttered in the wind beside him.
His face grim and the slightly hooked beak of his mask fragment made it look even more austere. He wore a dark blue uniform with grey trim. Two gold double-headed eagles were embroidered at the front of his collar. His iron grey hair was neatly trimmed except for the back that was allowed to grow out and be tied back with a black silk ribbon.
"Commander, the Andjo forces are preparing to make their move," the officer standing next to him said.
"I see," Julius said as he turned to face the officer. "What are the odds of victory?"
"Sir, their forces outnumber ours three-to-one instead of eleven-to-one as originally anticipated. It would appear that Phayne Andjo has sent some of his forces elsewhere or the reports were exaggerated."
Julius nodded. The odds were leaning in his favor now. His brother had told him that he had to hold the pass at all costs and he would do so. It was his duty, as the younger brother, to follow Felix's orders, despite his brother's constant ingratitude. Even though Julius had helped his brother win victory after victory in the cloak-and-dagger world of the Eastern Mountains to become one of the most powerful men in Hueco Mundo, Felix always claimed those accomplishments as his own.
Well, you're not here, Felix, Julius thought. This victory shall be my accomplishment.
"Why wouldn't Phayne send out more forces?" another officer asked. "If he needs to gain the pass in order to link his main forces with the forces of his allies in the south, then he should have sent more forces here."
"The answer is simple," Julius said. "He doesn't know that I'm here.
"Have the order to go out that ordinary hollows are to keep their center-line busy until our flying units have had a chance to be saddled. When that has occurred, have the fliers attack the right flank. While they are doing that, have the regular infantry move to within range of using their Ceros against the enemy. Have them target the rocks on either side to create a nice landslide. That will divide the enemy forces nicely."
"As you command, sir," the officer said and saluted.
"Now, sound the drums of war," Julius said.
He put his hands behind his back as the drums began to sound. The Leonisra and Marceaux forces below began to line in formation, their banners fluttered in the wind whistling through the valley.
Great winged hollows with the heads of falcons with wings of blood-red feathers flew overhead in a series of V formations to their target. Julius watched the battle unfold. From time-to-time he would give orders via synchronized awareness with his ground commanders or with message runners for those who were unable to receive the messages.
Balas and Ceros lit the night. Loud explosions came as some of the bursts of spiritual energy struck the cliffs on either side of the battle field, causing large rockslides to crush many of the soldiers and hollows struggling in the valley. War horns began to sound as the order to charge was given. The Reiatsu of released Resurreccións filled the night as the two forces collided.
Julius was not surprised to see ranks break with some running so that they could live another night. Soldiers who were once lined in neat rows were now separated from their fellows, fighting against a storm of swords and balas. Like all hand-to-hand fighting, this battle had been reduced to a brawl. Arrancars were bashing in the heads of their enemies against the rocks while others were throwing wild punches.
Julius was familiar with the chaos of battle. He was a veteran of the wars fought between House Marceaux and their various enemies. He had started in the front lines where the fighting was hottest and survived every battle even though the Arrancars around him did not. Many of the soldiers would joke that if you were placed anywhere near Julius Marceaux then you might as well kiss your ass goodbye.
"Everyone knows that anyone placed anywhere near the Iron Eagle in a battle never survive. It's as though he has some angel who's shielding him, but is neglecting to extend the same courtesy to his neighbors," one man had joked.
The "Iron Eagle", his nickname. How long had it been since he heard anyone call him that? He couldn't remember, but he could remember the awe it had inspired. It gave the sense of strength and coldness that Julius wanted to convey. He was a Marceaux, a House known for its military prowess and political genius. While House Andjo began to fade into the pages of time, House Marceaux was a soaring eagle, rising in glory and looking down on all to find fresh prey.
Julius kept his hands behind his back and stood still despite the enemy ceros flying past him. For a moment he looked like an eagle perched at its aerie, ignoring flaming arrows fired at him. His gaze was focused on the collapsing center line of the enemy. He knew that once the front lines, where the bravest fighters were usually sent, collapsed then the rest would follow. The problem with using such ancient tactics was, despite being proven many times over to work, they were predictable and could thus be easily countered.
Julius nodded in approval when he saw that the Andjo forces were retreating. However, he did not smile. He rarely ever smiled.
The House of Guilds, Eastern Mountains
Darrien Braavos, head of the Congress of Guilds and representative of the Banca Guild, walked towards the meeting chamber. The letter in his smooth hands made the meeting a necessity. He understood that the way the Five Guilds voted would shift the balance of power. It had already been decided that the only two candidates vying for the throne of Las Noches they would support would either be Phayne Andjo or Felix Marceaux. The problem was that they could not reach a unanimous decision.
Hopefully this will change that, Darrien thought as he reached the tapestry displaying the signing of the Royal Charter with King Fer "the Iron Hand" Leonisra that made the Congress of Guilds the official economic power of Hueco Mundo.
He faced the door to the left. It was like many of the other doors: unadorned and made of wood imported from the World of the Living. He opened it and entered the room that was lit by candles and a fire in the hearth. He was not surprised to see the representatives of the Six Guilds present.
"Gentlemen and ladies," he said to the five assembled. "I'm glad that you were all able to make this meeting."
"Yes, yes," the representative of the Purple Guilds, the guild of clothing merchants and dyers, a thin woman with the mask fragment of a butterfly hair pin said as she waved one hand with the fingers painted light blue. "However, we are curious as to why you summoned us."
"Yes," the representative of the Red Guilds, who operated the brothels and taverns, said as he stroked his silvery beard. His lavender eyes narrowed. "I'm curious as to your reason, sir."
"I would think the answer is obvious," the representative of the Black Guilds, the guild of assassins and spies and the black markets, said. Her turquoise eyes shifted to Darrien. "You want us to make a decision on whom to support in regards to the throne."
"WHAT?" the fat man of the Green Guilds, the guild of farmers and spice merchants, roared. His three chins wobbled. "I thought we made it clear that we wouldn't make a final vote on the matter until one has achieved a decisive victory."
"True," the woman of the Grey Guilds, the guild of physicians and lawyers, said. She turned her thin and wrinkled face to Darrien. Her black hair was up in its usual bun with a silver spike holding it in place. "I suppose something has happened that requires our immediate attention."
"Correct," Darrien said. He held up the letter. "I have received word that the head of the Church of the Faith was found dead."
"What?" the representative of the Purple Guilds whispered. "How did he die?"
"I'm certain that they'll say his old age finally caught up with him," Darrien said, but he looked at the representative of the Black Guilds. "Wouldn't they?"
"I suppose," the representative replied, not betraying any sign of whether or not she knew of the true nature of the Capataz's death.
"Regardless," Darrien said, "he's dead and so now the Church is in need of a new Capataz. From what I understand, Orexis Grindina is eying the position and has made a deal with Phayne Andjo."
"What of it?" the representative of the Green Guilds asked. "What does this have to do with…?"
"It has everything to do with the struggle for power," the representative of the Red Guilds said and smiled. "It's a well-known fact that three of the greatest forces that shift the balance of power are organized religion and the whispers of a lover in bed. We control the latter and Phayne Andjo is looking to control the former."
"Still, how will that affect us?" the representative of the Green Guild demanded.
"Phayne Andjo is looking to dissolve his family's charter with us," Darrien said.
The five representatives looked at him. He was pleased to see the look of shock on some of their faces.
"Naturally," the representative of the Black Guilds said, nodding her head. "That's why he's going to the Faith, despite having taxed their clergy in his territories. He wants to make sure that he's pulling the strings."
Darrien could see that the others were putting the pieces in place. He knew that they would all soon reach the same conclusion that he had.
"Clever," the representative of the Red Guilds said. "Phayne Andjo will use the Church to establish a new Congress of Guilds, one that he'll control. Why try to control two powers in separate houses when he can control two that are in the same bed? If he's willing to dissolve his own family's charter with us then he will be most likely to dissolve the Royal Charter as well."
"If he does that, then we'll lose our authority," the representative of the Green Guilds said. He turned to Darrien. "We can't let that happen. We need to establish someone whom we can control."
"Who can we support, though?" the representative of the Purple Guilds asked. "Neither Phayne Andjo or Felix Marceaux will take our orders."
"Then don't give orders," Darrien said. "Give advice and give support. Phayne Andjo may be trying to break his family's charter with us, but Felix Marceaux isn't. Instead, Felix Marceaux is making offers to my Guild. He needs coin and he has a reputation of repaying the loan with interest, unlike the Andjos who continue to borrow without paying their previous debts. Felix Marceaux gives our agents positions in his court while Phayne Andjo closes the Guild Halls and imprisons the Guild Masters.
"Plus, Marceaux's father-in-law is Riccar Leonisra, one of the most powerful men in the Southern Plains.
"Between Phayne Andjo and Felix Marceaux, Marceaux is the better investment."
Darrien paused and looked at his fellow Guild Representatives. He could see that they were mulling over his words. He knew that way the others voted would determine if power would make Phayne Andjo unstoppable or give Felix Marceaux the advantage of the economic might of the Guilds.
"As representative of the White Guilds, the guilds of bankers and investors, and head of the Congress of Guilds I have decided to support Felix Marceaux. Now, it is time for you to make a decision. Remember, it must be unanimous," Darrien said.
None of the others spoke, at least not yet. Darrien understood that this was not a decision to take lightly.
"I see how it is," the representative of the Red Guilds said with a smile. "I, Gautier Artois, representative of the Red Guilds favor Felix Marceaux."
"I, Isabella Hirson, representative of the Black Guilds favor Felix Marceaux."
"I, Carra Flaurant, representative of the Grey Guilds favor Felix Marceaux."
"I, Leland Linker, representative of the Green Guilds favor Felix Marceaux."
There was a pause. All eyes turned on the representative of the Purple Guild who had one lacquered fingernail on her lips. She looked at them and smiled.
"I, Laurra Jaegerjaquez, representative of the Purple Guilds favor Felix Marceaux."
"The vote is unanimous," Darrien said. "The Congress of Guilds will favor Felix Marceaux."
Eagle's Peak
Clarice Leonisra Marceaux sat in the moonlit garden, reading the note that she received in secret at the Council of Houses. The look on her face would have taken anyone aback for this was a side that very few ever saw. Instead of her usual stern countenance, she looked truly happy. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling. Her smile was plainly the smile of a woman with a secret admirer. However, she knew this admirer. Had he not given her three sons in exchange for her favor?
It had been a long time since had had visited her, but he would see her soon.
I shall be on the hunt soon, the note read. No sword and no cero shall keep me from my sport. Nothing shall keep me from hunting the golden hare in the golden thickets on the mound. My arrow shall be true and strike the hot blood of its heart.
"Oh, I'm sure it will," Clarice said and gave a soft giggle.
There was a soft rustling sound from behind her. Clarice hid the message, fearing that it was her husband or, worse, her father. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was her lady-in-waiting, Marisa Redder, poking her head out of one of the bushes.
Marisa looked at her mistress with her large gold eyes. She looked like a girl in her teen years and liked to wear gowns of brightly-colored silk that were low-cut at the bust in order to display her well-endowed cleavage. Her mask fragment was a necklace with a single fang that she liked to paint in bright colors. She loved making crowns of flowers that she would wear as she went about her duties.
When asked why she wore the crown of flowers she would say that it was because she loved pretending to be a faerie princess. Some would shake their heads, thinking that it was a sign that she was soft in the head. However, Clarice knew that the young girl was not as innocent as many thought. Marissa had demonstrated her cunning many times over when it came to helping her lady meet with her paramour or smuggling secret letters to the other.
"My lady," the girl said.
"What are you doing in there?" Clarice asked.
"I was playing hide-and-seek with Selena. She's missing her father while he's out to war, fighting for his brother as usual. So I figured that I would play a game with her and some of the other children," Marissa said as she emerged from the bush.
Clarice was not surprised to see that the girl was wearing one of her flower crowns, this one made of silver-white moon roses and deep-purple wine blossoms. Marissa was wearing a gown of bright green silk with a powder-blue double-headed eagle embroidered at the right hip. The thin straps were tied behind her back, straining to keep her large breasts from spilling out.
"Oh, I thought it was because you had something for me," Clarice said.
"I do, my lady," Marissa said and reached into the cloth holding her right breast. She took out a small letter and held it out to her and smiled her sly smile. "It just arrived."
"Why you little fox," Clarice said, smiling her own smile. "One of these nights, I'll find out how you come by these."
Marissa sat on the bench and leaned in close to her lady, brushing one of her arms with a large breast.
"What does he have to say?" she asked.
"Marissa, I don't remember giving you leave to sit so close to me," Clarice said and glared at the young girl.
Marissa looked back at her lady and the two began to giggle. Then Marissa put a hand on Clarice's hand.
"Oh, the suspense is killing me," she said as Clarice opened the letter.
Clarice read and her eyes brightened. Her smile became wider.
"Well, what does it say?" Marissa asked.
"He's coming here," Clarice reported, holding the letter close to her bosom. "Finally, after so long…"
"You'll need my help again," Marissa said, leaping to her feet. "I'll distract the guards long enough for your knight-in-shining-armor to climb to your bed chambers," she said while pushing her breasts up to show exactly how she would accomplish such a feat.
"Just be careful," Clarice said. "We don't want my husband or father to become suspicious."
"I know," Marissa said as she rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, you know."
"I know you're not," Clarice said. "I suppose your own secret admirer has called you again."
"Yes. Honestly, that ass just can't seem to give me up, now can he?"
"I suppose he can't," Clarice said. "However, from what I've heard, men like to talk when they're happy. And you know how to make men very happy."
"Perhaps I can show you some of my tricks to try on your little admirer," Marissa said and giggled a little. "I know this one that I like to call the 'soaring hare.' I think your lover would like it."
"Maybe you can show me tonight," Clarice said.
"I know," Clarice said. "However, just don't forget to address me properly when we're not alone. I would hate to have to punish you in front of my husband again."
Marissa nodded her head and looked at the four fingers of her left hand where there should have been five.
Las Noches
"Ugh, when are they going to be back?" Friia asked and banged her head on the table in the Espada meeting room again.
"They'll be back when they'll be back," Selena Schiffer said as she put down a card on the table in front of Lyanna. "Lady of Roses trumps the Prince of Rods."
"Lucky," Lyanna said as she put another card on the table showing an eight of spades. "Damn, I was hoping for the Lord of Rods or Clovers."
"I win," Selena said as she dragged the sugar coins they were using as bets towards her.
"Don't get a sugar high," Conall said.
"What are you, my brother?" Selena said.
"We just don't want you going around and blowing up the place or something," Lyanna said.
"Whatever."
"Shouldn't you be training with Rudobon, Friia?" Wonderweiss asked.
"Nah, he's too busy giving orders to the Exequias and the Construcción in setting up the defenses," Friia said. "Mordrath's attack is really putting him on edge."
"Does he think think that there will be another assault right away?" Selena asked as she put one of the sugar coins in her mouth.
"You know Rudobon's motto: 'Keep your guard up,'" Friia said. "He thinks that there will be another attack soon. Las Noches is a big prize after all."
"True," Conall said, "but there are three others vying for power. They're probably too focused on each other to bother with us right now."
"There won't be three for very long," Wonderweiss whispered.
"Eh," Friia, who was closest to Wonderweiss, whispered. "What was that? Was it…another dream?"
"Something like that," Wonderweiss said.
"What did you see?" Friia asked.
"It's hard to say. There were so many images overlapping with only one or two images clear enough to make out."
"What does it mean?"
"I guess, when it comes to prophecy you see every possibility with only one or two being fulfilled. That's why there's no such thing as an inerrant prophet. Prophets are limited in what they're able to see and they often see in error."
"So, what was one of the clear images?"
Wonderweiss remained silent for a moment.
"Blood," he said. "I saw blood on black sand and a crown cloven in two. I think that one of the kings is going to be killed in battle pretty soon."
"Black sand," Friia said. "Where, in Hueco Mundo, is there black sand?"
"I don't know," Wonderweiss said. "Maybe it's just a metaphor or something."
"Yeah," Friia said.
"No more games," Lyanna said.
"Oh come on," Selena said, holding out the deck of cards, "just one more game."
"No. You'll just win, like always."
"Maybe we can watch that orange-haired human invade," Friia said and pointed at the lever in the wall. "I bet the usurpers didn't bother getting rid of the video before going to the World of the Living."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Conall said. "I mean, what if it…you know…"
"Oh," Friia said and glanced over at Selena. "Maybe that's not such a good idea."
"Oh, I know," Lyanna said. She looked at her younger brother. "Sing something for us."
"I can't sing," Conall said.
"Yes you can. I heard you when you were playing at the ruins of the old Starrk home. Surely you can sing something for us."
"Fine," Conall said. "Just let me think."
Conall remained silent for a moment and then began to sing.
As I walk down all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
One to t'other did say,
"Where shall we dine to-day?"
"In yon field amongst the brush,
I saw a new slain lord;
And nobody kens he lies there,
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair.
"His hound is to hunting gone,
His hawk has to the wild-fowl flown,
And his lady fair is to her lover's bed.
So we may dine tonight.
"Ye'll sit on his white breast and pike out his cold lips
And I shall roost upon his brow and pike out his dead eyes;
With the locks o' his hair beneath a golden crown
We'll fix our nest when he grows bare.
"Many shall mourn him,
But none shall ken where he is lain;
Save for his lady fair and her lover vain
Who now lay in his bed and drink his wine.
O'er his white bones, when they are bare,
The winds shall sing and we shall dine
On a feast of kings for evermair."
"Wow, that's a creepy song," Friia said. "Where did you learn it?"
"From a group of mummers," Conall said. "They stopped at Lobo de Plata on their way to the Eastern Mountains. My father let them sing for us at dinner, so long they stayed away from their more dirty songs like 'Bonny Black Hare' and 'In the Golden Thicket'."
"I don't remember them singing that song at dinner," Lyanna said.
"Do you think that Dad would approve of a song like that?" Conall asked. "I heard them singing it around their campfire. I don't know why, but it just kind of stuck."
"It's appropriate," Wonderweiss whispered. "When kings fight the only victors are the corbies who will feast on the flesh of the dead and make their nests among the ruins."
Sedem Sanctam
The gathered clergy of the Faith kept their heads bowed as Phayne Andjo entered the Hall of Thrones. The scent of burning incense filled the air, covering the scent of the Capataz's corpse lying on a bier covered in moon roses.
Those robes are more than you deserve, he thought as he looked at the robes of white silk with embroidery of gold and dark blue thread.
"Sire," Viceroy Corrin whispered. "I think it's considered bad form not to pay respects to the dead."
"I know," Phayne said.
He walked towards the body and looked down. A part of him wanted to gloat over the old man who had believed that he was superior to House Andjo. When Phayne began to tax the church officials in his territory, the Capataz excommunicated him and declared that Phayne would never achieve his ambitions. Yet, Phayne Andjo was on the verge of taking control over the Faith.
Next will be the Congress of Guilds, he thought. He believed that he had their support, but then he found out that the Congress was also backing Felix Marceaux. As a result he tore up the charter he made with them and closed all of their precious Guild Halls. This was war and the Congress of Guilds thought they could play both sides.
"Sir, do you wish to say a prayer for his soul?"
Phayne looked and saw one of the newly-deceased Capataz's servants standing next to him.
"No," Phayne said and turned to face the gathered clerics.
"Sire," Florens said, "I don't think…"
"Clerics," Phayne said, his voice echoing through the hall. He watched as the clergy raised their heads to look at him, clearly surprised at this interruption. "Now that I have your attention, I am hereby declaring that Sedem Sanctam is under my authority."
There was a murmur of shock and anger at it. The servant who was standing next to Phayne Andjo backed away as though he had become the Devil himself.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of the Illustrado demanded. "Who are you to…?"
Phayne didn't allow the man to continue. He drew out his sword and pressed the blade against the man's scrawny neck. The Illustrado looked at the blade and backed away.
"Accursed, accursed, accursed," the Illustrado said.
"Viceroy Corrin, arrest this man," Phayne said.
"What?" Corrin asked.
"Arrest him. That is an order from your Emperor," Phayne said. He rose is voice. "GUARDS!"
The guards he had brought into the Cathedrali Fidei rushed into the hall. The clerics began to become afraid when they saw the gleam of bare steel.
Phayne smiled. He saw that Orexis was also looking nervous. That was good. It meant that his puppet cared about his life and would do whatever it took to preserve it.
"Gentlemen," Phayne said as he ascended the steps to the golden throne where the Capataz would sit. "For centuries, only one who was appointed by the Council of Illustrado could sit on this throne." He turned and sat on the throne. The clerics looked as though a great abomination had just occurred, which it was for them. "Until now," Phayne said. "If you value your lives or your property or the future of your institutions then you will recognize my authority.
"Any who attempt to resist will be excommunicated."
"Pardon me," said one of the younger clerics, "but…by whose authority can you excommunicate a person?"
There were murmurs of agreement. Phayne smiled and pointed a finger at Orexis.
"You."
Orexis looked around, clearly more nervous than before, and stood.
"Uh…wh-what do you…do you…?"
"Tell me, what is the Church's tradition when a Capataz is dead?"
"W-w-well…" Orexis swallowed hard, getting his nerves under control.
Just do as we discussed, Phayne thought, and everything will go your way.
"Well, there is a precedence for this," Orexis said. "Six centuries ago the head of the First House took control in the time between the death of one Capataz and the ascension of the next. He was given all authority that befalls a Capataz. S-since Agneaux Andjo is not present then that right passes to you as his closes male kin."
"Thank you," Phayne said. "Until you anoint a new Capataz, then I am the Capataz. I will make myself perfectly clear, it will be in your best interest to anoint someone who will be willing to work with the Emperor in restoring peace and stability to Hueco Mundo."
No one said anything. Then Orexis stood.
"I think that we can all agree that peace and stability is the best thing for Hueco Mundo. However, these things come at a price. Sometimes, we have to work with those who we would deem to be our enemies under ordinary circumstances for the good of the realm."
How very true, Phayne thought, and saw that some of the other clerics were nodding in agreement.
The Church is mine.
Eagle's Peak
Felix Marceaux sat at the table of white wood in his study, reading over the latest messages he had received. He was not surprised to see that Phayne Andjo used the recent death of the Capataz to take control over the Church. It was not the first time in history that a lord used a time of crisis to take control of a major institution.
However, the letter he received from Darrien Braavos was more to his liking. The Congress of Guilds would give him their full support, so long as he remained a good investment in their eyes.
"The Harpy is remaining neutral," his valet, Vaar Del Socaccio, said. He looked up from the message he had been reading and placed it on the table.
Felix looked at his valet and was not surprised to see that he was wearing the midnight blue and gold uniform that many of House Marceaux's servants wore. His black hair was streaked with silver and his van dyke gleamed with the oil he used to keep it in a point. His mask fragment resembled an eye socket over the left eye that had a single horn curving into the right side of his scalp. His right brown eye seemed cold and distant but Felix knew that those eyes were alert, taking in everything.
Vaar Del Socaccio was the younger brother of Dordoni, however he did not have the Reiatsu required to accomplish any of the Espada power including, most embarrassing for his family, Resurrección. He was sent to serve House Marceaux where he demonstrated that Reiatsu was not the only way for an Arrancar to be powerful. He knew what his masters required and when they would require it, even before the former head chamberlain. As a result, he had quickly risen in the ranks of the household servants for House Marceaux to become Felix Marceaux's personal valet.
"Figures," Felix said. "House Merrin specializes in slaves, rather than warriors save for the Inpunctus of Gladius Harpyia."
"As you say, sir," Vaar said in his usual monotone. "However, one would have a great advantage with control over the Inpunctus."
"True. It would be easier to have even one squadron of the Inpunctus marching in my ranks. Even though they don't have their male-parts, they're still one of the best fighting forces in the world. Not even the Amazonians could defeat them in open combat.
"However, we don't need Merrin when we have the Guilds."
"Yes sir," Vaar said and held out a bit of parchment. "Your brother sends you word of his victory over the Andjo forces at High Tower Pass, sir."
Felix took the parchment and read it.
"Fine," he said. "What does he want me to do, give him another title?"
"Perhaps," Vaar said. "Perhaps he merely wants you to recognize his accomplishments."
"Have I not recognized his accomplishments enough?" Felix demanded. "It's not my fault that he thinks that I'm putting the laurels he has earned on my head. I give him land and titles as thanks for his efforts on my behalf. Yet he expects more out of me."
Vaar said nothing. He knew how the two brothers thought of each other. Both loved the other and yet, at the same time, hated each other. He supposed it had something to do with what happened on Julius Marceaux's wedding night, but it was not his place to bring it up.
Things would be a lot easier between them if they would only sit down and talk things through, Vaar thought and had to suppress a sigh.
He knew that the chance of that happening were slim. Whenever the two brothers did sit down, it would not take long before they started shouting at each other. The shouting matches usually ended with one brother storming out of the room and a long period of time of neither brother sending any correspondences to the other.
"What else do you have for me?" Felix asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Vaar asked.
"I know that you did not merely come to deliver a message from my brother. Does it have to do with that other matter?"
Vaar understood. He went to the door and made sure that no one was listening outside. When he was satisfied that there were no unwanted ears he closed the door and approached Felix. He reached into the pocket of his long grey coat with the gold and blue double-headed eagle embroidered on the left breast. He took out the sealed envelope and handed it to his lord.
Felix took the letter and broke the unadorned seal. He read the message, betraying no emotion. When he finished he looked at Vaar.
"It's looking as though my suspicions are justified," Felix said.
"Do you…wish for me to do something about it?" Vaar asked.
Felix leaned back in his chair, thinking the matter over. He shook his head in the negative.
"Not yet," he said. He stood and walked over to the hearth where a small fire blazed. He looked at the letter and then fed it to the flames. "Not until the right time," he said as he watched the letter burn. "When that time comes, I'll let you know."
Vaar bowed and turned to depart.
"Oh, one more thing," Felix said.
"Yes, my lord," Vaar said, looking over his shoulder. Felix was still looking at the fire.
"The boy you've been questioning is no longer useful. I fear that he's already given you all of the information he knows," Felix said. "Get rid of him."
"As you wish, sir," Vaar said and departed.
After Vaar departed, Felix went to the window and looked down at the gardens below. He watched as his wife played with some of the children, including his niece. He watched them until there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," he said, knowing who it was.
"You summoned me, my lord?"
"I did." He turned to face his visitor and walked towards her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers as one hand cupped one of her large breasts before pulling the fabric aside. "Your mistress doesn't know, does she?"
"Of course not," Marissa Redder said. She slid her hand to his crotch and could feel him stiffen. She squeezed and Felix let out a sigh of pleasure. "I know better than to tell her our little secret."
The Garden
Clarice looked at the window of her husband's study. She figured that, by now, Felix would have stripped Marissa completely naked and was probably having her bend over his desk so that he could take her from behind.
The way a hound takes a bitch, she thought and grimaced at the thought. He had her go into that same position many times over to where she figured that it was his favorite position.
Marissa had told her of what her husband had done after the first time he summoned her to him. She had permitted it as long as Marissa used her body to gather information on Felix Marceaux. Some of the information she would pass on to her father. Other pieces of information, however, she would keep to herself.
There was always one thing that Clarice wanted Marissa to find out, though: had he found out? If Felix did find out about her own indiscretion, then she would be forewarned.
And to be forewarned is to be forearmed, she thought.
"Aunt Clarice."
Clarice caught the ball thrown to her and smiled at the giggling girl. Dianna Marceaux, daughter of Julius Marceaux, smiled back. Clarice knew that, despite the hooked nose she had inherited from her father, that Dianna would become a real beauty with her hair as black as the night sky and her skin as pale as the sands of Las Noches. Dianna had the brilliant blue eyes that would cause men to melt. Even though Clarice did not like Julius, who always seemed to look at her as though she was nothing more than a back-alley whore, she did like Dianna.
"Joanne," Clarice said and threw the ball to one of the other girls.
Oh if only I gave birth to a girl, she thought. Perhaps, the next one will be.
That would be nice.
Even though she loved Henri, Gerard, and Reynal as her children, she always wanted a daughter. She wanted to have a child like the doll her mother had given her as a child, still developing into the Arrancar she would become. Then her mother died, killed while giving birth to a child who would not take his first breath. After that there were no more dolls and there was very little laughter in House Leonisra.
"It's time that you learn your place in this world as a Leonisra," her father had said when he told her that she would be getting married. She had protested. She didn't want to get married. She wanted to go with her brother into the army. Her father had grabbed her by the arm and dragged her. "ENOUGH!" he had roared at her, nearly causing her to break out in tears. "You're my daughter and you will obey me as you're supposed to. You will marry Felix Marceaux and I will hear no more complaints. YOU'RE A LIONESS, NOT A SHEEP!"
If I had a daughter, Clarice thought, then I would make sure that she got to have the childhood I never did. I would make sure that she got all of the dollies she wanted. I would…
"Clarice," a voice said.
The ball came soaring at her and she barely caught it before it struck her in the face. She looked up and the ball dropped from her hand.
"You came," she whispered.
All thoughts were driven away as she looked on her paramour and father of her three children. He was clad in a long black coat with gold trim. On his left breast were three silver daggers.
"My lady," Lyndon Reyvar said, bowing.
The Crossing
Antonin Schiffer and Lupos Starrk sat together in the dining hall, waiting for the servants to finish packing for the return journey to Las Noches.
"I wonder," Lupos said, "how long it will be until we're dragged into the war."
"Right now the other three are eyeing each other," Antonin said. "They won't attack Las Noches for a while. They'll want to eliminate each other first in order to ensure that their own lands will be safe before going after the main prize."
"Before seizing a castle, make sure your own is secure," Lupos said and nodded. "So far only Felix Marceaux and Phayne Andjo have made any real moves. Barrcae Rureaux is busy hiring a bunch of mercenaries, but I suspect he'll make a move soon."
"Yes, but will it be against us or against the Eastern Mountains?" Antonin said.
"Barrcae would be a fool not to strike against Las Noches while he can," Lupos said. "Unfortunately for him, he's only got mercenaries to back him up."
"I agree. However, war will come to us soon."
"I know. I've already sent word to the other lords to be prepared. What about you, High Lord Schiffer? Have you sent word to those you need to?"
"I have," Antonin said. "I just hope that Lord Sisamnes doesn't let his natural son take part."
"The Bloody Bastard," Lupos said. "Yes, I know what you mean. The last thing we need is for that one to come. The men won't be able to get any real rest."
"I know. I suppose it's a good thing that Lord Sisamnes is on our side."
"Is he?" Lupos asked. "From what I heard he has no real love for House Tuma."
"He is," Antonin said. "I'm on your side, and Lord Sisamnes has every reason to be loyal to me. He killed his own brother to show his loyalty, and he did it of his own free will."
Lupos nodded.
"Well, just as long as I don't have to see him or his men or his banner, then I should be fine."
Cold-Hearth
The waves crashed against the cliffs far below the stout walls of the keep of Cold-Hearth. The cries of the carrion eaters could be barely heard coming from the forest of impaled corpses. Lord Royce Sisamnes sighed when he heard the scream coming from the dark trees further away along with the howling of his bastard son's bitches.
"The Bloody Bastard is at it again," he whispered. He knew what everyone called his illegitimate son. In public he forbade anyone from ever mentioning it, but he would whisper it to himself in private, especially when the boy was out playing one of his "games."
Royce Sisamnes was average height and was somewhat lanky and weak-looking for an Arrancar. His Hollow hole was located at the base of his throat. Unlike most of the Arrancar nobles, he preferred to keep his Hollow hole visible. His mask fragment resembled the lower jaw of a human with the chin filed to a point and the teeth missing. His eyes were pale like dirty pieces of ice. His dark pink robe rustled slightly to reveal the armor he wore underneath. The breastplate, like those of his soldiers, was designed to resemble the flayed torso of a man and was stained dark red to maintain the illusion that he had been flayed.
He walked along the ramparts, barely noticing the remains of corpses that had decorated the battlements for generations when the sons of House Sisamnes were the High Lord Executioners and Grand Inquisitors for kings and the Starrks. Banners depicting the partially flayed man on a dark pink field rippled in the wind. Sometimes he would stop to look at the forest of impaled Arrancars and pluses gathered from the World of the Living; many of them had been flayed before having the stake driven up their anuses. Those who were impaled after being flayed were the Bloody Bastard's handiwork.
While his two legitimate sons preferred to go into law to become magistrates and lawyers, his bastard preferred being an executioner. House Sisamnes rose into prominence thanks to how they handled one of the Soul Reapers they caught in the World of the Living on one of their hunts.
He remembered that the Soul Reaper had been a high-ranking officer in the group of bandits that would become the Gotei and was known for his blood-lust and courage, in other words: a Kenpachi. When he had been captured, the Soul Reaper had fought back against his captors and would –be jailors until none of the Houses charged with keeping prisoners wanted him. Then Ramsay Sisamnes, who was just a peasant at the time, said that he would take him. The other houses thought that he was a fool, but gave him the Soul Reaper.
The Soul Reaper killed himself only a few weeks later. The pain must have been extreme because the Soul Reaper didn't think of clawing out his throat; instead he had tried to rip out his own heart. When asked what he had done, Ramsay just picked up one of his blades and licked it, smiling.
"Oh, I just scratched him is all," he had said. "I scratched him 'til I made him bleed...and bleed…and bleed…."
Royce couldn't help but feel some pride at that. Ramsay had made a strong and blood-thirsty Soul Reaper tear out his own throat. After that, no one wanted to be handed to House Sisamnes and with good reason. His forefathers were legendary in devising new ways of torture and execution. His father had been known to nail the feet of servants who had displeased him to boards and then hanging them upside down over the cliff until the nails came free, sending the hapless Arrancar plummeting to the rocks below.
House Sisamnes was built on blood and many of the Houses were afraid of them. Sometimes, that fear proved beneficial for House Sisamnes. Royce's younger sister had been married into House Granz and had blessed that House with three sons, all but one were now known to be dead while the third was in exile in the Western Wastes. In exchange, Granz gave them a seat in his council. However, if a House went back on their word then House Sisamnes dealt with them accordingly, as the Old Scorpion found out the hard way.
For Lord Sisamnes, flaying one of his kin was nothing. He had done it before when his brother was part of a rebellion against Lord Schiffer. For the betrayal, Lord Sisamnes flayed his brother and then wrapped him in burlap that was stuffed with straw and turned him into a living scarecrow. He kept his brother out there, open to the carrion birds and wild beasts and elements, until he was dead.
However, Royce took no pleasure in torturing others. He viewed it as a necessity to ensure obedience to those superior in authority. His bastard, on the other hand, took great pleasure in it.
"Perhaps a war will be the thing he needs," Royce whispered as he reread the message he just received from Antonin Schiffer. "He needs to learn that torture is a business; not something to indulge in whenever he's bored."
In the distance, he could hear another scream, drowned out by the loud snarls of the dogs as they tore into their prey and the laughter of his son's entourage, the Scalpers. He thought that it sounded like the old kennel master who fell out of favor after losing one of his bastard son's favorite bitches, a two-headed monstrosity that had to have all four legs shackled to keep it from running back to the World of the Living. He remembered how the kennel master begged to be hung, even boiled alive, but not to be put in the dungeons where the Bloody Bastard kept his "rabbits."
It hadn't worked.
Lord Sisamnes listened to the sounds of the hunt going on deep within the thick forest near Cold-Hearth. He would have to talk to his son after he returned from his little game. Judging by how they were now breaking into a chorus of "In the Golden Thicket", that would not be long.
She went down and he went down
To seek out the rosey crown
To see if he could kiss it
In the golden thicket.
Lord Sisamnes grimaced a little. He wondered why his son would want to sing such a song while flaying his "rabbits", most not even dead. He decided that some things were best left unknown, and some of those things were the habits of his natural son.
He decided that he would return to the chambers below to wait.
As he walked he muttered the names of the Houses and their words. It was a good way to keep his memory as sharp as the knives his forefathers used to flay those who fell in their clutches. He was the type of man who loved to exercise his body and his mind. He never drank alcohol and rarely ever ate red meat. He preferred memorizing lists and figures over repeating the various songs that the small-folk and more profane lords, like Lord Boaran, sang while in their cups.
He paused when he got to House Sisamnes in his recitation. He smiled as he thought of the sigil of the partially-flayed man on a pink field surrounded by a blood-red halo. It was the sigil of a House that once caused a prince to scream in horror. It was the sigil of a House that strangled an unfaithful queen in the third tower in Las Noches at the command of her husband. It was the sigil of a House that lit fifteen basins of Heaven's Pyre by order of a king long descended into insanity with that king's own sister suspended over one of the basins.
He was at the Crossing during what would become known as the "Tournament of Fire" and had been the one to light the fires. He could still hear the laughter of Reygal Leonisra and the screams and the smell of charring flesh as the fire consumed the Arrancars suspended in the air. All save one had become living torches. He remembered looking into the green eyes of Mordrath Luisenbarn, the only one to not be consumed by the fire. Those eyes had the same hue as those infernal fires that were said could turn heaven itself into ashes.
"House Sisamnes," he said. "Our words are 'All Shall Bleed.'"
Oh, they will, Lord Sisamnes thought as he pondered Antonin's letter. He didn't think it with any relish. It was the reflection on a known fact: war brings nothing but death. They will all bleed.
End of Chapter 12
A.N.: This chapter is essentially setting-up various events that I have in mind for later on (some I've had in mind since I first started and others only came recently to mind while reading on the Plantagenets and the Capets). Some of the ideas I have for later on are inspired by Isabella the "She-Wolf of France", the Tour de Nesles affair, and the Edwardian Era War, the first part of the Hundred Years War that began over whether control of the French throne would belong to King Edward III of England or Phillip VI of France.
The song that Conall sings is based on an actual folk song, "Twa Corbies" (corbies is an antiquated term for ravens and carrion crows and "twa" is just the old term for two). This song was first written down in 1611 and has two versions. The first has the knight's hound, hawk, and wife keeping vigil over his corpse so that neither beast nor bird could feast on his flesh. The second version, and the version that I prefer, however has the corbies able to dine.
One interesting fact that I found out was that the social structure of Feudal Europe was based on Chinese society. This was possible due to the Silk Road and other trade routes between China and Ancient Rome.
For all of you "Song of Ice and Fire" and Game of Thrones fans, I'm sure that you'll recognize the main influence for House Sisamnes: House Bolton. I'm going to hold off on properly introducing the "Bloody Bastard" for later, because I really want to give him the type of premier worthy of his nature.
I should also note that I imagine that the two-headed Hollow dog in Episode 135 of the anime as belonging to the Bloody Bastard. Kon better hope that he doesn't get his hands on him. He does not like it when anyone plays with his "sisters" without his permission.
Recommended Reading:
The Iron King and The Strangled Queen by Maurice Druon
The Plantagenets by Dan Jones
The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwall