The Vileness of Man: Mission Twelve — An Unexpected Visit
Corvo's eyes fluttered open as a warm wave of water tickled his neck. How long had he been asleep? Though his dreams had been unusually pleasant, it was mildly unnerving to him that he had dozed off in the bathtub. It couldn't have been helped though, the water was so warm and the space luxurious, more so than any bath he had experienced in Dunwall. Even at the Golden Cat (which was publically called as a bath house) the tubs were smaller than the miniature pool he was relaxing it now. That accompanied with pleasurably sensual memories he had just reminisced upon was beginning to make for a truly relaxing night. Sure, his brother's heinous outburst and the unconventional method of transportation he had used to get there had caused for some initial frustration, but now he finally had a chance to unwind and let his mind wander.
It seemed so absurd now that he had thought his night with Emily to be a one-time affair. He should have known how stubborn the girl was and taken her latent feelings towards him more seriously. After all, Jessamine had bore a child younger than the empress was now, but that was with a man her own age. Corvo and Emily had been…courting, if that was what one would call it, for nearly a year and still he had yet to speak the dreaded phrase. Love was such a strong word, how could he bring himself to speak it if even he didn't understand its full gravity? The bittersweet grasp of romance was too complex to boil down into three simple words, and tended to roll off the tongues of star-struck youngsters far too easily. Even Emily threw around the expression now and again, though at least her tone made the sentiment sound less daunting. Was that it? Fear? Was he afraid to open his heart to even the most deserving? Let the city be plagued with rats and ravaged with corruption and his voice would not shake, and yet throw that damnable emotion into the fray and watch as he retreated under a fog of hesitance and doubt.
"I could write my next chapter on that," Corvo muttered to himself, leaning his head back against the stone edge. Steam brushed against his pores and opened his senses as he inhaled deeply. Despite him taking a small nap, the tub was still remarkably warm and it even strangely seemed as if water level had risen slightly, though he had not touched the bass-tailed faucet.
"You're writing a book? Strong and smart; I like that in my men," a voice sensual hummed, making Corvo bolt upright and scour the area for the culprit. Through the dense steam, Drusus' wife, Camille, suddenly materialized, nude and half-submerged the bath before him. Her thick red locks scarcely concealed her plump breasts and her luscious ruby lips pursed as she saw the shock stretched across her guest's face, "Oh, I didn't mean to startle you. You clean up rather nice, without all that chicken shit soiling your appearance," she smirked.
What was she doing there? What in her right mind would give her the gall to hop in while he was still in there? Couldn't she see that he was bathing? The lord's body flooded with embarrassment as he sunk further into the water in a desperate attempt to conceal himself, and he quickly turned his face so he could not accidently stare upon the woman's large bosom…again. Even though Serkonos was renowned for their romantic air, group baths with strangers was passing a clear line and certainly a Morley lady would have more modesty than this.
"Uh, th-thank you," he stuttered, attempting to maintain a respectful atmosphere in this most uncomfortable situation, "Forgive me for asking, but why are you here?"
Camille awkwardly chuckled, which was the first remotely happy expression she had given all night. Earlier he had presumed she conducted herself in a severe and almost haughty manner, though now it seemed as if this proposed personality was completely off, "Well this is my house, silly," she giggled, floating closer to the cowering nobleman.
"Yes, of course, but why are you here?" he stressed and squirmed farther along the edge of the tub.
She quickly caught up and her fingers lightly brushed against his thigh, making the thick muscle tense up and he inched away yet again, "Well it's been a while since there's been such a powerful and handsome man in this household. You're a celebrity, Corvo Attano, and I plan to make the most of your esteemed visit."
Corvo's eyes widened and his throat closed up as his mind clouded in disbelief. What was it with women suddenly throwing themselves onto him? Couldn't they ever act dignified and restrain their female desires? It seemed as though the only woman he had ever hoped to pursue had pushed him aside under the pretext of friendship, and into a sea of ravenous, lusty harlots. This is not to say it was entirely bad, for their longing attention often worked in his favor and Emily had emerged from those depths as a diamond in the ruff to steal away his heart. But this was his brother's wife for the Outsider's sake! One would think such a posh lady would keep faithful the bonds of marriage, and yet in the Attano name this sacrament seemed to be nothing more than a pricy piece of paper.
"I apologize, but I'm sort of taken, and I wouldn't want to break my brother's trust," he began to reason, reluctantly feeling his gaze begin to linger towards her chest. He couldn't help it! They were right there, and such exquisite specimens. Camille was a stunning sight to behold, but not nearly in the same way as his darling little Emily. While the Morley woman dripped with sexuality, biting her lip playfully as her emerald orbs reflected her fiery mane, his empress' beauty was radiated within her innocence, concealed behind rosy cheeks and a heart-warming smile. It was completely different, yet both were attractive in their own right. However, not for an instant did Corvo actually imagine himself giving into this woman's desires. No, this was not his empress, and he was far too loyal to even consider such treachery, even while in a distant country. That didn't mean he couldn't look though.
"Nonsense. It's not as if I expect for us to be intimate. What do you take me for, a trollop?" she scoffed as her other hand began to caress his pounding chest, "No, there are other ways in which we can indulge our cravings without it being considered unfaithful." Her hot breath fluttered against his ear, and he bit his cheek to advert the pleasure he would normally receive from the act.
His breath began to draw unevenly as he foraged his blood-starved brain for the right words to strongly dissuade her persistence. He didn't want to seem rude, but if this woman didn't get off him soon, he would have to pry her off forcefully. Suddenly, a woman's distance shriek echoed throughout the manor, effectively distracting Camille from her unwanted advances. This was his chance. As her gaze wandered towards the direction of the sound, Corvo leapt from tub and covered himself with the nearest towel, careening for his clothes. However, they weren't where he left them. In fact, they weren't there at all. Where was his shirt or pants? His shoes or vest? Had a servant snatched up his soiled garments while he slumbered? The only items that remained were his weapon's belt and Emily's brooch, and where he laid his frock coat a dark blue robe was neatly folded in its place with some slippers set on top. That would have to suffice—anything to get him out of this nerve-wracking situation as quickly as possible.
"I should go check on that," he stammered as he fumbled with the robe's sash. Stuffing the stone trinket into a pocket and grabbing onto his belt, he lurched out of the room. As the door slammed behind him, a heavy sigh whisked away some dripping locks dangling before his heavy eyes and a sense of overwhelming relief quickly enveloped his near indecent form. One day. All he wished for was one day without strife, and yet fate would spit in his face and call him an ass before granting him release from the trials of this hectic world. The high-pitched shriek resonated once more, diverting Corvo's attention to the second floor. It seemed as if the sound was coming from the West Wing, where his guest bedroom was supposedly located. Curious, what could instill such fear such a servant's heart that she must cry out in terror for aid? He clutched onto his folded sword and pranced up the grand stairway, duty-bound to help wherever trouble called.
Despite the time of day, the hallway was amazing well-lit through the immense amount windows opening the space and allowing for moonlight to bounce off the stucco walls. Ivy covered balconies expanded the view, and an enclosed rotunda provided for a small lounge area under floor-length decorated windows. Wherever the glass was interrupted with wall, a photograph would grace the sliver of a panel, telling a story the farther the manor's guest treaded. The first was a harshly contrasting black and white print, from when photography was still fairly new and wildly popular in the Isles. It was a family photo of the Attano family when Drusus was just a child, along with his six siblings at the time, which included Corvo. There were only four boys then, as their father was just on his second wife, and each were dressed in matching sack coats and knickers with long white stockings and black buckled shoes. The two sisters were off to either side, their faces obscured by flowery bonnets, and in the back was Father Attano, arms crossed in a proud display of his children and a mighty sword glistening at his hip.
As the robed man continued down the hall, each new family photo grew clearer as the photographic process evolved, the children grew older, and the family larger. Soon there were eight, ten, twelve children all huddled into their villa's courtyard with ages varying from infant to adult. The two eldest, Corvo's blood brothers, had recently enlisted in the King's army and stood beside their father, dressed in their military uniforms with shining metals of achievement and valor pinned brazenly across their chests. Just under them was Corvo, the third child, who had recently turned sixteen, and a smug expression captivated his devilishly handsome façade. He remember the day of the picture, and how not even a month afterwards he was shipped off to Gristol as a diplomatic candidate for the title of Royal Protector. "This is a great honor for our family, Corvo. History will remember the Attano name by the actions you take from here on. Remember this weight and let it guide your hand always," his father's words hummed in his mind as he solemnly gazed upon the silver print. Drusus was near the front, standing just behind the three to five year-olds, and only about a head higher than them. That's how it always was with their family photos. No matter how old they all grew, Drusus' spot in the picture never changed.
That was the last family photo depicted on his brother's wall, for soon after Corvo left Serkonos, Drusus left their villa in pursuit of his own path. From then on the photographs were of him alone, save for one at the very end. His prosperous business, Tully Exports (in which he used his mother's maiden name to save their father the embarrassment of having his sons' sheepish career path tarnish the family's reputation) was among the largest print in the hallway. It featured the noble-born dwarf standing proudly onto of a cargo box as if to boast all of his accomplishments to his father's invisible eye. The last picture was clearly taken on their wedding day, as Camille was in the foreground wearing a very modest gown and an innocent smile graced her rosy cheeks. It was amazing how time and place affect one's values, as a seamlessly refined maiden given years in a foreign land will adopt its customs, and add to them with their own natural flare, no matter how distasteful she may become.
Though his memories had lasted only a mere moment, seeing Camille in the photo quickly reminded Corvo of his goal and he hastily scuttled down the hallway, searching for the cause of the woman's scream. As he wandered upon a cracked door, the grip on his blade tightened, and he hesitantly pushed against the wood with his marked hand. For the terror that had wracked the female's voice, the sight before him as the door swung ajar was fairly harmless. The fat, old, servant lady who had taken his belongings stood skittishly on a chair, her bulbous face contorted in a disgusting grimace, "Rat!" her scratchy voice screamed as she pointed at the ground and danced on her toes in fright. A rat? That had been the cause of her panic? An almost disappointed sigh escaped the ex-Lord Protector's lips as he wearily searched the ground for the intruder. Emily would have simply squashed the pest, instead of scurrying up a chair like a terrified child. Of course, growing up while being called the Rat Queen tended to foster some hatred towards the plague-bearing rodents. Perhaps a swarm would have induced panic, for a horde could strip a man to the bone in less than a minute, but certainly not a single rat.
Like lightning, a flash of white bolted under his feet and out the door, and a taunting squeak followed its tiny form. "Kill it! Kill it!" the hag screeched, though Corvo was momentarily frozen as a look of bewilderment captured his expression. That was the same white rat that had constantly annoyed him onboard the Albatross. How had it managed to follow him all the way here? Did it hide in his pack and dart out when the servant woman had begun to unpack his few personal items? No matter the reason, it did need to be caught. For that particular rat came from Gristol, and even if it was friendly, the mere thought of it carrying the plague and spreading it throughout Serkonos was a terrifying reality he had to consider. He spun around and began to sprint towards the direction the mouse had trailed off to, his hand outstretched and ready to posses the fugitive. Possession would be the easiest way to dispose of this pest problem. Trying to slash at it with his sword would only cause unnecessary damage and once he felt the warmth of the creature's soul within his grasp and delved into its mind, he could simply erupt from its body and kill it instantly.
Black smoke smoldered from his palm and his mark burned its eerie green tint. His eyes morphed a golden hue to aid his search as he spotted the glowing rodent trying desperately to squeeze behind a flower vase on a corner wall. A shadowy mist began to form around the creature's body as Corvo locked onto his target, however right before the ancient words could echo in his mind the rat managed to force itself into the shallow gap to obstruct his possession. Agitated, he lightly cursed under his breath and turned down the adjacent hallway to cut off the dastardly fiend. But as he rounded the corner, a strange man abruptly came into view. Instinctually, Corvo's eyes snapped back to their dull norm and he shoved his hands into the robe's deep pockets to allow his mark to cool down to its dormant state. The stranger was deathly pale, with sickly sunken features and eyes empty as the abysmal sea. He dressed in what looked like a whaler's outfit, which was oddly out of place with the scenery, wearing a thick leather coat and denim trousers tucked into slim, black, rubber boots. Slowly, the figure knelt on one knee and extended his hand leisurely onto the ground, to which the white rat poked its head from its hiding spot and scurried into. A whimsical grin twisted the man's bony features as he stood and clenched his hand into a fist, and the rodent crumbled into ashes. Corvo scowled at the Outsider as the he cockily cross his arms over his chest, hovering mere inches above the ground. Every time the deity chose to appear before his favorite follower he always had something sarcastic to say, and his disciple was far too tired to properly appease these long-winded antics.
"Corvo," the trickster god hummed, a small smirk creeping on the edge of his pale lips, "For a while I was worried that you'd become disinteresting to observe as you reclaimed your old, boring routine as Royal Protector. I pondered if the intrigue of your masked vengeance would sour with loathsome politics and menial childcare, and if my gift would become nothing more to you than a tool to aid your subservient lifestyle, wasting away under the shadow of order. Yet, you never cease to fascinate me.
What a good teacher you were, standing by Emily's side on her worst of days when others would have sunk into shallow alcoves to elude her malice. You provided what tutors and chambermaids could not, a connection rarely seen outside of blood, and one that the young empress could latch onto and wilt under the weight of her crumbling capital. Oh to bask in the irony of it all. Half the world mutters tales of your legendary indecency, when the unknown truth is so much sweeter than the lie. Yes, you were such a good teacher, Corvo, instructing little Emily into womanhood. And yet here you stand, hundreds of miles away from your empress, one whom you once went through desperate lengths to reach. Why is that?"
This was why the Outsider had suddenly decided to "grace" him with his presence—to mock his continuous failures and remind him of the terrible choice he had made? Corvo felt his eye beginning to reluctantly twitch and he clamped his jaw to attempt to fight the outburst he knew was coming. It didn't help. "It's because of you that I'm here! If it wasn't for your "gift" I would still be in Dunwall, and be at her side!" He roared, his knuckles whitening deep within his pockets. Of course, he knew his words were false. Without the enigmatic entity's aid, achieving his revenge and placing Emily back on the throne would have been near impossible, but that didn't stop him from taking out his frustration on the one being he knew wouldn't get angry, or retaliate against his cries.
For all of Corvo's frenzied temper didn't seem to affect the Outsider, and in fact it might have even pleased him. Mortals were so interesting with their array of emotions. It was like observing a never-ending theatrical production, only with the power to play with the marionette strings. Though the god's smirk did fade, it was not because he was displeased with his chosen's rage. It was actually refreshing that the human was so daring, a nice change from the mindless cult that typically prayed at his shrines. "Did you not think I knew this day would come? Was it not you who wrote how I 'see through the folds of time'? You had many choices, Corvo, choices that led you down this path. It was not I who brought tale of your mark to the Abbey's doorstep, or who abstained from slicing your accuser's throat. Just when I think the depravity of the world will push you over the edge, you retain your anger and stay your hand when others would have leapt at the chance to strike.
What will you do now, I wonder? How long will you wait for that perfect moment to enact your vengeance? Or will you break the promise Emily's heart hangs on and leisure away the rest of your days under the warmth of the Serkonan sun? Either way, I look forward to seeing what you do. Don't disappoint me."
Before Corvo could respond again, the Outsider dissipated back into the Void, leaving him alone in the empty hallway. He should have stayed in Dunwall and killed Parrish when he had the chance. All it would have taken was a quick slash of his sword and all of his problems would have blown away with his ashes in the wind. But no, he had to choose the route of least damage, the noble way, and make life much more complicated as he attempted to preserve what little faith the people of Dunwall still held in their young empress. Was that the only reason he had opted to leave so easily? After his failure to save Jessamine, something inside him had broke, and for the past years he had been trying so desperately to replace his shame with unwavering vigilance and midnight trysts. Perhaps he was the one with the aching hole in his soul, and not Emily. In truth, he was growing so tired of this game of thrones, and the Outsider's words sounded so tempting. What was stopping him from building a little shack on the Serkonan coast and living as a hermit away from society? He could grow an olive grove or take up fishing as he had as a child.
His fingers traced the cold edges of his brooch deep within his pocket. He couldn't just leave his empress to the pit of vipers he knew would eventually prey on the court in his absence and allow their venom to poison her words, or could he? With time, Emily would move on and appoint a new Royal Protector, but certainly he couldn't depend on a stranger to do his duty. He had already failed one empress, and let the whales be hunted to extinction and world consequentially collapse into the Void before he allowed another to fall in his arms. Was this was love was—a feeling of incontestable conviction and loyalty? Whatever the sensation, it blazed his heart, burning out the doubt placed by the Outsider's whispers. Soon, the turmoil fueling the mad priest would smolder down to a dull roar and that was when Corvo would raze through their precious Abbey like a wildfire, and watch it crumble from within.
"I really need some clothes."
YES! My winter break finally begins! :) I actually don't have much to say about this chapter other than it was about time the Outsider showed his awesomeness and Camille is a coin-grabbing whore. Review? Please?