Chapter V

Lured

Inside the most prominent hospital in the central region, some nurses flock on the corridor and murmur while listening to the shouts of one of their patients from inside a closed room:

"This is a capital offense!"

"B-but prince Atlas!"

The man with tidy brown hair combed back and a monocle uses a white handkerchief to wipe his sweat, trembling under the deadly stare of the blonde prince who looked elegant even dressed in a hospital gown and an arm sling.

"Look at what happened to my arm! This is all because of your failed security! I could've died and this would result in war, do you get it?"

"I-I'm sorry Prince, as the Empire's representative I have no words to apologize enough for this, but please, do understand we couldn't predict the attack of those rebels… They've been trying many things lately and-"

"Say that to my father! Your Empire has bad relations enough as it is with our Satellite Kingdom, I can have your neck if I want, but this won't appease my citizens. If my Red Dragon Archfiend hadn't protected me, I'd have more than a broken arm! If you can't even control your rebels and keep me safe, how do you expect my father will have any trust in you?" His eyes narrow in disgust. "Not only that, but the amount of disrespect your Emperor holds is unbelievable, you aren't even a high officer, are you?"

"S-sir, I'm a renowned diplomat of the Empire… I'm-"

"Enough!" He shoves his hand in the air in a princely order. "I'm tired of your excuses, I'll have a word with my father and you better arrange a meeting with the Emperor in this meantime or I'll have you fired with a snap of my finger!"

"Iiek!" The man shrieks in fear and bows aplenty. "I-I'll have it arranged, Sir!"

"Humph."

He snorts as the diplomat runs with his tail between legs, some nurses gasp as they see the conclusion of the arguing, one of them in particular detaches from the crowd, her big rounded glasses reflect the image of the Prince as he stares down on the women around receiving loving glances and squeals.

"Y-You should be resting now, Prince!"

She puts her hands on hips to look tougher, using her arms to shoo away the other nurses that complain.

"You all, the show is over, it's my turn to look over Prince Atlas now!"

When the mood quietens down, she takes a deep sigh, closing the door behind, a hand to her chest that palpitates with her loud heartbeats.

"You can stop hyperventilating now, Carly." He snarls, raising a brow at her loss of composure.

"And whose fault is it?! I had to disguise myself as a nurse to keep an eye on you!" She tosses the pink nurse hat to the ground, grinding her fists. "Jack, you can't just stop communicating with us! You know I came here with you under orders of your very own father!"

"Carly." His authoritarian voice makes her quiver internally. "The situation is worse than we gauged before."

"Jack… It's true the rebels have been making suspicious moves all over the Empire, and for them to shamelessly come and attack, things are getting dangerous, they tasted power and they can go on a rampage now, people will be threatened and so will our kingdom. Those foxes of the Empire are probably smiling right now, they'll create any excuse to pretend as if they care about deals they have with Satellite. I understand why you're worried… But-"

"It's not about that, Carly… I think I know why the Empire put Elemental Hero Neos as the prize of that tournament…"

"What are you talking about? The prize is not important, the main issue is-"

"But it is!" He cuts her off, she stutters before silencing to hear him out. "Carly, Crimson Dragon spoke to me that day…" He lands a hand on his wounded arm, his eyes drifting away into a reminiscence. "While I was unconscious, Crimson Dragon told me something in a dream: Elemental Hero Neos was bathed by the power of an Ancient."

"The power of a-an Ancient?!" She stammers, stepping back in shock. "This is… The last time Crimson Dragon spoke to someone it was… During the war in the south… Also, Ancients are not common knowledge, only a few people should know about them, especially given most of the Empire's registers were burned down…"

"Indeed, but the Empire had contact with an Ancient before, they saw Crimson Dragon in the battlefields… And I have the impression the Empire knows about Neos too and used it as bait for those terrorists, completely conscious that I could die there. It's as if they brought that card to the tournament to show off to Satellite that they have met with an Ancient too…"

"But if that's true, why would they let someone take that card? Why expose it so much?"

"I don't know why they'd let it be stolen, but if they're not worried, this just confirms our suspicions they might have found an Ancient after all… Father told me once about it, the Empire was driven to madness because they were trampled by the Crimson Dragon during the war and they couldn't fight its power alone since they did not have the blessing of any Ancient like Satellite does. They tried to make up for it by creating human catalysts, they thought if humans had gems, they could harness a power that wasn't theirs and experimented all sorts of craziness to try bring out the powers of the Ancients, in the end it failed and the idea of catalysts being able to connect with Ancients was discarded, those people still suffer to this day, they're as valuable as throwable gems now thanks to the Dominian Empire. The amount of people they killed and hurt, their own kin and they have this bare, bold face to lie and pretend human catalysts are not their doin…"

"This is horrible… Going this far…" She looks around, lowering her voice and approaching him, whispering. "B-but, Jack, they should know an Ancient won't speak to just anyone, even our Crimson Dragon is a special case and has a few selected ones, you and your father, King Godwin included… The Ancients choose people of this realm to represent them, it's never the other way around, they can't play with this."

"I know that, but given that they already tried to change this fact, I think they're desperately attempting to get their hands in any Ancient, that is, if they don't have contact with one already. That's why I must go in person and talk to the Emperor and find everything out. I need to convey this meeting to my father, do you understand?"

"Jack… I… Yes, sir!" She bows in reverence with a hand in front of her chest.

"I need you to check all sources you can about the latest rebel moves and investigate where they took that card, we must monitor it. Plus, I want you to check what the Empire has been doing behind the curtains before my arrival and I mean unofficial records…"

"I'll have it done as soon as possible."

"I'm counting on you…" He nods firmly, picking his white coat that was hanging onto a chair and flapping it heavily over his shoulders. "Lastly, I have a very important mission for you now."

"What is it?"

"You'll help me escape this hospital! I won't be chained to any institution the Empire owns! I must also investigate before they contact me for my audience with the Emperor!"

With a pointy finger and a princely pride he declares, she's startled, her lenses cracking and a drop of sweat rolling down her did he just order?

Southern wastelands

Silence permeates the ambience, not even crickets disrupt the eerie night, the smell in the air is arid and dead trees compose the landscape. The only footsteps heard are the man's, his green-haired companion walks as if she has no weight at all.

He halts, his head lifting slightly, looking around, she mimics him, searching for a clue of what's wind blows past them, howling ominously.

"What is it?"

"Silence."

It's a demand, a harsh tone, his hearing sharpens, listening to even the minor sounds of grains floating. His tense posture attenuates after a few seconds of peace, resuming his walking, when his foot steps ahead, a loud cracking soars.

A slim, long shadow burst out of the ground, a Venom Cobra hisses at them, it darts towards Darkness that walks ahead unfazed, ignoring the imminent danger, the snake is cut in half by a shadow that jumps behind it so fast human eyes could barely track.

Cleah shakes her dagger to the side, splattering the green blood of the snake on the ground, watching emotionlessly it writhe in pain and disintegrate. She dithers as a human laughter disrupts the scene:

"Look who we have here, two lost souls!"

Dozens of men come out of their hiding behind the trees, their smirks are full of derision and a sense of power over the two lone travelers. These parts have been like this ever since the war, no one dares set foot here without escorts anymore.

"Don't you know you shouldn't come to this area?" He taunts, convinced of his victory.

"Boss, that girl looked very deadly, but she has a nice booty." The man licks his lips lustfully, smirking at her with the worst intentions.

"The deadlier, the best, I'm sure she'll be a kitten when tamed. We can just kill the guy and pile his belongings, that coat will sell for a lot, so will his gems. Our client said they're only interested in the cards he owns, the rest is ours, the girl included."

They all laugh in unison, blatantly discussing their plan out loud. Darkness stops for a brief moment, sparing a glance to the side, at the outlaws. His expression unseen under his mask. Without any further explanation, he focuses on the path forward, as if failing to recognize their existence.

"Ugh, this guy needs a lesson!"

They wield their crossbows and the boss stretches his arm to initiate the attack, shooting all at once towards the man clad in black, their victorious smirks gradually transform into dread as they hear a consecutive clack noise of their arrows being deflected, a shadow flashes from one side to the other.

Landing with a soft thud between them and the man, the young woman with a vacant gaze stands up imposingly. She's more of a hassle than they thought. They grit teeth and shoot once again, this time she rushes forward, hitting the arrows to the sides with a single dagger and jumping into the air she cuts the distance in a second.

They can see the shadow of a soul reaper shrieking at them behind her silhouette. A dance of death starts as she waltzes gracefully among the men, slitting their throats, one by one, their blood bathing her cloak.

Drops of their hot blood splashing onto her face, her expression unchanged as she watches men fall, a pool of red forming under her feet, her empty eyes narrow menacingly, her travel companion observes in a steady posture, an intimidating aura around him, the men are in a daze.

The way she moves… Is she even human? Before they conclude that line of thought, her blade slits the throat of another man. Trembling voices pop in the air:

"She'll kill us all!"

"This is not what we were paid for!"

"Someone stop her!"

"Shut up! Stop being cowards! She's just a single girl! Just summon and she'll be done in no time!"

"A-aye, Sir!" They all answer in unison with insecurity.

The dozens of men summon, forcing the girl to stop her killing spree and take some distance as Venom Cobras materialize and threaten her by hissing and tossing themselves, she avoids skillfully most of them, but one latches onto her leg, biting it, she doesn't bother, cutting it and taking more distance from the army of snakes, a purple acidic stain spreads on her skin where she was bitten, slight smoke coming out of the two holes opened on her thigh.

Atticus doesn't move a step, completely unconcerned by the scene, then he pulls a card from a pocket, summoning it straight away. The blue gems on his mask glimmer.

A Red-Eyes Black Dragon materializes in front of them, its shadow covering their tiny silhouettes and it howls furiously. With no second delay, it releases a blast that blows up into pieces the small Cobras. In the meantime, the assassin approaches the bandits again, they shiver.

"Shit! That's a rare monster!"

"B-boss, we're in trouble!"

"I told you to stop cowering!"

The boss stomps the ground, making smoke made out of dust arise from under his feet. He summons Reptlianne Lamia and a Venom Cobra, with a quick command, the boss uses Reptlianne Lamia to tune Venom Cobra and a new monster materializes Reptlianne Hydra.

A grotesque creature takes shape, its five snake-heads have the face of a human mixed with a reptile, black hair falling over it from underneath the helmets; Two arms in white gloves coming out of its body and a dress adorning its main torso, the tail drags heavily on the ground, their shrieks pierces the ears of all present.

Cleah shields her face with both arms during the shockwave, even Atticus has to force his feet onto the ground as it soars in the whole ambience, making a gust of wind almost blow them.

The green-haired girl recomposes fast, darting towards one of the men, his companions watch in shock as she swirls in the air, a movement to take his life, suddenly, one of the heads of the snake crashes onto her side, sending her flying away, she falls down very far past Atticus, the impact making her body kick twice before rolling until it stops the momentum of the attack, he follows the scene with his head.

"See?! We just needed a pair of extra arms!" The leader guffaws at his own bad joke.

They smirk again, counting on their victory, all their gazes landing on the lone figure of the man who hasn't spoken a word ever since the conflict started, the boss of the thieves provokes him:

"You can't ignore us now, jerk! You'll see what happens to conceited brats like you! We'll show you what true villains are!"

"Red-Eyes."

Those are the only words pronounced. The Black Dragon charges a blast towards the Reptlianne Hydra, the explosion burns the enemy as the men protect their eyes from the brightness.

Once the light of the blast ceases, they can see the scorched ground with a black print around the area the synchro monster used to be, their lips shake, unable to form words as Red-Eyes Black Dragon floats onto the sky and hovers above the army of minion monsters, throwing its flames down in a line, burning the weaker ones, a fire of destruction, the landscape looks like a hell.

"W-Who are you?!" The boss squints his eyes, facing the brown-haired man encroaching his clearance.

"I am Darkness."

His aloof reply sends shivers down their spines, but their nightmares is just about to begin, a shadow appears behind one of the men, his gaze running down to find a dagger pointed at his neck, a face creeping closer to his ear, a female voice whispering to him:

"Who told you to get our belongings?"

Other two men step back upon noticing her presence, how is she alive and when did she approach? During the explosion? They took her for dead meat, but she came out of that flight with a few scratches and bruises and moved fast even with a poisoned leg.

"No… That hit should have broken her bones, how is she still walking…?" The leader panics inwardly. "What exactly is she?"

"C-Chief, I'm not staying here!"

Another man tries to run, but as soon as he turns his back, she jumps in front of him dealing a killing blow.

During her distraction, the boss shoots another arrow, a smile clings to his lips, but it vanishes when he notices only her cloak was pierced through, she's squatted down to the ground, her legs stretched in an almost impossible angle, her eyes hold some fierceness in them, he can feel it, she's out for his blood.

In a blink of an eye, her blade brushes on his neck, a small cut opening until a dark, grave voice overwhelms the audience, detaching from the hellish noises on the background:

"Stop."

Cleah casts a brief side glance at the speaker, her body freezes just as he ordered, her starry orbs cast back unto the criminal in a second, dwelling inside his eyes, he wants to escape her gaze, but for some reason, he can't, as if bewitched by her, her eyelashes moving so calmly he'd think time was slowed down while looking into him.

"Boss-" One of the men steps ahead, a card is thrown at him, past his face, a thin cut is drawn on his cheek.

"Move again and I'll have your head."

Darkness' voice causes a startle on the men as he questions, the other men are frightened beyond action, some of them, just waiting for an opportunity to make a comeback.

He stretches his arm into the air, the Red-Eyes Black Dragon darts from the air, diving down and landing with a huge blow, sending small rocks and dust amok, its roar making the man cover their ears too, he then buckles his body towards the bandit who just spoke, his head right beside the master as he growls, its jaw with sharp ends makes the criminal lose his color as droplets of drool fly over to his face, his legs weakening and trembling.

As the dragon keeps the men in place, Atticus approaches the boss that is still too paralyzed and with a dagger ready to take his life.

"Who sent you here?"

"No one sent me here…" He smirks, sweating profusely. "This is our turf, you were the ones coming, we didn't know… We didn't know you'd be this powerful."

"Cleah."

With a single call to her name, she presses the dagger further, this time deepening ever so slightly the cut on the man's throat, not enough to reap his life, but enough to make his tongue loosen.

"I already told you! No one ordered to attack you! We are just here to steal goods!" He raises his hands into the air, scared.

There's a minute of silence, he can feel Darkness staring at him under that mask concealing his expression, but he's the most frightened by the eyes of that girl.

There's this creepy and uncanny feeling crawling under his skin, making his body hair bristle. One could say her orbs were like a galaxy with stars, but to him right now, they looked like a black hole, sucking him into it, an unavoidable and cruelly slow death as if her gaze could pierce his soul. He feels dizzy, his sight distorting from the intense gaze she locked on him.

His hand moves slightly, making a gesture to his companions, they understand it almost telepathically, a whistle soars in the air, with a flinch, her eyes flash to the side, near Darkness. Her instincts strike her. The ground behind her companion crumples as some men smirk.

A Venom Cobra jumps out of it, tossing itself towards Darkness, he skids his feet back, bracing for the assault.

The woman's silhouette blinks in front of him, her back turned at the snake as she tanks the attack, the animal land its fangs on her shoulder, her muscles tense up, she shudders, despite not emitting a single complaint of pain, the sounds of the poison corroding her skin elicits a delightful laughter on the opponent. Without thinking twice, she thrusts her dagger onto the snake's head, killing it, its fangs letting go of her shoulder.

However, the poison already spreads on her body. The boss of the criminals observes in enjoyment as she swings forth and back, ultimately collapsing into her companion's chest, a purple stain expands quickly on her right arm, her eyelids closed heavily. He gets a hold of her, supporting her back with one of his arms, her head flopping down, most of her neck exposed. He accesses her state for a brief moment, a voice disrupts his action:

"Did you know that humans can die if they are poisoned by a duel monster's venom? There isn't a cure for my Venom Cobra's poison… And she got bitten twice." He grins mockingly, looking down on them.

There is again a reticent reaction coming from the brown-haired man, whether he simply didn't care or if he thought to be above it all is unclear, he gapes subtly upon seeing a card slipping out of Cleah's stocking, pulling it out, it doesn't take a second for him to check which card. He raises his arm, summoning yet another creature.

The bandit is confused, he already has a monster, what is he trying to do? Then, he hears a shrilling howl from the skies, the Red-Eyes Black Dragon is enveloped in a mantle of darkness, its figure growing and its power growing along with it, a maleficent transformation, its eyes shining even redder.

With a swoop under Cleah's knees, he lifts her up without problems, holding her in his arms, her head tumbles onto his chest, her arm hanging limply across his hand gripping the side of her ribs, such a lightweight he could as well be carrying nothing.

Her silhouette seems smaller when held by him. As she sleeps peacefully, there is no vestige of the killing machine who just slayed dozens of men just moments ago. Casting a glance over his shoulder, under his mysterious mask, he commands:

"Darkness Dragon, obliterate them."

"W-wait! You can't just kill us! I have information you need! You wanted to know who hired us, right? I'll tell you if you let us live!"

Darkness stops for but a moment, his profile glance occulting most of his mask and lips, a sign he was done talking to them.

"Cleah already took a 'peek' into you, we don't need to ask questions anymore."

"W-what do you mean? Hey! Come back here! What do you mean?! H-Hey!"

Did she do something strange while staring into his eyes before? But how? Those doubts piling up are left unanswered with the ultimatum:

"Farewell."

Those words set the men into fear, flames burning brightly behind him on the battlefield, walking unfazed by all of it, disregarding the yells and suffering, proceeding to his final destination. This encounter was but a minor interruption to their schedule.

Interlude III - Excerpt from "Geology of Gemstones for summoning"

Gemstones are rocks or mineral crystals polished or not. Those crystals and rocky formations that originate what we know as summoning gemstones are located in mines and caves spread all over the west and south. Holding a power of unknown origins, they are a common resource for summoning and one that exists abundantly in the Empire of Rumir.

The crystals of the west vary in type, species, hardness as well as rarity compared to the southern crystals. While the west has a bigger variety of species, the south has the rarest types of gems that can be used for crafting and both places have gems of distinct chemical compositions as well as different groups of minerals that aren't only gems.

The rarity of a gem or its size was proven to not negatively affect the act of summoning, but the price of a gem can vary depending on it. The hardness of a gem, however, is the most important when summoning. To Ultra Rare summoners, all gemologists recommend gems of hardness graded 8 to 10 of the Mohs scale to avoid cracks and possibly destruction of the gemstone as the toll of summoning high monsters is demanding.

A gem that was fully used up in its capacity will suffer discoloration, lose its luster and become grey and opaque, it will turn drier in aspect and rougher to the touch, but weaker as parts of it slowly decompose into segments, its hardness dropping drastically in the Mohs scale ranking, cracks may also appear at this stage, resembling much more a common rock than a crystal. Nevertheless, gemstones have an interesting and useful property, given time a gem will recover its shine and original aspect by absorbing energy from the natural world, exposing it to sunlight and air may help the gem recover its capacity, the process may take up to months or years depending on size and exertion imposed on the gemstone, but it's a reusable resource.

A broken gem cannot be reconstructed, its shards will eventually lose coloration and change texture like a fully exploited gemstone, becoming sediments, thus summoners are demanded to carry many gems and constantly replenish resources as their older gems are put to rest to prevent a full breaking.

There is a frequent misunderstanding regarding coloration of gems that has been widespread. Because of how a worn-out gem looks like, silver gems are the least favorite in the market for being too similar to the unusable gems, due to many cases of merchants selling used gems, many summoners avoid buying this color, which is why having a personal gemologist or lapidarist is recommended for high tier summoners.

Deltora,

Night time

Zane gets off the black limousine in front of the Bonaparte's home, golden gates opening for him ahead, even the mailbox on the fancy wall was made out of gold, a stone path leading all the way to the entrance of the enormous mansion with golden framed windows, pink rose bushes on both sides as he walks.

He's about to knock on the double door, but it opens alone. Two servants in uniforms that looked like those of the lowest workers in the Empire open the door to him, their eyes closed as they step aside.

Inside the mansion, flocks of brightness spread from the chandelier, reflecting on the light-colored walls, his eyes have difficulties adjusting to it, squinting. There's a red carpet making a walkway to the entrance hallway, beside it, a line of servants of different ages, all dressed the same way.

They smile, but he can feel the outstandingly heavy atmosphere, a mix of twisted fear and hopelessness etched into them, along with the policy of "always smile to the guests".

His eyes narrow, a subtle faltering in them, a compassionate glint. Are those people a fruit of slave trading? Two tall men step in front of him, blocking his way, he halts, they're taller and could disguise as bodybuilders, despite it, their eyelids are closed and a constant, faint smile is stamped in their lips.

"Welcome, Mr. Truesdale." The bothersome voice of his host echoes in the corridor, from far behind the guards. "If you could follow them for a fast body checkup, I'd be grateful."

"If?" He notes mentally, raising a brow, he doesn't have a choice.

"We just want to make sure no one is bringing weapons into the house. Preventive measures, if you may call it that, I hope you don't mind it."

His voice talks from behind the wall of servants, as the coward he was, a vein threatens to pop on Zane's fists as he clutches it.

"No problem."

The men lead him to a corridor on the side, opening some sort of dressing room that is composed of a changing table with a mirror, a chair and a small booth surrounded only by white, silky curtains. One of the servants opens the curtains for him, stretching a hand, he can see a mirror from behind the bulky figure of the man and a mirror in the booth, behind him.

"Is he serious?" The question in his mind is rhetorical.

"Take off your garments, please." The slave asks politely, stepping aside to unblock the sight of the mirror.

The teal-haired man winces at the idea, not voicing a word the two servants stand a few meters away, waiting for him to undress, with a deep sigh, he tosses his clothes to the ground, the sound of fabric rubbing on his skin awkwardly crashing the utter silence in the ambience.

His eyes don't rest as he scans the surroundings, making a mental map of the structure. There are four mirrors, one on each corner of the room, including the ones behind him and on the wall across him. The truth of what this room is used for is so obvious, he's taking the slaves here to watch them, undress them and God knows he doesn't even want to think about what Jean is forcing people to do here.

"The mirrors are fake… I bet he's watching me from somewhere, that Bonaparte is a damn voyeur."

He gnarls mentally, almost gritting his teeth in disgust. It's only been a few minutes he arrived but his hand is tingling to give a punch straight to the slave trader's nasty face.

Once he's completely naked, standing proudly without a single hint of shame or hesitation in his expression, the other servant takes his clothes to inspect it. The servant watching him raises his arms, indicating he should do it too, he smiles annoyedly in response, and raises both arms to the sides of his head, stretching his fingers open, they're really making sure he's carrying no weapons.

The servant keeps smiling and makes a swirl with a single finger. Zane fumes in disbelief, with a contained anger while whirling around once, then the man brings some sort of detector and scans his body hovering it near his skin, when it's all done, he asks with a snotty tone on his voice:

"Do I need to do anything else?"

The servants simply keep their smiles and finally close the curtains to give him privacy, throwing his clothes inside the booth. When he leaves that room, the crease between his brows is more defined than before, a moody curve on his lips.

"Pardon for the inconvenience." Bonaparte comes to his side accompanying him, a devious smirk, somewhat relished at his expression. "You can follow me."

"Sure." He fastens his coat, making sure to put more centimeters distance as they walk.

At the end of the hallway there is a large room with a circular space and two decks of stairs with golden railings and red carpets embroidered with golden filigree, one staircase on each side leading to the upper floor and in the large space between the stairs, a white door. The slaves master opens the door with a smirk.

Some servants await inside the room, a line of three, a man, an old woman and a young woman. They look at the ground at all times, their hands entwined together in front of their bodies in reverence.

It's a living room, there are two small red-velvet couches across each other, separated by a short glass table in between; a glass case with wines to the side, between the windows and war medals framed in a canvas protected by glass, hanging onto the wall. The light is a chandelier and some smaller electric candle holders on the small wooden tables besides both sides of the couches.

Bonaparte snaps his fingers, two of the servants leave after bowing, walking past Zane as he enters the room unsure of what to expect. With a sway of finger, Bonaparte calls the remaining servant, a pink-haired girl. She bends onward to match Jean's height, her cleavage showing more on the U-shaped design adorned with golden borders of her sailor collar white dress, so short the summoner could swear he'd see her panties if she bent just a bit more.

He roams his eyes around the room uncomfortably while Bonaparte whispers something in her ear. This guy has issues, he's really holding back to not solve them through violence right now, but it's becoming harder as fast as the tick of the clock in the wall of the room.

Soon, she also walks past him, his eyes following her figure. Her hair flopping over her shoulders and back almost fully hiding the thick metallic slave collar covering her neck, it looked like one of the electrodes he uses on the underground duels. Some pink strands of her hair are braided on both sides, tying a small ponytail, her skin is so pale she could be lacking food and he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Such a pretty girl too, looks around his age, maybe a bit younger, a pity she ended up like this, like many others who could have better lives, her blue orbs show no hope, as if she'd given up on life.

When she leaves the room, a strange realization comes to him, her clothes were a bit different from all the other servants, more refined if that was even a good word to describe it and her complexion…

"Is she from the south…? That pale skin, it's a characteristic from people there…It seem the slavery of the southern people is as fresh as ever…" His orbs squint subtly, hazed by the scene as he speaks to himself inwardly.

"Does she strike your fancy?"

A voice irrupts, his mesmerized state is interrupted with a startle, he looks at the man who smirks maliciously at him, a side glance of a man that seizes any opportunity.

"I commend you for having such good eyes, Mr. Truesdale." He swings his finger in approval, sitting on one of the couches and directing Zane to the other one with a hand. "I put quite a lot of effort in her. Unfortunately, she's not for sale."

"And here I thought merchants would sell any goods they own if it's profitable." He sits down, crossing a leg over the other.

"You're so funny." He guffaws, an act. "She's a special case. I found her on the streets. The poor thing was so beaten up by life that it became mute, then I brought her here and had a brilliant idea. I'm training her as a maid and taking her special care to give her to the princess."

"The princess?" He raises a brow. "You mean the Empire's princess Missy Harrington?"

"Yes, exactly. A wicked one she is, took after the father." He speaks as a praise. "I heard she loves to torture young men and girls when she's bored, no servant lasts long under her rule, the king buys a lot of them from me. I thought a thing that can't speak would be the most pleasurable gift, but she must be in good condition and intact, so I try to keep her with me at all times and make sure she's untouched, at least until she's gifted away. Thus, I don't intend to sell her, but I'm sure we can find something to your tastes."

"I wasn't interested in her, Mr. Bonaparte, you know I came here for a catalyst, not your usual slave."

His eyes almost pop out, the brown-haired man sweats profusely, swiping it with a tissue from his pocket, Zane catches onto the reaction. Why is he nervous? Did he strike a nerve?

The servants that went away before come back, except the pink haired. They bring wine cups and place them on the table, a glass of water and two cups as well as a fancy-looking slice of cake with many thin crafted layers and nuts spread atop the white cream. When the servants are about to go fetch the wine, he shouts at them:

"Now, you lot go away! Mr. Truesdale is an important guest, I don't want you bothering our eyes, you two don't enter the room anymore!"

He shoos them away with a hand movement, as if scaring away an animal, they leave. Zane exhales to keep his tiny amount of patience left in check, this is gonna be a long night.

The door clicks once more, Bonaparte is prepared to yell again until he sees the pink haired girl, she holds a padded velvet-red cushion with a dark-wood treasure box on it, glancing at the mater once she receives the order with a bob of his head towards the summoner.

Her steps cease in front of Zane, her arms carefully lowering the cushion enough for him to access the box, he's confused, her blue eyes stare at the ground at all times, her lips sealed shut as if she has no will.

"Put all your gems in there. Again, Mr. Truesdale, I'm sorry, but I always take precautions, even more with summoners. Don't take this personally, please, your gems will be taken to another room away from your summoning range and returned safely after our talk."

His eyes narrow, this is starting to look more like an illegal trade now, he gets up, his silhouette standing taller than the girl's. Opening the box, he deposits a dozen gems he carried in his pockets, shaking his coat after he's done to prove he has nothing else.

"I can bet he counted how many gems I had when he ordered his servants to inspect me before… This guy is cunning…" He concludes silently.

The girl closes the box and leaves the precinct. The men stare at each other before the blue-haired initiates the conversation:

"Do you usually get them from the south? The slaves, I mean."

"Very observant, yes, yes. I also get them from all parts of the continent, but mostly are from the south, those lands were so ravaged by the war there's plenty goods there to ransack, slaves included." He pours a glass of water for both, his eyes sharpening. "Tell me, how did you notice she was from the south? Is that why you were looking so intently?"

"Skin color. Southern people have lighter skin and hair colors, don't they?"

"Hm… I see you're not just a handsome face, but also smart. Studied a lot at the academy?"

"I had my studies cut short by the war, but you probably know that, don't you? I doubt you'd accept me as a client before having a full profile on me."

"Is that not true for yourself too?" His gaze is defiant.

Their contest of probing each other's intentions is torn apart by the sound of the door clicking slightly again, their attention shifting to the pink-haired that averts her gaze to the ground, a soundly gulp as the tension in the room can be tangible even by her that just arrived. She takes a standing spot by the side of Bonaparte's couch.

The brown-haired grins slyly at Zane and calls the girl closer with the sway of a finger again, she bends onwards turning her head so her ear can be close to his lips, he mumbles something while looking into the summoner.

The teal-haired doesn't like this at all. He feels tested. Is he trying to fathom what Zane will do? The expression of the girl changes slightly, as if she doesn't like the order, recomposing herself, she walks to the wine shelves, taking the best bottle and coming over to the table, pouring a glass to Bonaparte, he slides his hand on her bottom, under her dress, caressing it shamelessly.

"Good girl, if you keep this up, soon you'll be out of here."

She struggles to keep her composure, she bites her trembling lips, to not fail the task, then comes over to Zane's side to pour him a cup too. His finger tapping on his leg, his gaze focused on the repugnant Bonaparte. Before she finishes pouring it, the teal-haired purposefully uncrosses his legs to switch sides, kicking the table on the process and making the girl stumble with surprise, she drops the bottle in reflex.

The glass shatters onto the ground spreading the expensive wine and splashing it on his shoes and edge of his pants, he opens his arms widely to fake a natural reaction. A vein pops on Bonaparte's forehead.

"You little… Come here!"

He orders the girl, she switch glances between the mess and Bonaparte, flabbergasted, her skin getting even paler as she walks near her master, he pulls her hair as a punishment, shouting near her ear:

"Go clean it immediately, you useless bitch!"

She runs off when he lets her go, coming back in a hurry with cleaning tools and sitting down over her legs, on the ground to collect the shards of broken glass. Zane's finger taps even more impatiently on his leg, his rage building up more.

"I'm sorry for that Mr. Truesdale, she needs a lot more training." He smiles, rubbing his hands worriedly.

"It's not a problem."

"You're too nice. This thing is good for nothing, can't even listen to people. I'll make sure to punish her later so she doesn't commit any mistake. At least I can get a good view on her." He growls, watching her on her four legs trying to wipe the ground.

"She's mute, not deaf, dumbass." Zane holds back his tongue, a different sentence than what he wanted coming out of his mouth: "Can I excuse myself to the bathroom?"

He stands up hastily, his cloak making a noise and getting the attention of the men, he has to leave the room before he snaps out for good at the guy and ruins the plan of getting information, but man is it hard to put up with this abuser.

"Go ahead… It's in the hallway, the second door on the left."

As soon as he closes and locks the door of the bathroom behind after leaving that insufferable living room, he supports his hands on the sink, looking at his reflection on the mirror, his brows are angled obtusely, his blood simmering hard. He opens his mouth and inserts a finger into it, closing his eyes.

The noise of him puking is muffled by the thick door. He coughs hoarsely a few times, wiping some saliva around his mouth with a hand. Whose idea was to swallow a gem again? He's gonna make Syrus try doing it too once, what a lovely job. He turns on the tape water, letting it run and splashing it onto his face.

A clean and unpolished garnet is left on the sink, he takes it and wipes with a tissue from the tissue box on the sink, tucking the gem onto his pocket. Drying his face, he takes a deep breath, time to face that man again.

When he comes back to the room, Bonaparte was drinking his wine, appreciating it, his pink-haired servant stands beside him, her legs are fondled by the sleaky hands covered in rings of her master. Zane averts his eyes again, he won't drink anything this guys offers to him, he could have laced it with something.

"Won't you have any wine?"

"I'll pass. I prefer doing my business with a straight head to avoid regrets later."

"Go and bring us a juice to drink, you whimpering thing." He slaps her butt once, propelling her forwards, she gulps, leaving the room in a rush. "About your deal, what exactly are you looking for? I can arrange any type of catalyst you want."

"Any? Age, gender, everything?"

"Sure, a new shipment was due to arrive, but-" He stops himself right there, sipping the wine, a little slip on his part, maybe the alcohol is getting to him. "I mean, just say it and we have it. If I can't hand it to you today after the payment, I can arrange it in a couple days at most."

"He was about to mention a shipment… Did he know about the hijack of the Kaiba Corp. ship? We're getting close to something here…"

His eyes sharpen, glaring at the man, it's almost impossible to hide his threatening aura by now. The girl comes back with a tray of different drinks. Bonaparte snaps at her upon seeing what she brought, standing up and threading strongly:

"I said juices, not soda, your brainless slut! And You should have knocked on the door before entering! How many mistakes will you make today? You're bothering me and my client! We're talking about important stuff, don't interrupt with your unsightly presence!"

Her lips quiver in an attempt to form a cognizable apology, then a sound pierces the air, Bonaparte slaps her face with a full hand, so heavily her whole body turns to the side and falls to the ground, his handprint stamped on her cheek.

Zane gapes, his expression darkening as Bonaparte comes even closer to her showering the girl in vile insults, she shivers, trying to not look at her master, covering her wounded cheek, supporting one of her hands on the ground, her eyes become watery, she crumbles apart into tears, hiding her face with both hands, Bonaparte abruptly pulls her by the wrist, attempting to forcefully have her stand up. This is the last straw.

"You'll see what's waiting for you later, if you don't gobble those tears, a week in jail without food should teach you a lesson!"

He yanks her wrist again, lashing out his bad temper into her. His mouth opens to slander more, but he halts midway when a shadow covers both his and his servant`s figure, someone stomps the ground closer to them, stopping right in front of him.

"Hey! Hey!"

Zane's voice is overbearing as he looks down on the men, bloodshot eyes, he had enough of this despicable criminal. Bonaparte's eyes open wide, he can sense the trouble as Zane lifts an arm, slapping him with so much strength he lets go of the wrist of the girl and is knocked to the side, crashing onto the wall and falling over to the ground face up.

He can see the ceiling of his house as one of his nostrils starts bleeding, he sits down, stunned, touching his cheek that was even redder than the girl's. She's as astonished as him, her gaze shifting between the man and her master. Her eyes almost popping out, her hands unwittingly covering her mouth as she looks at her shrieking master on the ground, then drifting to the summoner.

The teal haired offers a hand, she takes it reluctantly, her body trembling and cowering at his touch. Helping her up, he pronounces in a very calm, but serious tone, his eyes squinting at Bonaparte briefly before he casts a glance at her.

"Why don't you go out and wash your face a bit, milady?"

She flushes slightly. Despite the cold eyes, he was certainly the kindest person she'd met in this mansion. He lets go of her hand, concentrating on her master.

"Y-You stay where you are!" He points at her, she freezes in place. "And you!" He points at Zane angrily. "W-What is the meaning of this?!"

His voice falters when he requests an answer, putting a hand to his swollen cheek, scared at the shaded face of Zane, a gleam of rage seething inside the guest so furiously that emanates an intense aura from him. The face of a king. An evil one. The so-called Hell Kaiser he heard about.

"My humblest apologies, Mr. Bonaparte…"

The teal-haired man smirks sardonically without letting his gaze escape the depraved features of Bonaparte, then bows a bit in a derisive reverence, now that felt great, at least a bit of his stress was relieved.

"There was this most unbearable insect flying near your face… I just couldn't control myself. I do hear I have a bit of a strict and heavy hand in the underground, my bad, it wasn't my intention to harm you."

He grabs Bonaparte's hand a bit more firmly, almost crushing it under his grip, helping him up effortlessly, their eyes meeting as he lets his hand go, the noble squeaks, taking a step back. The summoner calmly walks back to the couch, plopping onto his seat, crossing a leg over the other, as if nothing out of ordinary had happened.

"Why don't we resume our business talk, shall we? I promise I'll keep my hand away from you if you give me a good offer."

He intonates the last part as a joke, Bonaparte sees no fun in that. This time, it's Zane pointing at the couch for the man to sit across from him, the trader sweats aplenty, gulping and obeying the command, at this point, the pink-haired is unsure of who is in control of the situation, watching in tension the situation unfold.

A malevolent smirk plays on Zane's lips as he stares at Bonaparte, instilling a shiver on the other man. To hell with the plan, he's gonna get information out of this guy and oh will have fun here, a muffled and coarse laughter comes out of his throat. Like he predicted before, this will be a very, very long night.