I have been busy for a while, I got abit sick and also exhausted, now I finally could finish this chapter, part 1 of 3 (maybe it will be 4 depending on the length of other chapters and the first small arc in the story.)
Chapter VI
The uninvited pt. I - Mission
Many hours before the meeting between Zane and Bonaparte, at dawn, southern lands. The dark cloak flutters with the gentle breeze, the man clad in black stops in front of a ruined site.
His face tilting slightly down, to look at the unconscious girl on his arms, her semblance is unbothered and calm. His voice is strict when he opens his mouth:
"For how long will you pretend to be asleep, Cleah?"
Her eyes blink awake, bending her neck down to look at him, flinging her legs slightly to be let down as she asks in an almost childish curiosity:
"How long did you know it?"
"Your wounds healed a few hours ago." He lets her down slowly, adding the last part with a hint of annoyance. "You got your 'ride' to the lab, now don't slack off."
She shrugs off as he walks past by shaking off his head at her attitude. Her shoulder that should've been poisoned has no blemishes like before, only her slightly ripped clothes remain as a vestige she was attacked.
The ruins are composed of nothing more than yellow stone walls, its corners unsharpened, worn off by time, ragged curtains dangling from it as the wind howls past, arched stone entrances half standing to welcome visitors, the whole story of a castle that became nothing more than debris in the war left there.
They stop in the middle of it, the man taps the wall to the side, pressing a fake stone tile, activating a switch with a click.
A subtle earthquake occurs as a human-height dome-like structure rises from the ground, dust cascading down from it as rocks crackle down. He takes a cylindrical and sharp red beryl from his pocket and flashes it in front of the control panel imbued on the structure, mechanical sounds flowing to their ears as the doors open, producing smoke on the edges.
The inside of the capsule is made of opaque blue tiles surrounded by plain white walls and ceiling. It closes off once they're in and he presses a button in the inner control panel that consists of a strange language made of symbols not cognizable to modern men.
Suddenly, they're going down to the underground, where the base is located. The dome disappears from the outside world, a square stone hatch automatically closing off the hole where it came from, disguising it as normal earth for any passerby outside.
Out of the secret elevator, the halls are dark, only dim blue lights on the ceiling illuminating the ambience, spaced widely letting shadows intercalate between each light beam; the cold cobblestone lined walls are those of a dungeon and an unwelcoming air hovers around.
The pair stops on a focus of light, a presence making itself known. From the shadows of the corridor ahead, a man steps in front of them, a smirk on his lips, his brown hair had a strand or purple coming down his forehead, his hands on the pockets of his brown sleeveless jacket, a knit red hat covering his head, an yellow gem atop of it.
"You're both late. Did bandits try to get ya or what?" The suggestion is filled in mockery, almost as if that was a rhetorical question.
"A minor interruption." The other man answers unwavering.
"Well, with a beauty like this, I can understand why… I've been in prison for a while and I missed some nice sights…" He comes a step closer, bending onwards and hounding the girl from all sides, his eyes squinting slyly.
His hands come out of his pockets, making squishing movements as he prepares to land an assault to her body, a blade immediately pointed to his chin, the metal sparkling in the darkness, a centimeter from his neck until her arm halts:
"Cleah."
Like a command, she stops the attack, glaring at the nervous smirk of the man in front of her.
"That was a joke… You have no sense of humor, lass." He raises his arms.
"We received your 'welcome' in the wastelands."
She blurts out, sending a shiver through his spine as her eyes latch on his. No matter how many times he sees her, the girl has such a chilling glare, it can make a grown man cry.
"Keh, answering like a good dog, are you?"
"Do not touch me." She flips her blade up and sheathes it.
"So violent. I was just trying to ascertain you came here intact with Neos and all. I wanted to make sure you're capable of doing the job and it seems you overcame all the troubles and arrived safely, ain't I nice?"
"What do you want?"
Raptor simply puts his hands back in his pockets, hunching his shoulders and smirking deviously as he looks at the girl from up to down.
"Some small talk. The boss is waiting anxiously."
He scoffs, whirling around and casting a glance over at them, guiding the way, they follow him as he continues blabbering his mouth:
"It's been a while since I last saw you Cleah-chan, you weren't this big last time…" He looks at her chest. "But I feel your face didn't change much… Is this guy feeding you something to keep you small and young or…" His eyes narrow provocatively as he casts them over to her. "Is this some sort of secret from the Fujiwara Clan?"
Her eyes twitch ever so slightly, his smirk enlarging for the sketch of a reaction he got from her, again Darkness intervenes:
"I don't see the point of this conversation."
"Like I said, just some small talk, relax you both, I ain't your enemy." He cackles at them. "I'm just surprised that the SR's got their hands on someone from the Fujiwara Clan, weren't they people living on an island under a super strict regimen or something? I heard they were only hired as mercenaries for the Empire and other kingdoms because they were so special and had prowess in the arts of assassination due to their special trainings."
"The Shadow Riders always accepted people from all over the world, you were recruiting too once, you should know it."
"Don't mind me… It colors me surprised that our beauty here enlisted as your disciple, Nightshroud… At least, rumors are the boss let her in because someone of her lineage could be useful and not because she was your disciple. Talking about which… I never got to hear the story of how you two became master and disciple… It's a tad off to me that a full-fledged assassin would need any more training and that no one else knew you had an apprentice before that…"
The green-haired woman curves her lips down subtly, it's enough for her partner to catch on that this isn't gonna end well if Rex keeps taunting them as he is. His steps cease, startling both of the companions.
"If you have so much time to run your mouth, why don't you tell the important part: why were you sent here? I doubt it's to welcome us."
"Heh, so serious. I guess I understand why the boss would send the stiff dude to do the job. Fine, I'll tell ya." He stops, whirling around stretching his pockets with his hands. "The boss wants you two to bring Neos to him immediately. Also, he wanted to speak personally with our Cleah-chan. I wonder what the boss wants with you."
"Weren't you supposed to be in the north?" Darkness interrupts his blabbering again, in a harsh, steady tone.
"Heh, you think I could stay in the north after Weevil bailed me out of prison there? It's fucking cold there and the Imps were all over searching for me, the boss ordered a retreat, they'll need me here soon. Someone was sent there in my place and they'll be recruiting in the prison instead of me. Ah."
They halt upon seeing the double stone door with cracks, dried roots spreading from the corners to the middle; the center of the door has a small vain on the exact shape of an oval stone. Rex takes out a matching blue gem out of his pocket and inserts it. The doors shake, its halves heavily sliding to the sides, scratching and rocky knocks entering the air as dust arises and the structure of the corridor trembles, letting grains of earth fall from above.
A faint blue light shining to the outside as Rex steps aside with a grin, to give them passage, they both enter the room fearlessly, the door slowly closing behind them, his grin enlarging, he can't contain his excitement in what the organization is about to do.
Interlude IV - From the secret recordings of the Fujiwara Clan parchments "The Ancients"
Ancients are entities weaved by sheer power. They do not own a body, but live - not in our world. On one hand they wield destruction, and on the other, they wield life. How many eons have ancients existed is a mystery. They have been and are before humanity knew how to speak or had any contact with other realms. They interfered when they saw fit and chose representative for themselves. Duel monster spirits have also been blessed by their might at times. Why they do what they do is beyond our comprehension, but we have been able to communicate with them for as long as our clan has existed, sometimes even calling them forth to our plan of existence, and at others channeling them into our kin.
Men waged war consulting their wisdom, using their powers, so the Ancients enclosed themselves to other dimensions far from where human hands can reach, letting humanity be. Through many millennia, they have been unheard of until their chosen ones appeared, their existence veiled to most. It was deliberated and decided by them that their existence should no longer be a knowledge all humans own, but a secret to a few selected ones - the chosen, thus hiding their presences, they watched over us all, not engaging in our affairs.
The chosen ones are the binding between them and our world, the bond tying both. They are granted unseen power and bear markings or characteristics on their bodies proving their connection to the old ones, in return, those powerful entities may possess their flesh. Humans who are not chosen also have been able to communicate with them, through unorthodox and often disapproved ones that must be withheld in secrecy.
There is much to dwell on the Ancients, but I may be brief here. Their secrets and our techniques to reach their ears and plead for their power may remain hidden amidst ours and passed down exclusively to the next generations of our Clan.
To my fellow clan, may our power bring peace and advancement to humanity.
Takumi Fujiwara
Y. 948 D.C
Inside the underground chamber
There's a bright dark-blue neon light emanating from a giant experimental tube incrusted on ground and ceiling at the middle of the room; dead roots sprawl on the floor, vines dangling down the upper stones and moss creeping from the crevices between the rectangular stones composing the ground and walls.
Inside the tube there's an old man, his white hair floating in the blue, strange liquid, so many cables connected to his body they can barely make something out of his face, covered by a breathing mask, his eyes are silver, blinded, looking at something beyond and not to them. The pair kneels respectfully in front of him, awaiting for his speech with lowered heads.
"You called, my lord?" Cleah greets, the same stoic expression on her face.
"Nightshroud, Cleah, I have waited for you. Where is the card?"
His voice reverberates, but the room is in utter tranquility, only the sound of the bubbles bursting inside the liquid he's in echoes. He speaks not with his lips, but in their minds.
Nightshroud takes the card off his chest pocket, flipping it to the man. A deep, vile and coarse laughter spreads in their thoughts.
"My lord, what is the next step in our plan?" He asks cordially, his lead lifting not more than necessary.
"We must keep Neos in the sealing chambers for the time being." His order is soundly, they nod in agreement. "My child."
As if many voices spoke softly through a single mouth, that whisper reaches Cleah's ears, raising her awareness of the surroundings. She could almost feel an ethereal hand brushing on the skin of her cheek.
"In all those years we have taken care of you, have we not?" He's one, but his voices are many, an uncomfortable feeling inkling in her chest. "When you abandoned your family long ago, your origins, we have taken you here and given you shelter. We hid you from them. They lost their influence over you and would dare not strike their claws unto us. A lost battle it would be."
"Yes, my lord. For all that I'm grateful."
"Regrettably, my child, one must go back to their origins at times and find answers within their roots." The plants in the room crawl closer to the tube, enveloping it on the corners, some branches lightly crawling under her legs, her posture tenses up, her eyes faltering subtly, scared by it. "It's time to repay the kindness offered to you, child."
"How can I serve you, my lord?"
"You are able to speak to the Ancients, are you not? Not many know, but the technique passed down in your clan, etched into your blood. I watched over you, all knowing of it, and waiting for the opportunity in which your talents would be required. I want you to use Neos to summon the 'Light' and communicate with it, to leash it to your body so we can possess it."
"My lord, I'm afraid I never finished my training in that regard. It could be dangerous."
She raises her head for a moment, the voice ringing stronger into their ears as it speaks through their head:
"You are prepared. Fear not, we will be with you." His tone is calmer and soothing, a female voice soaring twice at once, a devil's request. "Will you do that for us, my child?"
"I'll do as you say, my liege."
"Very well. Get everything prepared in the sealing chambers, we'll start it as soon as possible."
As she bows deeply to him, the vines and branches around her recoil, the whispers ceasing all at once, the unnerving noise of the liquids flowing inside the tubes are the only sound in the room. They both stand up, dismissed. As early as the stone door closes behind, Darkness casts a glance over his shoulder, then at her.
"Cleah, this won't work. You know that very well."
"I cannot refuse orders. Besides, it won't hurt to try, the Light might even have a clue about what happened to him." She doesn't spare a glance at the partner, sensing the scolding aura oozing from under his mask, she chooses to ignore it.
"It won't speak to you or recognize you. Be warned, this doesn't bode well."
"We'll find out soon enough."
"You are being used as a sacrificial pawn. Is that what you wish, Cleah? Don't you have a mission unfulfilled?"
Pacing her steps faster, she walks ahead, a deep sigh coming out of his mouth, his patience to deal with her quirks and stubbornness is out. She sends a very smug glare over her shoulder, stopping under the dim light, aware this would just throw more wood into the fire:
"It can't kill me even if it tried."
Those are the last words before she disappears into the shadow ahead of her, his fists clenching slightly. This irresponsibility of hers is bound to lead towards failure.
Deltora,
Past midnight
Bonaparte's sitting on the couch, his pink-haired servant sits sideways on the same couch, stretching herself to glue a bandage to his wounded and swollen cheek. Despite the girl having a bright red cheek like his, he's the only one whining.
He grinds his teeth, snarling at the teal-haired man sitting across him with a leg folded above the other, a tenacious and bland glare on his mug as if he's watching the slaver trader's every move.
"Ah, I feel much better." He lets out a sigh of relief. "I'm really, really sorry Mr. Bonaparte, my hand just couldn't resist smacking that insect. I hope everything is fine between us. I wouldn't want to ruin the trade." His lips open sarcastically, the man cringes at it.
"An insect, I see…" He shows his teeth, but that's in no way a smile. "Now that this is settled, we can go back to busines- Ack!"
He slaps the servant's hand away from him when his face prickles as she firms the bandage fully. She stands up in a hurry denying with her head and nervously gesturing with her hands to apologize, his fists clenching.
"You little-"
"Why don't you come sit over here with me, milady?"
Zane barges into the discussion with a stronger voice than the man's, patting the padded couch in soft plops. Bonaparte growls at her, then tilts his head giving her an order to go, she hurriedly takes a seat beside the summoner, switching glances between the two men, gulping still unsure whether a fight will just break out or not.
A smile appears under his moustache, his expression changing completely when he looks at his client.
"Oh, my, what a mistake on my part to not think about it before, surely the lady can keep you company, a sight to the eyes, isn't she? Unfortunately like I said, she's not for sale. Maybe I can find you something similar? But one that can speak."
He says the last part in a petty tone, his vile eyes narrowing at her, she adjusts on her sit worriedly at the mention, Zane's voice soars again:
"I may not be able to buy her, but at least I can look at the merchandise." The girl jolts on her seat, skidding a few centimeters away from him for safety. "Don't worry he won't come all the way here to beat you, he isn't mad to try just yet."
He doesn't look at her, his sharp gaze focuses on the merchant, a faint smile stamped on his lips, a defiant tone that makes the man scowl in annoyance.
"Mr. Truesdale… You have a big sense of humor." He forcefully curves his mouth up.
"I want to talk about business…" He crosses his arms. "Do you have a catalogue for human catalysts or something of that sort? How do I choose?"
"Well, which type of human catalyst would you like exactly? If you have preferences, I can give you exactly what you wish for or more."
"Young, able to endure a lot of casting and also pain, my line of work is not forgiving, if you understand me. I don't care about gender, if they can tank all my summoning, that's all I'd ask for. I've had these worst problems lately that my gems are not durable enough and a catalyst would solve that."
"Interesting…" He rubs his hands together. "I have just the right thing for you, for tomorrow even."
"Great. Can you show it to me tomorrow, then? I would love to pay another visit." His eyes roam around uninterested in the mansion, shrewdly land on the man again, fishing for a reaction. "By the way, how can you get a catalyst here so quickly?"
"It's a trade secret." He snickers.
"Does this trade secret have anything to do with recent shipments from the south?"
"What are you talking about?" He takes a handkerchief and wipes his sweat nervously.
"I'm really curious because you mentioned before. I thought if you're getting them mainly from there, I could as well make a trip to the south and get a catalyst for myself without the extra costs of paying the merchant."
"Mr. Truesdale, it's not as simple as you may think, there's lots to look for in this type of business…" He clears his throat.
"Like what? If they are healthy or if they already belong to someone?"
"Those are complicated questions."
"Oh, where are my manners? You must be very busy yourself, I would appreciate it if you could keep me company tonight and clear my doubts. It's just minor research about the product I'm getting."
"I-I am not sure if I can keep you company the whole night, but I can afford some time with you tomorrow. If you are so anxious…" He gulps at his own suggestion, he's hiding something: "Why not spend the night here? We have plenty of rooms and we also could entertain you with some of my servants if you would like to spend the night awake."
"I have a great hotel room waiting for me, so…"
"If you're here you can easily get your purchase handed with care, you could also look at more 'merchandise' and perhaps I could induce you into a few more purchases, I guarantee you'd not regret. You'll have an absolutely thrilling night."
It's a trap. Zane's mind screams at him, his eyes squinting, cast briefly at the lady sitting on the couch, remembering just how many other people he saw on the way here. He'd like to go and that's the smartest course of action, but since he's already here, why not have some more fun and personal satisfaction? Trap or not, he doesn't care, one gem is enough to wipe the floor with this bastard and he's so in the mood to wreak havoc.
How would Bonaparte react if he were to break all those people free from his shackles? Moreover, he can get more info perhaps by spying on his mansion or Bonaparte himself. A smirk forms on his face just at the thought, a muffled laughter coming hoarsely out of his throat along with his answer:
"Sure. If you insist."
"Splendid! I'll have everything prepared!"
He smiles gleefully, clapping his hands twice, the pink-haired servant stands up in a jolt, as if that was a command, but it's not her he's talking to, two other slaves promptly enter the room at the call.
"Prepare a room for our guest!" They bow and leave, obeying the command. "And you useless thing, go fix this ugly mug of yours! We'll talk later."
He barks at her squinting his eyes in irritation, she hurries out of the room, covering her wounded cheek, sweating aplenty. Zane follows with eyes until she leaves the room, he finally has some space.
"We were talking about the shipments from the south. Do you own many ships and vehicles capable of transportation, mister Bonaparte? I would think a man of your caliber would have a whole port full of them."
"You flatter me." He giggles mischievously. "There are many ways, but like I said, we can discuss that another time." A knock comes from the door, the two slaves he sent to prepare the room come back. "Oh, look, I believe it's time to end the night, Mr. Truesdale. You may retire to your room and enjoy the night, the servants are there for anything you need. I'm tired too."
"Of course."
He says not convinced of a single word pronounced by the merchant, the servants escort him to the room, always looking ahead, never at his face, the politely bow while opening the door. It's a big bedroom with a couple-sized bed in fine and expensive bedsheets ceiled by a canopy with think, transparent whitish cloths toppling down, he's disgusted, it looks exactly like the bedrooms of those people from the Empire.
Soon he's left alone, his eyes trailing the corners and inspecting the place, bed aside, there's a chest of drawers, a small wooden closet made of dark wood supported on an even more luxury red carpet and to the side, a bathroom with a mirror. He closes the door immediately upon seeing it, enough of spying on him for the day.
His hand rummages under all surfaces and corners he can and can't see, there are no listening bugs, he even checks the room decoration like the big painting of a semi-naked Greek woman across from the bed. After this all, he turns off the lights. Since Bonaparte was scared by his hand "slipping" onto his face, he must wait. No way a guy like him is sleeping as early as a bit past midnight, he's a night owl.
He plops onto the bed, sitting there, taking out the garnet from his pockets, his eyes getting used to the darkness of the room. There's a crack in his gem, his brows twitch in confusion.
"Was it from when I spit it? No way, it's easier for this to crack my bones than the other way around..."
He spends some hours there, just sitting and waiting to hear movement from the house. Then, at last, footsteps can be heard coming from the corridor, the annoying squeaky shoes of Bonaparte are one and the other sounds like a sturdy man with hefty walking. His eyes sharpen, awaiting for the moment they vanish from the corridor.
Closing his eyes, he concentrates on the ambience, he knows the two slaves who guided him here must be outside the door, guarding it, Bonaparte even gave him a room with a bathroom so he doesn't have an excuse to leave. When he can't hear either the slave master's voice or steps anymore, he stands up, time for his night exploration. Opening the door with a creak, he startles the men standing on each side of the door.
"Could you enter for a moment? I believe Bonaparte said you could entertain me."
They bow and as one of them enters the room, Zane applies a chop to his neck with a single hand, the bulky man falls to the ground, the other one is about to shout, but he covers his mouth before that and delivers a blow to his nape too. Dragging them both inside his room, he shakes off his head. Not his favorite move.
"I'm sorry for this, you two will soon be freed too."
He closes the door softly to not make noise, The corridors are very bright, his pupils thin out at the light. He's sure Bonaparte walked past to the right, his feet lead him there, to the end of the the corridor, he can listen to muffled voices to the front of the same room he was with the house master before.
Inconspicuously and silently, he approaches positioning himself in a way the door itself would block his sight if opened, leaning his ear close to the painted wood, he can distinguish the voices, but the words are unclear.
"I had troubles taking off my tail… The damn…"
"Haha, he's a tough one. I can vouch for that. But once you get to his weak points, he'll be squishy like a weakling."
The second man sounds familiar for some reason, but he can't pinpoint where he heard that voice before, his eyes squinting as he tries to catch more of the dialogue, his ear glued closer to the door until. A soundly gasp comes from the opposite side.
His eyes flash to the corridor, the pink-haired servant is there, standing even paler than natural, her hands covering her mouth in shock. The summoner straightens his posture menacingly, letting out a heavy sigh as her eyes flicker switching between the door and him.
He can't afford to be caught here, for her sake too. His inexpressive semblance causes a drop of sweat to roll down her face tensely. Now that she has seen him there, what will she do?