A/N: Oops, another one I got addicted to and so the dust bunnies are running rampant inside my brain wanting to break free. Reading both manga and the web novel simultaneously for maximum entertainment.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters except my own OC. Revenge of the Sword Clan's Hound belongs to the rightful owner.
Prologue
Viktoria, you must…investigate Hugo…and kill him.
Those were the last words my brother whispered to me as I drove my sword straight through his chest in a lunging motion, his eyes never wavered and rooted me in place. The skies rumbled above, almost like Heaven itself was displeased with what had occurred. His sword fell from his limp hand, hitting the ground with a dull sound; in the last moment when I rushed, he didn't protect and allowed my blade to pierce. He must have known what I was thinking based on my facial expression alone, because he just smiled as if it was all according to his plan. Slowly I withdrew my sword and stood silently as my brother's lifeless body toppled over and hit the ground with a light thump, no longer able to function anymore. The fresh but dark red liquid known as blood inched its way toward the tip of my blade before falling like a raindrop, staining the ground and the steel surface the same color. How did this even happen? Why was I the one selected to carry out the execution of my own brother? And who is the one responsible for that order?
"Well done Viktoria, excellent display of skill and prowess worthy of bearing the name of Baskerville. Reminds me of myself back in my prime if I do say so myself, however you are still in need of more discipline and practice. The Baskervilles have no use for that filthy traitor, cutting him down before he does any more damage and ruining our reputation was absolutely necessary."
Clan head….I slowly turned towards the speaker, a very old man with graying hair and a nasty scar running across the bridge of his nose. Behind him stood a large crowd of individuals, their red eyes flashing against the darkness of night underneath their hooded uniforms. In my years growing up this bastard was the reason for my unluckiness, made my childhood a living hell, and he has never praised me to this extent. An absolute monster, but revered by many who are present. He's the one who issued the order without blinking or hesitation. Look at that smug and proud expression on his face as if he contributed something of value to the fight. Absolutely disgusting. They're all nothing more than a pack of dogs waiting for the wounded to fall over, attacking them when they're at their lowest.
"Let this serve as a valuable lesson for all of you here, do well to remember everything you've witnessed with your very eyes. Any inkling of betray against the family ultimately leads to death, that is the iron clad rule of Baskerville. It matters not who carries out the execution, however, rest assure it'll be someone you are real close to you. This is why I drilled into your minds that you must keep your enemies close, there's no room for friends and playmates. One day you'll have to do what you have witnessed with your own eyes, you'll be forced to turn your fangs against anyone who dares to stand in your way, even your own brothers in arm. This whole world might as well be your enemy, so take care to keep your fangs sharp. Do I make myself clear?"
"Sir!" The clearing rang with the thousand voices of hounds answering their master's question, their eyes flashing a brief color of red under the moonlight. Even the wondering wild beasts who could hear and smell the commotion dare not interrupt, for there were many elites who would end their lives in an instant. I personally did not participate in the caterwauling as it grew louder, still holding my blood-stained sword tightly in my hand. My eyes never left Hugo's who also held my gaze, and the slight corners of his mouth twitched. It felt as though we were seizing each other up, willing one or the other to submit. I finally turned my gaze downward, dipping my head as well in obedience and the Clan head grunted in approval. The chanting soon ebbed away into silence and everyone waited for their next orders with bated breath.
"Come." Hugo turned around after issuing the command and the hounds parted to let him pass through before falling into step behind him. Some glanced back with an indifferent expression at me before turning their backs and marched forward. The cleanup hounds who were in charge of getting rid of family executions moved to dispose of my brother's corpse, and I stood there in silence while etching the entire process into my brain, remembering and committing the images to memory. They dissected him with great precision, from dispatching the limbs to extraction the still warm entrails for the hungry beady-eyed birds.
Normally, if the Baskerville hounds were to hunt the wild beasts living in the forest we would never waste any part of our kills. Most of the meat, intestines, and bones would be ground into pulp or boiled into a kind of soup that the younger hounds consume to sustain their bodies. However, there were also hounds of lesser birth that mingle in the clan and they would get either nothing and go hungry or chew on scraps after their noble-blooded siblings had fed their stomachs; sometimes the lesser dogs would sneak out into the wilderness and hunt their own meals before the morning sun rises, making sure to wash and clean themselves to avoid detection from the patrols. Similarly hounds of noble birth are given the utmost burial ceremony, their bodies buried whole and intact. Some with higher status like an elite hound or someone on par with Hugo's rank actually get their bodies preserved, sheltered from nature and decay. Royal families are also compensated for their child's achievements and services, the rewards vary depending on level, status, and rank.
But this is a traitor of lower rank, status, and social heirchy and therefore most of his remains will be fed to a fire pit as a sacrificial offering. His body cut into pieces and dismembered, ready to endure the process of returning to the earth mostly as ashes. The crows were already flocking to grab a piece of the share, squawking at each other and fighting over the best or biggest parts; one of the hounds grunted with annoyance when the noise became unbareable and proceeded to move the spoils to a place further away to lessen the disturbance. If a crow even so much as dared to hop closer to the cleanup crew in hopes of better pickings, one of the hounds would release a dangerous killing intent, warning the bird that the pile of spoils was the only place to take from.
"Do you have any last regrets? For a traitor?" An elite hound spoke to me as the others finished their work by separating Vikir's head cleanly from his torso, his voice null and inexpressive almost like a low drawl. That is how hounds behave under Hugo's rule from birth to adult, and I expected nothing less. Emotionless and quick to serve, almost like machines executing what the master orders without expecting anything in return.
"No." I responded to his question even though my heart felt heavy in my chest. Making a sharp movement of my arm to flick the blood off my blade, I sheathed the weapon and turned away to return home back to the clan. "I have nothing else to say."
For the next few years or so I silently kept my brother's words at the forefront of my mind, fulfilling my duty as an elite member of the clan while also investigating Hugo and his past plans; from what my brother said I was under the impression that Hugo's actions stemmed from prior interactions or choices. For that reason I figured the best way is to take on tasks that would lead me to areas Hugo once walked through, hoping to gather any insight or negotiate with various characters that have dealt with the Clan head. Most of the missions I took on were either solo missions given by the surrounding towns because I can get some handsome rewards or those requested by other elite members and I get a small portion of the profit in return; I even willingly participated in assassination missions set by the Clan head himself, anything to keep him happy and also off my trail when I have time to spare. There were days were I couldn't shake off the trailing hounds, so I ended up not doing a lot of investigating and focused more on completing the missions.
As the seasons change, and the family grew even stronger both in skill and number I found myself taking detours after missions, spending time outside the doorstep of the Baskerville family; there were other places I could have spent my time wisely, but something kept dragging me back, and I will always be thankful for it.
So this is where they decided to hang him…. A gruesome display awaited my visits every time I reach a particular entrance of the Baskerville estate, a severed neck suspended from a hook that swayed gently whenever there's a breeze; it was meant to deter any form of betrayal and disloyalty from growing within the clan, but to me it only served as a reminder of what the clan head ordered me to carry out, and it kept the fire of anger simmering inside my belly.
The identity of the traitor was engraved on a plaque nearby: Vikir Van Baskerville.
Even though he was the illegitimate son of Hugo Les Baskerville, Vikir shed countless amounts of blood from the shadows, from behind the family's back. He had been the Baskerville's hunting dog, their loyal servant, a faithful executor of their darkest deeds. And now I have taken up that mantle in his steed since his death, relentlessly sharpening my fangs to be of service to the family even if my skills were at a slightly lower level than my brother's. The other members of the family gave me a wide birth and cold shoulder, knowing that as a twin I am also an illegitimate child of Hugo.
"Brother, I feel like I'm veering off the right path…and yet I'm getting closer to the truth, to the unjust and unfounded accusation to you being a spy for the demon tribe." I spoke to the head, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. I spent my time idly chatting, not expecting any form of conversation, but taking refuge knowing I wouldn't be interrupted as I poured out my thoughts.
"You did everything in your power to serve the Baskerville family, even embroiled yourself in espionage, assassination, kidnapping, intimidation, and smuggling. All these things were done in the name of protecting and providing. Your well-being and safety were constantly being sacrificed…I don't think I could ever measure up to that, always following in the footsteps as your shadow.
Honestly, you were an exceptional soldier…perhaps more than anyone in this era have ever witnessed. The Baskerville name resonates more than you could ever realize, and that is probably not what you had in mind. That can only mean that Hugo's power and influence is incredible. The other families and clans hold very tight bonds to the clan head, taken years or perhaps decades to build up. Severing those will take a while to accomplish…but I've already started to grow my own connections with officials in high places, some more difficult than others to please. I figured that Hugo will most likely send me to various regions so I had staked out worthy allies, slowly building up my own credentials and merit; I won't stoop so low as to use the Baskerville name to get what I want. I'll get what I want with my own powers, with my own hands.
It scares me a bit, feeling like I'm facing Hugo alone, a small naïve pup against a veteran wolf. When it was you and I together I felt invincible, like nothing in the world could hurt us. But…after receiving the order to have a dual with you, and treat it as if I was putting on a show, I never felt so sick. But Hugo taught us not to let our emotions lead the way, our clan isn't iron-clad for nothing. We've always let our swords do the talking, let our fangs rip our enemies apart. And that night….you were painted as the enemy I was ordered to take out."
I took a deep breath and took the time to look at the expression on his face, memorizing every wrinkle that ran through the pale-colored skin. It was a serene expression, one that hounds rarely express. Vikir didn't go in pain even while being stabbed, he had his eyes trained on me so I was the last thing he saw before departing. That thought itself brought me some comfort, as well as sadness. Normally hounds who are no longer considered useful in the rabbit hunts are quietly disposed of, or sent off on incredibly tough missions with the purpose of dying on the battlefield. Not one tear was shed for the ones that never come back, Hugo considered it a waste and unnecessary emotion to express.
'Hounds must show their iron will. There's no room for any trivial nonsense, those are for weak humans. Baskerville Hounds…shed any and all ounce of emotions from your frail bodies. Only through grueling training and strict regimen can you truly progress through life and serve.' Hugo preached this speech once before the cluster of young boys and girls, with the more experience ranks standing around. The younger dogs didn't know any better of the propaganda they were exposed to, only looking at the Clan head with eyes filled with admiration and adoration. 'We analyze the problems, rely on instincts during battle, eliminate major threats and bring forth promising results. Failure is not tolerated, and the punishment will reflect the severity of the mistake. Not everything results in death, but let it be known that death is the ultimate end.'
"Death was the ultimate end. However, you were adamant that you were framed, and that killing you was the wrong choice that Hugo ever made." I started speaking again after recollecting my thoughts. A gentle breeze stirred up, rustling the trees and even made Vikir's head sway; I swore it was movement as though the head was nodding in agreement to what I said. I glanced at the sky for a bit, noting the blended colors of red-yellows into a red-purple, noting that night is fast approaching. "Seems my time is almost up, I should head back before others start questioning me…although I have a feeling that Hugo will start to question me soon. I'll talk to you later." Kicking off the wall I threw those works quickly over my shoulder. Little did I know, my words will soon become a reality.
"Where have you been?" Hugo would question me when he caught wind of my frequent detours, his piercing, scrutinizing eyes locked on mine. This was perhaps the tenth or thirtieth – honestly I lost track of how many times this has occurred – time he's pulled me into the room for interrogation, the family's head butler who hails from the prestigious Barrymore family, always stood behind him. "Word is you've been spending too much time between missions being idle, time you could utilize completing your other requests or picking up newer ones from the lesser, more inexperience hounds."
"Out." My favorite go-to response, one that he'd never bat an eyelash to. My posture was straight, arms held behind my back in a cross and legs shoulder-width apart. There was no wavering in anything, I made a show of my own loyalty so there wasn't any doubt in Hugo's mind. Silence filled the room as the two of us continued to stare at one another, neither one of us backing down.
"Fine." Hugo finally caved after taking the hint that I wouldn't be budging any time soon, and ended the conversation; it did him no good if he didn't come on top of our little disagreements. Dipping my head out of respect I turned and exited, the door closing behind me.
"Sir?"
"Continue to keep an eye on her." The Clan head ordered the butler, who nodded his head in return in understanding. "Report to me her actions, no matter how trivial or minuscule. You also have my permission to assign other elite hounds to follow her if you are pressed for time, and have them report their findings back to me."
"Don't you think you're micromanaging her a bit too much? She'll know you are onto something and try to slip away."
"For a hound like her, the only illegitimate daughter surviving this long in a male-dominated family, one mustn't be too kind or show any favoritism. Others may view it as me spoiling her if I grand her too much freedom and favors. Instead, a master must hold on tightly to his dog's leash." Hugo stroked his beard in thought, his eyes flashing briefly. "Every hound has been faithful and loyal, she is no exception."
"One day she'll outlive her usefulness, and may even become an enemy." The butler paused for a moment, before proceeding carefully with his next words, "Has the thought of her turning on you ever crossed your mind?"
"A dog who willingly dares to bite its master!? As if I hadn't learned my lesson from Vikir's execution that these dogs underneath my command can become tainted!" Hugo barked in surprise at the implication, his hands curling into fists. "No matter how experienced a hound is just a hound, it'll become bored with the same old dirty tricks. What they need is consistent simulation with rewards to entice them. With this kind of intelligent animal, I don't believe she needs any enticement what's so ever, she's not as gullible as the other pieces of trash who just swing their swords like incompetents."
"Viktoria does seem to fair against her other little mates even if she was born from a common concubine. However, she has yet to master the 5th fang, only mastering the 4th fang which is not rare among the others."
"What she lacks in skill she makes up for with combat experience. Anyway don't worry so much, head butler, and proceed as planned. Counter measures are put in place, and if she does decide to turn her fangs against me, there's more than enough power in the clan to whittle her down."
"It will be done, sir."
Because of these continuous interactions with Hugo and catching onto his plan to watch my every step, I began to keep my own interactions with Vikir's head at a minimum, or at least go out while others lay asleep to whisper my words to him. I also found myself glancing over my shoulder once in a while, keeping eyes out for even the smallest hint of movement that'll indicate that I was being tailed.
Then on one winter night the year I turned forty years old I too, suffered the same fate as my brother. However, my death was not by the sword of another member as Hugo once proclaimed, I was subjected to the guillotine with everyone in attendance. Down on my blood-caked knees on the icy ground, with arms shackle behind my back and my head wedged into the single hole I can only await for the biting steel to fall on my neck. My breath come out in slow pained drawls, no doubt from the torturous sessions I endured days prior while held captive in the underground prisons, the blows upon my body dealt by hard fists and feet felt fresh against my skin. The many lashes from the biting leather whips didn't feel any better, and one of my eyes was shut and swollen.
A rope gag continued to taste horrible on my tongue, a reminder of rusted iron from the blood left on the material; the corners of my mouth and patches of skin of my cheeks were continuously rubbed and shafted by the rough material as it was tied around the back of my head, saliva uncontrollably dripping out. The crows were already crowing and jeering in the nearby trees, multiple beady eyes eagerly waiting for the signal to swoop down and pick at my entrails once I've been thoroughly discarded.
"To think you would follow your brother's path of betrayal to the clan, I wouldn't have believed it myself had it not been for the other elites in this family; I cannot even laugh for the head butler once told me about his misgivings, about you turning your fangs against me. Talk about karma nipping at the ankles of my feet. I thought highly of you as a loyal hunting dog, gave you the benefit of the doubt, turns out I was a fool to have done so." Because of my limited head movement I couldn't look at the speaker directly, but I didn't need to since Hugo's voice is very recognizable. I kept my head lowered, using only my ears to listen to the words coming out of the man's mouth. "Seeing you in such position only reminds me of that traitor, reminds me of your lineage, and reminds me that the apple never fell too far from the tree. Truly a shame."
"Mmph..." I grunted softly, low and gutted, as if the words could barely pass through my parched throat. Because of the uncomfortable gag I couldn't even close my mouth, my eyebrows furrowed as I felt the urge to cough raise from the depths due to how easily the dry air flowed through. When I attempted to swallow, whatever amount of saliva that had been produced barely made it to the back before reversing course and dribbling out the front.
"As you can see the Baskerville clan have grown with prosperity and wealth over the years, more than any other clan to my knowledge. Every single one of my members are capable of completing elite level missions with mid to high marks. And it pains me to say that they've survived this long under your direct and experienced guidance, even though you and Vikir were never blessed as babies. And yet…you two ended up being some of the clan's best of the best, something even I could never have imagined. I was surprised to say the least, always excited to see more of what you two accomplished either together or individually."
"Hmph." I huffed in response.
"I would extend my deepest gratitude when great progress was made for the sake of the Baskervilles, and I don't give those out lightly; you may have deserved such praises in the past as you clawed and fought your way to the position you held, but praising you as you are now in front of the subordinates would be a mockery to the Baskervilles and everything that our name stands for. Your teachings are no longer require, have a peace of mind knowing that you'll be reduced to nothing. Not even the history books or stories passed down from generation to generation will ever utter your name. You'll be nothing but a phantom in the wind, just like all the other nameless hounds who perished before you."
I said nothing as I listened to his words, ears straining a bit to hear him as I could tell that sometimes the volume was a bit faint. The winds continuously stirred and swirled around us, and my body shivered a little due to the tattered clothing that barely concealed anything. Numbness due to the cold crawled and clawed up my limbs from the tips, soon rendering all feelings null. Slowly but surely I was losing my senses and getting weaker, each breath felt like a fire in my lungs. Black spots begun to appear in my vision, but I continued to stare at the ground, blinking to dispel them.
"You poor thing, I shouldn't delay this any longer. I can tell you're barely holding on by a string." There was no pity or sympathy in his voice, his arm raised and extended up to signal the executioners when to drop the blade. A moment of silent fill the air, and I swore I could feel his eyes burning into my skull. "Farewell." With a downward swing of the arm the executioners nodded their heads and released the blade. It came down quick, a sharp whistling in my ears before everything fell silent, and red entered my vision until it was the only color painting the world.
Deep down I could not let go of my fervent desire to live as memories of Vikir whispering his last words to me fueled my desire into an unquenchable fire; it was a mighty blaze screaming to be fed with the flesh of those who cast me aside. My thoughts lingered on the hope of a second chance, a new beginning that would allow me to start over and live life to the fullest. With fierce determination after my head separated from my body, I finally forced my eyes to fixate on my enemy in a last act of defiance. The individual had his back towards me while the other members shuffled off in silence, the man who stands as the head of the Baskerville Clan has finally rid himself of me. Or so he thought, not aware of the piercing gaze locked on him.
On that day of my own execution I made a plain and simple vow: Blood…must have blood. And the blood I will spill without fail on these grounds…is Hugo's.