“I expected you days ago,” instead of being mad about disturbance in the dead of night, Raktkalis reprimanded over a triviality. Perhaps the matters have been compounding.

  I felt wetness on my neck. A bit more mistreatment and he'll have to give up on forcing me to speak through my mouth.

  The lord didn’t seem like a person to be moved by apologies, so I whispered without bobbing my throat, “We d-don’t all have helicopters at our disposal, my lord.”

  Blade lowered as if conceding and started a lazy dance.

  Unblinking stare examined my Kalantan traits. It was far more difficult to meet those eyes without a safety net in between us, so I averted my eyes towards the other producer of noise. It was one of those creatures. A former person. Round face with dainty features, now disfigured by a spiky arrangement. I don’t think it could see anymore.

  “Surely, this didn’t work twice,” the blade gestured towards my epilated scalp. He was relaxed, in that calm-before-storm sort of way. I reasoned, that wasn’t aimed at me. Some troops were about to be sent to look for my airborne vial.

  “Noh. T-this… for t-the locals,” I omitted softly. He didn’t need to know about the identities I’ve stolen for my expedited traversing.

  “Mm,” the imposing lord grunted, squinting menacingly at me. I could not read the sentiment behind it. Was he thrilled to be an exotic novelty, or just mentally cutting down the central blabbermouths? Mm, perhaps the thought process was transparent after all.

  Raktkalis stepped closer, drawing a sharp breath from me. Sharpness of gunpowder and oil hit me. I hadn’t noticed it in the dark, but he slept with an added precaution of an armour’s chest piece. Had he slept at all? To hear me coming was an accomplishment. I walked silently enough to fool ears like my own. It had been the very first skill I had to hone.

  “Your arm is better behaved today,” he remarked, brushing past.

  It was a blessing the awed world always stood still in this man’s presence. I spoke without needing to strain, “As I’ve t-told you…”

  I insinuated a blatant lie. He didn’t need to know the left arm was heavily medicated. For his sake, as well my own. Although I was worried about the mutation’s progress, I did not need the caprices of that organic blade putting me into another operating room.

  I’ll do something about that on my own terms. Eventually. The process wasn’t fast. It barely advanced in a year.

  “Did you kill my attendants?” the man in partial armour strolled towards two limp bodies. His sleeveless arms were a sight to behold. I don’t know how I ever mistook that physique for a pretentious sham.

  “T-they are alive.”

  Raktkalis looked back at me incredulously.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “What other minor nuisance is to befall me, then?” lord asked with an exaggerated thrill, as though it was inconceivable for me to forego inflicting a dose of irritants upon this poor, undeserving soul.

  So my vilest efforts had been insignificant. Barely an entertainment for this arrogant bastard.

  I grit the teeth before speaking, “We have a mutual t-truce, my lord.”

  “Was it like that?” he pondered glancing up at the carved wood ceiling. And indeed, not a word has been spoken about the harm I’ve caused, or cessation of it. “Pity. It gave me so much to look forward to.”

  This had been a one-sided arrangement. His grace was granted. My participation – one way or the other – was optional. I itched to shatter a bottled plague at his feet. Was not entirely suicidal – yet. The sight of Raktkalis lifting up ragdoll by the neck and shaking her to wakefulness had a calming effect.

  “You still have t-the assassins, my lord,” silent whisper hid the simmering rage in a sufficient manner. I hoped.

  He grinned wider as if sensing my discontent anyway.

  “I jest. Receiving conflicting orders was pretty bad. I’ve wondered – do you even know where you’ve sent me?” he asked raspily and, when I ambiguously shrugged, shouted, “Guard!”

  Two fully armoured giants dropped in within seconds, aiming at me. Before I leapt out of the window in a surge of panic, Raktkalis stabbed an armpit of one. A riffle was sent flying. The other guy immediately lowered his weapon and stood at attention instead.

  “Crucible. Everyone on this detail. Eight to remain,” he barked. The two subordinates vacated premises even faster than they came in.

  “Want to go watch?” Raktkalis turned back at me, crushing fingers of the other serf with his heel. Muffled protest of almost-wakefulness gradually escalated into a barely contained groan. There would be no pitched screaming in Raktkalis’s presence.

  I tensely shook my head.

  “A fine choice. It’s so repetitive. Seen one – seen all of them.”

  I had averted my eyes to watch the spiked abomination again.

  “You did see. That one.”

  My face snapped back to the man of importance. I dipped my chin once.

  Lord violently discarded the servant he was still holding up and commanded without looking at the terrified faces behind him, “Serve us food.”

  Dazed girls tripped over themselves to get up and rushed out to comply.

  “It’s called Bowels of Hell for a reason. My troop has never been this close to a complete annihilation,” Raktkalis went on as though no interlude took place. “However, thanks to this rare opportunity we’ve reclaimed another patch of our scorched earth. It’s been put under the Seszes’s supervision. Pity. I don’t think they’ll hold it for long.”

  Raktkalises really couldn’t have done much with a blackened outcrop on the opposite side of the region. Still, that victory was a massive boon to this name. Complete opposite of what I intended.

  “What about t-the d-dehsertion charge?” I contributed a shred of my own curiosity to this wildfire of a conversation. Perhaps a wrong thing to ask, but the strangely tense air couldn’t sour much further.

  It made the scion chuckle.

  “You didn’t hear? The blame has been cast on the colonel who supposedly issued the nonsensical command. Allegation of attempt on my life, and loss of many other, are under investigation.”

  Had the fabrication been discernable as fake, it wouldn’t have worked. However, now it looked far too legitimate to cast an unpleasant shadow on this diligent soldier like I’ve wanted.

  Great, neither side of that sword cut its intended target. Worse – made him out some sort of a hero, whilst somehow stabbing me in the process. I really hope the colonel in question wasn’t as vindictive as the usual bunch.

  And yet the inferno hiding within those shadowed eyes told me the ordeals weren’t sidestepped as easily as just portrayed. I, too, could read this murderous man on occasion. Perhaps it wasn’t too late yet to jump out of that window? Or the doors. Not like there was any security detail anymore to stop me. What the fuck was I doing here anyway?

  Raktkalis wiped the bloodied short sword with a towel that miraculously manifested in his hand. Strode towards the light-brown couch and didn’t break out in hives upon touching a surface that wasn’t black.

  “Would you like a drink?” the scion offered, and servants opened a cabinet stacked with selection of fine alcohols for me to choose from. It was spellbinding to watch these ghosts soundlessly float around to accomplish their tasks. People usually were much louder.

  My eyes ran over the brimming shelves. It’s likely I wouldn’t be fed sedatives or poison, but even slight inebriation was risky during this fine balancing act.

  Shook my head negative.

  “I don’t partake either,” Raktkalis commented agreeably and waved it closed.

  “The taste not quite to your liking, my lord?” I attempted a mild jab towards the nobleman’s genteel sensibilities, rather than feed this heavy tranquillity.

  “The bitter taste… of consequences. Indeed, I don’t quite enjoy it,” he rasped out. That sounded like a memorable party, as well as all I’d be hearing about it.

  Whatever the case, the rising star of Kalanta was a lightweight. How unexpected. Endearing, almost. An accusation I would be taking to my much belated grave.

  Man tapped his knee twice and a four-legged former person trot forth. The blinded mutant laid its head on an indicated thigh. Thick-knuckled, broad hand rested in between the living spikes. Fingertips brushed the creature’s pale skin.