The Peacock King Story Archive

New Site and Updates

2009-07-28T12:02:00.001-07:00

This is the old site for the Peacock King Trilogy. The new site is here. It is all kinds of shiny. Please go there for all three novels of Peacock King, plus bonus stories and mininovels, all for free!

Novel 2 Part 2 Chapter 7 - The Judge's Usual Morning Routine

2009-05-10T00:14:00.000-07:00

The main site is back up! Please proceed there to read The Peacock King.

A new chapter arrives!

2009-04-23T00:08:00.001-07:00

The new PK chapter is up at the new site. Pahchoo!

We've moved. New stories are being posted up at the new site now, and I'll only be updating here a little bit longer.

If you got here from another site then please ask them to update their bookmarks to the new site's URL.

New Chapter!

2009-04-18T20:07:00.000-07:00

The new PK chapter is up at the new site. Bling!

If you got here from another site then please ask them to update their bookmarks to the new site's URL.

Book 2 Chapter 2 is up!

2009-04-15T21:58:00.000-07:00

One more post over on the old site just in case people miss that we've moved to a new site. The new chapter of Book 2 is right here, and if you want to read the first book, it's over at the new site as well, along with a whole bunch of shorts and extra materials!

Also, we have some cool things happening on the merchandise front, but I'll wait a little while to tell you about that.

Keep an eye on the new site! We have a lot happening there and a lot of cool features to reward people for interacting and commenting.

Oh yeah, and remember that I tweet chapter updates as @irkdesu, and Char is @charnanigans, if you want to follow either of us in Twitter!

The Peacock King Trilogy Book 2 - The Peacock King in Court

2009-04-11T19:32:00.000-07:00

Come and get it.

(Please change your bookmarks to the new site and spread the word!)

Bonus: The Last of the Dhealg'seala (Part Five)

2009-04-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

This isn't the last of The Last of the Dhealg'seala, but it's the last that Char's posting before PK Novel 2 goes up. This is probably the most comedic one so far, and I think you'll enjoy it.

Come this Saturday we'll have a new novel going in the Peacock King Trilogy: The Peacock King in Court. We'll also have a new site up for you to peruse. Hope to see you there!

***

Katherine

***

Nighttime usually found me lurking about the roofs. I loved being up there on the still-warm tiles, stretched out under the stars, listening to Bel'eth's roar dimming into the quiet sounds of a settling city. On nights like this one, the breeze carried the faint crisp scent of the ocean, adding a nice edge to the warm, mild odors that hung over the Complex. The solitude was reassuring as well, welcome after a day spent chasing snot-nosed upstarts who thought that being slapped into a teenaged body excused treating me as one.

They learned quick, but 'Sy was starting to complain about the toll that the medical supplies were taking. Luckily, I only had a couple more days of growth to go before I was the proper age again.

Being assassinated sucked.

I felt Camden's approach before he actually stepped into the practice yard. I growled low in my throat at the intrusion, but luckily the new Peacekeeper was so wound up in himself that he didn't notice me lurking in the shadows on the roof. I rolled over and glanced down, recognizing the pinched look of someone having a deep discussion with their Arms. If I strained, I could probably eavesdrop a bit, but I had already been warned about playing nice with the fresh meat for at least a couple of days while he adjusted.

Not that Camden particularly wanted me to play nice. I grinned, sitting up and leaning back against the chimney so I'd have a clearer view. No, the new Peacekeeper was quite happy to play hard, and my girls were already forming some respect for his Geillg'a.

Another good reason not to eavesdrop. If Geillg'a hadn't seen fit to warn her partner that they were being observed, then I'd much rather accept that small gift than give Geillg'a reason toreally take notice of me. She was a quick one, that whip, and even if her partner was nowhere near ready to catch me, she did a damned good job of evening the odds up a bit.

Camden drew Geillg'a, and I watched them practice together for a while. He was naturally a quick learner, and I'm sure Geillg'a's habit of taking chunks out of him when he moved too slow or in the wrong direction provided a lot of motivation to learn faster still. He had a natural grace to him, though. He had claimed no experience with whip-style weaponry. It showed.

Oh? Are we such an expert on whips now?

I decided not to take any notice of Gevurah's tone. It was actually rather pleasant for the peevish little knife--

Little?

Would you prefer 'diminutive'? I asked, rubbing my hip where she had jabbed me.

Gedulah's ivory-toned laugh rippled through my head. Awww, is the little toothpick getting cranky about her size again? Gonna throw a wee bit of a tantrum?

I felt Gevurah's form shift, and reached for her in a panic.

"No, don't--!"

Gevurah roared, and a respectable chunk of the roof went flying. I stared down at the hole in dismay, down at a very familiar desk, barely hearing the girls screaming at each other in the back of my mind. I had just enough time to wonder why the Hell Gevurah had shot a hole in the roof when she was angry at Gedulah before another chunk of the roof exploded outward. I threw myself sideways, staring back at the spot... and kept falling.

Fuck. Missed.

I am going to drown you in a well, I thought at Gevurah, managing to twist myself around so that I at least managed to land mostly on my feet.

She snorted, the sound suspiciously like a magazine slamming into place. She started it! Besides, I could hit you from anywhere in the Kingdoms, and you know it.

Good job there, birdshot brain, Gedulah snapped. We were trying to stay hidden. Not to mention the shit we're gonna be in when Di-- 'Sy finds out who shot holes in the roof.

I turned and looked over my shoulder. Camden was staring at me, Geillg'a still in his hand. I noted that he had his Arms held at ready, Geillg'a's silvery length coiled to strike with the slightest provocation.

He does learn fast! I said, making sure I had enough room to maneuver if they decided to take the offense.

Gedulah murmured her approval of their improvement. Gevurah snorted again, a quick metallic snap of her chamber loading. Not fast enough. He didn't notice us until... well, much later than he should have.

Alarm flooded me, and I nearly whipped Gevurah out before I realized it was Gedulah reacting to something. Her next words, however, had her sister and me joining her in her growing panic.

Shit! He's coming!

***

Camden

***

I had barely enough time to process Katherine's rather abrupt entrance from above before she was raising her arm, eyes wide with... fear? I didn't recognize the dark object she was pointing at me, but Geillg'a apparently did.

DUCK, FOOL!

I threw myself sideways, instinctively whipping Geillg'a back at my rather unexpected opponent. The noise her weapon made was incredibly loud, and I had to fight the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. Sparks flew as Geillg'a made contact and slid along the other weapon. Geillg'a? What WAS that?

Gevurah! I felt my Arms curse, and my body rolled back the other direction of its own accord, another roar and a spray of dirt kicking up from where my head had just been. There was a distant shout of alarm. I felt Geillg'a listening to whatever had made that exclamation, and then her laughter filled my head, near drowning out the commotion Gevurah was making. Just keep up yer dancin' fer another minute, boy, and we'll be fine. The Judge is on his way!

Why is she trying to kill me? I asked, rolling to my feet. Geillg'a curled behind me, ready to strike. She whipped forward as I twisted, very nearly catching Katherine at the ankles.

She isn'a. Ye'd be dead already.

I scowled at her matter-of-fact tone, trying to track Katherine's movements and look for cover at the same time. She's toying with me?

Geillg'a laughed, her tip sailing out and smacking Gevurah aside enough that the next round missed. Think of it as illustratin' a point, boy. Here I am, doing all the work, and barely managing to keep her in check. I stepped to the side, pulling the whip back in. She coiled behind me, scratching at my ankle to underscore her reprimand. If she were working with Gevurah instead of fightin' her, ye'd have several holes in ye by now.

Quite so, that deep voice from earlier growled. It's a good thing she's actively trying to slow down her Arms, or... STOP. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw the Judge step out of the shadows, his battle-fork held at ready.

Trident, m'dear, Geillg'a whispered. I made a note of the word, and watched as Katherine nearly bent herself in half trying to turn and face the Judge mid-leap. I noted with relief that her Arms no longer seemed to be aiming at me.

Rather nasty feelin', isn' it?

Like... I groped for some way to describe it. Like seeing the sword descend towards your throat, and knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Exactly like that, Geillg'a chuckled. Make a note of it, and learn to use that effect to yer advantage. There isn't a creature alive that doesn't feel our Aim.

The Judge spared me only the slightest glance as he stopped in front of Katherine, then turned and focused the full weight of his scowl on Katherine. "Explain."

She called me a toothpick --

-- took a shot at me for no reason --

-- won't SHUT UP --

I blinked at the sudden flood of accusations and counters, and watched the Judge wince and pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. The Trident's tip rose until it was being held perfectly vertical, blunt end sinking into the earth, the Judge leaning slightly against it as if he needed the support.

They'll get better soon enough, I heard the Trident mutter.

Better? Is there something wrong with them?

I realized as I felt the Trident's regard weigh down on me that I hadn't been addressed directly by him. After a moment, I heard something like a sigh. Nothing is... technically wrong with them. I felt the Trident's focus mercifully shift away from me once more. Nothing discipline won't fix.

Her Arms fell silent at that quiet threat.

Discipline and a mere couple of days, Diyn, I heard the Judge say. There is no need to take her to task for a situation that is very nearly done correcting itself. "Jhe Cruxradia."

Katherine straightened with a small wince, standing at attention. I noticed with a start that she looked older than she had earlier in the day, closer to my age.

"Please explain why my office now features two skylights and ventilated furniture?"

***

Katherine

***

Maybe we should make a run for it. I wasn't terribly surprised to hear Gedulah propose a strategic retreat... except that it wasn't terribly strategic in this situation.

No, I said, snapping my mouth shut as I tried to think of a way out of this without a lecture or loss of limbs. No, running is a bad idea.

Gedulah fretted in the back of my mind, little ripples of worry buffeting my mind like a million butterfly wings. If we ran fast enough, we'd get a decent head start before Diyn could--

Before Diyn could what?

I sighed, closing my eyes. He sounded altogether too amused. It didn't speak well for our safety and well-being.

"Well," I said, shifting my weight, taking care to keep my hands visible at all times, "I was on the roof minding my own business and... well, the girls started fighting, and Gevurah tried to shoot Gedulah."

She started it, Gevurah grumbled petulantly.

The Judge sighed, and I risked a quick glance at his face. He had that distant scowl that he always got when Diyn was giving him an earful, and I could tell by the way the corner of his mouth occasionally twitched that he was arguing back just as hard. I didn't envy him; Diyn was even harder-headed than the Judge, what with being the literal knife-edge of the Law and all. The Judge's face went blank at one point, and I reflexively took a step back. Camden flinched at the same moment.

He can hear us, Gedulah murmured so quietly that it took me a moment to realize that she was deliberately pitching her voice low for privacy. Diyn just chided him for being impolite, but the poor boy didn't realize he was eavesdropping. Or that he's not even supposed to.

Don't know why it would be, Gevurah grumbled. If he can hear, let 'im hear. Besides, getting him used to this could prove to be a tactical advantage. Hey! Hey, kid!

Camden jumped, then looked at me, puzzled.

No, down a little. ... Lower, boy, or I'll shoot you. Those aren't yours. Yep, that's me. Hi!

... can hear you?

Gevurah snickered. Because I want to, regardless of what that huge hunk of over-polished dinnerware says! Hey, tell your razor-snake there that I sai-- shit!

I glanced down, wondering at her sudden retreat, then looked up. The Judge was scowling at me again... and he was tapping a boot against the ground, obviously waiting for me to say something. "I'm sorry, sir?" I said, my voice thin. I couldn't even pretend to have heard what he was saying.

He sighed, and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped with a funny look on his face. His mouth snapped shut and he snorted, glancing at Diyn with a small, amused grin. "Dinnerware?"

Shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit. Geillg'a you whorish betraying loud-mouthed fucking overwired piece of ass-floss, I am not going to fucking forget this--

Someone -- Diyn, I suspected -- shut Gevurah up before she got to the part where she started making promises.

Diyn and the Judge sighed simultaneously, and it felt so much like a sudden pressure-drop that I reflexively worked my jaw to pop my ears.

"My dear, I cannot wait for you to finally mature."

Bonus: The Last of the Dhealg'seala (Part Four)

2009-04-04T20:54:00.000-07:00

So, if you ever were wondering about how Armed become, you know, all Armed and stuff.

(And I know you were.)

You'll really like this one!

Part four of Char's short about Camden and Elric Briarseal is pretty exciting all around. Expect at least one more part this coming Wednesday - next Saturday we start posting novel 2 in The Peacock King Trilogy: The Peacock King in Court! Once that's live, Char might change her update schedule on The Last of the Dhealg'seala a bit.

Anyway, go on and read.

***

Camden

***

I stamped my foot against the ground, sensing the composition, as I looked at the structure of the courtyard around me.

No, this was no courtyard. This was a training arena.

Everything was designed to be portable, from the lush greenery in tasteful containers to the benches and the stones that composed the walkways. Of course it would be preferable to master certain weaponry with the objects in place, but should the situation call for it, the grounds could be completely cleared. The aisles surrounding the courtyard were faced by simple columns, but backed by thick, windowless stone walls. The doors were stout, no-nonsense affairs as well, built to withstand direct assaults.

My right hand twitched, a motion that didn't go unnoticed by the Judge.

"A little morning exercise before the tour, then?"

I started to look at him in question, but instinct took hold and I knelt instead, drawing my dagger from my boot and parrying the Judge's attack before I consciously realized he had moved.

"Well done," he said, standing back and flicking the point of his sword to the side.

I laughed, flipping my dagger and resheathing it as I stood. "I am not a match for you, sire."

"No," he said, tipping the point of his sword into its sheath and sliding it home in one smooth motion. "However, you could very well be in a very short time." He glanced to one side of the practice arena and smiled. "I hope you can forgive my presumption," he said, holding one arm out to the side, "but I wanted to include her in today's activities."

I looked in the direction he was was watching. A young girl was approaching, looking from me to the Judge with a puzzled expression. She stopped several feet away, her green eyes studying me as carefully as any soldier whose inspection I had been subject to, before turning to the Judge with her arms crossed.

Of course she didn't speak Rhivendish.

I took that moment to inspect her in turn. She was young, no more than twelve by my estimation, and short for that age. She had begun to fill out as a woman, but was still more limb than length. Despite her youth, she had the careful foot-forward stance of a trained warrior, and her hands had the beginnings of the calluses that spoke of a familiarity with weaponry beyond mere hobbyist. Her dark brown hair was pulled back and twisted into a braid which was wrapped around and pinned in a loop. A sword was strapped across her back, and a smaller knife at her waist.

She turned and pinned me with those eyes again, and my hand reflexively twitched for my sword. She watched me a moment longer, then nodded and smiled.

"Jhe Katherine Cruxradia," she said, bowing gracefully.

I returned the bow, careful to accord her slightly higher rank. "Camdhegn, Laigr Dhealg'seala."

Again, she gave me a measuring look-over, then performed a different sort of bow, one that set my blood singing in recognition. I returned the bow, and then stood guard.

She came at me quickly, her knife seeming to leap out of its sheath, slipping easily past my guard and drawing first blood in one smooth twirl. I twisted away and adjusted my stance, careful to keep my eyes fixed on her. She was fast. She pivoted on one heel, looking for all the world like a Rhivendish dancer, and flew at me again. I was better prepared this time and moved with her, my hands ghosting her wrist long enough to brush my fingers against the hilt of her knife. She twisted away once more, the knife moving out of my reach, and I heard the metallic hiss of her sword being drawn. I hit my knees and stilled as I felt the edge of the blade against my neck.

"I yield," I said, spreading my fingers wide in case she didn't grasp the meaning of my words.

The blade withdrew, and her small hand appeared in front of my face. I grasped it, rising to my feet, and she bowed low over my hand and said something in Radian.

"She thanks you, and says that you're damned lucky you hit your knees when you did, or you would have died," the Judge said, barely-contained laughter in his voice.

"Would I now?" I glanced at her, returning the bow with my eyes carefully keeping her in view.

The Judge chuckled. "Gevurah doesn't take well to being handled, and Gedulah is very protective of her sister."

I stared at him, certain that the tall warrior was pulling one over me. His smile widened.

"Arms don't react well to being handled by any save their Armed."

I looked at the short child watching us with intense interest. "She's one of the Armed?"

"Armed, and a Poet, as well as one of my officers."

My respect for the child rose, high as it already was. "How old is she? I thought none save the Clan would serve the sword at such a young age."

The Judge's eyes twinkled. "Fourteen, but don't let her age fool you. She has the mind of a grown woman already, and takes some offense to being in such a young body."

I blinked, then decided I had simply misunderstood him.

Katherine cleared her throat, and I looked her way even as I reminded myself I wouldn't understand a word she said. "Camden," she said slowly, and it took me a moment to recognize it as my name, "when..." She looked at the Judge, her eyebrows scrunching together in irritation. I startled inside as I realized I could almost hear the edges of their silent conversation, and then she was looking at me again. "When you are free... I would like to match you again." She grinned. "This time matching Arms."

I reflexively bowed, wincing a little inside. "You do me honor," I said, and caught that curious echo once more between the Judge and Katherine, "but I do not have Arms to match to yours."

She listened, then tilted her head at me. "Gevurah says differently." She turned and narrowed her eyes at the Judge, speaking quickly to him. This time, I was on the receiving echo of the Judge's translation.

Her Arms are quite insistent that we introduce you immediately to them, he said. I was anticipating a more prolonged introduction to the Armed, but they are certain that you are ready now.

Am I? I said, then froze. When had I decided? I didn't recall making any decision to join this unknown army, but there was the curious sense that somewhere, at some point, I had.

The Judge looked at me with his gold eyes, one eyebrow raised. "If you are, then you are," he said, then began walking towards one of the doors. Katherine gave me a long stare, then followed.

I watched them a moment, feeling as if the future were bearing all too quickly down on me, then pulled myself together and followed.

***

They led me into small, sparse room. A solitary chair was the only piece of furniture present, as well as a few very old and worn weapons, suitable only for display. Sunshine spilled into the room, lending a soft glow to the wood surfaces.

The soft click of the door being closed behind me set my nerves on edge. I turned, my guard rising. The Judge stood in the center of the room, his hand resting on the hilt. Katherine stood behind him, her face tense.

"What's this about, then?" I asked softly.

Katherine glanced towards the Judge, crossing her arms.

"I do apologize for the abruptness with which we're inducting you, Laigr." He drew his sword and twirled it, the blade reforming into the battle-fork form. "Typically, training for this moment lasts years, but time is short... and I'm certain enough that you are ready to gamble on this course of action."

I heard Katherine's short gasp before I actually felt the tines of the battle-fork in my chest. My eyes flew from the Judge's flat stare to the silver prongs buried in my chest. As I marveled at the lack of blood, my vision seemed to slide backward, then go black.

You've courage enough for twenty men. He says you will see it through, but I have my doubts about your stamina, you half-grown navel-gazer.

I stared into the blackness. I will last as long as I must. I am the Dhealg'seala.

A thin mist curled around my ankles, thickening as it rose to my knees. I heard the low impact of hoofbeats, and a chill raced along my spine. The Dubhimealleach.

The darkness coalesced, forming jet hooves fringed in fine hair, flashing glimpses of a long, rippling mane and a tail that trailed to the ground like a black silk banner, then finally revealing the midnight-black form of a bridled mare. She halted two arms-reach in front of me, tossing her mane and snorting. Her head turned and she regarded me with one blood-red eye, peering out from behind her long forelock, her jaw working as she inspected me. I stared back, my hands forming fists at my side.

Quick as lightning, her head swung around, teeth bared. I twisted and dropped to my knees, hand instinctively flying to my side. I was surprised to feel a hilt, but reflex took over and I drew, swinging my arm around to block.

The Dubhimealleach caught the blade in her teeth, shattering the metal and shaking her dark head. I had no time to think, only to stare as she reared and squealed, her attack faster this time. I cried out as her teeth sank into my shoulder, then screamed as I felt my flesh being pulled into her fiery mouth.

This is no dream, son, I heard the voice of my father say. I saw his body, stretched out in the wrong direction, face-down in the mud. The line of Dhealg'seala ends here.

No! I clenched my jaw and pushed against the mare's head. She squealed and dug in, twisting as she fed.

Oh? I felt the curious sensation of being watched from within. Rather looks like she's making a decent meal out of you, son.

I can fight this.

I felt rather than heard the snort. Yes, I can see that. Can you win?

I will prevail or die trying.

There was the cold feeling of being stared at, and I saw a brief flash of silver eyes narrowing. And if you die, boy, what becomes of the Dhealg'seala?

I tried to respond with my brother's name, but the thought was snatched from me as if the mare had taken it into her teeth and consumed it. I knew to my core that if I fell, my brother would not be able to hold the Seal on his own. I looked into the mare's eye, for a moment completely unaware of the pain.

I wasn't just the Laigr of Dhealg'seala. I was the Dhealg'seala.

The Dubhimealleach squealed and tossed her head, throwing me through the darkness. I hit something and slid, pulling myself to my feet as she charged. I dove away, rolling away from her hooves.

At that moment, it finally occurred to me that my feet weren't stuck.

About time you noticed, whelp.

Aye, he's a slow one, alright, a new voice whispered, sharp and soft. Ach! He heard me! A low, silvery sound, like chainmail spilling off of a chair filled the darkness. Laughter? At the same time, my fingers brushed a hilt at my waist, even though I was damned sure this time I had none a moment before.

Quit thinkin' so damned hard and fight! she said.

I drew, and felt the blade impact as my vision went black and I toppled forward.

***

Katherine caught me, her hands steadying my shoulders as my knees buckled. My head fell foward, my nose banging painfully against her collarbone. I sat back on my heels, blinking tears from my eyes.

"Well?" Katherine tapped her foot, her lips twitching. She gave up fighting her own face and grinned eagerly. "Let's see her!"

"Not in here," the Judge grumbled, pulling the door open. I blinked against the flood of sunshine, wiping fresh tears from my eyes, and surged to my feet. Katherine fell in behind me, her footsteps light, as if she were dancing her way out to the courtyard. I snorted at the thought. Having been exposed to her form, it was entirely plausible that she was in fact waltzing out to the arena.

She stopped near the edge, drawing Gedulah and adopting a stance that seemed a bit more suited to a knife fight than a sword. I shrugged, and drew my own weapon.

Instead of the metallic slide of a blade being drawn, there was that soft chainmail-whisper, and the brush of something at my feet. I glanced down in confusion, then stared in shock.

A whip?

Boy, are ye criticizin' my form?

I choked on a laugh. This is not a man's weapon! A whip? What am I to do, tickle my opp--"AUGH!"

My pants lay in shreds around me, one leg bloodied and near-skinless. The whip had skinned me before I could even register her movement.

Katherine's laughter echoed through the courtyard. Mercifully, I didn't hear any noise from the Judge, but I also wasn't terribly inclined to look for a smile on his face, either.

Serves ye right, ye insolent half-brained puppy of an inbred bitch. She snorted. I'll have ye know, th' Judge and Jhe Cruxradia are currently arguing over th' terms of their bet. She sniffed, and I felt her watching them with disdain. As if t'were a fair deal, what wi' the Judge bein' a part of myself an' all.

I glanced down at the whip, the notion that I was talking to it finally sinking in.

Her, if it pleases ye, she grumbled. Or Geillg'a, iffn' ye be addressin' me proper.

Geillg'a? I turned the name over in my head. Are you my Will, then?

A part of it, she said, her voice a purr in my head. Yer Will, yer contract, yer Duty... call it what ye want, boy, but when ye boil it down, yer mine. Now wipe that stupid look off yer face an' look smart. She snorted. As smart as ye can manage, ye dull toin.

I looked up, fighting to keep my irritation from showing on my face.

"Don't worry," Katherine says, "we all make that face at least three times a day." She held out a small kit and a folded bundle. "For your leg, and a change of clothes."

I sighed as I accepted them, tucking them under one arm. "My thanks..." I stopped, unsure of the proper way to address her.

She smiled, one corner lifting higher than the other. "Katherine is enough. As of now, we hold equal rank." Her smile widened a touch, mischief sparking in her eyes. "Just don't forget to add Jhe once I'm promoted."

"If you are," I said, then blinked at my own familiarity. To my relief, she laughed and lightly slapped my shoulder.

"Just wait," she said. She bowed, her hand tilting out at my side. I was puzzled for a short moment, then realized she was addressing my Arms.

A pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady, I heard her say. I hope that we'll have a chance to take our measure of each other soon.

Aye, Geillg'a responded, and a pleasure to meet you as well, Your Highness.

Katherine's face twisted into a small scowl as Geillg'a's laughter rippled through my mind. Ah, ye didn't know that about yer wee friend? She's the Emperor's daughter, amongst other things. Geillg'a snorted. Amongst many other things.

How do you know so much about her?

I know what he knows, and that's enough.

Before I could think of anything further to ask her, I felt her curl up in my mind and quiet, almost as if she had fallen asleep. I glanced down, and she was sheathed at my waist. Light sparkled off her as I turned, and I finally noticed that she was composed of thousands of tiny blades, layered like the scales of a snake.

Rather beautiful, actually.

I felt her rumble of pleasure at the compliment and smiled.

Katherine snorted. "Camden, you're going to bleed out at this rate. Stop daydreaming and dress those wounds."

I startled, then winced as the agony in my leg finally registered. "Could you show me where I can..." I held up the kit.

"This way," she said, tilting her head towards a section of the building across the arena.

I limped alongside her, only half-aware of the pain as I contemplated the quiet, curled presence of my Arms in my mind.

Bonus: The Last of the Dhealg'seala (Part Three)

2009-04-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

Here you go with Part Three of Char's serial short on the backstory of Elric and Camden and just how they got to be all Armed and Poetic. This is really getting interesting because you're starting to explore some new places, and see a few characters quite a bit younger than they are in the Peacock King Trilogy's time period.

The first part of this story is here, and the second is here.

If you would like to read the first book in the Peacock King Trilogy, please go here.

See you in a few days!

***

Camden

***

Elricht set the cups down on the table and dropped into his chair, his fingers dancing as they curled around his teacup, smiling the widest grin I could recall having seen on his face. The knot in my chest loosened to see him so happy and caught up in this new kingdom, though I felt a small flash of bitterness that he could so easily set aside our clan.

I reminded myself once again that the state of my clan was my burden to bear, not my brother's.

"So," I said, threading my fingers through the handle of the teacup and bracing myself for the onslaught, "what has you dancing about in your chair like a giddy barmaid, Elricht?"

His grin widened to the point where I feared his face would split, and his eyes focused on some point in the distance, his mouth hanging open as he gathered his thoughts.

It was going to be a long tale, from the looks of it.

"Oh Cammie," he sighed, looking for all the world like a love-sick lad, "I've not seen so many books in my life." He then spun a tale of an entire building of books, mountains of books, and the people who write them...

I sipped my tea and nodded at all the right points, giving up on keeping track of what he was actually saying. As I watched him speak, his hands dancing through the air as he illustrated one point or another with little gestures, I began to see him in a new light. No longer my little older brother, the quiet mouse of a boy, but someone who had... potential. There was no room in the Clans for a man who refused to take up the sword, but things were playing out a little different here. My brother had a place now, and the more he spoke of the Poet Hall, the more obvious it became that he had already decided somewhere in that head of his that he was going to be there the rest of his life.

"Camdhegn?"

I startled. Elricht was starting at me, his eyebrows raised in question. I had gotten so lost in thought that I had missed one of my vocal prompts and had been caught drifting.

"My apologies. It's been a long day..."

"I understand," he said with a small smile, and for a wonder I believe he really did. "I'm sure tomorrow will deliver its own set of delights, and we should probably be well-rested for them, aye?"

"You haven't even touched your tea."

He looked down at his cup, surprised. "Aye, and it's gone cold, too." He chuckled and drained his glass in one long draw, then set the cup down with a loud clunk. "Now?"

I chuckled and pushed away from the table, heaving my sore body out of the chair. "Bed has never sounded lovelier."

"Aye."

***

I stared at my hand in the rising glow of dawn. It rested on the pillow near my face, the shape still young, the skin smooth -- save where it was callused and scarred from years of wielding a sword. As the light rose, my hand seemed to age, revealing more of the rough texture and marks of hard use. A grown man's hand.

My brother's hands, while bearing a few hints of the same sword calluses, were noticeably smoother and more delicately shaped than my own. I wondered at the small pang of jealousy I felt. Not at the skin, I decided, but at the way he so easily cast off the Clans and moved ahead. He slept easily, only the occasional sigh or mutter breaking the silence. His soul had already found a home here, and he was relatively at peace.

I hadn't slept. I didn't even have to shut my eyes to see the specters of the dead, of my kin crying out for revenge, demanding that their Laigr return and restore the Dheag'seala to their glory. Behind them, the Radian Emperor stood, his pale blue eyes staring at me in cool curiosity, wordlessly asking me what I would do next.

The tips of my fingers twitched. Join the Armed? I hadn't believed for a moment that taking up with the Armed would still leave me free to carry out the duties of my lineage -- but what of my lineage was there to be dutiful to? My brother, whether he realized it or not, had already turned his back to Rhivend and the Clan. There was only me, and what was the point of a Laigr whose only Clan was himself?

Dhealg'seala. There was the Seal, but that blood-tie was something that would follow me, whatever the geography my blood happened to occupy. As long as there was breath in me, the Old Man would remain in slumber beneath the earth.

I thought of the black horse that had haunted my nightmares as a child, a beautiful horse that my father claimed was the Old Man's mount, and shivered. I had dreamt all to often of the Dubhimealleach as a boy, and finally had approached the Laigr about it. He had listened as I had described standing at the edge of a misty bog, my feet stuck in the black rot, listening to the wet, muffled impact of her hooves as she walked toward me. Clouds of mist rolled from her nostrils, and as she approached, I could smell the rot eminating from her, could see her breath feeding the fog. She stopped in front of me, then stretched her muscular neck out, the whiskers of her muzzle tickling my ear, and the world pulled sideways. The first sharp pricklings of pain began at my jaw, and then I felt my hair sliding, and I realized she was eating me, bringing me down under to the Old Man.

My father looked at me, ruffled my hair, and told me it wasn't just a dream, and that it had been a damned good thing I woke myself up before the mare had finished consuming my soul. Many men had been lost to her cold, devouring teeth.

I rolled over and sat up, pushing back the covers with a sigh. Sleep wasn't going to come now, and with the sun already peeking above the horizon, it wasn't likely to find me until another day had passed.

Mist rolled by the window, and I suppressed another shiver.

There was a small amount of comfort to be found in preparing breakfast, and by the time Elricht shuffled out of the bedroom, I had pushed back the worries of the night and felt ready to tackle a new day.

"Sleep well?" he muttered, pulling out a chair and dropping gracelessly into it.

I shrugged with one shoulder, loading his plate and setting it in front of him. He looked at it, mouthed a quick word of thanks, and dove in so enthusiastically that I idly wondered why he didn't just bury his face in the eggs and chew his way down.

As I was loading my plate, there was a firm knock on the door. I set the plate down and steeled myself before opening it. Instead of the Judge, I was faced with a giant quilt wrapped about a young, dark-haired man with a crown. I bowed reflexively, then waited for his response. He smiled and seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I smiled back, a little off-balance, unsure of what this person wanted me to say.

"'Hello' would do nicely," he said, only the slightest trace of irritation mixed in the overall good-natured tone. He tilted his head as I remained silent, then laughed. "You'll get used to it."

I wanted to ask what exactly it was that I'd be getting used to, but Ericht chose that moment to choke on his eggs as he tried to simultaneously greet our guest and swallow his breakfast. The man smiled serenely at Elricht as my brother pounded furiously at his chest and swallowed, his eyes tearing. He said something in a different language, and the man laughed and replied in kind.

It occurred to me then that he had spoken flawless Rivhendish to me, and my weary head hadn't picked up on that fact.

My brother turned to me with a sheepish smile. "Camdhegn, permit me to introduce the Poet King, Jhe Eleth-travente 'hLogos." I bowed, and the King tilted his head in a polite nod. "Jhe 'hLogos, my brother, the Laigr of Clan Dhealg'seala, Camdghen a'Laisgeanta."

"I have heard many tales of your clan, Laigr," the King said. I tried to keep a smile from my face at hearing the smooth condescension in the man's voice. He may have been a king, but he looked to be a bare few years older than me, perhaps only the same age as my brother. "The Dhealg'seala are well-known for their strength and courage. From what your brother has told me of you, I would say you've fair earned that title-name."

I glanced at my brother, who had the temerity to grin. What have you told this man?

Only the truth! Nothing embarrassing, I swear it.

I do not trust your definition of "embarrassing", Elricht.

"You do me honor," I said aloud, fighting the urge to glare at my brother. "They are bestowed as the wish of a parent for their child, and my father would be proud to have his wish acknowledged as bearing fruit."

"I wonder," he said, a small grin ghosting his face, "if you would be as fierce today had your father not gifted you with that name."

"My brother's means 'he writes history with his fist'", I said mildly. Elricht scowled at me, and the King looked at my brother, openly amused.

"Well, we shall see, won't we," he said with a small chuckle.

My brother scowled and pushed. It was rather like having my head trapped in a blacksmith's vise. Mercifully, I heard a distinct set of boots in the hallway followed by a polite throat-clearing from the threshold, interrupting my brother's unsuccessful, but admittedly uncomfortable attempt to crush my head with his mind.

"Jhe 'hLogos," he said quietly in his strangely-accented Rhivendish, "if you would be so kind as to permit me entry?"

The King turned, blushing slightly as he stepped to the side and pulled his robes closer to his ankles. The Judge entered, glancing from the King to my brother, then raising an eyebrow in my direction.

I bowed, at a loss for any other course of action. He returned the gesture with an equal dip, according more honor than I expected. I was so surprised that I bowed lower. The Judge frowned slightly, then his expression smoothed and he nodded.

"Laigr Dheag'seala, if I may have your time..."

"Of course," I said, hurriedly stamping my feet into my boots, grateful that I had fallen asleep in my clothes. I bowed again and moved around the Judge and into the hallway, then turned and nodded to my brother. He returned the nod, and the King smiled and waved his fingertips as the Judge brushed past me, pausing to wait outside the door.

Courtesy out of the way, I turned and followed the Judge down the hall, quietly wondering why it felt so much like a narrow escape.

I will prepare dinner tonight, dear brother. The Jhe 'hLogos just warned me that you might be rather worn from the day.

What? My footsteps faltered ever-so-slightly. How could he... I... I sighed mentally. Whatever the day brings, I can manage. I thank you for your offer, brother.

You're welcome. ... Jhe 'hLogos requested that I pass along a message. I felt him listening carefully to whatever it was the King was saying. He says to say hello to Geillg'a for him. Do you know who...?

No, I said. From the corner of my eye, I saw the Judge watching me with the tiniest of frowns. Perhaps he's mistaken?

Elricht turned that over in his head. No, he's pretty certain. ... Camdghen, I like him, but he's a little strange.

Strange, and more than a little full of himself, a new voice broke in. I glanced at the Judge, recognizing the low, warm tones of his voice in the mental one. He is about as eccentric as they come, but don't mistake that eccentricity for madness or stupidity. He shot a hard stare in my direction. His lack of discipline disguises a keen intellect and abilities you'd do well to heed.

Sire, I said, one concern rising over all the new questions brewing between my ears, do all Radians have this ability to communicate through thought? I was so sure of the privacy between my brother and myself that I hadn't thought others might be able to eavesdrop.

"Not all," he said aloud, "but you will need to learn to guard your thoughts and speech." He looked down at me, curious. "Is the ability so rare in the Clans?"

I nodded, then frowned. "It would appear that way, but I've wondered. It's not something that is discussed amongst our people." I thought of my brother and winced. "Such abilities are rather frowned upon."

I could feel him turning the information over in his head. "Interesting." He glanced down at me, but kept his silence.

We walked for a bit of a distance, then climbed a set of stairs. The Judge opened the door at the top of those stairs, and we stepped out into a wide courtyard, surrounded on all sides by a large building five stories high. Beyond that, I could see the rise of a much larger building that couldn't possibly be anything other than the Palace, and a smaller but still impressive tower to the left.

The Judge smiled at my awed expression. "The Palace, as I'm sure you have guessed, and the Poet Hall." He looked around, pride filling his eyes and smile as he glanced at the building surrounding us. "Welcome to the Armed Hall."

Bonus: The Last of the Dhealg'seala (Part Two)

2009-03-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

Continuing from last post, here's part two of The Last of the Dhealg'seala. This is a multi-part short story that Char is writing. We'll be posting it until April 11th, which is when The Peacock King's 2nd novel starts up. And if this story isn't done by then, well, we'll just keep posting it too!

If you missed it, Part One is here.

And if you want to start The Peacock King from the beginning, then start here!

***

Camden

***

My escort led me to a grand set of doors, each easily twice my height, and wider than my arms could span. The dark wood was embossed with what I assumed was the seal of the Empire of Crux Radia, the craftmanship finer than even the adept workmanship found in the guilds in Rhivend. I resisted the urge to inspect the grain and the artistry, instead standing back while my escort approached the doors. He knocked gently, the sound so quiet that I couldn't imagine how anyone could have heard the sound without having their ear pressed to the wood. A short moment later, however, they swung open, smooth and quiet, revealing what appeared to be an extensive council room.

The room was far too showy for my tastes, but I couldn't fault the elegance of the decor. My Da had far gaudier accoutrements strewn about his home, and a quick glance confirmed that the leaders shared similar ghoulish displays of trophies... the usual heads and scalps, plus an artful arrangement of what appeared to be severed middle digits. They were as carefully placed as the fine works of art that graced the walls, and the beautifully crafted musical instruments displayed along one wall. They were works of art in themselves, but also showed the signs of loving and careful use. Books lined the walls and were casually scattered about the area, and I felt a small pang as I thought of Elricht being able to see such treasure scattered about like so much discarded clothing. He would be horrified at the mistreatment of such near-sacred objects, and I could imagine his delight at being able to pore through them.

The books alone were of higher value than the entire contents of the Dhealg'seala Hold. Perhaps not before the raids, but certainly now.

I caught myself in the middle of shifting my weight, and attempted to smooth out the motion as to make it unnoticable. The Laigr of Dhealg'seala would not show any manner of unease or restlessness in front of another. At the same time, I felt a pang of anxiety at having been separated from my brother, and then chastened myself for that as well. I had always been my brother's protector, and there was no reason to suddenly switch to clinging to him like a babe with his blanket. Personal pride aside, it would be a severe insult to the memory of the Dhealg'seala.

My shoulders tightened as I imagined the strong hands of my father resting on them, the weight of the clan with them.

My escort, the auburn-tressed soldier who greeted us on the holdland, quietly announced our presence. I gathered my wits about me and squared my shoulders, preparing myself to meet the Emperor of Crux Radia.

I am not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't the person of the Jhe o'Radia. Perhaps I imagined someone bulkier, dark and scarred like my own father. The Emperor was quite different; tall, lithe, and very fair-featured for someone who was allegedly such a feared individual. His smile, which I am sure was meant to put me at ease, did nothing to alleviate my tension. The easy friendliness of it set my nerves further on edge, and I found myself readying myself for an attack from the back.

None came.

"I thank you for taking the time to see me," he said, his voice rolling the Rivendish speech with a pleasant enough Northern accent. "Especially on such a trying day as this."

I bowed low. "The honor is mine," I returned, mentally cursing that I could not return the gesture of speaking his language.

"Please excuse me a moment," he said, and then spoke to my escort in what I assumed was his native language. It was my first exposure to Radian, and I was intrigued by the difference in the rise and fall of the sounds and patterns it made. Something about my attention must have caught the Emperor's eye, for he flashed a smile in my direction and said something in his own language, amusement coloring his voice. My escort responded, raising an eyebrow as he cast his own glance down at me.

I flushed, embarrassed in spite of my determination to keep a cool face in front of these men.

The Emperor chuckled. "Forgive our aside, Laigr. The Ju-- well, I shall explain soon enough." He nodded to my escort, who bowed and said something that sounded like an exit. True enough, he turned and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

I suddenly felt very small and very alone.

"Please, have a seat." The Emperor inclined his head towards a set of couches to one side of the expansive room. I nodded and put far more bravado into my steps than I actually felt, selecting the couch that would place my back to the wall and taking a seat.

The Emperor chose a seat across from the one I occupied and casually arranged himself in comfortable repose.

"I would offer some form of refreshment," he said, the beginnings of a small grin playing about the corners of his mouth, "but I fear that it is too soon and you would politely refuse anyhow. I suppose we should therefore dispense with the usual boring pleasantries and move on to business?"

I nodded, at once appreciative of his informal attitude and put on guard by the direct tact of his conversation.

"Tell me, young Laigr," he said, his casual pose doing nothing to disguise the sudden focus of his attention on me, "what will happen to the Dhealg'seala."

The pain hit hard, and I couldn't keep the grimace from my face, the expression sending fresh waves of pain from the injured parts of my face. "My brother and I have claim to the lands still, but with only two of us to the Dhealg'seala name, we would not hold the lands long. Be it through treating with our neighbors or hostile takeover, the land is lost to us." My voice cracked on the end despite my attempts to keep it level.

The Emperor nodded. "And the Seal?"

My breath stilled completely, and I fought my hardest to keep my expression as neutral as I possibly could. "Seal, sir?"

He snorted, his pale eyes boring into mine rather uncomfortably. "I am quite familiar with the true birthright of the Laigr sworn to protect the Briar-Seal he is named for. There is no need or use in feigning ignorance with me."

I swallowed and nodded.

"Will the Seal be affected, Laigr?"

"Nay, Sire, as long as there is breath in one of the Blood."

His breath left him in one loud rush, and he visibly relaxed. "That is very good news, young Camdhegn." His grin, crooked as it was, fair glowed with genuine relief. "'Tis a good thing the Judge happened on you when he did then, eh?"

I fought back a snort at his caricature of my Southern Rivendish accent. "For all the good it will do you when we return, only to fight the moment we touch our land."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he said casually, his eyes hardening a touch. "The Council has already been made aware of the casualties stemming from this latest Dirybvik incursion, and by now are well aware that the Clan Dhealg'seala has appealed to the Empire of Crux Radia for..." He looked to one side, his smile twisting. "Rather, the Clan Dhealg'seala was clever enough to have entered into treaty negotiations with Radia in a rather timely manner, and of course the Jhe o'Radia was more than willing to provide support to their new allies while the Dhealg'seala stabilized their own holdings."

I stared at him, stunned at his adroit management of the situation. I could not find any way to truly take offense at his presumptuousness, even though some part of me felt I should. My greatest unease was in the idea of foreign soldiers present on my land. Clan Dhealg'seala had never relied on any but her own for defense. As grateful as I was for the presence of the Radians to help fortify the holdlands against further invasion, it was in its own way a small defeat.

He seemed to understand the dual nature of my reaction to the news. His blue eyes watched mine, seeming to read the very thoughts in my mind, and I could in turn see the beginnings of a query forming in his.

"Would it be such an imposition," he said carefully, "if you were in fact part of those forces guarding the land?"

"I'm sorry?" I was certain he wasn't questioning my presence there. Rather, there was the overtone of a slightly different question between the words.

He straightened, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Of course Radia, and the Empire of Crux Radia, has her own standing army. In addition to that, there is a smaller guard, an elite group of soldiers chosen for a particular duty and calling." His fingers, which had been tapping together as he spoke, stilled. "They are known as the Armed, and are technically independent of any nation and alliance, save to the Judge. He has expressed an interest in recruiting you into his ranks."

I drew a deep breath. "Sir, I am truly honored, but as Laigr..."

"The title remains yours, as do your duties, Laigr Dhealg'seala. There will simply be additional ones as well."

I opened my mouth, but one gloved hand held aloft stilled my voice. He took a quick moment to stare at the back of his hand, clearly admiring the embroidered silk wrapped around his hand, then spoke.

"No need to respond right this moment, young Laigr. Investigate the Armed, speak to the Judge, and see for yourself the benefits... and the drawbacks." The crooked grin appeared once more on the Emperor's face. "I would be lying if I said there were none." He straightened once more, draping his arms over the sides of the chair. "In the meantime, we have a Council to motivate into action, an unusually destructive raid to investigate, and a hold to secure." His grin widened, and his head tilted to once side. "Why don't we call it an evening and enjoy a good night's rest before tackling such tasks? I'm sure your brother has much to discuss with you by now."

"Aye, sir," I said, a small wave of shame washing over me. I hadn't considered my brother through this whole conversation, although the Emperor surely had extended the same hospitalities to Elricht as he was now offering me. I was suddenly eager to see him again, and to also find some rest. There was a lot to think about, a lot to investigate... and far too little time.

The Emperor stood, and I automatically rose to my feet as well. He ushered me to the door, holding it open with a small bow. The Judge was waiting there, giving no indication that he had actually been waiting there the whole time. "Talk with him," the Emperor said as a dismissal.

"Yes, sir. I shall." I bowed low, and took two steps back into the hallway. The large panels closed with a low thump, and I turned to face the Judge with far more confidence than I felt.

His warm gold eyes looked me over, and then he smiled. "This way, Laigr," he said, his enunciation far smoother than it had been mere hours ago. Something of my surprise must have shown on my face, for he smiled as he held out his arm in a way that invited me to keep pace with him, rather than follow behind as protocol would normally dictate. "One of the benefits of being one of the Armed," he continued, "is developing a knack for language. Rather, it is a skill that can be cultivated, if the natural ability exists."

"How is it done so quickly? You speak as well as if you had studied the language..." I paused, coloring slightly at the unintended offense.

The Judge chuckled low in his throat. "No offense, Laigr Dhealg'seala. The answer, though, is long enough in the delivery that I feel it is best saved until tomorrow." The expression on his face was amused, if a touch weary.

Suddenly, the weight of the day finally set in, and I nearly stumbled on my own exhaustion.

"Point taken," I said, flinching as my voice cracked. "If you would be so kind as to help me find my brother?"

"He is waiting for you in your guest quarters," the Judge said. "They're not far."

I was grateful that his opinions of 'not far' matched my condition. I stumbled through some manner of thanks, readily agreeing to meet him after breaking my fast even as exhaustion dimmed the edges of my vision. He opened the door to the suite even as the blackness briefly overtook me, causing me to stagger a touch as I crossed the threshold.

My brother exclaimed as the door opened, and he rushed to my side. He said something in choppy Radian as he steadied my shoulders, and the Judge's low voice quietly replied. I picked up from the edges of my brother's thoughts that he had reassured that I was in need of rest and some attention, but that no harm had come to me.

"He speaks the truth, brother," I said, willing myself upright under my own flagging strength.

Elricht smiled weakly. "I know, but this day..."

I nodded. "Let us look forward to tomorrow, Elricht. Today is finished."

The Judge nodded, then bowed low as he dismissed himself. "Alert anyone you see if you need anything. They will know to find me," he said, straightening and nodding in my direction. I returned the nod, tilting my hand in a small imitation of the bow I had seen the Jhe o'Radia form at our departure earlier.

"You have our thanks," Elricht said, sincerity adding gravity to his voice.

The door closed, and Elricht turned his wide blue eyes to me. "Camdhegn. I have such interesting things to tell you."

"I as well, dear brother, but could you prepare something hot to drink first?"

"Of course," he said, rising. "I'm sure I spotted a proper teapot on the stove. Can you make it to the couch from here? Or do you need to lie down?"

I snorted. "Elricht, I am injured, not dying. I am fine where I am." Another wave of vertigo hit, but I steadied myself in the chair, thankful that my brother had missed that lapse. "Tell me of these amazing things I can see dancing around the edges of your eyes."

Elricht smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Proper tea first, dear brother."

* * *

Bonus: The Last of the Dhealg'seala (Part One)

2009-03-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

Char has a two-parter for you folks! This is part one of a short focusing on Camden and Elric Briarseal. Part two will be posted on Saturday.

This is more backstory, and it's set earlier than any short yet posted, quite a ways in the past.

Also, if you just found The Peacock King Story Archive, please start at Chapter One and read in the order that things have been posted, because that's the way the story (probably) makes the most sense. Come April 11th I'll start posting Novel II in The Peacock King Trilogy: The Peacock King in Court. So uh...I guess you've been warned.

***

Elric

***

I stared out over the battlefield, forcing myself to gaze at the tangled mess of ruined bodies and broken weapons until the pressure in my throat threatened to choke me unconscious. I almost wished it would. Unconscious was better than having to look into my brother's eyes and face the reproach in his eyes, the cold condemnation of the coward I was.

Ach, 'Richt, you know me better than that.

I sighed and looked down at him. My brother, so fierce and capable and a good head shorter than me, glared up at me with one hard blue eye. His other was swollen shut, which was probably just fine considering the amount of blood trickling down his face from the larger of his scalp wounds. Blood in the eyes stings.

The sheer weight of his regard prompted me to cast my coward's eyes back to the battlefield. That, too, was intensely uncomfortable, so I looked at my feet. Surely my feet were safe.

They were scuffed, my sandals scuffed. Cam's feet were caked with mud and blood where there weren't openly bleeding wounds. One of his sandals was halfway torn off, hanging on by a few strained leather straps. He had fought hard, fought proudly as the Crhlaigr... before he left behind his clan and the battle to protect his weak brother.

If I had picked up the sword instead of the quill, would he bear fewer wounds?

"Aye, because I would be lying dead with our father."

I winced, not from the idea of our father lying still, but from the emotionless tone of Camdhegn's voice.

He set his shoulders and lifted his chin, for a moment looking much older than his fourteen years. "Come. Let us see if more of our clan live." I understood from the way the words fell from his lips that he didn't expect to find any, but it was his assumed duty as Laigr. As the head of our people, it was his duty not only to lead our people into battle, but to survive the damned things so that he could personally finish off the mortally wounded before our enemies could do such dishonor. It was pitiful enough to be so weak as to allow another not of the Clans to take your life; being so weak as to allow the enemy to slack off on their duty of completely killing you was worse than emasculating.

Warriors of the Clan Dhealg'seala simply did not survive battles in anything less than full health. If a battle-wound was crippling, the Laigr showed mercy by cutting their lives off and gifting them with a noble death rather than allow them to suffer through life as a drain on the clan. Their families would celebrate the warrior's brave demise, and only the Laigr would know of the supposed mercy-killing, and even the Laigr would do their best to forget that the duty had ever been performed.

As my brother walked before me, I found myself looking him over for any sign of permanent, disabling injury and shuddered. To my relief, all his wounds were relatively superficial. He'd have an impressive set of new scars, but nothing that would gain him so much as a slight limp. I nearly stumbled as my unacknowledged worry that my brother would be injured enough to expect me to end his life left me in one hard gasp of relief.

He glanced back, eyebrows raised, and continued walking once he realized I was suffering no harm. "Take the sunward side, 'Richt. I'll account the other."

"A'right." I was grateful that he had apportioned me the section with fewer bodies.

As we slogged through the mud, I did my best to concentrate on accounting for our kin, rather than ponder the conditions that created the field's particular consistency. I had long since adapted to the particular stench of an ended battle -- my tunic bore witness to the moments earlier in the day when the horrifying tang of blood and death first slapped my senses, and I emptied my stomach in the corner of my favorite bolt-hole. It seemed strange that I was so relatively at ease; the battle was still fresh enough in history that the spring flies had not yet begun to swarm the bodies. I had to marvel a moment at my own sense of detachment as I nudged a severed hand to one side with my toes, glancing down and noting the identity of the body nearest to it.

Kaereg dul'Dhealg'seala. His skull was hollowed in the back, luckily a side that was facing away from me. He had died with a rather surprised expression on his face. Rather like how he lived, actually. I snorted a small laugh, causing Cam to look up my way in worry.

"Elricht, are you a'right?"

"Just as a stream, brother," I said, choking back another giggle. He raised an eyebrow, presumably questioning my sanity, but went back to examining his own section of the field's dead.

Kaereg's sister Thennet was lying several feet away, the end of her long brown braid cut, likely as some manner of trophy. She had been kind to me, one of the few defenders of Cam's weakling elder brother, and one of the few who had been willing to train with me by moonlight. My brother had been selective of those he chose to work with me, people he knew would not take the "learn or die trying" approach to mastering the weapons of our clan. She had been particularly pleased when I finally disarmed her one moonless night, standing over her with the thin blade of my sword at her throat, laughing at the idiotic expression of surprise on my face.

"'Richt, you just might be able to save your own life," she had laughed. I still had my doubts, but as I clasped her hand and helped pull her to her feet, I couldn't deny the small thrill I felt in my chest at my accomplishment. Thennet was one of Clan Dhealg'seala's favored warriors, known for her lightning-quick reflexes and deadly aim. I had truly shown aptitude when I had defeated her; I was not to be faulted any flush of pride.

I knelt down and closed her eyes. Her forehead was still furrowed in concentration, one hand reaching toward Kaereg. Her sword and her opponent were nowhere to be seen, but the set of drag-marks in the earth told me all I needed to know about what had happened to her opponent... and likely the person unfortunate enough to have managed to kill Kaereg.

The next few were mercifully easy for me to tally. I had few friends among our clan.

I found no sign of the Dirybvik raiders amongst the bodies. As usual, they had carried away every trace of their own, from the smallest scrap of cloth to their weapons and dead. All that remained was our own, scattered and broken. Mercifully, it appeared that the Dirybvik had managed to mortally wound every one of our own on their way out, however it was that they managed to disappear so quickly from the battlefield.

A low curse and the sound of my brother's sword piercing flesh corrected my assumption. I looked towards the river and watched my brother perform the gestures of pardon. Something about the scene seemed off, until I realized that it was simply because my brother was wearing the wrong badge over his cape. I was mildly surprised that he hadn't taken the time to find the Laigr-badge before performing this duty.

I suppose even my brother is susceptible to shock. It's not something I would naturally accord him, but for all that he was now Laigr, he is human.

Of course that moment of observation would mark the moment I discovered our father's body. I looked down at him a moment, glanced up at my brother, and moved on. I would save this moment for last, after we had finished accounting the rest of our clan.

As the sun touched the hills, Cam straightened and marched directly for me. I nodded, anticipating his question before he was even within earshot, and gestured towards the corpse of the previous Laigr. He reached it before I did, kneeling by his side and unpinning the badge of the Laigr and clasping it in his hand, deep in thought.

"How many?" he asked, his voice low.

"Twenty-three, Laigr."

He nodded. "Forty-eight by my count as well. As I feared, brother." He frowned down at our father's body. "Elricht, does anything strike you as odd about this body?"

"Er..." I looked down at it, suppressing a shiver of revulsion. "I'm sorry, but all things considered, nothing appears out of the ordin..." I blinked, then looked up at my brother in confusion. "Cam? He was running away from the battle."

"Yes. He was running away from the front. He was escaping."

"Cam... but... why?"

His lips flattened, letting me come to my own conclusions.

I closed my eyes against the small wave of sorrow. "Cammie? What do we do now?"

He stood, wiping sweat and blood from his forehead, squinting into the sunset. "I don't know." His eye turned to me, hard and assessing. "What do you think?"

"May I make a suggestion?"

Camdhegn whirled and struck before I had even finished drawing my sword. I blinked, startled by the sight of his broadsword captured in the tines of a rather large battle-fork, the great weight of the weapon casually held in the hands of a very tall and well-dressed stranger. Strange in the fullest sense of the word; his manner of dress was completely alien to us, and the way his tongue formed our language was off in that particular way that said it had never used our speech until that moment. His red hair was unbound like a woman's, but I was learned enough to realize that didn't automatically mean he wanted to be one.

As a matter of fact, I was willing to bet that even if that was the case in his culture, he would be able to leave his hair unbound, and none would dare say anything about it. Ever.

My brother bared his teeth and flexed, but his sword remained locked in the battle-fork's grip. Belatedly, I realized I should have drawn and attacked as well, but something about the situation told me that not only would the gesture have been useless, but Cam's attack had been unnecessary as well.

"Laigr," I said as softly as I could and still be heard by my brother, "I do not think this man means us harm."

"He appears out of nowhere like the Dirybvik, and you just assume everything is a'right?" he grumbled, even as his arms began to relax.

I smiled meekly, glancing at the stranger. "I beg your forgiveness, brother, but I have the distinct impression that should he have intended our demise, it would have been accomplished without us managing to learn of his presence beforehand."

"Quite," the red-haired man said, cracking a small grin.

Cam blinked at me, then dropped his right hand from the hilt of his sword. "As you say, brother." Without even one whisper of motion from the stranger, his sword fell free of the battle-fork. Camdhegn sheathed it and crossed his arms, granting the stranger a respectful nod. The stranger nodded in return, the battle-fork glowing briefly as it somehow melted into a light sword, which he then sheathed.

Camdhegn drew a deep breath. "As Laigr Dhealg'seala, I greet you upon the lands of the Clan Dhealg'seala. Forgive my abrupt response. As you can see, we have suffered a harsh blow this day, and..." he paused, his expression cracking a little.

"A warm welcome to you," I broke in, moving to stand next to my brother, my eyes flitting briefly to the hilt of the sword at the stranger's side. Cam nodded to me, his lips tight as he fought back the emotions threatening to catch him. "We cannot accommodate you with all hospitality due a visitor to our holds, but while you are amongst us, our weapons guard you and our bread feed you." I hoped it was a fair enough greeting to meet the Laigr's standards. My brother's one blue eye was almost warm with gratitude as he gave me the barest nod of thanks.

The stranger looked past us, his forehead furrowing as he examined the ruined fields of our clan's land and our dead. "None would fault your hospitality, especially given the present situation," he said quietly. He glanced at Cam for one long moment, his gold eyes respectfully assessing, then turned his attention to me. "On behalf of the Empire of Crux Radia, we offer refuge to the survivors of Clan Dhealg'seala of Rhivend..." He paused, his jaw working a moment. "Should the Laigr wish it, the Emperor of Crux Radia has offered a private audience to the Laigr Dhealg'seala to discuss the latest hostilities provoked by the nation of Dirybvik."

Some light went off in my head, and I gave my brother the tiniest of mental nudges. Accept.

Why? Since when does the Clan Dhealg'seala kneel so low as to accept the charity of strangers like the lowest of beggars?

Since we... I paused, then swallowed. Brother. I see that this is the correct course of action.

Camdhegn's blue eye snapped up, piercing me with the force of his gaze. "You have seen it, Elricht?"

My eyes flicked nervously to the stranger's, then back to my brother. "Aye, Laigr."

He sighed and straightened, rolling his shoulders back. "Then that is what we shall do." He nodded to the emissary. "We accept the Emperor Crux Radia's offer, and are deeply grateful to him for his show of... mercy." Personally, I think the phrasing could have used a little less bitterness than the edge my brother put into it, but the emissary merely nodded, taking no offense.

"If there is no further business here?"

I shook my head, and Camdhegn looked down at our father's remains. "No. This is finished."

The emissary nodded, his eyes warm as he canted his head towards Camdhegn. "Let us be on our way, then. Jhe o'Radia is expecting us." I tucked away that small bit of titular information as I watched him draw his sword once more, holding it point-down, perpendicular to the ground. Camdhegn straightened, standing as tall as he physically could, and pinned the Laigr's badge so that it overlapped the Crhlaigr badge holding his cape in place over his shoulders.

The sword dropped to the ground, and the lands of the Clan Dhealg'seala of the Rhivend vanished from my eyes.

BONUS SHORT DOUBLE-FEATURE

2009-03-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

We have two shorts for you today! Both are set about 17 years before In the Court of the Peacock King. To give you some perspective, Jax is a recently born baby in the second short. (Camden might tell you that Jax is the same age as that in the current storyline, but never you mind him.) The first story is by Irk and is from the perspective of the Judge. It is about parenting. The second is by Char and is from the perspective of Elric Briarseal, Camden's brother. (By the Peacock King Trilogy, it's been discovered that Elric has been captured by Nul's forces, but seventeen years ago he was doin' alright.) Lyric's little sister Stevane is five in these stories. By the time you will meet her, she'll obviously be 22 (well, she'll LOOK it). It should also probably be noted that Stevane's mother is Tia, the deity and embodiment of the Void/Chaos, to which all Armed commit those that they sentence and destroy.

Alright, enough liner notes, enjoy the shorts! Expect another for the next update!

(New readers - Here's the first chapter in this series. Start there before reading this!)

* * *

The Noble Spoon - by Irk

* * *

"Daddy."

There's a dainty little tug on the lace-edged cuff of my sleeve. I peer over the edge of my book. Two very wide, very golden eyes peer back up at me.

I wonder why her voice was so hushed? I make a show of looking to each side, checking to make sure there are no spies about. Then I lean forward, eager to learn of what conspiracy is at play today. "Yes, Stevane?" I stage-whisper.

"Daddy. You're talking too loud," she whispers back, "someone will hear you."

"Sorry." I school my voice much lower. I ruffle her hair, then check for more spies. It seems to be the proper thing to do. "What's the secret this time, Stevane?"

She frowns, lip jutting out, signaling her intense seriousness. "There's no secret. I want you to tell me about the eyeballs." She looks around to make absolutely sure that no one's listening.

I understand her now. I, too, want to make sure no one catches me telling Stevane about the eyeballs.

When the discussion really starts, we've relocated to the piano bench, Stevane's hands idly dancing over and around the ribbons trailing down her skirt. It's hard to see her face under the thick red mop of curls surrounding her head. Her hair's pretty, but it's almost a helmet. We keep trimming it back and it does nothing. I've tied bows in it that just plain disappear. It's like her Mother is hiding in there.

...I check around again for her Mother, with that thought. Stevane's eyebrows lift as she watches me.

"Is it safe in here?" I nod. She grins. "Lute said I had to ask about the spoon."

I disguise a sputter with a cough into my hand. "What was Lute doing telling you about the spoon?"

She sighs, looking to the side. "Lute couldn't tell me anything about anything. He said if he got caught he'd get in real trouble." She pouts at me, as if any tragedy involving rules is utterly all my fault. I chuckle, fighting to keep the mirth quiet for the sake of conspiracy.

"Lute knows better than to tell you something that's my job to explain." Her eyes light up, which is good. Telling her that is much better than letting her realize that Daddy can get into just as much trouble as his son can for getting caught saying certain things. "Okay, okay. Spoons. Did he say which spoon?" I fight to keep my voice low. This is getting into territory that I'm very enthusiastic about.

Stevane shakes her head so fast that all I can see is a blur of bouncing curls. "There's more than one?"

I just grin.

* * *

We're in the kitchen now. I am of the opinion that every good lecture must have its proper visual aids. Stevane sits up on the counter, watching me dig for another fork. Spread out on the counter is a complex variety of dinnerware from shrimp forks to cheese knives. (Cheese knife is as big as the knives get in this tutorial. She's still young.)

I hold it up. "This is an escargot fork." Her eyes widen. Yes, already I can see that she knows its potential. "It's good for scooping cooked snails out of their shells."

She grins. "Does it scoop out other stuff?"

I grin back. "I can unsocket an eyeball with this thing so fast that most people don't even notice until they see me holding their own eye up to look back at them." She grins and applauds. "And see, the best thing about it?" I point at the space between the two prongs on the fork. Stevane scrutinizes the engineering of it. "If my scoop is perfectly centered, this part here grips the optic nerve and yanks it right out of someone's skull by the roots!"

She snorts with laughter, pitching forward so fast that I have to remove the fork rather quickly so that she doesn't become a classroom demonstration. After that we both dissolve into giggles. I'm wiping tears from my eyes when I hear a subtle, quiet noise from the kitchen doorway.

"Ahem."

I feel both of our hearts sink simultaneously. It's like the earth moves along with them in sympathy.

After her mother's ensuing discussion with me, I am no longer allowed to teach Stevane how to use silverware.

It makes me cry. Elete knows his etiquette like any Xaillyndesse knows his hair, but he'll never tell her what you can do with two salad forks and a corn cob holder.

* * *

Courts, Poets, Babies, and Royal Declarations - by Char

* * *

"I can't see."

I stifled a giggle, recognizing the tiny imperious voice at Edward's feet. He closed his eyes against the firm tug at the hem of his waistcoat and let out a slow sigh.

"I'm sorry, Princess, I can't pick you up. I'm on baby duty."

"You have a baby?" Stevane's eyebrows raised. "Let me see."

Edward glanced once towards his father's dais, then knelt, his head disappearing below the rest of the crowd. He angled his arms so that the sleeping infant's face rolled away from his chest. One tiny fist shot up, fingers uncurling a moment, then tucking into a tiny ball once again next to a rosy cheek.

"You have a pretty baby." She frowned, looking firmly into Edward's eyes. "Where did you get him? He's not yours. You're too old to have babies."

"No I'm not," he protested, then stopped himself and laughed. I bit my own lip, holding back a chuckle. Stevane tossed a glance my way, then looked again.

"Elric! Elric, Edward stole someone's baby."

I grinned and picked her up, grunting a little with the effort. My little shadow had gotten a bit longer in the past few years. Edward stood as well, carefully tucking the blanket over the baby's head, shielding him from the light in the Court. "No, sweetcake, that baby is his little brother. That's your new cousin."

Stevane wrinkled her nose. "Oh." She gave me a sly look. "So, Unkie stuck his penis--"

I clapped a hand over her mouth, my face turning bright red. I noticed a couple pairs of shoulders in front of us twitch in silent laughter, and Edward's eyes were twinkling as he held back laughter.

"Stevane, that's not an appropriate topic for a lady, let alone in the Court."

She nodded, and I lowered my hand from her mouth. She leaned forward and stage-whispered wetly in my ear. "Unkie knocked up some silly whore, then?"

I choked on my own snort, and Edward couldn't quite bite back his bark of laughter.

From the throne, Jhe o'Radia's blue eyes glanced our way. The corner of his mouth curled ever-so-slightly, presumably at the sight of his niece's mop of red curls, and looked away. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stevane, sweetheart, where did you learn those... improper words?"

She leaned back, her gold eyes staring wide into mine. "I heard them."

I nodded encouragingly. "Where did you hear them, dear?"

"In the practice arena, Elric."

I contained a deep sigh. "Sweetcake, we've talked about what we hear in the practice arena, didn't we."

She looked down, her hands twining together, fingertips playing with the edge of my sash.

"Sweetcake?"

"Yes, Elric."

I jogged her in my arms, her curls bouncing about her face with the motion. She peeked up at me through them. I smiled, and she looked up a bit further, encouraged by my pleasant demeanor. "And what did we discuss about those things, sweetcake?"

"We don't repeat what they say, because people who are trying to kill each other rarely do it in a mannerly fashion." She blinked, then shook her head. "I'm sorry... people who are trying to kill each other say things that make other people upset on purpose." Her eyes twinkled. "Part of being Armed is having no manners."

I giggled and kissed her forehead. "Don't let your father hear you speaking like that, sweetcake, or you're going to get us poor downtrodden artists more trouble than we can handle."

She nodded again, then looked over at the baby. "Edward?"

"Yes, tidbit?"

"That's Unkie's baby?"

He grinned. "Yes, bit. He's my baby brother."

She leaned over to get a better look, forcing me to widen my stance as to not stumble into Edward. "He's cute. His hair is curly, like yours."

"And yours," Edward said, reaching up and gently yanking a lock of her hair. She giggled and clapped her hands on the top of her head.

"Ow!" She rubbed her head. "That hurt," she said, ruining her pout with a bubbly stream of giggles.

Edward stuck his tongue out, and she promptly did the same.

"Manners, you two," I muttered. They shot me near-identical eyerolls.

"Can I play with him?" she asked, gently pulling the blanket away from his face.

"Not for a while," Edward said, shifting the baby to give Stevane a better view. She stared down at him, smiling, and stroked his cheek.

"What's his name?"

"Jaxhelshon."

Stevane glanced up and gave Edward a cross look. "What a stupid name. What kind of name is that?"

"I don't know, bit," he said, his eyes nearly disappearing into his cheeks from the force of his grin. "You'll have to discuss that with your uncle."

She twisted in my arms, facing over the crowd. "Unk--"

I clapped my hand over her mouth, my eyes darting to the throne. "Not right now!" I hissed, apologizing as best I could with my eyes when the Jhe o'Radia glanced my way once again.

To my amazement, he held up one hand. The dignitary who had been speaking paused, his expression a touch confused. The Jhe o'Radia signaled to me with one finger, and I set his niece down and knelt next to her, giving her a little push. "Your uncle wants to see you," I said, my voice exceptionally steady considering my heart had just tried to hammer its way through my chest.

Stevane marched through the crowd, people nearly tripping over each other to get out of her way. She mounted the stairs to the dais with the arrogant confidence of five-year-olds everywhere and marched over to her uncle, charmingly oblivious to the stir she was causing behind her. She stopped in front of him, her tiny fists on her hips, and cocked her head. "Unkie?"

"Yes, Jhe Stevane?"

The title gave her pause, then she plowed forward. "J'Unkie."

Someone in Court bit off a laugh.

"J'Unkie," she said a little louder, and the Jhe o'Radia raised an eyebrow as the same someone laughed again, a particular cant to his expression that seemed to be reserved for his children.

"Jhe o'Radia," he whispered.

"Sorry," she whispered back. "Jhe o'Radia," she said, her voice suddenly carrying through the Court, "I have a question."

He waved a hand to her, palm up.

"What kind of name is 'Jaxhelshon'?"

He stared at her, then burst out laughing, picking her up and pulling her onto his lap. "If I let you sit here and watch with me, will you be quiet and I will tell you later?"

She nodded and grinned, kicking her feet over his knees.

He waved a hand, but before the dignitary could get more than a few words out, Jaxhelshon woke abruptly and wailed.

The Jhe o'Radia buried his face in one palm, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "Please, 'Sy," I heard him choke out. The Jhe 'hAkribastes shook his head and quietly apologized to the befuddled diplomat, then dismissed Court.

"It's a stupid name," I heard Stevane announce over the increasingly high-pitched screams of her cousin, as I followed Edward out the doors into the hallway that lead to the Jhe o'Radia's offices.

This time, I didn't bother to hold in my laughter.

BONUS: The Peacock King in Court Teaser Chapter

2009-03-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

The Peacock King in Court is the next novel in the Peacock King series. Online publishing of the story will start on the 11th of April, but until then enjoy this sneak preview! This is the first scene in the book.

Stay tuned for the next update - on Saturday we'll have a bonus short story for you!

* * *

Gerude

* * *

The palace wards go down with an audible snap, as if all Iaen had to do to make it happen was snip a wire.

'Sssst. I told ya, Rudie, don't talk about me in your writing! Nobody's supposed to even see me!'

The folks in black ops are always so paranoid. Like anyone reads my stuff anyway. I'm sure the official people give it a dusting with their eyes, but come on. Gerald's the real Poet. I'm just the real cowboy. I mean, he gives that a good shot and all, but in the end he's just playin' dress-up.

...Man. He really knows how to make a proper mess, too.

I mean, look at all this. This throne-room, which is already starting to look like a fancy rummage sale/barracks combo. The fancy banners and rugs have gotten real dinged up and frayed, even burnt, by some of the random fights that have broken out. The servants keep on rushing us from out of nowhere, man. And some of those people know what they're doing when it comes to impromptu weapons. Aside from the expected stuff like knives and spades and staves, we have been attacked with ladders, broomsticks, candleabras, tea services, spike-heeled shoes, aprons (makeshift garottes), wigs, torches, torches made out of wigs, spaghetti, plates, saucers, teaspoons, pepper shakers, mousetraps, and corn. Not to mention the tamed animals that Faun didn't get to. They keep siccing them on us. I bet you didn't know that squirrels make capable guard dogs.

Now, it doesn't take too long to find a garden in this place. Say what you want about the creepy buzzard, (and Caerig and Kennit grumble in agreement with that particular description of the Peek) but he has good taste in decor. I keep forgetting that this place is enclosed at all. Everything's so airy and relaxing, feels so open - especially in these little pockets of garden I find in the rooms. One problem with it, though - well, besides mosquitoes. Easy to lose sight of where you came in from, and where you're going. The wards are down now, which makes it easier to, you know, breathe in this place, but that makes my tracking sense even rougher. All the astral stuff around here's pretty broken up, after all. I guess that's my excuse for why I didn't see the damn thing coming until it was on top of my head. To be fair, neither did my Arms.

There's the most horrible screech, like a baby being dropped onto a brazier. Then, without further warning, my ears burst into flames. Well, that's exactly what it feels like, and I'd know since I got so used to the feeling when Stevie learned to ignite people's hair at the age of three. (Look, I don't know. Dad thought it was funny.) They feel strangely wet for being on fire, though. So at first I think it's some sort of, I don't know, operatic tyrotyle, but then fire rakes down my face, and I realize it's talons attacking me.

I lose my balance between all the thwaps my head is getting. Like two guys are just hammering it with pillows as hard as they can. And whatever this thing is, it's heavy, and it's got a curtain over my head or something. I almost get knocked over. Trying to pry whatever's on me off of me just results in more of those spine-shredding screams, and a stab to the back of my hand. So, I figure I'll look for help, while this thing's eating me alive. I run back to the throne room, or at least where I think it might be. For all I know, I'm on the moon with this thing. Can barely see through the blanket or whatever it's got tossed over me. What the hell is this?!

I hear a couple exclamations of surprise, and they're not accompanied by cheers, so I'm pretty sure they're from Armed and not the Peek's servants (or from someone who knows me well enough to find this funny). I hope for some assistance, flopping around while this thing just keeps SCREAMING on top of my head, and then the fire is in my eye and I can't see binocular-style anymore. After that, my arms move on my own. I ignore the fire raking along my scalp as I rip the thing away from my head. It lands on the throne. Then Caerig and Kennit dispatch it like lightning, which tends to be the way Arms dispatch anything.

It dies in a flurry of feathers.

"Gerude? Oh god Gerude, your eye." A couple people rush up, try to dab at my wounded eye, try to give me some medical aid. I don't so much notice. I'm still gaping at that thing I killed on the throne. It's mostly a splatter of red, now, with blue and green down sprinkled around its carcass like horribly-timed confetti. The fan-tail sprawls over the throne like a drape of silk.

Bloody my bones, I've killed one of the Peacock King's peacocks.

38 - High Hopes

2009-03-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jhe 'hAkribastes's Travel Log

* * *

There is, on the floor in front of me, a bound Emperor. My long-lost son is recovering from enduring servitude to that Emperor, and the complete list of acts he has had to endure or participate in has yet to be made apparent to me. I worry more about Lyric's mental well-being than his guilt. Gerald seems fine, but has his share of stories to tell me. Cade has been bound similarly to the Peacock King, by Jhe Camden. Who, incidentally, has a lot of talking to do. There are freed slaves all around and I've no idea what to do with them. There is a wronged, angry animism stalking about as if he were a housecat whose tail had just met the wrong end of a rocking chair.

Finally there's my bloody idiotic nephew Jax and his unfortunate choice in partners. The Peacock King's younger daughter, whose name has been given to me as Rocsui. I can tell as much as any trained Poet that's a false name, forced upon her. She's no longer spellbound and frozen still, but is in quite a daze, and right now no one has any better idea of what to do with her than let Jax comfort her, which I can't say is that bad of an idea. At least he's found a way to make himself useful that doesn't involve replacing paid maintenance crews. His Father will be so proud.

There's dead guards strewn about, and every few minutes an Armed gets in a tussle with a few servants trying to run to the aid of their captured King. Can I blame the servants? No. Is this arrangement going to work for thirty more minutes? No. But there's the problem of leaving a mess here just as much as there's the problem of staying here safely.

The Peacock King flails against his bonds, only to be slammed down against the floor by the forces that make up his cuffs and collar. He writhes for a short while. I can't knock him out. The binding will hold, yes, but try as I might I can't knock him out here, in his own domain, and if I tried any harder I'd crush his skull like a watermelon. The idea has its appeal but it would make his daughters sad, and cause some very unwanted complications in global politics.

That's the worst part of this - he could very well have earned himself a death sentence, but Radia needs him alive. It is not possible for us to go on without a treaty with Audiva Rocale. Without its monarch, Audiva Rocale will crumble into anarchy.

...I need help.

The measures are quick and I will not go into them in detail. Best not to let it be known exactly how we accomplish it, lest others see through the tricks if we ever have to do it again. In an emergency such as this, and with discovery by the King no longer an issue, transport over the border can now be rather swift. They are teleported in. The crew looks over the wards first. Over the King. Over the entire lay of the Palace.

I will go so far as saying we will find a way to make the King's absence less evident, and begin sneaking the freed slaves to Radia. Most of the freed spirits can find their own way, if they have a place they would rather go. The ones that are injured or broken...

I turn to Faun. He glares up at me, wearing his proper furs now. The servant robes he was wearing before are in shreds at the base of the Peacock King's throne. He tore them off and flung the furs onto himself right on that spot, for all to see. Just as one should expect from one of the wild ones. I raise an eyebrow at him. He only glares further.

"Jhe Faun. Please tell me what I can do for your kind here." I ignore his bristling hair and bared teeth. He has been greatly wronged for quite some amount of time. I fully understand why he is acting as he is.

I only hope I can forestall him from striking at anyone in here.

"Much needs to be done, but I do not know if your kind are sufficient to get it done, something I say out of honesty and not spite. I can say who is required here to bring about the needed healing, but I have another suggestion instead." I nod, and gesture for him to go on. "Talk to the Dragon of this land. You should know him well, I imagine. I smell the blood on you."

I can't help but snort. Animisms are so well known for seeing past what is obscured purposefully, sniffing out the true natures of things. "Fine, then. You are correct. I do know him. Thank you, I shall speak with him. Do you suggest anything for the short term?"

He nods, expression clouding with worry. "Don't let anyone come in and tamper with them. Don't let anyone interact with them who is uneducated as to their natures. I...would help, but I must accompany you to Radia for the King's Trial."

I raise an eyebrow. How preemptive of him. "So you shall. Would you prefer I escort you directly, or will you travel alone?"

"Neither, unless you are escorting your son home."

My eyebrows shoot up. He goes on.

"I am traveling with him, now. I will claim him as my Poet if the Jhe 'hLogos grants me such."

I'm pretty confused by this, but don't want to spurn the animism his choice. "...Has Gerald done a good job of it here, then? That's...gratifying."

His eyes widen, and then he crooks a foxish grin. "Nay, sire. Your son by the haerphitl, your son who managed to ensnare even the Peacock King in his Poetry. His skills are unsure, but he shall grow in time, blossom just as flowers do. Lotus was a silly stage-name, but an appropriate one at that." He laughs. I can't school my expression right now, damnit. "Oh, so you didn't know? My, my. You should have him trained as soon as he reaches Radia. He'll be even more trouble if he's left to his own ends for any longer." He turns, walking towards my son. The tails hanging on the bottom of his fur robes sway, taunting me.

I can't help but growl. I walk to my son as well, faster than the animism. I'm much taller, after all. And he may have his claim on the woods, but that is my son, damnit, and I haven't seen him in far, far too long.

Lyric is still small, even though he's obviously grown a bit older. Strange, so much shorter than his twin brother Lute. He's also tired, dazed, and hurt. How long has he been here before his Uncle told me he found him here? How long did I let him--

--No, I can't blame myself right now, even though I will anyway. I take a knee and lean him back from Gerald, who still blanches at the possibility of me speaking with Lyric. Lyric doesn't fight me, which is a relief, especially since I expect it. He just looks at me, clear blue eyes wet with tears that trail through his makeup.

"Are you willing to come back with me to Radia, son?" His eyes widen, and something in his shoulders untenses. He was expecting me to scold him. I look a little deeper than he knows, and I see the binds still hanging around his soul, the wounds that have been dealt to his mind and will, and the pain he's endured.

He swallows, makes a tiny nod, and then buries himself into my chest. I'd like to hear very soon just what it is that he's so afraid of. For now, I hold him until he stops shaking. "I have to leave with the Peacock King, Lyric. I'll be back for you after he's been arranged for. ...So stay here while I'm away, please."

"I won't run off." He sniffles. "Are Ger and 'Rude staying?"

"They'll be with you. It'll be alright." I lean him away, and Gerude hunkers down beside him. Lyric doesn't look too upset, all things taken into account.

I have no choice but to leave, then, to attend to my duty. Faun watches as I walk away, then approaches my son. I pin him with a glare.

The animism startles, then blinks. "You'd dare impede me?"

"You of all creatures would know to permit a dragon his territory." At that he draws back, instead walking off to one of the confused dryads that is wandering around.

I walk up to the Peacock King. He stares up at me, his eyes half-fogged with the binds of collar and cuffs. That even his gaze has to be bound speaks volumes for how much he's fighting the binding. I twirl my Trident midair, then strike it down. When it impacts with the floor, we simply cease to be in that room, and reappear where I will it, in Radia.

* * *

...I'm afraid to go. I hear Gerude tsk.

"Hey, man, I can see it on your face, but we're not letting you run away again." I nod. He pats my shoulder. "Here, it's gonna get boring if you just sit there in stone-stiff-terror. Let's say we all play cards." He fishes a beaten up deck from his pocket, then starts dealing to the three of us.

Gerald snorts. "Like hell I'd play with you. You always cheat." He picks up his hand regardless, squinting as he considers what he's been dealt.

Gerude gives Gerald the death-eye for thirty solid seconds. "You. The notorious sneak-peeking Poet. Accuse me of cheating."

"Damn right I am. Lyric, look at your damn cards." I jump, then pick through my hand.

"...What game are we playing?" I hear a sigh from behind me, and then Jenny flops down to sit beside me. She tosses a spare shirt into Gerald's lap, for which my brother looks absolutely grateful. His current one has had enough with life, and it's time to put it down.

Jenny looks over her shoulder. "Oy, Rachella! Come on, we're playin' poker! No, none of you horseasses are joinin' in, go back to work! Hurry, Rachella! I wanna place bets on who catches Gerald at cheating first!"

"HEY!"

I chuckle, which is really odd to do, because so much of me just wants to break down and cry right now. It could really be alright, couldn't it? Going back home, to Radia, after ten years away? Facing all those old friends and relatives, explaining myself? Accounting for everything I've done while I was away, and everything I've done and seen in this place?

The first game ends early when Jenny kicks Gerald in the eye for "cheating in a way so obvious that it ruined the betting odds." Rachella deals the next hand with a sigh. Time goes by, and somehow I enjoy just sitting here laughing. I honestly can't remember when the last time was that I'd done anything like this.

Maybe it's what home is supposed to be.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerald Akribastes's Resumed Mission Log

* * *

We go through ten games before my Father returns, looking much more tired than when he left us. Lyric, bless him, goes white as a sheet and sits up rail-straight. I laugh and slap him on the back. "Here," I say, hauling myself to my feet, then lending him a hand, "get up. Time for you to go home."

I feel my Father's hand on my shoulder, that weight just as ominous as it always has been, and my mind does that automatic thing where it runs through every possible misdeed I might have committed since I was three. "You're not staying here, Gerald. Come on. You're dead on your feet."

I almost laugh, then realize the room's tilting a little not because of some freak decision by an avant-garde-obsessed architect, but because I'm leaning sideways from fatigue. He puts his other hand on Lyric's shoulder, guiding him forward gingerly.

Faun steps behind Lyric, looking up at my Father. The Judge looks back down at the animism. "Yes, you are permitted to join us." The animism simply shakes his head.

"I will come find him when I need him. You have staked your claim. I trust I shall be summoned for the Trial." Then he turns and...just bloody disappears. Somewhere around a corner is the odd sound of fur and wings rustling together, and then a wind rushes out through the doors. My Father just sighs heavily.

"Let's get you boys home before you get into any more trouble here." And with that, my mission in Audiva Rocale ends.

I think I'd call it a success.

* * *

[insert full-page ad for Novel 2 here]

Posting of Novel 2 in The Peacock King Trilogy, The Peacock King in Court, will start on the 11th of April (the second Saturday in April). Keep watching the blog because I'll be posting teaser chapters of it, as well as some bonus shorts that didn't fit within the actual novels, and other fun materials. Thanks for reading the first novel! You guys are the best. I've been floored by some of the comments on the story thus far.

Keep an eye on the news blog for further updates and information!

* * *

37 - Swansong

2009-03-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jhe 'hAkribastes's Travel Log

* * *

I only see one thing during this moment. ...That's an error. I can see many things at a time, as that is a function of being the Law. There is only one thing that I am focused solely upon at this moment. It is the Jhe o'Sul's face rushing towards me, eyes widening but still full of mad rage, still utterly convinced he'll have his way and take his vengeance. I correct that assertion by driving my knee up into his nose.

He claws his way away from me, lurching to the side. For some reason he doesn't let go of his whip. I only grin. He snaps the whip away from Diyn's teeth, dissipating the snared length and then rematerializing it after it's unsnared. Oh, what a cute trick. He looks down at me with disdain, which is impressive considering the blood trickling from his nose and the strange crooked angle the feature's been bent to.

"You dare assault me in my Court, Judge? How shameful. Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in decorum."

"Sometimes I wonder why I let criminals speak for so long instead of sealing their fool mouths, and then you go and say something like that. Do you care to back up such a threat? I should love to see you try." I watch him grin, the marks on his face twisting more than the shift in expression can account for. His eyes glisten with glee. He's coveted a rare prize for so long, and now it's come to him. He has apparently long awaited this opportunity.

That jewel in the middle of his crown winks and pulses as he gathers power. I can feel his Will pressing against me, trying to force me, of all entities, to kneel before him. Is this what he used against my son? I'm proud of Lyric, then, for standing up under that weight.

I don't move. I don't even show a sign that I feel what he's attempting. He only gloats and tries harder, as if that trick is going to work. For the rest of the room, this part of the battle must be very boring. It is two men staring at each other, one looking progressively more snakeish and squinty as time passes.

"Is that all? Or were you not done yet?" I ask him in the same tone of voice that I order drinks with. He starts. I twirl my Trident in a lazy arc, looking up at him with a questioning eyebrow.

He glowers at me, wipes his nose, then makes a gesture of cutting and focusing forward. Openly attacking me with his Will, now? Nothing impacts. He's making this boring for the audience, good Graces. He hisses. "You can't be immune. You stand in my Court, on my land, in my domain."

"You cannot bend the Law." I stop Diyn mid-swing, the middle tine of the Trident pausing right under Ebrellin-i's chin. He glances down at it with such Xaillyndesse disdain that I almost gore his throat with it right then and there. "You cannot make another hold responsibility for your transgressions against the Law. Do you not understand that I can hear the lies in that which you say, gauge the depths of your half-truths, pick out the tiny grain of deceit in a river of double-speak? If you forced the boy to his knees it would only change his latitude, not the validity of his words. It would only show you to be even more guilty of tyranny and oppression than you have already proven yourself to be. Can you even say anything for yourself, or are you going to impress me with yet another mis-step?"

Ebrellin-i hisses and makes a gesture to silence me. "Get out of my Court. Your presence is not condoned here."

I chuckle. "Oh, believe me, it rarely is."

"Your Armed have come here, used my land to ill intent, spied on me, soiled the purity of my daughter, assaulted me, and made a mess of my Palace. You invade and search without warrant or cause. Leave me be and leave in peace."

I snort. "Are you trying to plead insanity with those words? Do you even realize half of what you've been caught doing?"

"IF YOU DON'T LEAVE MY COURT IN PEACE I WILL DESTROY EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!" He leaps forward, hand going for my throat. I swing the Trident to the side a little, catching him in the head with one of the arms. It should have knocked him out.

Whatever keeps him moving after that, I cannot say, but he screams out something incomprehensible, just a long, wretched shriek, as his body writhes on the floor. Then he begins to crawl towards Lyric. "Traitor! Foul cretin! You dare seduce me and lead the Judge into my chambers where he can twist truth into lies at his own whim! I should have collared you from the start! I should have known better than to trust you!" Lyric takes delicate steps backwards, keeping out of the King's range. The King lunges forward, fingers barely grazing Lyric's slipper. Then, something spills out of his mouth that I never, for all my instincts, expected to hear at that moment.

"My consort-King, free me from the grasp of those who would overtake and drag your Empire into nothing...flow your power into me and I promise I will carve with it a path to destruction and ruin over which only you will reign."

My Trident snaps down over his wrist so fast that it's not a matter of movement so much as manifesting in that one spot. My power comes down upon him in the way that he'd earlier tried to assail me. It doesn't so much knock him out as throttle him into incomprehension, his mouth still babbling speech in a language that I'd sooner forget I'd ever heard even once.

Nul-deh'le. The un-tongue.

Lyric's shaking, having retreated into the shadow of a statue standing nearby. He lets out a terrified whimper, and I realize with dawning horror that this isn't the first time he's heard that language spoken.

Cade. The turning and enslaving of more people, creatures and spirits than anyone had guessed at. The long-standing rumors and the air of pure oppression in this Kingdom. There can be only one central source for them all, and foolish Ebrellin-i named that source with his own tongue, in its own tongue. Nul. He bows and pays tribute and beseeches to Nul. This King, that we have kept the shakiest of treaties with, that we have so long clashed wills and wits with, that has caused the world so much blasted trouble, has made a pact with Nul.

I want Justice. But to bring a case like this to Trial is almost as far from my desires as something can hope to get.

* * *

I know someone sits next to me, but I don't look up. I'm a little frozen, I guess. I keep my knees hunched up under my chin. I'm cold. Numb. I know there must be a lot going on in the world around me right now, must be so much chaos in this room, but I don't hear any of it. It's like being submerged in a pool that's surrounded by a large group of very loud people. I can tell they're there, but what they're saying doesn't mean much to me or what I'm doing.

"--ric? Here, turn and face me. Lyric. Lyric. Don't zone out on me. Here, do you see me? Come on, focus. Lyric?"

I cringe away. I can't even tell who it is. Everything's just a blur and I don't want to pay any attention to it. For all I care the world can stay an incomprehensible blur. Incomprehensible blurs probably didn't hurt too many people, in the history of things.

I think I'm being shaken by the shoulders.

"He's lookin' a little green there, Ger. I think he's gonna puke."

"Oh shit 'Rude you're ri--"

The world heaves up. Or maybe that's just my stomach. When I can focus again, things come clear and I see I'm on my hands and knees. I can hear someone else approaching, going on about needing napkins but she has a handkerchief or two on her for Gerald and me. She starts wiping my face but I manage to do that on my own. I check over my clothes. Just a few bits of filth here and there. It's a uniform, anyway. The Peacock King can worry about getting it cleaned.

The Peacock King--

My eyes widen, I turn to the side, and Gerude has time to curse and step back before I manage to puke on his boots.

"He's a damn cannon," Gerald groans. I look up at him. He's trying to clean his shirt off, but it's a losing battle. Wow, I got him good. Then I gag a little, and there's a scurry of footsteps away from me as I turn and hurk up a little more of whatever I've eaten over the past five days.

Gerude snorts from a few paces away. "Not much different than before he left home, then." He sighs. "I wonder if the cleaning staff here has all run off yet?"

Gerald sighs. "They probably sharpened their mops and fought to the death or something. ...Oh shit, Lyric, don't start puking again."

"Ger, I think he's out of ammo. Look, stop trying to save your shirt, it's a goner. Help me sit him up. Here. Lyric? Come on. Everything's going to be okay. Oh shit, don't you start crying now--"

Gerude checks over me, laying a hand on my forehead, looking into my eyes as best as he can considering the tears. "Rachella? You have any more handkerchiefs left?"

"...No. You can keep those, in fact."

"Oh, thanks." Gerude runs a finger along the collar around my neck, then shudders. "We need to get this off of him. It's got to be making him sick."

"Here, let me look at him. Lyric if you throw up on me again so help me..." Gerald doesn't bother and just trails off the threat. He puts a hand on each cheek, looking into my eyes, his brow furrowing as he frowns. "Gerude, hold him up. He's having a trouble even sitting up."

"I am no-oof!" Gerude yanks me to sit straight up, arms around me from behind my back. I guess I was slouching. It's a little hard to think.

"Okay," Gerald's voice is calm and even, a touch of lightness to it that I know is false. "Lyric, stay still, alright? Gerude is holding you, so just relax. And trust me." Dangerously calm, just like Father. Cold metal slides over my neck, grating against the metal of the collar. I startle a little bit, but I force myself to be calm and I close my eyes.

'Aye, I won't hit ye, but this might sting a wee bit.'

The rapport roars, heat blossoming at the side of my neck. Something cuts me, probably the shrapnel from the thing. There's the sense of a hand gripping me, then slipping away as the collar falls down and clatters on the floor. Gerald leans me forward against him as a coughing fit overtakes me. Wagner's smoky.

'Ooo, ye recognized me?'

'Did he pee 'imself?'

'Dunnae smell like it. The boy's Father will be right proud.'

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jennelcia Akribastes's Travel Log

* * *

The Judge looks down at the figure of the Peacock King, who now lies somewhat still, though amazingly remains conscious. He's well-restrained, barely moving, but still continues to speak in that language that sent chills throughout the entire room, only now he speaks it so slowly that it takes about thirty seconds for an entire 'word' to get out. That makes it even creepier somehow.

I wonder why Daddy's even letting him go on like this, just lying there without any restraints. Silly me! Daddy's already on it. He's just concentrating. He always gets a funny look on his face when he's in deep thought. He looks very, very serious, and I just wanna honk his nose. The air crackles around him, he's focusing so hard. I know what he's going to do, too. I've been trained in it. I um...well, I've achieved what Camden would call a 'success', but the results weren't something that could really leave a prisoner able to testify. I've been told, in rather wry tones, that it requires a lot of focus and restraint to do properly.

It's funny, the Peacock King might even be familiar with the technique. It seems like something that would be right up his alley.

'Sy grips the Trident by its staff, which still stands upright in the air, the tines of the Arms embedded around the Peacock King's wrist. The weapon warps, a ripple flowing down the pole and to the point where the tines fork out. They bend and grip the King's wrist, then, snaring it like a cuff. It's cute, he screams in the most genteel manner. He tries to struggle, but the cuff forces his wrist to the ground as if the Trident were still pinning him.

'Sy swings the Trident over to the other wrist, then, pinning it down with a quick strike that the King can't evade. He cuffs it, then raises Diyn once more, staring down at Ebrellin-i.

The King manages focus again, breaks off his creepy moon-language monolouge, and then has the audacity to glare up at the Judge and spit. For the record, because he didn't aim it right, it falls back down and splats on his blood-crusted nose.

Daddy snorts. "I should have gone ahead and done this when you were up against the wall." He stabs the Trident downward. I almost wish he'd gotten the bastard in the throat, but no. Daddy's Aim is always precise, and he pins Ebrellin-i's neck between the tines yet again, the Trident flowing into a matching collar that I'm sure my brother would describe as tasteful as well as elegant.

Bound with the full power of the Law, Ebrellin-i stares up in confusion, utterly silent. He turns his head, staring out at whatever's in his range of view.

It's Lyric, leaning against Gerald's shoulder while Gerude kicks at the remains of that cursed pet collar. Then something catches the King's eye, and he looks back up. Faun steps near him now. Staring.

The animism looks sad, for some reason, and then levels a glare of accusation at the Judge before backing away and looking at Lyric. He sniffs my brother over, then trots off to the throne to collect his furs. I don't know, alright? Animisms are fucking strange.

* * *

(Note from Irk: The next update will the the final chapter of In the Court of the Peacock King, Novel 1 in The Peacock King Trilogy!)

36 - In Flagrante Delicto

2009-03-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerald Akribastes's Mission Log

* * *

Cade eases his way down the dark hall, angling Gerude's body so that his knees don't bump too much against the stone walls. Can't have him getting too serious of an injury, after all. He might need the boy to walk, later. Or to do menial labor. Who's to know what's ahead? The Castle is falling and it's time to move on, as Cade always does, after collecting his souvenirs. It's only a little ways farther, and then he can be out of here, on to the next Court, or gang of bandits, or future disaster site. Who's to tell, with his life? The Jherent Nul always makes it an interesting ride for him, and could he ask for more?

Of course not, not when he can always just take it for himself.

The Jherent o'Audiva Rocale was right about one thing - this Armed certainly looks just like his brother. It's a shame he isn't his brother, but Cade will make do, just as he always does. Looks close enough to pretend, at any rate. Are we getting close, now? He's growing impatient. It's time to leave this empire. The Judge is here already, and Cade's skirted the Law too many times to believe he'll always make out that lucky. It would also be inconvenient to get caught and expose his master's involvement in the Peacock King's crimes.

So Cade thinks, and so he sneaks back into his so-called office, dropping my brother's body onto the bed I not too long ago occupied. He locks the shackles around his wrists and ankles, then looks down, chuckling at how similar he looks to me. Then he looks up at an unexpected noise and meets Wagner's barrel as it strikes him across the jaw. Bruce goes for his nose. I'd say the shot at the moment the barrel strikes his nose from the side was unintentional, but it wasn't. Cade screams, grasping for the bloody stump where his nose used to be, which is enough of an opening for me to club him over the head and...kick him a lot while he's down. I'm only paying him back for what he and his men gave me.

After awhile that gets boring and I decide to unchain my stupid brother. Lazy sot. Comes in at the end of things to save the day, and where is he? Lying around in bed. Well, he can have his nap. Time to ransack Cade's desk. There's Elric's poor quill, alright...and here's Cade's writings. Oh, good. He was fool enough to keep a journal.

Looks like I've found more useful things in here than just my brother. I give Cade another kick in the head before trying to rouse Gerude. It's probably going to take awhile - the dip's always had a habit of sleeping in. I want the help when it comes to dragging Cade out of here.

* * *

I can't do much here but watch as Faun speaks to the dryads and nymphs. The small ones he just brushes with his fingertips. They blink, look around them with confusion, and then start to leave.

The larger ones, the ones that look like humans with strange features added...those take more time. Faun looks like he's having trouble. He'll reach up and touch their cheeks, or their foreheads, and concentrate. For some, their eyes clear and focus after that, and they start to ask questions, look around them, or simply just disappear to who knows where. A few, Faun has to take aside and sit down. I realize why after a few moments. One's missing an arm, another is blind...four more have no tongues.

"See, Lyric," he says low, as if he were speaking in church, "some didn't go willingly under his command. There were some that he had to break for that to happen. You see what happened to them, when he did?" I nod. "What am I to do, to free them? I'm as helpless to change them as I am to heal my own mother." He glares down, looking at no one. "Only the Peacock King could hope to free them. Do you see what a mess this is?" He sees me nod. "Then what do you think?"

I look down, unable to meet his eyes. "I think I'm not sure why you're asking me of such things. I haven't been the most help to anyone lately. I don't even know much about these spirits. Why do you have me with you?"

He thinks, his expression blanking. Finally, he produces an answer. "You were allowed to be closer to him than many people ever have, Lyric. The reason for that opportunity is irrelevant. You can use that to help. Who else do you think will help me? How much help have you seen given to me while the Armed were posted right here?" His hair stands on end, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp contrast against his skin.

I lay a hand on his shoulder. His hair lies down a little, and his shoulders un-tense.

"I'll help, Faun, but I still don't know how I can."

He nods. "Just...listen to me, as you have, and that will be enough. I'll have to discuss the rest with the Judge. There needs to be a guard posted - there are too many vulnerable creatures here who cannot leave of their own accord until something has been done for them."

"Right. I'm sure the Judge can arrange that, Jhe Faun." I jump and whirl to see who's found us. Jenny laughs. "I wonder if I'll get credit for finding you. Aaaand...finally nobody I have to work with is around to watch..." She grins, stands there a few moments, and then leaps at me for a hug that feels more like a pounce. No, really, I scream. I also...really didn't pee myself a little, I'm serious, I didn't! "Lyric! I missed you! My big gay brother! Mom blames my lack of prissy girlyness on you, you know. It's so awesome!" She looks up, letting me go, and thus granting me breathing privileges. "Hey, did Jax come through here? I smell his loser spray that he calls cologne."

"He, he um...he went through that door. With the princess. One of the Peacock King's daughters? Her uh, name's Rocsui-ehellenae."

Faun flinches. "You don't know what that name means, do you?" He sees me shake my head, though Jenny's brows draw together. She looks like she might be able to puzzle it out. "No Father would give that as his daughter's true name. It's a bind-name, similar to a pet-name. Calling her Rocsui isn't proper or the best thing but at least it's better than branding her with that. Poor thing. Just as bound as the dryads and nymphs, and jumping for freedom at her first sight of a willing man."

"WHA-" Jenny boggles. "Oh, shit Jax, you idiot--" She bolts for the door. I look away. I really don't want to see what she finds.

It takes a few moments, but the scream reaches us to confirm. "JAX! THAT'S NOT PART OF YOUR JOB!!!"

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerude Akribastes's Travel Log

* * *

Okay, for the record, I do feel fairly embarrassed that someone got the drop on me like that, especially someone like Cade. Not my proudest moment.

Still, couldn't Gerald just shut up about it? I'm about to do to his nose what he did to Cade's. The only reaction he makes when I tell him that is to offer to let me carry Cade by myself. I almost sock him, but he might actually be serious.

Funny enough, what I really want to do is sit aside, read through that diary of his, and see just what he's up to. More the Poet reaction, I suppose. Maybe I'm just catching it from Gerald. Or maybe whatever's in that diary is just that interesting.

"Careful. He's about to wake up." Gerald glares down at our short, bald bit of luggage. "Hey, you knock him out this time."

"Sure! Thanks." Caerig hits the sweet spot on the back of Cade's skull. I wipe the butt of the pistol on the side of my jeans.

"No prob." He shifts the load a little, and we continue walking. I look at my brother out of the corner of my eye. You know, that's just not his normal 'I busted out of jail again go team me' face. He's too serious. And tense, geez. "What are you wound up about?"

He closes his eyes and sighs. "Our runaway brother, mostly." Whoa. He looks like the world's about to end or something. "He's had it pretty bad. I just hope someone's there with him when he meets up with Father again." His eyes widen. "Oh no."

"What? What?" I hate when people freak out all dramatic and then just leave you hanging. Poets do it the most, man. Come on, turn the next page of your brain already.

"He'd better not go and run off again. Oh man, I bet he does." He sucks in a breath. "Let's drop off this trash as quick as possible and then try to find him, alright?"

I snort. "Gerald, aren't you listening? Aren't Poets supposed to be even better at that than Armed?" I roll my eyes. "Jenny already reported him in. She said she found Jax, too. Sounded a little freaked out about that, actually."

"...Oh." His shoulders sag with relief. "Man, I just..."

"What?" Next page, thanks.

"I guess I can't hope for Father to go easy on him, can I? It's just...it's not his fault, man. He was stuck and he even tried to help me."

"Well, I'll make a deal with you. Move your ass instead of moping about it, and we can drop off this stinkape and then you can tell Dad all you want about Lyric's vacation adventures in Sul. Alright? Now, move."

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Peacekeeper Camden Briarseal's Travel Log

* * *

I've often heard it asked how it transpires that a certain Poet wound up recording a certain event. Sometimes the querent is of the opinion that the Poet in question was not the appropriate match for the subject, or was simply an odd choice. It is said that History is decided by the winners. Poetry, though, is written by whoever was there. The Poetry that lives on, though, that's a different story. Sometimes it is a matter of intrigue. Sometimes skill or luck. Sometimes even just the humor of their voice.

For me, however, it is none of those. I get to tell this part because out of all of the Poets in the audience room, I had the best view. If it sounds like I am rather proud of my vantage, well, that is somewhat true and somewhat not. In actuality, I am simply pleased that it all happened as it did because it saved me from having to explain myself to the Judge at that very moment.

The moment is when I am standing before the Judge, up on the Peacock King's dais, opening my mouth to answer his prudent question of 'just what is all this mess about, anyway, and why were you here for it?' with, of course, the 'why didn't you do anything about it earlier' unsaid. Stealing the words right from my mouth, Gerude steps in alongside our long-lost Poet spy, Gerald. And between the two, dangling like the strangest hunting trophy I've ever seen? A bleeding, unconscious, noseless Cade. I can only grin despite it all. Some of the Armed in the room even give applause. I can't admonish them for it, either. If I weren't in this position, I'd be doing the same.

They bring him forward, then, Gerald's eyes never leaving his Father's. The Judge, however, doesn't break his gaze from Cade. It doesn't even need to be vocally commanded - our best warders and binders set to him immediately.

"Shame I didn't save that collar the Peacock King put round my neck. Might have come in handy," Gerald grumbles, rubbing at a few scratches on his throat. I hear his Arms gloat about that, and need no imagination to know how that went down. Gerald's Father gestures for him to come forward. Gerude follows closely. I narrow my eyes, looking over the second brother. It appears Jhe Gerude has taken an injury recently. His failure to meet anyone's gaze further incriminates him. Perhaps he has his own story to tell, then, though Gerude's stories are often cripplingly short and interspersed with crudeness. ...Appropriate for a story involving Cade.

Gerald stands before his Father, below the dais. The Judge looks him over very closely. "Someone with a healer's touch have a look at him, especially his clarity of mind," he says softly. Then his eyes flick to Gerude. He snorts. "As well as Gerude's clarity of skull."

There's a strange hush, then, and I see 'Sy's face before I see what he's looking up at. Shock and long-endured waiting manages to slip through before his expression stiffens. So guarded, always - but there was just that moment.

Gerald knows without looking behind him just who has walked into the room. "Father! Please, don't be harsh with him, he was brave enough to save me several times over when it could have gotten him killed!" Gerald sounds more afraid than Lyric might possibly be.

Lyric is stepping very slowly into the room, Jhe Jenny at his arm, leading him in with confidence. If Lyric's feet shake as he steps, at least he carries himself with some amount of grace. His eyes never leave his Father's face, and his lip is quivering a little, but I do give him this - he does not cry.

Faun follows him, giving side-glances to...what is Jhe Cruxradia doing with them? Did he run across them while working at his chores? Who is the girl on his arm? Why does she look like-

"GET YOUR ACCURSED, FOULBLOODED, SOILED HANDS OFF OF MY DAUGHTER!" I'm impressed at the roar the Peacock King lets out while the Trident is around his throat, and also by how he manages to make the chamber echo and amplify his words even as he's being restrained by the Judge. But then, he's quite the imperiled one right now. Hell, I'd do the same if Jax had so much as winked at any of my get. ...No, my way involves less speech and more blood. Still, the principle is there.

Suddenly the dais under us shakes as Ebrellin-i struggles to stand up fully. There's a rush of energy and then he's simply not there. I'm not sure how he got out, though something tells me the Judge let him out. There's something about Jax taking anyone's daughter to bed that's simply unjust, and that would do it. There's also simple comeuppance for those that have ventured where they shouldn't trespass.

[Note added by Jhe Katherine Cruxradia after reading Peacekeeper Briarseal's report: Jhe Camden has received more than one punch in the mouth for the previous sentence's overbearing pompous male assumptive attitude. When next you meet him, please feel free to give him another.]

That's when everything comes apart, or weaves together, depending on your vantage. From my vantage, I see the energy that rushed from out of the reach of the Trident coalesce in front of Jax into a very tall, looming, angry figure. I don't know if Jax has ever had to crane his neck that high to look anyone in the face, but the gesture is soon rewarded with a backhand that audibly swooshes through the air. Jax goes flying backwards, sprawled on the floor, still sliding even as the Peacock King takes another step forward, mouth open as he draws in a breath. Perhaps to speak a curse, or simply scream at the boy to high heaven. Who knows? We won't, because just then something to the very side of him catches the King's eye and makes him turn. There, right in front of him now, only a pace or two away. He levels his arm down to point at the youth, Lyric shrinking back from the gesture. It looks like more of an attack than a gesture, at that.

"You miserable, backstabbing servant! How dare you drag accusations to my door and tie me up in your little machinations! I didn't hire you on for that! Furs found in your quarters that belong to a distinguished animism! Guns squirreled away that belonged to a spy! Lotus isn't even your real name, is it?! Confess! Confess to these crimes you've committed in my Palace!" That accusing finger bends, then, Ebrellin-i's hand clenching into a fist right as a wave of power comes from him. Faun hisses. Lyric lurches.

Then the boy stands up, with some effort, shakes himself, and glares right back up at the King. He steps forward, planting his foot down with a stomp. "I never signed any contract to speak as you command, and I sure as hell won't do it for you now. Your crimes are your own."

The Peacock King's eyes narrow. "Oh? Is that so? I think not. You're a liar, Lyric, if that's even your real name. Confess! Confess in front of the Judge! Did you not take a knife to the animism's throat and force him to his knees? Did you not strip him of his clothing and keep it as a trophy? Did you not mislead me about your true Radian origins? You can't hide it! It shall all come out in the end! So confess now and spare us the time and the trouble! You did all of that, didn't you?" There's so much power coming from him that Faun falls to the ground. Rachella manages to pull him away from the King. His daughter merely stands transfixed, as if someone's holding her there in obedience. Lyric...he's managing, somehow, to stand up with his chin high. He's shaking like a leaf in the wind, but he's standing up under what are obviously commands to capitulate.

"Yes." The Peacock King grins, triumphant. Lyric goes on. "Perhaps you expect all that to wash away the fact that you bought the animism, had him collared, chained him, locked him up, and commanded me to train him? That you locked away the Armed Poet so that you could make him write his Poetry onto a collar for that animism? That you threatened Jennelcia Akribastes, who you thought was his wife, so that he'd serve you for the rest of his life?"

"His WHAT?!" Someone has to stop Jenny from attacking then. I almost fall off the dais myself.

The Peacock King only narrows his eyes, watching Lyric as he levels his own accusations. "Lies, all lies. Try as you may to clear your blame, you only dig the hole deeper." He draws himself up taller, something I wasn't sure was even possible. "Kneel, J-lui-tiss." My eyes widen. He dared give Lyric a pet-name? And he was stupid enough to speak it aloud in front of the Judge? The slitted jewel in his crown flashes, something I can't explain away as just a glint of the light. "On your knees before me, servant, and apologize. Take the weight of the guilt which you have earned." The power of command, the amount of force he's putting behind his will, makes my ears pop. "Plead." His hand lowers near his side, grasping something invisible. I narrow my eyes. I know that stance and that grip very well. My Arms take the primary form of a whip, after all.

Lyric's legs almost move automatically. I see his posture shift and his knees bend, as if someone hit him in the backs of his knees. He staggers towards the King to keep standing, but there's an obvious weight on top of him. He lets out a single whimper, then clenches his hands into fists and bears up under it. "NO. I'm not yours! I never was! No matter what you tried to take or puppeted me into, I was never yours, and I won't dance for you!"

The King snarls, then raises his hand, the whip crackling through the air, the only visible part of it the occasional sparks of white energy. Lyric ducks away, but not fast enough. The King's arm comes down, the whip whistling through the air--

Only to hit the Judge's Trident, whirling around the staff in a tight corkscrew. Ebrellin-i lurches to the side as the Judge yanks the Trident back, pulling him along by the whip. Of all things, I don't understand why he didn't expect that. 'Sy was only going to let him go on with his charade for so long. There are a lot of things we'll never understand about Ebrellin-i, I suppose.

35 - Pigs on the Wing

2009-03-03T19:20:00.000-08:00

I've checked over the windows. They're warded, and I even started poking at those wards. There's guards outside the windows too, though. And I think I could sneak out of here if I tried, but fighting isn't something I'm very confident about. I don't know why I want to get out, really. I mean, look at what I have to face. Daddy's here. For some reason, the shivers aren't running down my spine at that thought anymore.

You know? I think I'll just deal with that once I get out. And I am getting out. I'm tired of this place. Of course, I have no clue how I'm breaking out--

Of course, once I go and think that, I hear a slam against my door, and a sound that I'd definitely equate with a guard expiring. There's some scrabbling against the door, then. "Lyric! Get this door open! Find a way!"

I blink. "...Faun?"

"Yes, yes! Now open the door, it's annoying having to kill all these people just because you're too slow about things!"

I grab my hairbrush and a few hairpins, and set to work on the lock. It's wonderful what a few years on the road can teach you. I'd given some thoughts to picking it before, but didn't want to piss anyone off or get in trouble. I daresay it's a little late now to be worrying about those kinds of things, though. The lock pops open and I pull the door open.

Faun's face is in enough of a blood-covered snarl that I almost dart back and slam the door in his face. Before I can manage that, he grabs he and hauls me outside.

"Come on, Poet. I need you to tell the Judge a few stories." He levels his baleful gaze down the hall. Nobody else, yet. I squeak as I step over the body of the guard that was posted outside my down. Faun tsks. "Let's go." He walks, his arm wrapped over my shoulders, hunching us both close together.

"...Faun? Where are we going?" I keep an eye out around us. I'm waiting for someone to come up on us any moment. Either the Peacock King's men or...my Father's.

"While your Father's sorely late arrival makes its own waves, I feel it prudent to dispense some justice in other areas." He leads me toward a side corridor, peers in. It's pitch black, but Faun doesn't seem to have a problem with this. I'm glad we're so close together - I'd just stumble around in this.

"...Ah." I feel for my own mental map of this place. Headed back towards Faun's cage? "...The zoo?" He grunts an affirmative. "...Faun, why'd you call me a Poet?"

"Because I'd call you a bird if you flew me out of here." He pauses before the end of the corridor, right where a shaft of light falls in from the outer, torchlit hall. I see his long ears twitch. He's listening for anyone else. "Hm. They must have all cleared out and followed the commotion into the audience chamber. Come on, let's finish what your Armed failed to."

I follow him out into the hall. "What do you mean?"

He glares down the hall, looking at the rows and rows of cages. Some strange things are in here. Some...people, too. I remember it well, but from times when I had to pretend to be the captor. It's a new feeling, being the one who could let them all free. "Is that...wise? All at once? Someone might get hurt."

"They deserve it. Stop worrying. I'll ensure the safety of all we free. That's my proper job, you know. Even outside my forest...someone has to do it." He passes his fingers over the lock of a fine-wired cage. It creaks and falls off, dust leaking out of the keyhole. The door swings open. With a sweep of his arm, Faun guides the birds out. They're like flying, gliding jewels, darting through the air and skirting up through the corridor ahead. "They'll find the nearest open door out. There aren't enough open windows in this Palace, you know." He goes on to the next cage. "Lyric...you can pick locks. Take care of the humans here. I daresay you'll have more of a way with them than I would."

I set to that task. What results is a huddle of people inside the corridor, too afraid to leave it and possibly emerge into captor's hands again. Some people I can't even get to leave their cells. And then there's the chain of children who hold hands behind me, the one in the lead hooking his fingers into my sash. I'm not sure what they expect me to do, here.

I guess I should say something. "It's going to be okay. There are people who are outside who will listen to what's happened to you. You can bring your story to the Law. You won't be put in chains again." There are some hopeful faces from that, and a lot of disbelieving eyes.

"Hey, are you a girl?" chirps a tiny voice from the line of kids behind me. I sigh. Faun goes on letting the animals out. I guess it's when the moose trots into the audience chamber that someone decides to look in and see just what the hell is happening. Her eyes widen. It's Rachella.

"...Lyric!"

It would be a nice greeting , but I can feel my Father's attention on me from wherever he is in the audience chamber while I stand here searching for something to say. "I...can you give me some help, Rachella? They're all way more scared than the animals are." She hustles in to do just that.

"Are you all right? How'd you get here? Oh dear look at you you poor thing..." Her attention goes to the people in the corridor with me. "I...Lyric, I'm going to go get some help, this is a lot of people. Can you stay here while I-"

"Sure!" Sure I'll stay here out of the way of my Father, I'm totally fine with that. Faun watches her leave the corridor, then looks over the cages. The animals are out, and the people are looking more hopeful and generally composed.

"Come on, let's go." He grabs me by the wrist and yanks me down back the way we came. "These aren't the only cages in the Palace."

"But--" Well I can't very well stop him, he'll cut me or something.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerude Akribastes's Travel Log

* * *

Yeah, so, when Dad- err, the Judge...when he said for everyone to go out and look for Lyric, that order included me. So, off I went, lookin' for my brother. Feels like old times, since I've been out on missions to do just that since years ago. Nice to know I'll hit jackpot this time. He's pretty easy to search for, you know, since I know who to home in on.

I don't quite know my way around the palace, mind you, so I decide to take a shortcut. Well, you see, I figured it was a shortcut. It's got all the right hallmarks for one, accrued through my years of experience with the subject. It's low-lit, creepy-looking, and obviously not oft-used. The fact that it's warded marks it for a dead-ringer. Disconnecting a ward is a piece of cake, you know, if you just want to slip through a door. I can even silence my pistols. I'm also much more discreet about it than Jenny is, but you know, I've got the experience on her there. My little sister'll have to train up a long time to match up to my expertise in that! So, I'm going through this hallway. It's like weaving my way through catacombs, with the creepy low lighting. There's a lot of tunnels but I just keep going. They have to come out on the other side somewhere, after all, and--

Okay, so, I'll admit. Somebody knocked me out right as I got to the circular room where all the cells were. I know it's where the King kept Gerald. Shame I got konked out, because that would have been a pertinent find to report in right then. I get dragged off, though, before it's a real possibility.

I'll give you two guesses as to who it was. If it took your second one to get to Cade, then the first one better have been a really funny joke, because otherwise that's just pitiful, man.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jax Cruxradia's Travel Log

* * *

I have the best job. Now, I know what you're thinking. How could Jax Cruxradia, future Poet and Armed extroardinaire, proud member of a distinguished royal line, ever have fun doing chores? Well, you see, I just like an honest day's work. And, well, if that honest day just happens to be a long one out of the reach and gaze of one Jhe Camden Briarseal, then all the better, I say. So, the stables are stinky. I think a good stench is manly. Well, I still make it a point to shower pretty often and put on some deodorant before I'm anywhere I'll meet the ladies, because you know. It might very well happen. I even splash on a little cologne, but not too much. And I try to look my best, even for work clothes, because-[paragraph from this point on excised for reason of being excessive drabble]

After I'm done with the stables I get to do landscaping and maintenance. Digging in the dirt is good for a man! Gets me close to the soil. That's honest work! Also, get this- dryads. Audiva Rocale has tons of them, and they're all cute. And, uh, they don't usually wear clothes. It's more like tastefully trimmed foliage.

So, yeah, I'd have to say that gardening is awesome. Since I liked it so much, I started asking the attendants if there was any more work for me, even when the extra work the Jhe o'Audiva Rocale assigned me was all done with early. I figured a few more hours wouldn't hurt, especially with all of the lovely scenery this country has to offer. Now, it's been awhile since I started up this extra work, so they started running out of it. Eventually one of the girls decided to have me work in one of the inner palace gardens, and then one thing lead to another, and then I'm in this beautiful place.

I'm not sure if I can really call it a garden. It's more like an earthly paradise. You know, I can imagine heaven like this.

Okay, nuff said: there are girls everywhere. Some more dryads and some nymphs and some types of things I've never even heard of. They're all around and they're gorgeous and, get this - they all like me. I guess I'm a nice, charming guy. Girls back home don't treat me like this, though. I don't really know what it is. I guess the Peacock King just knows something that we don't.

So anyway, that's work for me. It's hard work, but oh the fringe benefits. Especially since, by now, the stables are pretty clean, the other gardens are all maintained, and so I get everything done pretty early and end up here for the rest of the day!

And, so, as always, there's this one girl. Everyone else is pretty but she's different. She's...a little shy. Blonde. Cute as a button. And...feathered, and I'm not sure what that means. Today, I finally do what I've been too afraid to, all this time. I talk to her.

She's not too sure how to react, at first, but she opens up to me pretty quickly. She's pretty used to me by now, I think. That helps. I wonder just what she is, but I don't really have a smooth way of asking, so I just let it rest for now.

"Cruxradia, you say?" Her eyes twinkle. Her voice is so soft and quiet. It's precious. "You're far from home. Are you here for long?"

"Ah! I...well, I don't know how long my mission here will be, Jhe Rocsui, but I'm quite sure I at least have a few more days."

"Oh, you might be leaving soon! What a shame!" She pouts. "Perhaps I could write you a letter. That would be alright, wouldn't it?" Strange, she's almost asking it to herself.

"Hey! I've got an even better idea. You could come visit my Kingdom when I go back. Wouldn't that be swell?" The prospect seems to shock her, but she's thinking it over even so. Of course, I don't get an answer out of her, because right then somebody decides to, yet again, ruin my prospects of romance.

There's a commotion right near the entrance, and a few spirits come running from it in a panic. Hey, speaking of panic...doesn't the mood seem a little strange now? I'm still learning to pick up on that. What's going on in the Palace right now? Did somebody break something?

I see Lyric walk in, then, with some strange guy that looks more like an animal than Rocsui, somehow. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think it's cute. I mean, on a girl. Anyway, this guy, he keeps sniffing the dryads and nymphs in here. It's kind of creepy. I stand in front of Rocsui just in case he's dangerous. You know, that Lyric, he kinda has weird taste, so after the Peacock King this guy isn't too much of a surprise.

Lyric looks up to me and startles in surprise. "Jax! What are you doing here?"

I look at him with a deadpan. "Lyric, I work here." He seems awfully confused. Rocsui peeks around my shoulder at him.

"Jhe...Lotus?" Her voice lilts slightly at the end of the inquiry. Lyric sweeps an automatic bow. "Why are you here? Father's been acting strange lately. Is everything alright?"

His lips purse, while the other guy he's with seems to be gathering a few spirits around him. They're curious about him for some reason. Lyric...man, he looks worried. "I...Jhe Rocsui-ehellenae...it's looking quite bad." He bites his lip and looks away. "The...the Judge is here."

It's like her skin turns dead-cold right after he says that. I try to steady her. I don't understand what the problem is. I'm also surprised the Judge got here this early, but hey. "What's he doing here?"

Lyric looks at me like I'm an idiot. Even Rocsui has that same expression, to a lesser degree. "What? Who's in trouble?"

"My Father. Come. While he's distracted, I should get some things together." She turns and walks off to a little-used door that I've only seen her come in and out of. I look back at Lyric. His eyes are wide, but he gestures for me to go.

Oh, well. If she trusts me and all. Nothing here for me but Lyric's weird new boyfriend sniffing at girls like they were trees and he were a dog. Wait, they are trees, some of them. ...Ew.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerald Akribastes's Resumed Mission Log

* * *

It is a gloriously triumphant feeling, running down these halls, fully Armed, waiting at corners for what might be lurking around them, spotting for danger, feeling out the wards. Something major is going down, I know. Hell, I can even find out for myself, now. Just a few mental nudges give me the information from my comrades on the status of what's going on with the Judge and the Peacock King. There's a search party out looking for me and my brother. Good. I'm ready to finally see some familiar faces. I've been isolated far too long with little good company. So once I emerge from the labs and run down these hallways that cut through the Peacock King's private suites, I feel out the passages ahead of me to see if any of them are near. No, not very - might be able to intersect with someone if I go down an upcoming branch...

Wait. I feel a different aura, up ahead, if I take a branch that's pretty close. Much different than one of my comrades, but I recognize him all the same.

I stop to cloak my own aura and put a silencing effect on my footfalls and Arms. Then I proceed up the hallway with more caution, my revolvers waiting and ready, already cocked.

It's time for some vengeance. It's gonna be just.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jhe 'hAkribastes's Travel Log

* * *

This audience chamber is absolute madness, and I can't help but feel I have my son to blame for it. Possibly both of them. I'm trying to avoid thinking on that just right now due to the regent pinned under my Trident, but considering everything that's happening in here...

...Is that a moose?

The birds and other assorted fauna flapping, squawking, trotting, scurrying, and elsewise being distracting in here aren't helping my concentration. The Peacock King certainly isn't settling down any because of them, either. He's still not worked up the gumption to speak, which is a small mercy on the world's part. I can do less with prattle and begging right now.

At least Jhe Hawksgard is making herself useful giving counsel to the strange flood of freed captives from that side-corridor. That only makes me wonder where my daughter has gone off to now. Probably up to no good yet again. Just like the others. What is this family coming to?

...Where is Camden? He has a lot to answer for. Ah. Staying busy as well, I see, organizing the refugees and subtly keeping them from turning into a mob. A fitting task considering his skills with armies. A clever way to avoid me. How intelligent. At least he's keeping out of my way. It makes me wish I saw more of that intelligence in my ranks these days.

The git pinned under my Trident finally has the gall to wiggle. I pin him down with a glare. He glares back up at me. "Take me under arrest? ...Fine, if you seem to have the authority, but I'll unravel just what's behind that later, and you'll answer to my censure." I only raise an eyebrow. Words I've heard before, and they're less entertaining each time. I'm polite enough to suppress a yawn. "...But." He looks away. "If I'm to be under arrest I request the treatment due my station." Well, at least he sounds reasonable.

"...I'll consider it."

He snorts. "Let me put it in plain words for you, if you have such trouble grasping the meaning of my speech. Unpin me from this wall. I'm getting a cramp." Indeed, I don't doubt he is. When I pinned him by the neck, he hunched down a bit in a defensive crouch. Considering how tall he is, the slight hunch, with his knees forced to bend under him as he stands, is likely growing very painful for him.

"Ah. Is that what you meant? My apologies. I'll file the proper paperwork as soon as possible." He makes an indignant squawk and sputters. I turn and ignore him. Diyn can keep an eye on him instead. Some of my men are returning and I'd like a report.

I blink. They're carrying something with them, and I recognize it. "Jhe K'varek, Jhe Harpseal. Where did you find that?"

Clark's black clump of bangs falls over his forehead as he makes a short bow. Kevrin echoes the bow, his sandy hair almost completely obscuring his face. It's strange to even see him, he usually keeps to the shadows with the more secretive operations. Each of them holds an end of a cloak crudely sewn from many furs and animal skins. It's too distinctive to not be Faun's - it's one of his distinguishing characteristics.

Come to think of it, why was that animism in one of the servant robes associated with the Peacock King's Court?

"We found it in the quarters Jhe Lyric was occupying, Judge." Ah. Neither of them seem to be eager to give me details on that. "He was no longer occupying them, but this looked like it might be of interest."

"Indeed." I reach forward and take the cloak to examine it. Hand-sewn, by whatever Faun might use for a needle, I suppose. He prides himself in this cloak. As he should - the animals themselves gave pelts to him for it. It is a symbol of what he works for, fights for, and exists because of. There can be no mistaking it.

"I wonder what that was doing in his room, where I found your son's guns." Ebrellin-i's voice drips with intrigue from behind me. I'll have none of it. "Perhaps he's more involved with this than you think. Maybe it's best to just leave it untried, untouched, and let everyone forget. Spare your son the humiliation...and possible punishments..."

"Spare yourself the breath. If my son's guilt hangs in this cloak's threads I can easily imagine who weaved it in. You're too eager to squirm out of this." I put the cloak aside for now, draping it across the throne the King addresses his visiting audiences from. It was placed conveniently nearby. I look back to my Armed, who await further questions or orders. "Was there any other sign of Lyric?"

Clark shakes his head. "Quite the opposite - by the look of the dead guards outside his door, someone very deadly already made the rounds there."

Kevrin holds up a long-fingered hand. "It was the animism that killed those guards. I of all people would recognize those marks, and how they were dealt."

My eyes cast over Kevrin's taloned fingers and feathered neck, and his strangely beaked face, for yet another appraisal of the boy. Yes, he of all would. "See if you can track them, then, without Faun killing you." They turn and take off, then, Clark looking slightly perturbed at this new mission. It's his first time partnering with Kevrin, isn't it? Still, they're from the same unit, and they're both armed. And if anybody has a problem with one of my Armed, they have a problem with me.

Speaking of which, I turn to address Ebrellin-i yet again, just in time to see him try to grip Diyn and pull him out of the wall. Well, I certainly won't stop him from trying that, though I have to suppress the almost overwhelming urge to laugh before he manages it.

The scream makes everyone in the giant chamber pause. "It BIT me your...your mongrel of a cheeky weapon bit me how dare it BITE me?!?" He glares at me for it. I don't see why, Diyn did it because he deserved it.

"...You tried to get out. He did what any guard dog would, mongrel or not. You're lucky to still have your fingers. The last time someone was stupid enough to try that, there was nothing left past his bloody stump of a wrist." My voice is level and calm. As far as incidents go, this doesn't interest me much. My children have been much more mature in their whining. ...More convincing, for that matter.

"You cur, he ate my signet ring!"

"I don't see why you're so upset. You might not need it anymore." I ignore his screeching and look over the audience chamber. Slightly less cacophonous now than it was a few minutes ago. Perhaps things will resolve. ...No, I can't lie to myself. All of this spells out trouble that's more far-reaching than the perimeter of this Palace.

The best part is that I'm waiting for it to get even worse, as tends to happen in these situations.

34 - The Dance Begins

2009-02-27T23:10:00.000-08:00

Oh gods Daddy's here.

I can feel it in the very air of this place, feel his presence hanging over my head like an axe...wherever in the Palace he is.

No matter if the nymphs tell you any different, I did not pee in the bathtub just now. I do haul out of it immediately and dry off. I dress in record time. I take about five minutes to do my hair, cutting the regular preparation time drastically short. I need to look ready. Sharp. I need to be alert.

I need to run away.

One problem. The door out of my room is locked. I peer down under it.

...Okay, two problems. The Peacock King has a guard posted in front of my door. Why would he do that?

What's going on?

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerude Akribastes's Travel Log

* * *

I find it very convenient that we already have our Arms drawn when all the shit goes down. Camden and I can sense it, and while the Peek is good at schooling his expression, we know he feels it too. I can't tell exactly what's going on. Hell, we just pretend we're having a regular match. The Peek might have been trying to keep Camden busy while his plans were in motion elsewhere, but now we're keeping him here while everything falls apart out there. I know Jenny's racking up carnage, and there's the hint of someone even more vicious than her carving people up, and I'm willing to bet it's on our side.

Then, well, the Judge comes, and nobody can pretend not to notice that. The King calls for us to halt, saying that he must go to the greeting chambers immediately, and we must accompany him.

Well, thank you very much for the orders, Sire! Still, we do need to accompany him. If we don't, Jenny'll probably run across him on the way and murder him in the face.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Jhe 'hAkribastes's Travel Log

* * *

I arrive in Audiva Rocale with no fanfare. I, in fact, wait patiently in the Jhe o'Audiva Rocale's audience chamber while the King is summoned. Well, perhaps summoned isn't the proper word, but he had better get here...now.

I don't often hear stories about my wandering son, and the one that the Jhe o'Radia told to me upon his homecoming was...alarming enough to summon my presence.

I can tell upon my entry into the Palace that he probably eliminated a few details in his story. Not very surprising, even after I grilled him on it. He's well-known for hiding things from, well, anyone. It's his way. He just wanted to protect his nephew, I am sure. And it will be all right. I won't kill Lyric.

He might wish he were dead, but that's sort of a trend among my children once they get naughty.

I hear the King of this land's approach. I also hear...

My head turns very swiftly. That's not practice combat, it is in the wrong place, and...Jennelcia Akribastes just what are you doing carving up the Peacock King's guards?!

I hear a startled chirp of Sorry Daddy, but they were getting in the way! Hey, are you here to help us kick ass or what?

This...is not the welcome I was expecting from my daughter, though upon a moment's contemplation it should have been. This makes no sense. Camden's reports have mentioned nothing to make me expect this. And where is my son? The littler one. Gerald is no doubt taking care of himself. Or in jail, which equates to the same thing most times.

Ebrellin-i approaches the dais, his hair almost standing on end - which is about the only thing that could make him taller than he already is, by this point. Before he can even open his mouth to speak to me, the entryway to the side - which has wards scarred with my daughter's touch - explodes in an avalanche of bodies. Most of them are guards. One of them is my daughter, and I see her protoge Jhe Hawksgard with her as well. And there's something I almost don't see because it's heading so fast towards the Peacock King that I have to leap forward to catch it, because the last thing I need today is a dead monarch on my hands.

It hisses at me, and I get a handful of blue cloak. Servant clothing? Wait, how could I miss? I don't miss.

Camden can't stop him either, and neither can Gerude, and neither do the monarch's frantic commands and gestures. Ebrellin-i is on the floor and I am planning out how to explain how an assassination happened right in front of my eyes before I notice just who that King is pinned under.

...I can't stop an animism from pursuing its own justice, not when it is Just, and apparently this is. What surprises all of us is that Ebrellin-i isn't dead in an instant. The animism drags him away and pins him up against the wall, razor-sharp teeth bared against his throat. While he does so, he manages to articulately growl out a request. "I cry for the Law against this Man, Jhe Tesynnodai a'Radia 'hAkribastes l'Radia. He robbed me of my freedom and bore will to tame me. He committed acts to accomplish just that much."

He speaks truly. Ebrellin-i has the temerity to respond while those teeth are locked against his throat.

"I cry false! Jhe Lotus a'Radia committed those actions, not I."

I stare at him. The words had the barest gleam of truth, but were mere gilded lies. Knowing Lyric's 'stage name' here from his Uncle, I do wonder just how even that touch of gilding is possible. "Good that you mention him. Please summon him, and perhaps this can all be sorted out." I feel twin spikes of alarm from my trainee and journeywoman. "After all, we must address why Arms had to be drawn in your Palace today."

He can't even choke out a word. No surprise, the animism is about to eviscerate the ruler by the look of things. "...Jhe Faun. Please unhand the Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. Justice will be had whether or not your grip is on him." I'm a little surprised that it works. The animism draws away from the Peacock King, and then darts behind me to vanish. I blink. It's like having a cat on the loose.

The Jhe o'Audiva Rocale rubs his throat as he stands, summoning bodyguards to immediately surround him, as if they'd be any help. "I cannot believe the audacity of--I'll have you know--how dare you all enter my chambers and make such a FUSS--" he's so angry that he just sputters.

"Summon my son."

His eyes widen as he stares at me. It's as if he's looking at the death of himself. I can't ever deny that prospect, but I'd prefer I had Lyric here first. I don't really see what the problem is, at that. ...Ah. That's right. He doesn't know.

"I will forgive the indiscretion if he is returned promptly and nothing is ever said of it again." I grant few pardons, but take easy comfort in the fact that I can punish him for any number of other indiscretions with my son that we're not going into yet. I just want him here. Now. The Peacock King seems to be confused by this. Very, very confused. ...No.

No, he's worried. He's hiding something. I look at Camden and then I get the whisper and then I know--

"Peacemaker Camden, if you would please search the premises for both of my sons and return them here promptly. You have no orders to withold force...within reason." I say it level. Even. Like the length of my Trident. Diyn's prongs are in the wall, one on each side of Ebrellin-i's neck. The regent is white as a sheet. Even under the paint. I can see his neck, after all. It's so easily cut, in this position. The bodyguards have fallen to either side of the dais, near to or fully unconscious from the mere shockwave of Diyn moving so fast. "You have caused enough of a mess in your Kingdom. It will be sorted out while you are under arrest."

He dares spit, though not in my face. Such rage on his, now, those black marks twisting into ugly contortions as he grimaces. "What cause could you possibly have to arrest me, and under what power do you hope to enforce that? Get. Away from me. Get out of my Palace." They're leveled as commands, the intent and will in every word.

I don't budge. "I am the Law." There are no other words. He can't even choke out another command.

There's the problem of the entire rest of the Palace, and servants that might have a problem with my actions, and...whatnot.

I brought reinforcements with me just in case the King liked his consort too much to part with willingly. They come in handy.

I expect that the search for Gerald might take a bit longer. What I don't expect, but nevertheless does not surprise me, is to feel Bruce and Wagner fire.

One of my sons is finding his own way here, it seems.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Gerald Akribastes's Resumed Mission Log

* * *

Bruce and Wagner and I feel his arrival all at the same time, even with this collar pinning down my abilities. I've been able to stretch it, though, with the King's little slips and ill-given permissions. My doodles may be the terror of the Poet Art Classes but as psychic crowbars they have their own functionality.

'Ach, quit tootin' yer own horn.'

Well, fine, so the Judge is finally here. What can I do about it? Wait for help to arrive? That thought's a little scary - I'm being kept in a pretty secretive part of these premises. I'll have to get their attention somehow--

Bruce and Wagner roar simultaneously, first at the equipment that attempts to bind them, blowing it all to flaming, smoking smithereens. I grin. That'll get some attention! The boys fire again. I scrunch my eyebrows. What are they firing at? It's just ricocheting around! ...Oh shi-

The lock on my cell becomes a smoking hole of blackened steel. I dart to the back of the cell. They both fired, and I know better than to think that one of those bullets wasn't aimed at me. Arms are so damned charming, aren't they? I'm right, it seems - the second shot whistles through the air. It's dead-on, right for my throat. I don't even duck - last time they fired at me, the bullet turned mid-air. Yeah, it was pretty ridiculous. The bullet impacts.

Right into my collar, shattering the jewel in the center of it and fracturing the strange metal it's been crafted from. The thing hinges open in the middle and falls right off.

I throw my arms right into the air and whoop - just in time to jump, my feet stepping up and down in rapid motion. Damn things always do this to me.

'Dance, you scoundrel, dance!'

'Aye, pay us back for all this damned hassle!'

After a few minutes of dancing, they tire of the game and wait patiently for me to collect them.

'Hurry it up! We're gonna miss the fightin'!'

'Lazy git!'

That's pretty patient for Bruce and Wagner, all told.

Of course, getting through the labs safely is a different story. My Arms have been kind enough to free me from my immediate captivity, but Ebrellin-i's labs are a death trap in their own right. I've been pretty sure he's only kept me here to monitor just how I deal with such obstacles. So curious about the Armed, as if they're just more prospective specimens for him. Well, I'll show him just how dangerous a 'lab rat' can be. And, speaking of lab rats, I almost just lost a foot there. 'Boys! Can't you be useful instead of just lying there?'

'Are ye askin' me to put ye out of yer misery?'

'It'd be a pleasure!'

I let out a deep, weary sigh and finally get to where they've been kept. The smoking remains of the machinery surrounding them don't tell me much about what sort of monitoring was being put to them, but I've no real worries. Whatever the Peacock King wanted to do to my Arms, he wouldn't be able to manage with mere machines. I grip a revolver in each hand, do the flippy thing, and holster them.

"Missed you two surly guys."

'Aye, I do admit, it's been lonely here. No dunces to watch.'

'I missed yer pitiful harmonica skills. I tried to imagine cats drowning but it just didn't do it fer me.'

After that it's just a matter of clearing a path of destruction through the King's labs and towards Justice. It's a joyful dance. I've missed this.

33 - Girls Gone Wild!

2009-02-24T21:30:00.000-08:00

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Apprentice Armed Rachella Hawksgard's Travel Log

* * *

I know something is wrong at dawn, and I don't even have to ask Jenny if she feels the same. I can feel it coming off of her, and even if that isn't enough, the tension in her poise and the fire in her eyes are dead giveaways. Something is afoot this morning. We're going to see action soon.

The blood thunders in my ears for a few moments from the rush of it. I'm just a trainee, after all. Jenny's earned her Arms, though she's not allowed to carry them publicly yet. If it comes down to us drawing...

No, I'll find some way of fighting. I've been trained. I can handle this.

She leads us out to the yard outside the Mews. We've been watched for awhile here. It puts Jenny on edge. Me...well, I think I know why we're being watched.

I just haven't told anybody about it yet. I don't know what to do about it. I wish I could ask my Arms like Jenny and Camden can, but I don't understand that part yet. I just can't hear. All I can do is think back on it.

* * *

The fog hadn't burnt off of the morning yet when Tamborin' flew in from the periwinkle sky. I was overjoyed to see her, practically grinning my face off in joy. I received her with my gauntlet, bracing myself against the impact. She's not a big raptor, but she comes in very fast when she lands! I gave her a treat, told her she was a good girl, then hooded her before she could nip my nose off.

(The stories never do mention those parts, do they? Falconry sounds so romantic until the little darling goes for your heirloom jasper teardrops and tears your eardrums to ribbons.)

She had a capsule tied around her ankle with a thong. I made a little clucking sound before touching Tamborin's foot (she can be really high-strung in the morning!) and then I take out the note and unroll it. I scan over it, but it's written in the code that Camden knows so much better than Jenny and I do yet.

Four feet in front of me, someone cleared their throat. I almost jumped another four feet. He chuckled, then shushed me.

"Now now, Jhe Rachella - do you really think I present any harm to you?"

"...Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. It is truly an honor." I'd have curtsied, but...he'd chosen rather a bad position for me to do so.

"Please, don't bother with the formality of a bow. I can see plainly that you're unable to. Besides, this meeting is rather...unofficial."

"...Sire?"

He sauntered closer. That was the nearest I've ever been to him. Gods, he was tall. "Jhe Rachella...Dovetail, was it? Yes, I can see your mother's blood in you." He grinned. "But not nearly as much as your father's. Pray, why don't you claim the name of Hawksgard? It carries such prestige, especially for one in your profession." His face twisted into a sly grin. "You're no baggage carrier, are you?"

"I...I'm sorry, sire, but I don't--"

"Don't dissemble it. I may waive the bow, but I do insist on truth in my Court. The good Peacekeeper Briarseal has been hiding you from me under a false name and a false occupation. I do wonder...does he really believe that I would lure you to my Court?" The King's grin grew smug. "...He would be correct."

"I'm not sure what to say, sire."

He shook his head. "Don't bother thinking on those things. Instead...deliberate on just what you would like your pay to be, were you to find Audiva Rocale a suitable place to dwell. I...have many things to offer one such as you, Jhe Rachella, whom I expect well knows the elegance and grandeur that only the well-bred can appreciate."

I could only stammer out a measure of my gratitude for the offer and then begged off a moment alone to deliberate on it.

"Take your time. You may even discuss it with Peacekeeper Briarseal. I'm quite certain that I can offer you more than your Arms training can give you." He made his leave after giving me his own bow. "A lovely day to you, Jhe Hawksgard."

...He'd figured out that I was training for Arms too, then. That made three secrets lost in one morning. My identity, my affiliation, and the fact that we'd been using Tamborin' as a message carrier.

In the end, I told Jhe Camden about the messages being discovered. He took it well. He told me they were just a ruse anyway. With some reluctance, I also admitted that the King had figured out I was an Armed trainee, and a Hawksgard. Jhe Camden expected that first part, but admitted he was hoping my identity would remain a secret. "But, as I instructed you to carry your falcon in the open, it's nothing that is your fault. You behaved well and did as you should. Simply act accordingly around him and see if he'll talk to you more often now that he knows of your bloodline. ...And keep yourself very near Jhe Jenny at all times."

With all that, I just couldn't tell him about being an offered a job here. It's embarrassing. Especially the snooty way the King spoke about the pleasures of the 'well-bred'. I hated being an aristocrat! I don't hate my family, but it doesn't make me better than anybody else. I fancy the birds much more than I fancy my birthright. Jhe 'hAkribastes said that none of that would matter when I trained under him.

It's not worth telling anyone, really. I'm not taking the job, so it won't matter.

* * *

"Shhh," Jenny says, patting my shoulder. "You're about as puffed up as a wildcat. Here. Let's rid ourselves of the morning energy."

We've been allowed to set up a rudimentary archery shot here. Just a board nailed up on a sawhorse. Enough to keep us from destroying the rest of the buildings around here from pent-up energy. I swear, what does the King think being an Armed trainee means? Of course I'm going to need to fight! The archery practice we get in is just enough to whet my appetite, but it's been getting very bad, especially since my period is coming up--

--dratted ink doesn't erase! How embarrassing!

I'm still stringing my practice crossbow when I feel them behind me. Jenny's eyes narrow. I think neither of us expected them to do something as foolish as grab me, then, but my arms are hauled behind me all the same. I'm more shocked at their audacity than anything else.

Jenny's bow wasn't strung yet when that happened. So when another of the big men from behind me shouts, "We've already got the only one that's Armed! Grab the other one, the King wants her too!"

Two pertinent points - one, it was very convenient for him to lay all of that out for us. Very expansive dialog. The Jhe o'Sul sure can pick them! Two, Jenny put an arrow in his throat shortly before that exclamation mark would have occurred, so it's more my revision than an actual quote.

...Oh, and three, Jenny can string a bow very fast!

The man holding my arms soon finds himself on the ground, and does not expect me to fall on him with my elbow lodged squarely below where his collarbones meet. Surprises can happen at any time, sir!

It's over before it really begins, but that doesn't mark it as anywhere near the end of our troubles. Jenny managed to pick off a few of the King's men, and we'd both managed no incapacitate a few, but then there's the staff in the Mews, and in the nearby Palace grounds, and whoever's expecting these brutes to return with two 'helpless' girls.

"I want to know just who told them I wasn't Armed," Jenny growls, the air around her crackling with potential ignition. I keep my distance. "Camden's Arms warned us right before that attack. She's told him the whole of it by now. We should report back, but the Palace will be hostile. He would say we shouldn't cause a scene."

"...I-"

"I say he can punish me for it later. Come on. Let's haul." She heads for the closest wing of the Palace - the shortest way to get to the practice arena the King's given us for our stay. I sigh and follow close behind, already scouting to each side for any points I'll have to cover Jenny against.

I suppose that wraps up the end of our stay there, from my perspective at least.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Journeywoman Jennelcia Akribastes's Travel Log

* * *

I'm elbowing through bodies, sometimes punching when elbows don't do the job and boots take too much clearance time. I don't slow down for any of these bastards. They watch silently while that asshole commits crimes from up on high on his throne, and would have watched his crime against us just as silently, and I will not bother being nice, anymore. Mom can tell me all she wants about manners. She can tell it to my younger siblings if she wants someone to listen. I have stuff to do now.

I stomp through the chambers directly adjacent to where we were. Rachella follows if she knows what's good for her. She seems to. I guess she's got a head on her shoulders after all. I note while we dash forward that this is near the entrance and audience chambers of the Palace. Shallow levels. Hard to get to the back places from here, since they're on another end. I can't think of a direct way to get where we need to go...

...But Dyennah can aim for Cam from just about anywhere, and we both together can sniff out a possible way. Off to the side, here. Ah, Lyric's described this part. Didn't he take this way to get to the King's little private zoo?

"Faun is kept this way." Rachella confirms my suspicions from over my shoulder. I nod, then squint at the entrance. "But...there's a lot of wards here...Gerald only got through by mind-riding your brother."

I snort. "Gerald's subtleties never really impressed me, especially when he winds up behind bars because of them. I know how to get into this place."

Rachella gulps, and quickly takes cover. Smart girl. Astoundingly swift learner. I'm beginning to like her.

The doorway explodes into a crackle of energy as I launch an arrow through that. "You can weave a wardbreak in with that, Rachella. I hope you're taking notes whenever you decide to write this down in your log." She gives a curt nod. I take an arrow in my hand and sweep the edges of the doorway, ensuring that I haven't missed anything. I do catch a few snags at the corners which are dispelled quickly. "Come on. They'll rebuild in a few seconds. Once we're in it's all just monitoring-type wards, which I don't give a fuck about anymore." She rushes in behind me, running almost on my heels past all the cages. I hear her let out a few whimpers as she catches some glances at the contents. I make my own notes of just what the Peacock King is keeping in here. Faun isn't his only illegal stash - but he's probably the most illegal here. Hells, that's even worse than him pinning up Gerald or collaring Lyric.

My bile builds up at that. I only knew Lyric a little when I was a child, but I liked him and that bastard shouldn't have touched any of my kin, ever.

We stop at Faun's cage. Rachella's already looking over the wards as I stare in at the King's captive. He returns my stare with a level gaze.

"Jhe Akribastes. It is quite the delayed honor. Dare I assume this means I may be returned to the wild? You can't open this cage without his approval, you kn--" His eyes widen as I aim at the lock. Rachella gasps.

"Yes, I know, Rachella. The shrapnel. But I can aim, you know." Even the animism looks afraid. Fuck him, I know what I'm doing. A poof of dust later, the lock isn't there anymore, and the door swings inwards. Rachella stares. "Minimizing impact. It's one of the first things I was taught." Well, as an urgent preventative measure, but neither of them need to know that.

Rachella enters while I stand guard at the door. No pursuers? No, I hear footsteps echoing down the hallway. As expected. I ready my bow. "Can you get him out?"

"If she removes this collar, I can get myself out." Faun's voice is smooth, even, levelheaded. Trust the feral one to be the calmest, huh?

I don't know how Rachella gets the thing off of him, but I hear her mumbling some spellwork and Poetry, and then there's a flash. Faun lets out a cry of triumph, more a yowl than anything else. The first attackers come in just as his chains crumble into sparks and dust. Of course. Without the Jherent o'Sul's witchcraft, no mortal-forged chains could hold that animism. It can only be bound by the gods, and while the Jherent o'Sul's Emperor status might make him a bit of a deity himself, once that bind's off of him, nothing else matters.

I have a little bit of trouble fighting, then, because Faun's in the way, taking out every attacker we have by their throat. I hate cleaning up other people' messes. I turn and sure enough, here come some more goons from the other side. Great!

I must admit, it is almost difficult to slaughter people while Faun's doing his work, because damn. If you ever get the chance to see a pissed-off animism fight, and you're not the one he's fighting, it is worth the price of admission. Not that I'm advocating that sort of thing, mind, it's just an observation. Jeez, I can feel my Dad looking funny at me just for writing that...

Rachella looks up, just as Faun pauses mid-gutting. The hair bristles up on the back of my neck. I know what that feeling is.

He's here. He has long ears, after all.

The Judge has arrived in Audiva Rocale.

32 - Pertinent Document Section II

2009-02-20T12:32:00.000-08:00

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Peacekeeper Camden Briarseal's Travel Log

* * *

I've been very honored today - the Peacock King graced us with his presence this morning. Words cannot describe my gratitude for this wonderful and unparalleled occasion.

Instead of addressing us in his Court, he took the matter to me directly, meeting me outside in a field we've been allowed to use as a sparring practice 'arena'. As he'd hate to show off our strength too openly to his citizens, the field is isolated and walled in, located near an older, less-used section of the palace. Of course, he insists it's for our privacy and for the safety of others, implying that we might actually miss what we were aiming for and cause collateral damage...

...Well, I'll give him that, Jhe Jenny is a part of our group. But he doesn't know what that means, so it's no excuse.

He came in the early hours of the morning. The mist had yet to burn off and the light was still gray, the grass wet with dew. I had come out to the place to collect my thoughts after my morning coffee. The girls were already in the Mews, and would join me later in the morning. As sequestered as the yard was, it was at least a quiet place for introspection.

I heard the signs of his approach long before he stepped out, Geillg'a whispering to me of how the sound of his robes shuffling had pricked her ears. I allow him to reach five paces behind me before turning to face him. He takes my sensing him gracefully. I allowed him to get that far so that he would take it gracefully. There've been days where a person would have had his face hacked off for approaching that close to me without any warning. I note to myself that I'd really just like to initiate a proper war instead of taking a vacation - it would be a much more welcome respite from all of this mincing about and dancing.

I bow to the Jhe o'Sul, and he nods back to me. "Peacekeeper Briarseal. Such a pleasant beginning to your day, is it not? Does the sun shine brighter in Radia, or do you find the Aurocan clime suits one from the lands of the Hills such as yourself?"

I smile. "I must admit, Sul has treated me quite pleasantly. Ah, my pardon. Audiva Rocale. Radia's manners of speaking stick long to my tongue." I give him a short little smile, noting how long it takes for his hackles to calm back down. That little Radian nickname for this Kingdom never has gone over well with the natives here, and of course I would never knowingly let it slip past my lips if I was worried about upsetting someone.

He nods. "Forgiven. Tell me, Jhe Briarseal - is it normal to call so many Armed into a peaceable Kingdom such as mine? Between your fighters and my armies, we seem to be well fortified. Is there something you anticipate to happen soon?"

"Your Majesty, I understand your concerns. The high concentration is not for an operation we planned out - things simply happened this way. Do our numbers concern you? I must admit, I did not expect to stay so long in your locale - I had not foreseen how valuable staying here would be to my trainees. Oh...Jhe Akribastes's appearance didn't upset you, did it?"

He schools his expression well in response, and I have trouble holding myself back instead of penetrating his poker face. There's the route of mindplay, which he would find me more well-versed in than he expects, and then there's the route of my fist cordially greeting his long Xaillyndesse nose. I'm not sure which I would prefer more, but neither are an option at this stage of the game.

"It was a surprise to see the Judge's son arrive in my Court, I must admit. But...it's old news, yes? I am sure he is faring well in my wonderful country. To more prominent business...I do say, Jhe Briarseal. It's very awkward, watching you play these games in the open, and myself being unable to call you on them. I trust you're through switching around which of the people you've brought into my Kingdom are Armed, and which are your clever ploys? I grow bored of the shuffle back and forth, and I'm sure your pieces do as well."

I blink. I don't want to show confusion, but what on land or sea is he nattering on about? Perhaps there's a game being played that I am not aware of at this time? "I do what I must, Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. It is my hope that soon our business here will be cleared up, and we will leave your empire in peace."

"Ah. Good." He looks away for a moment, and does the high-and-mighty-ruler version of shuffling his feet, which is more of a cuff-tugging and robe-settling gesture. "Well then. I trust there are no others waiting in the wings? No one whom you are waiting for?"

...He's openly speaking of Gerald to me. Shit. What if I called his bluff, then? Settled this confrontation face to face? ...No, I'd get us all killed, or end up killing him in the conflict when he tries to silence us all. "Nothing that's laid out in my orders, Sire."

It's then that I hear Geillg'a's multiple silver tongues whisper into my ear. 'He's holding Bruce and Wagner now, Tchae. I can feel them through him. The lad doesn't have those two boys kept safe anymore...though they keep him safe, it seems. Gun-stealer. Hoarding chicken of a half-serpent-blood pomped-up ruler.' I hold back any reaction. If the Peacock King has Gerald's Arms, it means Lyric's been compromised. As to what else of our operation could have been blown...who's to tell? 'I could talk to 'im. The lad.'

I almost snort in reaction. 'Geillg'a, the poor squirt would shit his pants if he heard your voice between his ears.'

'All the more reason to do it, then, I think.'

The King leans in closer, and both Geillg'a and I have to suppress the instinct to strike. "Jhe Briarseal? Is there a reason behind that strange glower on your face?"

"I was consulting with my Arms, sir. They do make us appear that we have hemorrhoids."

"Ah." He looks positively made of stone, for some reason, as if talking to inanimate objects were beneath him. That's just absurd from a man who talks to plants.

"It's just their way. Sire, are you sure there's no further use that Jhe Cruxradia can be put to? He finishes clean-up tasks with remarkable efficiency." Oh, his eyes light up with that idea. Good. I need to stretch out some time in which I can further consult with Geillg'a. I don't want him to suspect any of our interference. Lyric has been put in far too much danger already. 'Talk to the boy as much as you can while this one isn't hovering over his shoulder, then. Being alone is probably a rare opportunity for him. We should be able to find out a great deal from him.'

'Aye, Camden. I'll ensure that the Spruce Lord here doesn't overhear us through Bruce and Wagner's metal-bodies, but I've the feeling they already have that covered, the dears. So nice that they've managed to protect the lad all through this.'

I give her a mental nod, then listen as the King cheerfully lists off ways in which Jhe Jaxhelshon could be put to further use on his Palace Grounds.

* * *

Having spare time isn't something I've grown accustomed to lately. Now that I have it, I'm in the bath, trying to have a private moment. Of course, that's just not possible. Not in this place, and just not for me, anymore. If it's not the nymphs and other creatures that the King has sprinkled throughout my quarters, it's Gerald's blasted guns. They just don't shut up!

'Aye, I do pity you in that, lad. You've had to put up with their chatter for days, I imagine. We think that's why Gerald gets arrested so much - their incessant prattle has made him a little soft in the head.'

I jerk upwards in the water, splashing a wave over the side. A tiny nymph chitters at me in a scolding tone, then flounces off.

Who was that? I didn't recognize the voice. For one, it was female.

'You've met me before, though not truly met, as you've not bled on me, which is probably to your liking, I'll admit. Camden bears me to and fro where I wish.'

I blink. I don't understand. This shouldn't be possible. Also, I didn't think Camden's Arms would be a girl. Not...not that there's anything wrong with that... 'I...beg your pardon, miss. I didn't recognize you. Is there anything I can help you with?'

'Ah! Such a dear. Calling me miss and everything, like a well-mannered boy. I don't think I've been addressed as 'miss' by anybody who wasn't already on their knees and sporting injuries. You're certainly smarter than your brother Gerald, then.' She pauses. I...I think she lost her train of thought. 'Ah, yes. Tchae Camden inquired as to your well-being and your brother's. I found your mind by tracing Bruce and Wagner's trail. They never do clean up their mess.'

'Ach! The wench has found us. Bloody hells and dirty trails.'

'Maybe we should just get 'im arrested again, save us the trouble of talking to 'er.'

Camden's whip sniffs at them, an oddly metallic sound, like razorblades whispering against each other. 'Two fools, the both of you are, and as well-matched to your Armed as any could hope to be. Let me talk with the poor lad before you make his mind an awful mess with your bickering. Off! Off with you!'

I feel the pair of guns shuffle away, the strange smell of gunpowder lingering in my nose even over the scented soap I'm using. The grumbling tapers off, and I feel a little less crowded. 'I...what does Camden want to know?'

'Testy, you are. Common for any that deal with my Armed. You'll get used to it. He's concerned for your safety.' I have the strangest sensation of being sniffed over by something that shouldn't very well have any sort of nose. '...Boy! Are you wearing his collar?'

I shrink down in the bathtub. It doesn't come off, no matter what I try. My fingertips are raw from it. I even tried the bullet on it, to no avail.

'Could have lost a finger doing that if Bruce and Wagner didn't like you as much as they seem to do. Come, boy. Don't hide it. We worry for you. The boys, at least, seem to have blunted it from stealing over your mind. How ill do you fare, wearing it?'

I curl a little in the bathtub, then decide to start scrubbing again. I still feel so dirty. I don't want to climb out of this tub ever. 'I pretend to follow orders. He thinks he has me pretty well controlled. I could disobey, if I wanted, but he's more dangerous if he knows I'm free to do as I please. I don't let him know.'

She nods, and I hear thousands of razors chime against each other. 'Clever. Admirable. Keep focused on your will and don't let him take anything from you. How does the animism fare?'

'Faun is tired, but fares well. He's talked to me much about the Peacock King. I have a story to share, if I ever make it out of here.'

'You have many stories, I am sure. Tell me one of yourself. The King has Bruce and Wagner now. He's obviously found you out. How much does he know?'

I look down into the water and tuck my knees up against my chest. 'He's...he wants to believe I'm loyal. He still needs me, I think to train Faun. He thinks I helped Gerald because I knew him from Radia and didn't want him to get hurt. He also thinks Gerald blackmailed me, which he sort of did, since he threatened telling Daddy about me being here. I made it all sound like it was the truth, which was easy, because it was. I'm a little afraid, but I think it's working. I just don't know how I'll be able to get out and keep both Gerald and I safe. And uh...Gerald...'

She sets her attention closer on me, making the hairs on my neck raise. It's like being aimed at. 'Yes? What?'

'Gerald's working in the King's labs, except he's under a non-binding contract. The King tried to force him into a servitude contract by threatening Jenny. Except the King thinks Jenny's Gerald's wife, so it didn't quite--I'm sorry?'

She keeps making this choking, grinding noise, like wrenching metal. I realize it's the Arms equivalent of a belly-laugh. 'I'm sorry. That's very amusing. Please please do go on.'

'Gerald's alright, since the contract had a clause in it about Gerald's wife, which he doesn't have. He's pretending to be under contract and he seems to be alright. We're all...okay, I guess, but I have no idea how long it will hold out, and I don't know how to get us all out of this without getting someone hurt.'

'Aye, but Tchae Camden will, so you just act as you have been and keep talking to Bruce and Wagner. They'll keep you safe however they can. As will the rest of us. Even though you don't believe that at all, do you?'

It's chillingly like being questioned by my Father. 'I...I'm sorry, but Camden put me in this position and it was the bullet that caught me. I don't understand why he didn't just keep it.'

'Because that's how Camden did it, the silly git, and he'll kick himself enough for it before you ever get a chance. Talk to him about it if you want. You'll have the chance soon.'

I blink. 'I will?'

'We won't let him take you or the animism or our Armed, even if that Armed is a stupid wretch who winds up in a cell every other week. Chin up, lad. Arm yourself however you do that, and keep writing.'

'I haven't written any of this since I left your company on the way back to the Palace.'

'Well, you will write it, because I can feel the words m'self. So don't fret. Tah!'

I scrunch my eyebrows. "...Tah?"

'She's always that flouncy.'

'Not as bad as some others I could mention.'

'Aye, there is that. But even then, she's flouncy.'

'Can't be helped. Camden's a fancy lad.'

Then they both chuckle between my ears while I pretend to have some solitude for once.

* * *

Recorded from an excerpt of Peacekeeper Camden Briarseal's Travel Log

* * *

Pulling at the echoes of their tinny voices in Lyric's head, Geillg'a homes in on the guns and closes in before they can throw a guard up against her. Silent as a feather falling over the blade of a knife, she regards them where they rest.

I didn't think she'd be able to trace their location without calling the Peacock King's attention to it. She chides me for underestimating her ability, and I return that scold with my praise for exceeding my expectations.

Jenny may love that whip, but I don't think she'll ever get Geillg'a to purr like I can.

'Aych. Look at the two of you, all chained up and hooked up and...what is that on your trigger, dear?'

Wagner glares at her through his barrel. 'Careful it doesn't slip and I fire at something you might miss.'

'Tut! No need to be excessively cranky at me, dear heart. The King's the one what hooked you up to this, correct?'

'Aye, that be so. Gerald's almost got it better off than the two of us, at this point,' Bruce's dusty voice crackles to Geillg'a.

Geillg'a has a rage in her so fierce that I have to block it from the Peacock King. I don't blame her at all. He has the Arms chained to a metal table, strange cords and wires threaded through them and down their barrels. I can feel the equipment buzz even through her, and it sets the hairs on my neck on end.

'Warn the Judge. That collar 'round our Armed's neck is trouble.'

Geillg'a glares. 'For what reason did you permit this indignity to yourselves?'

The guns are silent for a moment. Wagner answers. 'We have no reason to answer to yer demand, but an answer we will give: we did not have the compulsion to fire, so we did not shoot that turkey-arsed bastard.'

'He means the Peacock King, not the Judge.'

'Ach. Yea, the Judge be a bigger, meaner turkey than this tarted-up poultry trollop.'

Geillg'a is silent for the moment. She is restraining herself from whipping two young pups. It would cause too much commotion to make it worth it. 'That is sufficient, but if you let Gerald or that lad slip into any more trouble, gods help ye, I'll Aim at ye for it, and I will not miss.'

'Aye, as per usual. A fine day to ye.'

'And just what does he plan to do by twining you about with that many wires and bits and...whatnot?'

'He's attempting to measure us.' Wagner's voice is choked, as if he's trying to hold back laughter.

'The Law is strange to him and must be quantified, it seems.'

'Gerald is his true target. For now he only investigates. He will eventually attempt a bind, one beyond a badly-worded contract, on our Armed. We will turn on the cocky regent then. His days are numbered, as it is now. Pity he doesn't realize that.'

I let my concentration slide back to myself, and after such a statement, it's strange to look at the King in the eye. I still do. He doesn't manage to hold my stare for long.

"So I suppose that dispenses with my concerns. Thank you, Jhe Briarseal, your comments and suggestions were most illuminating."

"Always a pleasure. Ah, Jhe Akribastes." I delight in the tiny little jump the monarch makes as I say that. Gerude walks into the arena from behind the King, then makes a smart, proper bow to him.

"Your Grace, it is a true honor that you visit our hallowed training grounds. And thank you, at that, for giving us these hallowed training grounds." I almost kick him for that, the fop. Just like his twin in the worst ways. But Gerude's grin catches the King in ways that make him exceedingly uncomfortable. I can see the sweat begin to bead on his brow.

Beginning to feel guilt, perhaps? Or at least realizing that retribution may come upon him for his transgressions? ...Too much to set my hopes on.

"Your gratitude is most flattering, Jhe Gerude. Please, go about your morning routine. I do wonder," his gaze skirts back to my eyes, "may I be your audience for a time?"

...Odd. I'd expect him to scram back and attend to his seedy little plottings--

'Geillg'a. Send an alert to Jenny, and keep an eye on the boys. He's planning something. I think he's keeping me here on purpose.'

She radiates a smug smile. 'Little does he know that my reach extends even farther than his grasp. Shall we dance here, then, while I also dance with other couples?'

'Always.' I make a bow to the King. "Of course our host may watch the sport." I then turn without another word, unsheathing Geillg'a as I do so. I know it chills him to be so close to her when she unfurls, the many-jointed tail of cold silver whispering through the air.

Gerude only grins, watching me approach, and waits to see just what game I have in store for the morning.

It will certainly keep everyone on their toes.

31 - The Heart That Rooted Itself in the Forest

2009-02-17T17:35:00.000-08:00

Do you know, I actually manage some real sleep for what might even be several hours? The sensation is so unfamiliar that I almost wake up from the shock of it. I even have a dream, though I don't remember it, like happens with most of my dreams.

At some point, though, I rouse from true rest and into traveling. At least I have some idea of where I mean to go, or was going to go - well, okay, I'm trying to explain away the fact that I just end up in here. Outside the bars, true, but still, I'm crouched on the floor outside Faun's cell. I look up and into the prison. He's asleep, now, but not very deeply. He looks troubled, and he keeps twitching.

"Faun?" I keep my voice low, even though I know I can't be making any real sound here. Still, the Peacock King hears farther than the boundaries of the physical world, and he's not the only one that can do so. Faun shakes awake and tilts his head to face me. His eyes open, deep and dark in this light, like amber. It's like being studied by an owl.

He smiles. "Lyric. Come in. I've missed company." He gestures inward, and to my surprise, the door does open. He laughs at my confusion. "Your dream has different doors than my reality, Lyric. You should be free to enter, much as I am not free to leave, even in the world of my own dreams."

I walk in slowly, waiting for some alarm to go off, my nerves set on a hair-trigger. When nothing happens, I settle down, sitting just outside the range of his chains. "Your own dreams? Even in those, you're chained down?"

Faun's eyes narrow, and the corners of his mouth draw back. It's not really a smile, more like the reaction to biting into a lemon. "The Peacock King's collars bind on all levels, Lyric." He cocks his head at me, and his eyes look hazy for a moment. It's like he's trying to see something that's not quite there. Perhaps that's exactly what he's doing. "What...I don't understand. You can't be wearing one. You can't be here, Lyric, if he's collared you." He looks at me in the eye then, trying to see if I'm telling a lie just by dreaming myself into his cell. "...How are you doing it? More importantly, are you okay? I...I can see...smell what he's done." He's so confused and so deep in thought that he's forgetting to speak very clearly.

I look away from him. "Ebrellin-i...he...he did try to collar me tonight. He did give me a pet-name." I shiver. I don't want to think about it or acknowledge it, but I have to face what happened, if I'm to keep myself from being fully bound. "I'm not sure what he did wrong. He's been very careless lately, and I think he didn't take the time to cast the proper spells. He's failed to put me to sleep before, and I saw..." I swallow the words down. I don't want to talk about it. That would make it real. I want to forget that, too. I want to forget so much.

"Lyric." I barely meet Faun's eyes. He's still studying me, looking deeper than I'm prepared for. How much can he read from me? It's creepy to think about. "Did he bring you under someone's power?"

I shake my head. "I've...seen him...under someone's power, though. He doesn't know. He thought he'd sent me to sleep, and then he was asleep too, and then I watched him sleepwalk..." The images dance before my eyes again, just as Ebrellin-i danced for the Jherent Nul, and I banish them away. "Faun? You were going to tell me, once, of the Peacock King. Is he...is he really with them? With Nul?" I don't want to believe it, as much as I've already seen of it. I want to un-see that night so badly, wipe it all away, but I can't.

Faun is the one to look away, then. "...It isn't something anyone would want to believe, as hated as the Peacock King is in some circles. I...I don't know. But I can tell you a story of him that no others have heard." He sees he has my attention. "I've valued my forest and my animals far too much to tell it before my imprisonment. He keeps a tight grip on any information about his past. He...he could have attacked, you know, if I had crossed him in that way before. Now it is too late for those concerns." He looks so pained and desperate, like his leg is stuck in a bear-trap.

"I'll listen. Must I keep it secret?"

Faun shakes his head. "It is past the time that this can remain secret, and almost too late for it to be of any use. It's fortunate in ways I can't convey, Lyric, that you are able to hear it, and that I am not completely alone now." I remember the story of Rapa Nui, and the desperation on his face, the pallid tone, strikes fear into my heart.

"...Faun? Are you okay? I've heard stories about what captivity can do to your kind."

He shakes his head, but he still looks like someone in great pain. "I will survive, Lyric. Don't waste your energy worrying about it." He looks out at the bars. "I miss the sight of my forest, all the same. Can you imagine trees, Lyric? Trees instead of shining steel bars, rough bark running all over their sides like mud-clotted fur? Little sprigs peeking out along the trunks where leaves sprout and branches might soon grow out? The sun in drops that manage to fall through the tiny holes in the bright green glowing canopy above?"

He sighs. "That is home, Lyric. The Peacock King has been there, though it was not the first time I met him. He was a child, that first time, and I was not welcome in his house, but they let me come in, all the same. None could stop an animism from walking where it wished to tread. The Law, as always, has been on our side."

* * *

The Xaillyndesse family. Yes, I know you've heard of them. Everyone's heard of them - well, that's what they'd like to think, in any case. If you ask any other animism, it might get chancy. The dryads and other nymphs, yes - but only because the Jhe o'Audiva Rocale is so well-known among them for taming so many of their kind. With him among them, and the Jhe 'hLogos among them, the Xaillyndesses are quite the powerful family, wouldn't you say? But they're not famed for the amount of royalty in their ranks. Those of that line can cause trouble and intrigues without all the ugliness of attending a throne. The Peacock King and the Poet King are exceptions to the line.

But their status as exceptions was already confirmed before they ever rose to power and took their crowns, Lyric. Perhaps I started it all for Ebrellin-i. Perhaps not. But I met him before he even earned that accolade. When I met him, he was Ebrelle-heni, the heir, and that additional title of heir-to-be wasn't even allowed to be spoken aloud yet. In speech and address, he was only Ebrelle. What right he had to the throne he'd later take was not enough to raise his status in Court, or keep him safe from the criticisms of his conservative family.

Yes, I do suppose he was an exception even before I met him. He saw, Lyric. His younger brother did too, but at that time the later-to-be Jhe 'hLogos, Eleth-travente, was too young to draw attention or scorn for his differences. Too small a child for anyone to take proper notice of his abilities. Ebrelle, however, was already a rather ancient seven years old, certainly enough for the Xaillyndesse family to scrutinize him in every way possible.

He talked to plants, Lyric. He spoke to them, and they would speak back. He was making friends with the dryads and the tinier spirits, with individual blades of grass. He saw many things, and heard many more, and all those things liked him because he would stop and watch and listen to them. His parents were worried that word would get around of their now-elder son's eccentricities, and tried to quiet them, to no real avail. He was quiet in his own way, talking most times in the garden, with no other humans in sight. But he was so blissfully unaware of anything strange about his behavior that he brushed his parents's admonitions away like so much pollen off of his sleeve.

When I came walking onto their property they scowled down at me like I was some mongrel dog who'd shat on their lawn. I did consider it, at that, but first I wanted to visit their son. They couldn't deny me that, because of what I was, and the Laws. But I could feel their hatred all the same, and I knew they'd soon look upon the boy as truly strange. They had been right, though. Word had spread, though not among the humans and their precious society and Courts. Word whispered through the grass and the leaves, trickled along the streams and brooks, until it came to me by birdsong.

So I came to him, as was only right. I was the one to visit humans, most times. Of my kind, I knew the human ways better than most. He needed to be spoken to by one of us, one of his...kindred.

It burned the Xaillyndesses to think of my kind as kindred to one of their sons, you know. But it was true. Ebrelle was, in many ways, closer to my kind than theirs. Perhaps...no, I know for fact that his mixed-heritage Mother feared that her pact with a Dragon for a new son to replace her first would result not in a powerful child, but in a wild-touched one. As if her own purposefully-mixed blood wouldn't be enough to put the feral into his veins. She'd been born with a quarter-heritage of something fae, and before she'd borne any children she'd made one of those pacts with some supernatural creature. She was famed for her pacts. And she wondered why her children were so much more than the normal humans in her society!

Such an interferer, she was, and utterly insane to boot. Of course, being aristocracy, she had the privilege of such madness as being just 'her way'.

Ebrelle was a very special child. Brilliant, attentive, and very caring. He had a beautiful mind, and wanted to communicate with those of my kind very much. Most of all he wanted to learn of the true wild, of nature uncaged and untamed, outside his castle walls. When I finally had to leave he wanted to follow me out, but I couldn't very well pull the heir to a crown from his castle and into the wild at the tender age of seven.

Well, I could, but I didn't, something I've come to regret since.

It got back to me on the wings of a pixie. A very rumpled, very sad pixie. Following her were a few other spirits that had been driven from Ebrelle's home. I went there myself, to see, but didn't come close to their land. I could feel from there that she'd done something to the grounds, something maybe to the gardens as well. Like fencing, or wards. Something none of us liked, and hurt us to be around.

It hurt me that Ebrelle was inside that, but I had to accept that there were some things I couldn't change on my own. I wouldn't enter the grounds. It could cause harm to me, or one of his family might be insane enough to attack me. I would not endanger my animals like that.

So, instead, I wrote.

You might think his parents would prevent such a thing, but they had no idea that I was even literate, and could not tell from my letters that I wasn't someone just as 'well-bred' as them. I even had access to fine stationery, quill and ink.

Ebrelle answered immediately. He missed me very much. But it wasn't possible for him to leave and meet me again. Not until he was older. Not until he had enough power in the Court to grant him that clearance. And not until, it seemed, he had managed something quite difficult, and requiring quite a few strings to be pulled.

Yes, I know you're wondering. Sorry, but I wanted to give a proper dramatic pause, like a Poet would do with this story. He wanted to pass on heirship from himself to his sister. He didn't want the crown. He didn't care about it, and wanted his own life instead.

He...almost managed. Yes, he really did pass it on. But to his young brother, Eleth-travente, instead. His sister...well, she's a separate story, all on her own.

He came into the wild to join me, Lyric. He wanted to learn of himself. Of his forest-heritage. He wanted to truly live up to the dragon's blood in his veins. And he did come to my forest. He did learn. He took a strange path outside of it, one day. Then he disappeared.

A year later, he reappeared in the Royal Court of Lyianneth and forcibly took back his crown inheritance from his brother. It was then that he declared himself the Peacock King and changed his name from Ebrelle, the heart of the forest, to Ebrellin-i, the dark in the soul of the forest. He bore the marks on his face that so many associate with his signature animal. I know you know by now that those marks are more than paint.

That is the story I have dared not tell to another. His parents would never dream of leaking it. They preferred Ebrellin-i to Ebrelle, after all. His siblings...who knows what things happened back then to them to silence them? Ebrellin-i himself would be the only other to know, and he would never let such personal details about his past slip, especially ones questioning how the crown came to him. I have kept silent on the matter, out of fear for what retribution might be had from the Peacock King...or the Xaillyndesses. It has never been important enough. The past most often stays in the past.

But sometimes that changes, especially when Poets come into the scene. I always wanted to know what happened to him, when he left my forest and a year later showed his face as the Peacock King. What happened to the Ebrelle I knew, and where the person that came back wearing his face came from.

* * *

"You look afraid."

That brings me out of the haze of concentration I was in. I blink, look up at him. The chains on him catch my eyes and I have trouble actually focusing on Faun himself.

"You're tired, Lyric. Maybe you should go to sleep." My eyes manage to focus on Faun's face. The animism looks concerned. "Sleep, Lyric. I imagine you don't get enough of that."

"But...there's so much to talk about...so much to do! Gerald's being held in the Peacock King's labs now, and I...I just don't want to go back, Faun. I don't want to wake up with him!" That's the real core of it, isn't it? I'm putting off going back to the waking world...where I'll have to deal with all of this. My skin crawls. "I...I have that collar on. I don't understand why it's not controlling me like it could, Faun."

He nods. "Mine can only drain my energy, as the Peacock King cannot make me his pet without breaking what I am. For some reason, he refuses to do that, which admittedly is a relief to me. As for yours...I could be wrong, Lyric, but it seems as if something is shielding you."

I feel the hollow metallic echo of a laugh behind my ear.

"...The Arms. Gerald's Guns. They made me take protection under the Law. Something about how the King would try to take my will soon. I...I guess they were right?"

Faun tilts his head, weighing it. "Well, it sounds right enough. Can't you tell by yourself?"

I blink. 'I...I guess I could ask you?'

'Nay, it's too funny watching ye guess at everything and flounder.'

'Ye're sort of like a baby duckling who's gotten 'imself stuck upside-down in the water.'

'Distressing, but too amusing to correct it.'

Faun watches me glower at what seems like nothing, then barks out a laugh. "It must be the Arms, then. You almost look like a proper Armed, with that expression."

"What?" Now I'm just annoyed at everyone.

Faun giggles, the sound strangely like a snarl. "They're always looking at their weapons like that."

I let out a deep sigh. He watches me for a moment more.

"Go to bed. I refuse to talk to you any more until you get sleep. You're too cranky right now."

I mumble something in response and do the mental equivalent of rolling over to let the other side of the mattress cook. Soon enough I'm in real dreams again, something about dumplings being stuck upside down while I'm trying to cook them for the Peacock King's brunch. Gerald's revolvers are the only utensils I have, and they just keep laughing at me.

30 - King's Pet

2009-02-14T22:21:00.000-08:00

I can't say Faun is happy to see me right now, but at least I can be sure that most of his glower is reserved for the Peacock King. I gulp. This might be the most antagonistic I've ever seen the animism look. What's worse is that Faun turns his face up to me and shares that glare with me. I shrink back.

The King's hand behind my waist keeps me from getting far. He presses me forward. "Go," he says, his voice clear but quiet in the room. "Speak to him." That strange air of absurdity and liveliness has left Ebrellin-i now that we're not in the labs. Now he's as cold and composed as before. It's weird. He seemed almost deranged in there, but it somehow felt like it was closer to his personality than this chilled aloofness.

I step forward, my hand subconsciously drawn up to perch on the coil of my whip. My fingers curl around the braided leather. I look him over. Maybe a little paler. Just a little gaunt. Most definitely meaner. Chained too far away from the bars for me to worry about that little measure, though.

My thumb strokes the leather of the whip. The role comes to the fore without me even needing to call it up. "Faun-doe. Such a pleasure seeing you, after a long absence from the cage. How fares you on such an evening? Well, I hope." The animism's shoulders jerk with my use of the pet-name, but it has no effect on him. Of course, only the Peacock King would be able to truly use it to its purpose of binding and control. The rest brings little reaction. He cocks his head.

"What do you care of it, little boy-slut, King's toy?" The corners of his mouth perk up as my face goes granite. I see fangs peek out from behind his upper lip. "Why are you outside of the pen? Come, prove yourself to him, earn a few precious more inches of his bed." His hair raises up on his scalp as the taunts. He's puffing up like a cat.

The King's hand pushes behind my back, urging me forward. I step towards the cage just as he sweeps his hand, unlocking the door. It clangs shut behind me as I walk in, whip uncoiling and kissing the floor underneath my feet before the tip of it snaps right above Faun's head.

The animism doesn't even blink. His fingers do clutch at the floor, his nails extending to his claws. I hear a 'shhh' behind me from the Peacock King, and then the animism lurches.

The King waggles his finger. "Bad little toy. Be nice to your master. Pay him your respects just as you would me, Faun-doe."

Faun lurches, stopping his fall right before his chin hits the floor. He glares up at me and spits. I answer with another whip-pop.

"You simply must expend your vocabulary, J'Lotus. He won't listen to reason. You must show it to him." The Peacock King claps his hands twice. "Teach him his role, Trainer."

I execute a complex bow, the whip arcing over my head and then under in a sweeping circle. It pops in front of me at the end of its arc, almost connecting with Faun. There's some tiny part of myself in the back of my head that's shaking in terror from the damage that accidentally striking him could do. It's a very quiet part of me, though. I don't even need to shush it. It knows better than to peep up right now.

Instead I sweep my arm in front of me, the whip whistling over Faun's head. "Come, fox-one," I grin, "rise and join me in the dance."

"Burn and curl into your pyre-grave," he hisses back, "and leave be the quiet ones who would watch over the ground you'll rest in!"

I reach forward, hand cupping the underside of his jaw, fingers digging in. He blinks, and deep in those eyes I see a flicker of confusion. He didn't see that one coming. I was too fast. Which means this place must be getting to him more than he realized. Worry ghosts over his face, and then the expression freezes. I almost give us away, then. I almost show my own confusion.

Instinct tells me to go along with him, though, even though I'm risking getting my own throat torn out here. "Saving your servitude until your masters pass is such a waste, Faun-doe." He doesn't actually give under my grip, but his arms go slack just a tad. Good. I know I really didn't do that, but good all the same. "Give your will to the Kings of the Living World, like all good creatures must do."

I blink. There's a hand sliding over my own. Faun's fingers ghost over my knuckles. I feel the oddest sensation in his throat, and realize he's purring. From a creature that looks like a grown man, it's extremely creepy, especially with how his eyes are hooded right now.

'Just think, little one.' I hear Faun's voice between my ears, and see just the tiniest ghost of a fox-grin on his lips. 'He might eat this up so much that you'll do double-time in his bed.' He feels my suppressed revulsion at that. 'Aww, does he hurt you? Frighten you? Don't deny that it still excites you.' The pang of hurt that causes makes him study me a little closer. 'How have you been surviving? You should visit me. I could teach you tricks to turn the dead in their graves, and his bed into one. At the very least, an escape...' He thinks over my own mental objections to that. 'Come to me by your pen, or in your sleep, or both. You need to get away from him. I'm beginning to see his mark on you, and fear it mirroring itself in me. Now, why not end this in a success? I do so love pretending.'

I nod, then back away, sweeping my whip in front of me. It whispers across the floor, stopping in an arc in front of the animism. He looks down at it like a cat stalking a toy on a string. He then looks up at me, almost asking aloud what I intend for him to do with that.

"Kiss it," I say.

His eyebrow raises.

"Kiss it, and maybe this will be over." I don't let it show, but this is making me nervous. I have no idea if Faun feels like doing this. Certainly he's pretended quite a bit already. It's in his best interests, after all.

"Fine, master," he says in a chirrupy voice that might be all sarcasm and no truth at all. He leans down, grinning, eyes up at me, and barely nudges the thing with his nose. "That should be sufficient, yes?"

I narrow my eyes. "A mere kiss? Surely you can manage that."

"Surely I cannot, for I am a dumb animal, unteachable and untrainable."

"Then kiss it the way a vixen kisses her cubs." My grip tightens on the whip, my knuckles standing out white against my skin. Faun observes this. I'm not sure if it's what prompts his next action.

"Oh. A kiss. Such a simple thing." He leans down and licks the whip, then nuzzles it, yellow eyes smiling up at me the whole time. The hairs raise up on the back of my neck as I realize he is pantomiming an entirely different sort of kissing.

I gulp. "Thank-you-that-is-sufficient." My voice is tighter than usual. A little choked. I can't control it - he's doing things to that whip with his mouth that I've seen harems practice on cucumbers.

His chuckle climbs up through the room. "But I'm having fuuuuuuun..." His words roll into a low, easy purr. The action is cut off as I jerk the whip away, then pop it above his head. He jerks back at the motion, one he didn't expect in the middle of his ministrations. He's still grinning despite it, damn him.

"Easy, now." The Peacock King's voice brings me back into the present. "Come out now. Your performance was sufficient."

Even though I didn't want to perform that dance well for him, I glower at the lack of praise in his voice. Faun watches me leave. I remember his request as I exit. You should visit me.

I should. He's the only one that would understand what I've experienced by the Peacock King's hand. He's the only one who can tell me how to escape that hand's reach.

That hand settles behind my waist again, as we depart. Once we're past the point that Faun can hear us, he pats my back. "Better than you think, and quite noteworthy. I only think you could do better, if taught more. And I do so love helping you reach your potential, J'Lotus." There's a growl in his voice I don't like. A...another purr. "I enjoyed watching your show. When did you teach him to do that, J'Lotus? Your private training with him?" That question asks so much of me. Too much. I let it go unanswered, and let him draw his own conclusions. I'm worrying too much, now. I suspect the next turn we take will bring me to his bedroom once again.

The passage reveals itself step by step, turn by slow turn. My brow creases in confusion as everything around me begins to blur. I recognize this place, yes. It's the King's suites. Why is everything so foggy, though? Why are my senses getting so dull?

The King's hand raises, pressing against the back of my neck now. His fingers get their grip around my neck slowly, easing me into the sensation. "Shhh, J-lui-tiss. Just let your senses sleep."

Even though he says that, or especially because he says that, my nerves rise up enough to make me swallow. It's enough to focus my swiftly fading attention back on my neck, and the odd tightness around it.

"Sleep, my darling," he says, and as he snaps his fingers, I do.

At least...I seem to. It's like when he tried to spell me into sleep when he curled around me in his bed. It feels like sleep, but I'm awake through it, and I'm very sure that he doesn't know that. He treats me like someone who can't hear and see him, who won't remember this in the morning.

I remember all of this.

He presses against me with a growl, pushing my body up against the wall and kissing up under my jaw, under the thin leather band around my neck. His hands wander inside of my robes. He's so frustrated. Faun's show must have affected him quite a bit, because he pulls my sleep-walking body into the bed after scraping his teeth against my neck a few times.

There's not much more than the acts of a very greedy person once he's got my body sprawled on the sheets. I don't recall it as a pleasant experience, but it's like something I watched more than participated in. I'm so detached that in a way it almost didn't happen to me at all. Almost.

His hands find my neck after the act, palms pressing up against the skin, fingers stroking the leather band. I hear his nails rake over the collar. I hear him speak strange words, and then there's heat around my neck, and commands that I hear and I don't think I'll obey. I hope I'm correct. I hear him give me the pet-name properly, then. J-lui-tiss. It makes me think of my Uncle, and that thought sends a shiver down my spine.

I should, by all accounts, be doomed now. I've seen slaves that were collared pets. I've spoken with them, even taught them to put on their makeup right, to walk pretty and bow low. They have no choice but to obey their masters. The collar is the physical proof of the bind, but the name itself is the seal. To re-name a person is to bend them, warp them, re-make them. In the case of pet-names, the person becomes the possession of the namer. Usually this takes elaborate ceremonies and great trickery, but for the Peacock King, an expert in puppetry, it is of course a much simpler task.

He's made some mistake, though. I can feel it. My body will follow his commands for now, under the spell of sleeping, but if I fought it, I wonder if that would be the case. That would be foolish, though. Better to let him think I'm his. Better to play his game without him knowing I'm playing. He looks so pleased with himself, now. Just like he was so pleased when he revealed the identity of Gerald's 'wife'. I'd like him to stay pleased, just like that. All haughty and puffed-up and blissfully ignorant of the truth. While he's like that...

...While he's like that, he won't notice what's under my mask, or under Faun's and Gerald's. Under the masks of all of us, including the Armed that Jhe Camden leads.

If it takes convincing him that I'm his happy little puppet to achieve that, then we're in luck - it will be so simple that I could do it while asleep. In fact, I already am.

He releases my body sometime after his additional commands and reinforcements, and no small amount of gloating. I sleep in his bed. Thankfully, sleep does come this time, with no visions of him playing his own role as a servant again.

29 - In Which There Are Tentacles

2009-02-11T21:47:00.000-08:00

I should take a moment to devote completely to Gerald's face right at this moment.

He has an automatic reaction to protest, but he stifles it quickly, leaving his lips in this weird, pursed position. One hand lifts up, then halts as his words do, dying on the vine. His eyes widen considerably.

And see, he could look scared right now, to a casual observer. Possibly angry. Someone could definitely mistake this face for shock. I know the truth, though, because I grew up with Gerald, and despite the rift between us, I know him.

The truth is that for whatever reason, Gerald is trying his absolute hardest at this moment not to laugh in the Peacock King's face.

When Ebrellin-i presented his threat, I was a little confused. I didn't think about Gerald having a wife. I didn't know he had one.

After looking at his face, I'm pretty sure he doesn't.

"I...I'm sorry, what wife?" Gerald apparently agrees with me.

"Oh, don't play games with me." The Peacock King stirs honey into a fresh cup of tea while still grinning like he'd just eaten a canary. "I know who she is." I didn't think it was possible for him to seem more smug. I was...wrong. Very, very wrong.

"I'm not...wait, you do?" Gerald looks very worried, which is his way of stifling how absolutely perplexed he is.

The King chuckles, then sips his tea, eyes hooded. "I know everything I need to know about you, Jhe Gerald. I have her, you know." Gerald does look alarmed by that. I don't blame him. The thought of the Peacock King wrongfully incarcerating some innocent woman, thinking she's Gerald's nonexistent wife...

"I...I'm sorry. I don't believe you." Gerald does speak the absolute truth. Hell, I concur with him. There's no way the Peacock King could possibly have--

"Jhe Jennelcia Akribastes? Oh, yes. She's working in the Mews alongside Jhe Rachella Hawksgard. It's been very cute, you know. How they've tried to hide their real names. How they've tried to make your wife look like a real Armed." Ebrellin-i brushes his fingers to the side, as if he's sweeping dust off of his sleeve.

Gerald swallows, his face pale. I...I understand. I didn't realize, myself. I understand now, though. Who Jenny really was, all this time.

She was just so young when I left home that I didn't recognize her.

"Your deductions are quite...surprising, Your Highness. I...had not realized that Jennelcia was here in Audiva Rocale."

"Ah, but didn't you expect her?" The King's eyes narrow as he aims a penetrating stare at Gerald's eyes. "You did. I can see it in you. You waited for her. Something you originally thought would be a welcome respite from your mission here, perhaps?"

"I...I did know it was possible she would be here during the training...just...not so soon!" Gerald really impresses me. He makes that sound so plaintive, as if he really is frightened for Jenny.

Hell, I'm frightened for the King, as much as he's harmed me. Jenny's my baby sister.

I should note that she once lit my eyebrows on fire while still in swaddling clothes.

Look, she doesn't look like the rest of us. I mean, you can see the resemblance to her father, it's just...well, you've already read how I didn't recognize her until the Peacock King pointed out her name. She...she does look Radian. Just not...

...You know what? I'm going to stop making excuses for the Peacock King now. He's done a poor job of earning them.

I can only hope that Gerald can keep his poker face on for the duration of this conversation.

The King leans forward, so tall and imposing, so damn smug like always. He takes a sip of his tea, that smile never leaving his face. "Well, Jhe Gerald, it seems you have a decision to make. Spurn my offer of gainful employment, or risk the life of your dear heart. Of course, if you decline...I may have no other choice but to dispose of you now. Then, who would ensure her safety? Jhe Briarseal? Jhe Hawksgard?" He chuckles, looking down into his tea at his reflection in it. "...Please. This is my land. They may have the Law, but right here I have the authority that can surpass it. This is my Court, Jhe Gerald. Please do remember that as you make your decision. And please do keep in mind..." He looks up, tossing his hand to the side, to me. "J'Lotus here has had excellent treatment while serving under me, and can tell you no complaints, I am sure."

...Oh damn. I feel my tongue being sealed. But Gerald knows what's really going on. The Peacock King's ruse there is so obvious that it's more a show of power than anything else. I'm growing weary of being the blackboard he draws his lessons on, though. I only nod, my face betraying nothing. Gerald studies my face. It's strange, seeing him look at me so openly, and me being able to return his gaze just as honestly, while the Peacock King watches.

A little frown line appears between Gerald's eyes, and his face gains a cast of determination to it. He's decided. Not only that...but I think he's about to make a bluff bigger than the Peacock King's.

"Alright, Your Grace. You win this gambit. I will do as you ask, as long as your servant Lotus agrees to it, as he seems the type to be interested in an average person's well-being. He has had the compassion to ask for my life to be saved, as it is. I think I can trust him. But," he holds up a finger, "I will only sign my name to an agreement such as you propose if I am allowed to read it in its entirety. And the agreement must state very clearly that I will only serve so long as you swear to give your protection to my wife. Any other wording I will not trust, even if Jhe Lotus pens it."

The Peacock King sits up, appearing very pleased. No, that doesn't begin to describe it. I'm even a little repulsed by his expression. "Very well, Jhe Gerald Akribastes. It will be exactly as you say it." He gestures for me to rise. "J'Lotus? I have quill, parchment and inkwell in the desk in the room you saw me enter to fetch the tea. Please bring them with haste. I'd like to ensure Jhe Jennelcia's protection as quickly as possible, for Jhe Gerald's sake." He nods to Gerald, gesturing to the platter of food on the table. "If you would care to eat? You appear pale, and I am aware of Jhe Cade's poor treatment of those he keeps. After you sign, I can see to your injuries as well." Gerald nods, and like any good Armed, doesn't decline a free meal. I leave to fetch the stationery.

It almost makes me feel a little ill to get the means by which he'll be chained, but I place my hopes in how confident Gerald's eyes were. I think he's on to something, and I can't lose faith in him right when he needs it most.

* * *

The King leans over the table. He's gone through two sheets of parchment already and is well on his way to going through a third. His quill dances across the paper in precise, angled writing. Gerald watches him scribe out the contract as intently as I do.

He finishes the third sheet, then draws three lines at the very bottom. "There, now. I think that should be it." He looks up to my brother. "Jhe Gerald, given the requirements you stated, would you like my servant to read over the contract? That would ensure that the binding clauses do not include anything he would be dismayed for me to impose upon you." Gerald gives a nod. I'm handed the contract, then.

I dry-swallow, then take a sip of my tea. It's so short, for something that could bind a person for life as a slave. I take my time reading it, but surprisingly find nothing that trips my mental alarms. The Peacock King must be genuinely interested in keeping his agreement clean, here.

...No, there's something in the second page, towards the middle. I peer over it for a moment or two. It's ambiguous... "...This might seem silly to quibble over here, but with the wording of this sentence, it's hard to tell whether you mean you'll give him ample food during his stay, or whether he'll be ample food for...uhm...something?" My eyebrows lift and I look up at my King in confusion. "I'm not really sure what goes on in your labs, but I think--"

Ebrellin-i takes the papers from me. "Here, let me clarify that." He says it in such a cheerful voice...but it sounds like he might be a little snippy. "There, does that help you?"

"Ah, yes, that does make things perfectly clear. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." I catch Gerald's expression before I look back down over the papers again. He seems just a bit concerned...and relieved.

It's funny, this is more work than I put into reading my own contract with the Peacock King. Perhaps if I'd gone through the extra effort in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation.

There's still room for the King to squirm with this contract, I see. It could be very bad for Gerald, and I wouldn't agree to let Gerald sign it if I didn't see where Ebrellin-i wrote very clearly, and very specifically, in big bold letters, that it was only binding so long as Gerald's wife was given the Peacock King's protection.

Gerald's wife. Not Jennelcia Akribastes.

"...My King, I think this is fair and equitable. I have no problems with Jhe Gerald signing it, though of course he may think differently. I see nothing in it that could do him great harm." I hand it to Gerald at the King's nod. My brother makes a great show of poring over it, but beyond a few mumbles, he shows no protest to his clauses. Of course he doesn't - he's already had the clause added in that will protect him from the contract binding him at all. He signs it, and then the Peacock King, and I sign as a witness.

The King's eyes flick up to me as I do so. I'm not sure why he double-takes at me then, but he quickly brushes it off.

"Well, then, Jhe Gerald...is anything troubling you about your condition?" Ebrellin-i sees to Gerald's injuries as I clean up the food and tea at the table.

* * *

The Peacock King allows me to look over Gerald's new quarters, even, before letting my brother settle in. He makes a great production of having me witness every little thing that might have to do with Gerald's new life. To what ends, I'm not really sure, but he seems very happy about it. And, most of all, he keeps asking if I'm happy with what's been provided for Gerald.

I say yes, of course. Really, it's not too bad, but I also know that Gerald's not really bound into this. Though, speaking of binding...

"Sire? Will you need to collar him anymore? It might hinder him in his work assisting you. I'm not really sure how it works, to be honest."

"Ah! I'm glad you brought that up!" He raises a hand, then taps the back of Gerald's collar. My brother actually yelps and jumps a little. The King laughs, patting him on the back. "There, there. Calm down, now. Nothing's been done to harm you. I've simply adjusted your restraints. I think you should feel much better now. Come, come. Time is short and you've much to do to earn your side of the contract." He sounds so chipper. Gerald glowers as we follow the Peacock King to a wardrobe that's standing by a pair of ominous steel double doors. He opens it, revealing loose white robes in many sizes. He passes one to each of us. "Slide it over your clothes, like this. It helps keep my labs sterile." He slips one on himself. Over the layers of silk and embroidery, the plain white labcoat looks...silly. Especially with the crown.

He looks very happy, though. Especially when he lets us in, throwing the doors open. "Behold! My work space!"

Ebrellin-i's labs are...well, impressive is a good place to start. Scary was going to be my next word, but they definitely make an impression as well. I...it's an entire side of him I've never seen of him before, yet I have. Everything is precisely positioned and labeled. There is a place for everything and all of it stays in its place. Steel, brass, stone, porcelain and glass surfaces are all immaculately cleaned and polished. I'm really not sure what all of it is for, to be honest. Huge tanks and tubs and hoses and nozzles and test tubes adorn the entire complex of rooms and halls in a maze of rubber tubing and...crockery. He has a tea lab in here, see.

There's...living things down here. At least I think they're alive. They move and they make noise. Ebrellin-i claims he made them himself, though, and has so much pride in that statement that I have to school my reaction to the rows of cages and the strange noises from within very carefully. Gerald...Gerald just looks very pale.

But he has questions. Lots of questions.

"Um...will I have to feed these, Jhe o'Audiva Rocale?"

"You may call me Sire. They feed themselves. They're remarkably intelligent, and you shouldn't listen to them, no matter what pleas they may think up."

"I...alright. Can I have a notepad to write these things down? Your instructions seem to be quite important to my well-being and livelihood."

"Here." The King produces a notepad and a pencil for him. "Don't attempt any Poetry unless I give you advance permission. Your collar won't like that. And while you're writing about these creations of mine, you might as well note that they are excellent mimics and can imitate any voice. Thus the extra note of caution."

Gerald seems happy enough just to have something to write on again. "Do little doodles count? The King says I have previously undiscovered levels of talent deficit in drawing. I don't think I'll do any damage with them."

Ebrellin-i raises a wary eyebrow. "Show me first." Gerald very excitedly leans over the pad as his fingers begin to sketch. I'm...well, I'm dubious.

Gerald's art skills were one of the reasons I was a little confused as to why he'd gone off to the Poet Hall to train. At the time I just figured it was because he was Gerald, and he was frustratingly good at everything that I couldn't do, especially when it came to making Father proud. Now I'm more of the opinion that he was very, very stubborn, and wasn't going to let something like complete lack of talent in art keep him away from his dreams.

Ebrellin-i lets out a horrified little gasp. "And you...Elete trained you personally, Jhe Gerald?" He sounds like he's trying very hard not to regurgitate a mouse.

Gerald just sounds chipper as ever. Perhaps that miniature abomination of a drawing helped him regain his stride. "His Highness the Jhe 'hLogos always makes a point of giving each of his Poets personal instruction, Sire. With me...well, I can't say my focus was in drawing, so...well, he forgives us our flaws. I just still like drawing even if I can't really do it, so I wanted to know if I could have your permission for just this little thing."

The King splays his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "...You may, if you're careful that I don't have to look at them, Jhe Gerald. Forgive me for being so blunt as to say that they are horrid."

Gerald laughs. "Thank you very much, Sire." He flips the page to a fresh one, honoring the request and hiding away the monstrosity. I'm not sure if he's responding to the allowance or the insult. He begins jotting down notes. "So, they mimic voices and are very intelligent. I can't really see them well, in those cages. How far can they reach out?"

The King laughs. "Oh, it varies. Don't test them. To put it discreetly, they provide their own food for themselves and I've never had pest problems in this section of the labs. I'm quite convinced that the two are related. Here, let's move on. You most likely won't be in this section much. I just wanted to inform you of the hazards."

This is all a little beyond me, I'll admit. Science sort of makes me drift. It's just not interesting to me, I can't concentrate. So I wander around a little, poking my nose into a few things that look interesting to me. This big tank is pretty cool, for instance. There's something in there that's like an octopus, but it has three eyes and its tentacles are growing out of a weird kind of sponge. I peer closer to the tank, and then Ebrellin-i yanks me back by my collar before a tentacle can twine around my neck. I blink at the tentacle as it hovers midair, dripping water or...whatever it was swimming in. It sort of winks at me with one of its suckers.

"Sssst!" Ebrellin-i sounds like he's chastising a cat. "Eudora! Keep your hands to yourself!" The thing inside the tank responds by squirting out a cloud of black ink. Ebrellin-i scowls at the thing and gives the tank a sharp rap. "Don't you mouth off to me, young lady. You're just one meat grinder and a sterilization phase away from being kibble." Ebrellin-i brushes imaginary dust off of his sleeve, then clears his throat. "My apologies. I've been meaning to teach her manners but there's just so much to do in a day." He looks over at both of us. Gerald's hands are on my shoulders. He's looking up at the King like he's about to grow four arms and a second head. Whereas I'm perfectly calm, but I think that's because I'm starting to brush off these things about Ebrellin-i as 'just his ways'.

The King steps forward and removes Gerald's hands from my shoulders in the way that he'd probably touch a particularly grisly specimen. Then he checks me over, looking into my eyes as he does. "You're feeling alright, J'Lotus?" His hand rests on my neck, kneading it. I nod. His hand strokes down my back, and I feel Gerald bristle a little. "Good, because she secretes a poisonous gas, and I'd so hate to lose you. Come along now!" And then he escorts us to another area, hand resting at the small of my back. Gerald follows behind and watches every corner of the labs while simultaneously keeping his eyes glued to us. It's like having a chaperon who's also a bodyguard.

Gerald's shown through the part of the labs that the Peacock King will have him work in. It's mostly cleanup work and note-taking. "I feel that having a servant down here who is capable of keeping himself alive will encourage me to do more work here. I'm too easily distracted from these pursuits, especially recently. So I feel this relationship will be mutually beneficial, Jhe Gerald. I do hope that you come to agree with me."

Gerald nods, making his notes. No, he's making another one of his doodles. Strange. It looks almost like me, except that I don't recall having three arms.

...Arms...

As if on cue, Gerald looks up. "Sire? I do have a question for you, if I may inquire."

The King turns to face Gerald. We've arrived outside of Gerald's new quarters. Well, they're more like a cell, but then again how different are my quarters from a cell? The King locks both of us in, just the same. He nods to my brother. "You may."

"I believe you have my Arms." He waits, then realizes he hasn't asked a question. "...Well, do you?"

The King smiles. "You know where they are, Jhedeinuos." Gerald's shoulders stiffen with the use of the proper Court title for Armed. Hell, I've only heard it used a few times in my life. "Do you have an issue you would like addressed?"

Gerald's upper lip twitches as he tries very hard to keep his face straight. I have the unpleasant feeling that Gerald is trying very hard not to kill someone. "Not at this moment, Sire."

"Good. Have a pleasant evening then, Jhe Akribastes, and do please enjoy your stay." My brother stands ramrod-straight, arms flat against his sides, as the Peacock King opens his cell door for him and gestures for him to enter.

It's a few moments before Gerald actually budges, but he walks inside and settles in with no further commentary. The Peacock King nods at him. "Dinner and tea shall arrive shortly. Coffee will be provided in the morning. Good night." I nod at Gerald from behind the King. I'm anxious when the door is closed and my brother is closed off.

The King looks down at me. "Well, then, J'Lotus. Jhe Gerald has earned his rest. Perhaps it's time you earn a little of yours?" His hand presses behind my waist as he guides me out of the labs.

28 - A Generous Offer

2009-02-06T19:59:00.000-08:00

I hear more than I see, at first. I can hear the Peacock King moving around out there. His robes and many layers of sashes and cords make rustling noises as he attends to what sounds like the tea, or some dishes. I hear a voice, then realize it's not his.

Gerald's talking to him.

My blood freezes for a moment, the chill running from my neck all the way down to my spine. I feel the bullet, cold between my fingers. It almost vibrates. I stare at it, at my tiny little reflection in the gold-tinted metal of the round.

I stare at myself and hear Ebrellin-i reply to my brother as tea is poured. Strange, I think. Very strange, as the bullet vibrates again. I'd already poured the tea.

Maybe...maybe that's not tea. My shoulders stiffen.

Is he...is he poisoning my brother?

No. He can't be. That won't happen.

There must be some other explanation. I just have to pretty myself up and get out there and see what's happening. I can't be afraid now. Gerald's facing the King now, and he's in an even worse and more dangerous position than I am. I've got to be out there to support him.

The bullet vibrates again. I narrow my eyes. 'What do you want, Arms? Gerald's out there, as safe as he can be given his company and circumstances.'

'Aye, lad, safer he be now than he could be.'

'But ye, lad, ye are vulnerable, and we must protect ye.'

My eyes narrow, and a fire bristles in my mind. My nose wrinkles the way my sister Stevane's does anytime she sees someone have tea while not dressed for a proper occasion. Arms, helping me? What help have the Armed been to me? Jhe Camden used me and then left me in danger, rather than protect me. If it weren't for the Armed I wouldn't even be here.

'Just as stubborn as Gerald. Ye may have hope yet.'

'Best not to hold we Arms accountable for the actions of mere Armed. They have their flaws, yes. It is good that ye notice.'

'But we, we are pure. We want to protect ye, Lyric.'

I blink. They addressed me by name?

'Don't ever doubt that the Law wants to protect ye, Lyric. Now, do ye want that protection?'

'Do ye, lad?'

I stare ahead. Past the bullet. Perhaps at my Father, wherever he is. Perhaps...just at nothing. '...No.' My hand clenches around the bullet. 'But I want to protect my brother, and I have to stay safe for that. So I accept that protection, even if I may not want it.' I bite my lip. It burns me in my heart to even accept it. I don't quite understand that, but I certainly feel it.

'Aye, we accept that.'

'We accept yer plea, Lyric Akribastes of the Peacock King's Court.'

'Lucky, too, that ye can accept our protection in a way that the Peacock King won't notice. Do ye understand that, Lyric?'

I look down at the floor. Then I look in the mirror. My hair's in disarray. I attend to it while I go on talking with the Arms. '...No, but I think you're going to tell me how anyway.'

'Such a cheeky fellow. Like yer brother, but not enough that we'd bother with shooting ye for it.'

'What we're going to tell ye is really quite easy. Ye've focused on us already to survive the King's mind, yes? To gain focus. That was right smart of ye.'

'The form ye've imagined us in is one that the King himself is quite obsessed with at the moment, and one ye'd be rightfully preoccupied with.'

'So it won't strike him as odd if he were to peek into yer mind and see our bullet there. Ye'd think of it a lot anyway.'

'He doesn't understand the Law, and so he doesn't understand us, neither. He won't understand, by that same token, that you're drawing strength from us, and focus.'

'Most of all he won't ever admit to himself that he might lose to something like ourselves. To something of the law. To what he considers to be a mere bullet.'

'Keep us well, Lyric. If the bullet is taken from ye, ye can always keep it in your mind. He can't stop ye from doing that, and even better, he won't.'

I blink as I pull a brush through my hair. It's really coming out rather well. I will admit, Ebrellin-i has some marvelous shampoo. 'But how will that make the Law protect me?' The bullet flashes hot in my fingers for just a second. I almost drop it.

'Silly lad. But ye're young, and that's more forgivable than willfully ignorant. Ye can call upon the Law directly through the bullet in yer mind. It will shield yer mind from the worst ravages of that flouncing ostrich puppet monarch's powers.'

'It will save yer will.'

'Yer free will, what is yours and no other man's to command.'

'Do ye agree to this? Do ye accept the Law's protection, through us?'

It will protect Gerald, and that's all I could ever hope for, at this point. 'Yes, sirs. Uhm...Arms. I accept your protection as you've offered it and as I understand it.'

'Good lad. Ye've a bit of smudge under yer eye there. Neaten up and then outside with ye.'

'That overblown turkey is hovering too close and too long to our Armed for our liking, and ye'll distract him.'

I pause, touching up my makeup. 'Will...can I still talk to you, even if I don't have the bullet? Can I talk to you through the bullet in my mind?'

'Aye. The object is just an object.'

'The Law is in our voices.'

'And when Gerald fires us, we roar to the heavens.'

I nod, then adjust my sash, then open the door, ready to face whatever lies outside. I'm armed with what I need now.

* * *

Ebrellin-i is seated in his armchair, his back to me as I approach. Gerald is sitting up on the couch, leaning over a cup perched properly in his fingers. Steam wafts up from the cup, and I smell something both acrid and familiar.

...No, not poison.

Gerald looks up. He has the strangest smile on his face. It only betrays about sixty percent of his nerves and almost looks like a full apology. "Why, Jhe Lotus. You're a sight for sore eyes." He pokes at his left eye, where a blackened bruise puffs up all around it. "...Literally." He's still wearing that collar. I see him skirt a glance downward at it, a touch nervous after his last word for some reason.

Ebrellin-i coughs, the sound turning into a chuckle. "Nay, Poet, that collar doesn't restrict something so light as a joke, only true will to change reality. I'm sure one such as you can understand the difference."

Gerald's smile is perfectly innocent. "I've heard our art called a joke one too many times, I suppose." Ebrellin-i's shoulders jerk, as if he's suddenly been caught doing something he knows is wrong. Then he turns to me, and gestures for me to sit.

"J'Lotus. I suppose it's time for proper introductions, is it not? Especially now that Jhe Gerald is acting so much more reasonable." Gerald looks sheepish. "Then again, I suppose that is typical of all Armed once they are offered coffee." Ebrellin-i raises a haughty eyebrow at Gerald, acting reproachful for some reason.

Gerald laughs it off. "Sire, I thought it wise to keep my position as an Armed a secret, seeing that I wasn't appointed here under any authority of the Armed. Bringing more trouble to you, and also to my people, was certainly not my aim. Indeed, it is my goal to facilitate peace wherever I go, as it is with my Armed brethren." He drinks his coffee. His shoulders slump down just a tad. I can't imagine how long it's been since he's had a 'cuppa'. "Also, this is fine coffee you have, Sire."

Ebrellin-i nods. "I'm quite pleased that you fancy it, especially considering that you'll be drinking it for quite a long time." He notices my brother startle, then smirks. "Did you think I was going to let you go, Jhe Akribastes?"

My brother's eyes narrow. I stay perfectly still. I'm afraid that any movement I make might disturb the balance of everything. Like a tower of perfectly balanced paper cranes that could come crashing down if my merest breath brushes it. "...Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. I am in an ill position to say this, but still I urge you to reconsider what it seems you are suggesting."

"I can't let you out of my Palace alive." Ebrellin-i says it as cheerfully as a New Year's greeting. Possibly even moreso. "You've heard too much, know too much, and have been slighted too much. Indeed, if it weren't for my servant's intervention, you'd be in a much less pleasant place right now. But, I do grant my boons where it pleases me, and Jhe Lotus does please me so much." ...Oh no. Gerald's cheeks are flushing red, and it's not from embarrassment. "Would you like me to tell you what lies ahead for you in your life, Jhe Gerald? I do like when people know what to expect, it makes everything else afterwards so orderly and precise."

He blinks. I don't think he can think of anything to say. Maybe his life is passing in front of his eyes. Or maybe that's just myself I'm thinking of.

"My laboratories are past the doors beyond this lovely sitting room. I would like if you stayed in them. I will cordon off exactly where you are allowed, and what activities you will be allowed to participate in. You will be very busy and find that you will learn quite a lot as my assistant."

"...Your assistant."

"Yes, exactly as I said. Such a good Poet! My brother must be proud of you, yes? Now, don't worry. The tasks I have for you aren't mere simpleton's work, and I think you'll find them quite fulfilling and exciting."

"...Tasks for me."

"Just like little Elete! Always keeping up with me. Yes, just like that. Now, I do realize you may need a bit more rest before you can start your work here, which is why I've already had quarters cleaned up for you. They are secure, but very comfortable for a cell. I think you'll agree that you've never been incarcerated in more pleasant accommodations than the ones I'm offering you."

"...You're offering."

"You do seem to pick the more pertinent parts to pay attention to. A useful skill. Yes, a servant's contract does have its nice little compensations, as Jhe Lotus can attest to."

"...Contract." There's something else to his voice, now. A deep chill.

"I think you'll be compelled to sign immediately."

"Oh? Will I?" There's that chill again. Familiar. The skin along my spine is tingling, and I'm not quite sure what it is...

Ebrellin-i leans forward, his hands clasped in his lap. "I've trumped you. Trapped you. Checkmated. Whatever word your King might find suits this situation best, hmm? I want you to sign the contract. I would not present the option, however, unless I was sure that I could make you do as I wished."

"Oh? And what is your leverage, Jhe o'Audiva Rocale?" Frost should be limning the rim of his cup, Gerald's voice is so chilly. I realize I recognize that voice, now. If I closed my eyes I would swear my Father was in this room.

The King's smile grows so wide that it might split his face if it continued. "Your wife."