Brent Stinebaker
patreon
II-39Off to See the Bastard (II)
🕑 Added 2024-12-21 17:56:48 +0000 UTCSometimes, an enemy is but an ally yet to be.
-Old Evernest Proverb
II-39
Off to See the Bastard (II)
“So, you are William’s boy,” the Collectress said. Her voice was like a series of chimes, each bell more delightful than the last.
Wei was on guard now. He had no idea what Siren’s Allure was, but if his Enlightenment failed to resist it, he could already be mentally affected. He didn’t feel any essence seeping out of her, nothing twisting his mind or bending his will. Wei sent a message to his companions, asking if they also experienced something similar.
Agnesia turned to him, eyes widening. “Yes, but I don’t feel anything. I don’t know what she’s done to us.”
Rafael lightened their ignorance. “This is a slight persuasion skill. It is not meant to control another’s mind. It is simply here to make you more positively inclined to the speaker. I suspect it is an Invocation as well. A natural one granted to one who has evolved into the Incubus race.”
Wei squinted at the Collectress. Was that all it was? After fighting so many adversaries that struck at his sanity, Wei was more than a little suspicious. He decided to play things bold and confront the Collectress directly.
“I’m flattered that you thought it necessary to use such a Skill on me,” Wei said, his voice flat. “Siren’s Allure, is it?”
“Ah. Yes. Unfortunately, that is an Invocation comes with my current race.” She let out a quiet sigh, though it never sounded entirely genuine. “When one becomes an incubus, their very words pluck at someone else’s mind. Makes you like them more.” Her gaze turned to the old man, sharp and cutting. “Isn’t that right, old enemy?”
The Old Man gave her a mocking smirk. “Is it? Didn’t seem to ever work on me.”
“That’s because you are a miserable old creature,” the Collectress retorted. “Devoid of love, lust, or anything else but the desire to plant your haunches on a larger, more ridiculous throne.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping a pitch. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
The Count of Pride’s smirk widened, undeterred. “Oh, I won’t.” He straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. “First, let us both express our congratulations to you, Wei. Killing Count Many-wed? Now that’s really something. She turned the Bloodgrounds into a fucking series of craters, but it still wasn’t enough. Like watching an idiot try to kill a wasp with a sledgehammer.”
He chuckled, and Wei noticed a subtle fluctuation in the twin flames etched into the Count’s pauldrons. Compared to Many-wed, the Old Man’s presence was slightly stronger, but what drew Wei’s attention more was the COunt of Pride’s control.
Wei’s focus sharpened, his Omniscience probing the Count, learning and gleaning what he could. Even as his Enlightenment strained, Wei felt the intricate flows of Essence passing to and fro across the Old Man’s spirit.
Enlightenment > 56
Omniscience > 59
[59/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
“I’ll have you know,” the Old Man began, “that killing her pleased more than just us? Why, the Countess of Envy has been a problem for years. Turns out, you don’t end up very popular when you snatch boys from their parents.”
“And here I thought I was in hell,” Wei quipped, hiding his insult behind a jest. “How very vulnerable of you.”
“We are in hell,” the Count replied dryly. “But still, call it love, call it possessiveness, call it basic decency—taking something that belongs to someone else? Now that’s a statement one simply cannot accept lying down.”
Wei turned his attention to Collectress. “I’m surprised you were offended as well.”
“Oh, I see you misunderstand.” She gestured toward the Bastard standing silently beside her. “I strike arrangements. I collect people. I do not own them. They’re here of their own volition, have given themselves to me because I can provide for them. Because I can give them what they want. Or save those they can’t.”
Her voice dropped an octave, and Wei felt a shiver crawl up his spine due to her Siren’s Allure. Once more, he turned his attention to the Bastard. The man’s face was stone-cold, carved out of granite. Within his eyes shone a glint of coldness—a coldness one might find on a barren moon, absolutely devoid of life. Yet there was something else, buried deeper: a spark of desperation and sorrow.
Suddenly, Wei felt bad for the man, though he couldn’t quite tell why.
“All right,” the Count said, clapping his hands together. “I’m going to get to the chase here. I and the Collectress… well, we want to make our intentions known. We want you in our Circles. She, more of her stable of monsters and whores.”
“I do not collect monsters or whores, Old Fool. Merely the desperate and precious.”
Wei raised a brow.
“Of course,” the Count continued, “Since it was one of mine that found you first, I think my wants should take priority. And with what I’ve heard down the grapevine, you’re on the out-and-outs with the Inheritors.”
“Out-and-outs?” Wei tested the phrase. There was a great deal of strange colloquialisms in this place. “Yes, if that’s your reference to John Bishop’s assassination attempt on me.”
“So that’s true.” The Old Man slouching. He shared a glance with the Collectress. Her eyes narrowed, and a hum of pleasure rattled in her throat.
“To think they would do something so brazen,” she mused.
“I did break my father,” Wei said. “Took him as a karmic slave. His old friend took offense to that. Though his attempt was… insulting sloppy.”
At that, the Old Man chuckled. “You know what? I’m going to call bullshit on that. Show me. Show me William Yu. Let me see if that rat bastard finally got what was coming to him.”
Wei hesitated and turned his attention to Mulver. “Didn’t you tell him?”
“I did,” Mulver said, shrugging. “But, well, seeing is believing and all that. That, and I told you: lots of people want to see William Yu hang.”
The young master’s hesitation deepened. They clearly just wanted to face his father, but for what reason, he couldn’t be sure. According to Bishop, his father had done a great deal of work in the Circles, operating for Envy, Lust, and even the Dying Queen before the Inheritors. That made any request to see William suspicious.
He couldn’t shake the concern that William might still have contacts within the Circles—people willing to break him out. Or worse, someone might try to kill him, depriving Wei of his coveted revenge.
But we could use this, the Shell whispered in the back of his mind. Our hate, our unfulfilled bloodlust, is nothing compared to the opportunity before us. What point is there to hiding him away when we can use him to lure the elites of this realm closer to us.
Wei sighed. Then, against his reluctance, he reached into his Inventory.
A burst of spatial essence announced William’s arrival. The man stumbled out, blinking rapidly as his disorientation cleared. His eyes landed on Wei for a moment, then shifted to the Count and the Collectress. A longer sigh escaped him.
“Great,” William said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks. A little forewarning next time would be helpful, Wei.”
Wei only glared in response. The fact the man still spoke to him so casually was more than offense. “Never address me without my allowance.”
A jolt of Essence pulsed through them, and William grunted with discomfort.
“Well, well, well,” the Old Man said, striding toward William. Taller by half a head, he grinned with exuberance as he met unimpressed William’s gaze. “I don’t know if I want to break your neck or shake your hand. It’s only because of you I managed to get a promotion those years back. But it’s also because of you, I’m short a brother.”
William shrugged. “Well, if your brother had hired proper security when I was contracting for him, maybe I wouldn’t have killed him so easily. Bad to see you again, Nelson. See you’re still going with the withered old man act.”
There was a flash of something across the Old Man’s face—anger, perhaps, or grudging amusement.
“Ah, there’s that winning personality,” the Count of Pride said. “It’s been bad to see you, William. Glad someone finally put a leash on you. Just didn’t expect it to be your own son.”
William’s focus shifted, sliding off the old man like oil. His gaze settled on the Collectress.
“You,” he said, stunned. “You’re still alive? How? I killed you.”
“Contrary,” the Collectress replied smoothly. “Your attempt came close, but it also became my impetus to cut ties with the Dying Queen.”
“What?” Wei asked, his attention snapping to her. Ellena and Agnesia responded similarly. “You were—”
“I was embraced against my will,” the Collectress said. “Strange fortune. The wound your father dealt me ensured my liberation. I suppose I owe him a debt. But… my soul still aches sometimes. Quite unpleasant.” She looked William up and down. “I would be willing to offer you a substantial amount of Sins—”
“No!” Wei’s outburst caught even him by surprise.
His father turned sharply, his eyes widening in shock. Wei refused to meet his gaze. It wasn’t about him. It was about honor. It was about a debt that was owed to Wei—owed to the Drowned Sky Sect.
“He is mine,” Wei said, his voice filled with steel and loathing. “He is mine now, forever, and until the stars turn to dust, he is mine. Whatever wrong, whatever affront he inflicted upon you, it pales in comparison to what he has taken from me.”
Wei’s Pale Fang materialized, tearing into existence like a scar splitting across the fabric of reality. The Old Man flinched back instinctively, while the Collectress leaned closer, her eyes alight with fascination. Death’s Bastard moved in response, his own blade partially drawn, standing just across from Wei. Only the raised hand of his mistress kept the situation from erupting into violence.
Wei regarded the Bastard briefly, then let out a slow breath through his nose. Then, his awareness turned to the Bastard’s blade. There was something there… something more than just Essence…
Wei’s voice turned cold as he planted his Eidolon into the ground. “Let this be a declaration of my intent. There is no amount of money, no amount of artifacts, no amount of power, privilege, or pleasure you can offer me that will have me surrender him. He is mine, and I will use him until there is nothing left to use.”
“Fucking touching,” William muttered bitterly.
“Okay, okay,” the Count of Pride said, holding his hands up defensively. “I hear you. Hell, kid, it was just a joke.”
“Not to me,” Wei said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “Never to me.”
“Whatever the case may be,” Ellena said suddenly, her voice slicing through the tension, “it seems that William Yu has harmed a great many people. On this, I believe a foundation of mutual accord can be established.”
The Collectress studied Ellena with a curious glint in her eye, then gave a slow nod. “You are the former queen of Dawnrest.”
“That I am,” Ellena replied evenly. “It is a pleasure to be in your presence, oh great Mistress of Hell.”
The Collectress allowed a faint smile to curve her lips. “My condolences for your kingdom. It is an ill thing to be consumed by the Dying Queen. I speak from personal experience.”
If Eleanor felt discomfort at the Collectress’s words, she gave no indication. Instead, she inclined her head graciously. “I take your words to heart, and thank you for your concern.” She turned her attention to the Count next. “Furthermore,” she continued, her voice steady, “I must profess my sincerest thanks—and the thanks of all my sect—for this opportunity to participate in the gala. For so long, we have strived and struggled through the Moongraves, and now it is as though a breath of fresh air has been bestowed upon us. I thank you personally, Count.”
The Old Man cocked his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at that. Decorum, decency, and a proper lady. Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”
The Collectress shot him a pointed side-eye. “Come now, old friend. We both know you have no interest in proper ladies—or ladies in general.”
There were layers of meaning traded in their words that Wei didn’t fully grasp.
“She means he’s perpetually celibate,” Bishop murmured in Wei’s mind, ever uninvited but always present. “He’s, uh… he’s a eunuch. Always was. Happened back when he was just a Sinner-Thrall.”
Wei winced internally.
“So,” the Old Man said, his tone casual yet charged with intent, “pleasant as this conversation has been thus far, I think it’s time we get down to proper business.”
With a snap of his fingers, the room shifted.
It was as if a tidal wave of gold swept through the space, washing over every surface and reshaping their surroundings. Thrones emerged from the ground—one for every person in the room. Beneath the waves of gold, workers appeared: countless little demons and humanoid figures scuttling about, carrying trays of food, ferrying jugs of amber-hued wine.
The suddenness of the transformation was dizzying, disorienting. Their signatures were all weak, none rising above Lv. 25.
Wei’s Omniscience spread through the space instinctively, like ripples on the surface of a pond. Beneath the shimmering “waters” of the room, he saw another realm—another dimension—composed of narrow, labyrinthine passages. For a moment, he glimpsed its depths, but with another ripple of the old man’s power, it was gone.
The black, white, and gold tiles of the throne room reasserted themselves as if nothing had changed. The casual display of such overwhelming power was sobering. For all of Wei’s skill, for all of his enlightenment, he was still far from the apex. This was effortless for the old man—something Wei couldn’t yet hope to comprehend.
“The reason I called you here beforehand is simple,” the Old Man said, leaning forward slightly. “I think we can help each other. All of us.” He gestured between himself, the Collectress, and Wei.
Wei said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“Right now, the Circle of Pride has their own so-called champion running for Hell’s Vanguard. Queen Antoinette. They have an arrangement with Gluttony too. She’s a vapid bitch, and I’m not going to mince words, more likely going to screw us over when she gets a better offer from another Circle.”
“The problem is,” the Old Man went on, “she’s the favorite candidate of a certain Duke whose name I won’t bother to mention. And because of that… well, I can’t overstep my bounds, if you understand what I mean.”
Wei did understand. It was a sobering thought, realizing even someone like the old man had superior. Hierarchy was the structure of all things, even in hell.
Sitting back on his throne, the Count’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Said champion’s going to be making an appearance at the gala, alongside the Duke. However,” his grin widened, “I’ve heard on good authority that this Duke has also expressed interest in a certain… up-and-comer.” He turned his gaze to Wei, his meaning all too clear. “Someone who apparently made it through a Hearted Realm all by their lonesome. Ostensibly.”
“Ostensibly,” Wei echoed softly, his tone neutral.
The Count chuckled. “So, you’ve caught on. Yes, Wei. I wish for you to be that up-and-comer. Someone who can tip the scales.”
Wei’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So, you wish to use me as a tool to shame your Circle’s champion.”
“I wish for you to help us,” the Count said, spreading his hands wide as if the distinction was obvious.“To help put us out of our misery: Mary Antoinette,” the Count of Lust declared, his voice heavy with disdain. “She was a twit in her life, and she’s going to be a twit now. She’s not going to outperform any of the other champions, including this one.” He gestured toward Death’s Bastard with a casual wave of his hand.
The Bastard didn’t react, his cold, lifeless eyes fixed forward.
“And so,” the Count continued, “before the Circle of Pride can be rendered the Circle of a Laughingstock, I think we have a unique opportunity here—to trade her out for someone more deserving.”
His gaze locked onto Wei, sharp and unrelenting.
William let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, more deserving. You’re just pushing him into the firing line. Circle politics bullshit never changes.”
The Count’s attention shifted to William, his expression souring. “Wei, do you often let your dog talk for you?”
“Father,” Wei said coldly, his voice sharp as a blade, “be quiet.”
William fell silent, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint, rebellious sneer.
The Count shifted his focus back to Wei, his demeanor softening as if brushing aside the brief interruption. “Now, I won’t do you the indignity of asking you to join my Circle,” he said smoothly. “Even though we both know that’s exactly what I’m aiming for.” His smile was one of jagged teeth. “But I will say this: if you knock Antoinette off, she’ll be out of the running. Off the board entirely. All her significance will be transferred to you, and your name will spread further.”
Wei remained silent, his expression unreadable.
The Count let the moment hang before continuing, his voice taking on a new, measured tone. “This leads to the part with the Collectress,” he said, glancing toward her. “I wish to make a gambit with you. A gamble”
Wei’s gaze flicked to the Collectress. “What kind of gambit?”
The Collectress’s golden eyes gleamed as she turned her attention fully to him. Her finger rose, pointing toward Agnesia, who stood at Wei’s side. “I see you in the arena. I can sense that you are… unslaked. Yearning for more prominence. I can help you reach a new level of prominence. I can give you better fights. Including one, you might be vying for already.”
Wei briefly met the Bastard’s gaze and saw—a warning.
“But. In exchange. The price I demand you bid, is her.” The Collectress pointed one of her many arms at Agnesia. The girl straighted in defiance, and a flicker of her draconic avatar materialized.
At this, Eleanor straightened, her regal composure hardening into steel. “No,” Eleanor said sharply, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “The answer is no.”
The Collectress’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not lose her composure. Eleanor continued, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “My daughter is all I have left. I will see that she remains that way.”
The Collectress folded her six hands in front of her, tilting her head with a faint smile. “Do not misunderstand me,” she said. “I do not intend to pawn her off like some common whore, nor do I wish to use her for some pointless war.” Her tone was smooth, unbothered. “I want her for the same reason I keep Death’s Bastard.”
Wei’s gaze flickered toward the Bastard. The man remained as still and cold as ever, his presence a looming reminder of the Collectress’s strength.
“She is a Scion, is she not?” the Collectress continued, her tone almost reverent. “Purest blood of Ignium. I collect Scions. That is why I earned my name. That is what drives me now, after my liberation.”
“And why do you want Scions?” Wei asked, his voice low but direct.
The Collectress’s gaze sharpened, a fire burning in her golden eyes. “Because,” she said, her words deliberate, “within their bloodlines might be the means to see the Dying Queen dead.”
The room fell deathly silent.
Comments
Shlarkupik
He said it! He said the line! He said ostensibly!
Brent Stinebaker
Apologies for taking so long. I feel a bit off today.
