IrateRapScallion
patreon
Chapter 54
🕑 Added 2018-12-10 00:53:56 +0000 UTC“...really, you must try it some time. It is absolutely delightful! Kokovan is a master of his craft whose ability to express the true nature of Astrontic Enlightenment is unparalleled. The choreography alone is a work of genius.”
“I see,” Tehlmar replied, trying to seem as interested as he could—a task was far harder than it seemed. He willed himself to smile and nod as the petite woman gabbed on and on about Petruvian dance recitals, his spirit shriveling up more and more with each passing moment.
“My family will be hosting the Nema Song Troupe for a performance at our villa six days from now. They’re one of the best in all the lands, you know, and I’ve personally requested that they perform Kokovan’s ‘The Lament of the Drali Clan Across Three Generations’. I would be ever so delighted if you were to attend. I can’t think of a better way for you to experience such art for the first time.”
“It sounds quite entertaining, but I am not sure of my availability just yet. I’ll have to speak with my attendants and get back to you soon. It was lovely meeting you.”
“Likewise,” the dainty woman replied, executing a flawless curtsy, a subtle excuse for her to provide him with a better view of her assets down her low-cut bodice. Tehlmar couldn’t help but feel respect for her boldness, but he felt little else at the sight. “I hope to see you again soon, my prince.”
Tehlmar replied only with a smile, one that vanished the moment she was out the door and out of earshot. As soon as he felt safe to do so, he flumped down a nearby sofa in the least elegant manner possible and lean back against the soft cushions with exhaustion.
“What do you think?” Artiermius asked, standing in the doorway. “A marriage with the young lady of the Remesa Clan would tie the Esmae and the Remesa clans together, giving your family access to their entire manufacturing enterprise while allowing them greater opportunity in our lands. An advantageous arrangement for all sides. Not too mention that she is one of the fairest, most desired women in all the land.”
“She was better than the last few,” Tehlmar lied. He felt no interest towards the woman, nor with any of the other eligible potential courtship targets he’d met over the last few days. He just couldn’t connect with them in any meaningful way. Their values, worldview, and tastes seemed foreign and inscrutable, as if they were from a completely different world than him. Actually, he mused, that wasn’t the case—he felt he understood Sofie, a girl literally from a different world, more than he did noble girls his age in his own country.
Now that he was a prince again, everybody wanted him to participate in high society, regardless of his actual inclinations; in fact, his father directly demanded that he do so. Tehlmar hated every moment of it. As far as he was concerned, “high society” was a disease wealthy nobles contracted from a combination of too much money and too much free time.
“Your father expects you to begin courtship by the turn of the season,” Artiermius reminded him. “You are running out of time.”
“What if I don’t want any of them?”
“That is not an option. Your father was quite clear, you may recall.”
“I know, I know,” Tehlmar grumbled. He yawned and stretched out his arms. “Well, all this conversation has left me worn out. I think I will go to bed early today.”
“If you insist, my Prince. I will see you tomorrow morning.”
Tehlmar retired to his bedchambers in a grave mood. In a strange way, he felt something similar to how he’d felt while on the run from the bounty, where a constant sense of oppressive, foreboding doom weighed down his spirit. But now, he somehow felt even more hopeless than he’d felt then. Back then, he’d been surrounded by enemies that he could fight, kill, and escape. Now, instead of people, he was penned in by societal expectation and the burden of a prince’s reputation. No amount of blades could slay the fact that he was expected by everybody to take a wife within the next few years. He could feel the trap that was Drayhadan high society slowly closing in around him, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
A series of taps in a specific pattern against his bedroom window broke him from his thoughts. He knew that pattern, was intimately familiar with it in fact. Rushing to the window, he opened it in a hurry and a small, lithe man slipped through the opening.
“Did you find-”
“Yes. We have located the woman you asked for.”
“Where is she?”
“She is in Crirada, fighting on the wall against the Ubrans.”
Tehlmar’s went cold at the man’s words.
“I see,” he managed to say after a moment. “I am indebted to the Battalion for your assistance.”
“Once a Mask, always a Mask,” the man replied. “Having one of the four ruling clans be supportive of the Battalion will greatly benefit the organization. Just remember, you are still guilty of your crimes. Should you become unable to provide us the support we seek, our leniency and support will end and you will have to pay for ignoring Command’s orders all those years.”
“I am well aware of that, thank you. You should leave before you are discovered.”
“If you need us again, you know how to find us.”
The man slipped back out the window and disappeared into the night.
Tehlmar laid down on his bed, his mind numb. Crirada. Why did it have to be Crirada? He had just wanted to know that she’d survived, that she was okay. That’s all. He’d wanted to know that so he could feel some sort of closure and close the book on that period of his life. He needed to move on, and he’d believed that as long as he knew that she was out of trouble he’d be able to do that.
But she wasn’t out of trouble. Of course she wasn’t. This was Arlette, the foolish woman who, while always talking about staying out of trouble, always somehow seemed to get herself into sticky situations anyway. Maybe it was her sense of justice, or her empathy for the weak and suffering. But that didn’t explain why she’d be in Crirada of all places. What was she thinking, walking into that place?!
He sighed. In the end, it didn’t really matter why she was there. What mattered was that she was in danger, but for the first time in years, he wasn’t there to help get her out of it. The thought made him sick. Even though Crirada had heartier defenses than other cities, it wouldn’t hold for long against the Ubran juggernaut. They’d sweep over the city, cutting down any and all resistance... including her.
He wasn’t going to get any sleep this night, he could already tell. The worry was enough to make his gut roil and his chest seize up. What a fool he’d been reaching out to the Masked Battalion to check on her. He’d wanted to finally put her away, but now instead Arlette Demirt was all he could think about.
* * *
The vekkel bucked slightly as Tehlmar brought it to a halt on the grassy hill. Escaping from the palace undetected in the pre-dawn morning posed little trouble for somebody with his training. He’d done it multiple times already, sometimes to contact the Masked Battalion but mostly just when he felt the urge to get out of that place for a little while.
His father had deployed extra guards at night ever since Tehlmar’s return to Drayhadal with the justification that he needed to be protected from enemies of the clan that might try to take him out. This was bullshit, of course. The guards were there to keep him in, not to keep others out. They didn’t work. His father and the others didn’t fully understand that the Battalion did more than train in the ability to body shift, and the Battalion liked it that way. They taught their members many things, but sneaking was particularly emphasized.
Today, Tehlmar was not in a gambling hall, or in a hidden back room talking to another Mask, or decompressing on a secluded rooftop. Today, he had traveled south and east of the city to talk to one specific person whom he’d never thought he’d ever want to talk to again. That was, of course, assuming she would talk to him either after the last time.
The rising sun lit up the hills ahead in a beautiful orange. Far ahead, he could make out a group of guards a few hills over heading towards a nearby town, the night-shift soldiers on their way towards a well-deserved rest. Good, that would make this less complicated.
Dismounting from the “borrowed” vekkel, Tehlmar lowered himself to the ground and slowly made his way towards where he knew the house to be. The first rule of breaking in somewhere was to know where the guards were. Two hills later, he discretely peeked around a rock and surveyed the day-shift guard placements and rotations. What he saw dismayed him. There had to be at least a dozen guards, likely strong and good ones, surrounding the house in very close proximity. Sneaking into the place undetected seemed incredibly unlikely at this point. Time for Plan B.
Tehlmar scurried back to the vekkel and did his best to clean off the dirt and grass he’d gotten on his outfit. He’d wanted to get inside without any of the guards finding out, as while he figured he could convince the Earth woman to keep the fact of their conversation private, he knew that the guards would report to his sister and father about his arrival immediately. That seemed no longer possible, so instead, it was time to take the opposite tack and lean on the privilege of power and status. Remounting his vekkel, Tehlmar approached the house a second time.
The nearest guards stiffened as he approached; if they didn’t recognize his face, they surely recognized his outfit. Doing his best to project a haughty attitude, Tehlmar dismounted and faced the nearby guards, all five of them having converged into a small group in front of him. “I have come to visit the Mother of Nightmares,” he declared.
Several of the guards swallowed, while others looked towards one of the men. That man took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Your Greatness, but we cannot allow you to pass.”
“Oh really, now?” Tehlmar asked. He’d expected as much but decided to play it up as a surprise. “You dare to block your prince?”
“O-our orders are very clear that you in particular are not allowed to enter, sir.”
Tehlmar frowned. “Well, it seems that you have a problem on your hands. I am going to speak with the woman inside, and I am not going to take no for an answer. If you let me through, you will be violating your orders, a serious offense. However, if you do follow your orders, you will make me very angry, and I can assure you that you do not want that.” Seeing the assembled guards blanch, he smiled reassuringly. “Fortunately, I have a solution that will work for the both of us. I’m going to beat you up.”
The guards all stared at him, puzzled. “...Your Greatness?” the leader asked.
“You followed your orders to the letter and tried your best to stop me, really, but I was just too strong! It really wasn’t your fault that I met the Mother of Nightmares at all. It was Pyria’s, for not stationing enough guards to stop me properly.”
“My Prince! We could never attack a member of the royal family!”
“Oh, don’t worry, it was all self-defense! I attacked first, you see, and, being the barbarian-tainted cur that I am, it was impossible to get me to listen to reason, though you tried as much as you could.” Tehlmar pulled a small knife from beneath his clothes and used it to quickly and casually make a small but deep cut on both of this palms. He smiled again as blood welled up in each hand. “Do try to make it look convincing, won’t you?”
Without waiting for a response, Tehlmar burst forward, dashing up to the leader in a fraction of a moment. He held out his left hand as blood flowed from his palm like a river, forming in just a fraction of a moment into a sphere the size of his fist. The sphere shot forward with astounding speed, driven by a thin column of blood connecting the sphere to his hand. The blood ball, now suddenly solid as a rock, slammed into the unsuspecting guard’s torso just below the ribs. The man crumpled over in pain from the powerful blow. Meanwhile, a red, liquid whip shot out of his right hand, wrapping around another guard’s neck and jerking him into the guard next to him, slamming their heads together. Both of them went limp as they knocked each other out.
The primary technique taught in the Masked Battalion was a secret technique called “body shifting”. Once mastered, it allowed the user to alter not just the appearance but the very makeup of their bodies and maintain it for an indefinite amount of time, even years or decades. However, there were limits. One was that, while in the new form, the user could only wield Feeler-type abilities—any Observer-type abilities were lost. The other was that if one held a transformation for years at a time, as most every Mask had to do, they would be unable to body shift significantly once the transformation was undone. It was as if their body seemed to resist the change.
There was, however, one part of the body that those who had returned to their original form could still command, likely because of it’s amorphous, liquid nature: the blood. The use of one’s blood for combat was taught to all Masks who assumed another identity. By controlling their blood outside of their own body, using it to form weapons and anything else they needed at the moment, a Mask could become a deadly force. Today, however, the only blood Tehlmar desired to spill was his own.
Only two of the five guards remained, both on the left. The pair reacted simultaneously, raising their weapons and stepping forward. Tehlmar turned towards them, the tip of the whip in his right hand solidifying into a thin, sharp spike and skewering through the man on the right’s foot and implanting into the ground below. The man tripped and fell on his face, his ankle twisting unnaturally. Meanwhile, Tehlmar brought his left hand up, the ball shifting into a rod and blocking the other woman’s oncoming sword. Suddenly his rod came alive, wrapping around her sword and pulling her closer, where he delivered a vicious kick to her abdomen, followed by a quick blow to the head. He followed up with another quick blow to the prone guard’s head as well.
The whistling sound approaching made him look up and see an arrow streaking in his general direction... though it struck the ground a good eight paces from him. It seemed other seven guards were on their way towards him. Tehlmar dashed towards the archer, shaping his right-hand blood into the shape of a paddle and smacking aside a notably-weak ball of ice. He smirked. If only all his opponents were as afraid to hurt him as these guards.
Blood shaping had many strengths—speed, adaptability, strength, surprise—but there were two large weaknesses as well. One was that his blood had to maintain a connection to the inside of his body through a cut at all times. He couldn’t shoot it out like a projectile, spray it onto people and control it, or anything like that. If any of the blood was separated from him, he would lose his ability to control that blood permanently. Blood shifting was a Feeler ability, after all. It relied on one’s ability to control their own body. In a way, it was like his blood was an extra arm, and a Feeler couldn’t control an arm that had been severed. This sadly meant that while Tehlmar was a force to be reckoned with close up, he was limited at range to blocking and deflecting incoming attacks. He needed to close the distance if he wanted to finish this.
As the distance between them swiftly shrank, the archer let loose a second arrow, one much more on the mark than the last. A crimson shield formed in front of Tehlmar and the arrow struck it instead, sinking about a quarter of its length into the pseudo-solid barrier. Tehlmar lashed out with both hands this time, his left-hand blood wrapping around the archer’s torso like a rope and pulling her in while his right-hand blood hooking her head and neck and pulling it toward his rising right palm. The base of his palm rammed upward into the archer’s jaw and she dropped like a rock.
Another ball of ice whipped toward him along with a fireball. Tehlmar quickly rolled to the side and looked around, surveying the scene. Six more to go, with three of them charging across the hill at him from different directions while the other three hurled projectiles at him from... all the way over there.
It was times like this when he wished he was still Jaquet. He’d earned the nickname “Jaquet the Quick” for a reason. His powerful legs would have gotten him over to those Observers faster than one could say “I don’t have time for this shit”. But he wasn’t Jaquet anymore, and would never be again. Those days were over and he had to accept thathe was regular old Tehlmar now. He still could enhance his speed and strength in original form, but only to a diminished degree. He sighed and took off towards the Observers, moving as quickly as his non-Jaquet legs could carry him.
* * *
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Tehlmar said to the unconscious bodies littering the hill. The latter half of the guards hadn’t posed any more challenge than the first. Not that any of them were bad, per se, but they’d been forced to fight with one hand behind their back, or perhaps two hands honestly. Still, it was good that they’d been unable to put up a real fight. His head pounded and his vision was getting fuzzy.
That was the second of blood shaping’s two big weaknesses: the blood had to come from somewhere. The longer he used his powers, the harder it was on his body. Eventually, the lack of blood available would start to impact his brain and he’d pass out. It was a technique more meant for quick skirmishes in dark alleys or a surprise to escape from a dire predicament, not long, pitched battles.
This long, pitched “battle” had come to an end, and wooziness aside, Tehlmar felt a bit refreshed. It felt good to let out some of the frustration and stress that had been building constantly inside him since his return to his family. He rolled his shoulders and headed up to the house, pushing the front door open.
Tehlmar heard a young female voice squeak as the door opened and he caught a quick glimpse of somebody ducking around a corner. Curious, he rounded the corner herself and saw a fairly young elf maiden, a quite attractive one by normal elven standards, cowering behind a cupboard down the hall. Strange, he didn’t remember seeing her the other time he was here.
“I do believe I was quite clear that you were not welcome here,” a stern voice said from a nearby room. “Vura, please go make sure everybody outside is alright, would you dear?”
“Y-yes madam,” the young woman said. Eager to be away from him, she turned and ran the other direction. He heard a door to the outside open and quickly close again.
“Why are you here?” the Mother of Nightmares asked icily.
Tehlmar approached the nearby room and stood in the doorway. The old lady sat in the same chair she’d been in the last time beside a crackling fire. “I need advice,” he said.
There was a pause, followed by a series of dry, raspy laughs. “Advice from me? Did you not say you would never be coming back here?”
“You’re the only person I can talk to who isn’t a subject of my family. I need a more... unbiased perspective, from somebody who has experienced life.”
“Regardless, I am in no mood to do you any favors. Leave.”
“I did not come here to ask for favors. I will pay. And before you say that you don’t need money, I mean to pay with information.”
“What sort of information?”
“I know things that Pyria does not. Things that are relevant to you.”
There was a pause. “Come in before I change my mind.”
Tehlmar entered the room, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in the chair across from the old woman. The Mother of Nightmares glared back at him, displeasure in her eyes.
“Tell me your information, and I will decide if it is enough,” she said.
Tehlmar frowned. This wasn’t how he wanted things to go, but he wasn’t sure what other options he had anymore. After a moment, he spoke. “You aren’t alone. There are others from Earth here in Scyria.”
The old woman’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I traveled with one for a period, a young woman named Sofie who claimed to be from a place called ‘Belgium’. It’s very likely that there are others as well.”
“My, I never thought I would hear somebody say something like ‘Belgium’ ever again. So I’m not alone. That’s very interesting... but not enough.”
“What?! But-”
“What am I supposed to do with this new knowledge? Go out and find these people myself? I’m far too old for an adventure. If anything, this is something that you should be telling your sister, not me. Now leave.”
“W-what, uh, what if I told you something else?” Tehlmar pleaded. “Please, is there nothing I can tell you that would change your mind?”
“Hmmmmmm...” the dastardly old bat hummed, “there is one thing. Tell me why you hate your sister so greatly.”
Tehlmar eyes went hard. “That is not for outsiders to know.”
“Well, that is my price.”
“Hmph,” he snorted derisively, “you put on an act, but deep down you’re no better than the old crones who gossip by the well.”
The Mother of Nightmares chuckled. “You’re right. Gossip is better than food for an ‘old crone’ like myself. It’s all we old people have left to do, after all. Now will you share your secret with me or will you leave?”
“...if I tell you, it is not to leave this room.”
“I will tell no one. You have my word on my honor.”
Tehlmar took a deep breath. “Do you know much about Drayhadal?”
“No.”
“Drayhadal as a country is incredibly insular. With the Stragma Forest to the west and the mountains to the north, it would be very hard for an outside power to mount an invasion from elsewhere in the world. This is both a blessing and a curse. There is a massive invasion going on beyond the mountains just north of us at this very moment and I am certain that almost no one in Drayhadal outside of the ruling clans knows it is even happening.”
“I have not heard about such a thing, no.”
“The Ubran Empire broke through Redwater Castle, a feat long thought impossible. The castle and the hellish mountains that surround it were the only thing keeping The Ubran Empire from invading this side of the continent. They have already swept through and consumed the nation of Gustil. Eterium is next, and then possibly Otharia and surely ourselves. The Ubrans will stop at nothing short of complete world domination. And yet, if you were to ask any of your guards about this, I doubt a single one would have even heard about it. The events of ‘savages’ and ‘barbarians’ are not important to them, you see.
But there exists one group whose responsibility it is to monitor the rest of the world. They are called the Masked Battalion. The Battalion is an order that resides technically within the government but largely operates outside of it. They infiltrate the other countries, keeping watch on their activities and reporting back so that the rest of the country can continue their navel-gazing ways. I am a member of the Masked Battalion.”
“Oh? You were a spy?”
“I was. But not by choice. You see, only elves with a very specific talent can be a part of the Battalion. That talent is very, very rare, perhaps one in hundreds of thousands. In order to ensure that the organization has enough people to function, any person who shows the desired trait are conscripted into the Battalion for life. The laws are clear: it doesn’t matter who you are or how powerful your family may be. If you have the talent, you must join.”
“And you had that talent.”
“I did. I first discovered it when I was eight years old. It manifested one night while I was in the company of my sister and a long-time servant named Bargos. Bargos was a very loyal servant. My father had taken him in as an orphan when he was young; in a way, the Esmae clan was his family. He reported the event to my father immediately. Understandably, my father nearly lost his mind at the news. I am the sole male heir to the Esmae clan. It was my destiny to succeed him and lead the clan to further greatness, or so he would always tell me.
“My father paid Bargos off to keep his silence—a large sum of money every season for the rest of his life, enough to ensure he, his wife, and children lived in luxury for the rest of their lives. The Masked Battalion is a powerful organization, but they are not all-knowing. As long as I made sure never to reveal my talent ever again, I could continue to live a happy life as the prince of the Esmae clan, surrounded by people who loved me.
“Twelve days later, the Masked Battalion arrived at the palace and took me away.”
“Oh my!”
“The rest I was not there to witness, but according to people who were there, my father had Bargos tortured for days. They say he maintained his innocence for a lengthy period, but eventually broke and admitted to telling the Battalion about me in exchange for the government granting his line merchant nobility. He and his entire family were put to death.
“I hated Bargos for decades; his betrayal stung me deep inside. He’d been like a second father to me, or perhaps an uncle, and I swore that I’d never forgive him. But as time wore on, I’ve come to believe that he did not actually betray my clan. He was loved there and he loved us. In all my time with him as a child, he never gave me reason to believe that he didn’t care about me greatly. And with the money he would receive, his entire family would be secure for generations.”
“But he admitted to the deed, didn’t he?”
“So I believed. But I’ve learned many things since then, and one of them is that torture does not get you the truth. It gets you what you want to hear. If you gave me enough time to torture a man, I could get him to admit to flying to the three moons. In fact, the fact that he held out so long lends weight to his assertion that he never betrayed us.”
“Then who did? If only you, he, and your sister knew ab-” She paused mid-sentence, a frown appearing on her wrinkled face. “I see.”
“Even young, my sister was always smart and ambitious. I think she saw the perfect opportunity to gain the power that she secretly always wanted and she took it. There was just the two of us, after all, and my father was too old to have more children; with me gone, there would be no one left to lead the clan other than her.”
“And your father, does he agree with you?”
“I have not discussed this with him, or anybody else for that matter. It’s likely that he believed Bargos’s confession, or that he is blinded by his love for her and would never think her capable of such a thing. Even if he came to the same conclusion as I, he still handed Pyria power for decades, so perhaps he concluded that the damage was done and he had to work with what he had left. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Pyria won. She got what she wanted. And I...”
He stared deep into the fire, his eyes not seeing the present any longer.
“The Masked Battalion is not gentle. They take in children and turn them into spies and killers. They never care about who you are before you arrive. They will break you, melt you down, and mold you into something more to their liking. I was no exception. I can still remember how they beat me within an inch of my life on the very first day to show me that they were in control and that they didn’t care about who my family was. It is no exaggeration to say that I would be a completely different man if this had never happened to me. The original Tehlmar Esmae died the moment that Pyria turned me in.
“Beyond that, the life of a Mask is not pleasant. The training is beyond harsh, and then you must go live a false life for decades. The work is dangerous and many die during their tour of duty. I, especially, lived my second life on the battlefield. It is a miracle that I returned at all.”
“Yet you did return.”
“And every day I wished I hadn’t. This place holds nothing for me. It desires a prince, but now I am only a prince in title and nothing more.”
“Then why come back?”
“I...” Tehlmar hesitated.
“This is what you needed to talk to me about?”
Tehlmar sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I spent decades living a fake life and somehow I feel faker now than I did then.”
“I ask again, then why come back?”
“There’s nowhere else for me to go.”
“Nowhere? No place that would welcome you?”
“I never stayed in one place very long. The mercenary bands I worked for moved from contract to contract, as most do.”
“Why not join one of them again, then?”
“They wouldn’t want me. I’m a Drayhadan who can’t fight the way they need. They want the man I used to be.”
The old woman pinched the bridge of her nose. “Perhaps we are looking at this the wrong way. If you could be anywhere and doing anything, what would it be?”
The answer was obvious. “I’d be with Arlette.”
“Arlette?”
“The only woman I’ve ever loved,” he said with a sigh. “But she hates me now, I’m sure of it.”
Her brows furrowed. She leaned forward. “You’re sure of it? You don’t know?”
“She would never love me, after what I did to her.”
“Go on.”
“When I first met Arlette, I helped her form her band and helped her lead it because it was a simple, effective way to get what I needed. I needed a way to move around the continent and observe the people there so I could report back home, and she was the solution. A means to an end. But as I got to know her, I began to see her a friend. It was unexpected; I’d never bonded with any of the other mercenaries in all my years. I was caught off guard, but I told myself it didn’t matter much. But then, the more I spent time with her, the more I liked her, until one day I realized it was more than that. I loved her, truly loved her, but I didn’t know what to do anymore, because I’d committed an unforgivable crime in her eyes. She just didn’t know it.
“If there is one thing that Arlette loathes more than anything in the world, it’s being used. I don’t know why it matters so much to her; I could tell that she’d been through something that had changed her in the past but she would never talk about it. Nothing makes her hate you more than to make her into a tool for your own benefit, and I’d been doing that for years. I tried to cover it up, but eventually I couldn’t. Our whole relationship was a lie. No, she would never accept me.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I can still hear the betrayal in her voice when I was forced to reveal my true form and abandon her. I know she only saw me as a friend, but whatever she felt for me broke that day.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I know all I need to know!”
“No, you do not.” The Mother of Nightmares sighed and closed her eyes.
Tehlmar gazed her as she sat there, unsure about what to do about the man in bed beside him. No, not just any man, Hideo was his husband now. After his first husband had died in the war, Tehlmar had thought that no man would ever desire a childless widow pushing forty with a somewhat balky leg and shoulder, and yet here they were, just married. Tehlmar just laid and watched Hideo as he read a book, taking in his head of short, dark black hair and his kind eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” Hideo asked, looking back at him.
Tehlmar blushed. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”
A sly grin grew on Hideo’s handsome face. “That should be my line.” He leaned in and Tehlmar’s heart surged as their lips met.
“I love you,” Tehlmar said.
“I love you, too.”
“How did it go?” Tehlmar asked as Hideo closed the front door.
Hideo frowned, running his hand through his black hair speckled with one or two gray hairs. “Tanaka-san got the promotion.”
Tehlmar cupped his husband’s cheek in his hand and gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t feel bad, you’ll get the next one. You’re such a hard worker.”
“You’re right.”
“WAAAHHHH!” A high-pitched cry rang out from another room.
“Oh my, looks like Eisuke’s hungry,” Tehlmar said. “Go relax, honey. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”
“Where have you been? You’re three hours late for dinner!” Tehlmar asked as Hideo stumbled into the house, his face flush with alcohol.
“Went out drinking with some coworkers,” his husband replied, his words slurring slightly. He hung his coat and hat up on a nearby hook, revealing a head of black hair mixed with some grey. “Yashiro-san got promoted and wanted to celebrate.”
“You should have called at least!” Tehlmar scolded.
“I’m sorry.” He looked around. “Where are the kids?”
“I put them to bed, what did you expect!? They missed you, Hideo! Eisuke drew a picture at school that he really wanted to show you, and Keiko is talking more. You’re coming home late nearly every day now and missing so many precious memories!”
Hideo sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to shine at the office so that I can finally get that promotion. This place is getting too small for us.”
Tehlmar embraced his husband. “I’m glad that you’re trying so hard, but don’t forget that there’s more to being a father than working for your family. Even if this place gets too small, we’d rather have a small place with you in it than a larger place without you.”
“Mother, I’m worried about father.”
Tehlmar stopped mid-sweep and turned around. “Again, Eisuke? What is it this time?”
“He just seems different, like he’s really sad inside or something.”
“Don’t worry, honey. I know he hasn’t been spending a lot of time with you recently but he’s just very tired from working so hard every day. You just wait, one of these days now he’ll come home with a big smile on his face and take us all out for dinner. Now, have you finished your homework yet?”
“No...”
“Then you’d better get started, it’s getting late. Tell your sister to do her homework as well.”
“Okay.”
Several minutes later the front door opened and Hideo stepped inside, removing his coat and hat before stretching his back with a weary groan.
“Are you alright?” Tehlmar asked as he came to greet his husband.
“I’m getting old, is all,” was the answer. “Even my hair is entirely gray now.”
“Well,” Tehlmar stated as he ran his fingers through Hideo’s hair, “personally I think the color suits you. It makes you more handsome. Now go rest on the sofa. I’ll make you some tea.”
Hideo chuckled. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You don’t.”
Tehlmar emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two cups of steaming-hot tea several minutes later and set it down on the small table in front of the sofa. He sat down beside his husband and took the man’s hand in his.
“What’s wrong?” Hideo asked immediately. They knew each other so well at this point that they could not hide anything from each other anymore.
“Eisuke keeps asking about you. He’s been worried about you recently. He says you seem sad.”
Hideo flashed him a charming smile, the same one that Tehlmar had fallen in love with so long ago. “I’m fine, just exhausted. The new boss has been working us to the bone these days. Don’t worry about me. How could I be sad with a family like this?”
“I love you, darling.”
“I love you too.”
The knock on the front door startled Tehlmar, nearly causing him to slip and cut his own finger instead of the carrot on the cutting board. Who could be knocking on the door in the middle of the day on a workday? He walked over to the door and opened it to find a policeman standing there with a grim expression on his face. Something about his expression made her heart clench before he even spoke.
“I’m sorry to have to inform you of this,” the policeman said, “but your husband took his own life today around 1pm. He jumped off the roof of the office building where he worked.”
Tehlmar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No! This couldn’t be true! He’d said he was fine just a few days ago! He’d smiled and looked Tehlmar in the eyes and said he was just tired! He couldn’t- But- He would never- The room spun and Tehlmar fell to his knees and began to wail.
Tehlmar was suddenly back in the house with the Mother of Nightmares, his vision clouded by tears. What was this grief? Why did it hurt so much? He rubbed the tears from his eyes and looked over to see that the old woman was crying as well as she stared deep into the flames of the nearby fire.
“When I was taken to identify the body, they showed me the note that he’d put in his pocket,” she said. “All that was on it was the words ‘I will never be good enough. I’m sorry.’ For more than fifteen years, I lived beside that man. I knew his every quirk, his likes and dislikes, and more. He was a loving and kind husband and father, and a happy man. But there was sadness inside of him that he hid from all of us. Nobody could see it, except Eisuke. Nobody wanted to see it.
“Even as I was on my deathbed, my son refused to come see me. He still blames me for his father’s death. He believes that had I listened to him back at that time, my husband could have been saved. He’s right. I made a lot of mistakes of the course of my life, but there is nothing I regret more than assuming that I had any idea what was happening inside the head of the one person I knew better than anybody else.”
She turned and stared him in the eyes, the intensity of her gaze boring into him.
“Listen well, Prince Tehlmar, for this is the most important advice I could ever give. The mind is a strange thing. It is a swirling mess of contradictions, lies, irrationality, and emotion, much of which is hidden from the outside world. Never assume that you understand what goes on inside another’s mind. You do not.
“If you truly love this woman, then go to her. Show her how you feel. Let her see the depth of your devotion. You may believe that she could never love you, but you are wrong. And if she really does hate you with everything she has, then you are no worse off than you are today.
“Do not make the mistake I made. Every day I ask myself, ‘What if I had done something differently?’. That question haunts me, even decades later. So act, before it is too late, or you will spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.”
* * *
“Prince Tehlmar, where have you been?” Artiermius demanded to know. “It’s nearly midday!”
“I just went to have a chat with somebody, that’s all.”
“I’ll have you know that your father is furious with you. Expect him to summon you after your afternoon class is complete.”
“Sorry, Artie, but I don’t have time for classes anymore. I’m headed out for the capital in just a moment, and I likely won’t be coming back for a little while. For the first time since coming back, I know what I have to do.”
“What nonsense is this? You have to prepare for to take your place at the head of the clan! What am I going to tell your father?”
“Tell him I’ve chosen the woman I’m going to court, and I’m going to start a war.”
Comments
Pariah
Oh man, this gunna be good
