A Night of Fate

Hearken, everyone!

On the first dawn, I greeted my sister and the rest.

All smiled without malice.

Hearken, everyone!

Under the second sun, I laughed with a Human boy most special from the rest.

All joined in without fear.

Hearken, everyone!

During the third night, I smiled at a full moon blue unknowing to the rest.

My darkest love gifting me a shrug without deceit.

~Three Days' Life~

Kagetsu no Hyo'Ah

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A Ranger's Tale

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"Are you nuts?" spluttered a tanned Cinha maid as she nearly choked on her food, female ire directed at a blond lad draped in timeless aura.

"Well, I guess I'm nowhere saner than you, fair lass," winked a twinkling eye of crimson red, his drink of Ocean’s Blood sipped casually, “Nothing like a glass of Histalonia’s signature wine. Want some, my black pearl?”

"You're.. you're a…" stuttered the comely maid, "You're just whoring around!"

"Well, I do enjoy my whores,” the youth scratched his beardless chin impishly, “But I enjoy better the company of fine ladies. Why not we…"

"NO!"

An answer snarled to an indecent proposal, the unnamed lass floored the saucy lad instantly.

"This is Histalonia. You'll be a rapebait without a bodyguard," whined the tall partial blond.

"And?" growled the girl like an angry lioness.

"And I saved you from the Muscle Gang, remember?” mused an impudence personified, “I don't mind playing the gentleman again."

No one ever gave her a name, she was merely a Cinha born poor. As a poor farmer’s daughter sold from her homeland across the divide, no local Gunmyo would take her as living merchandise. That was why foreign slavers of white took her in, her father’s gambling debts cleared as a result. She was sold to a travelling dance troupe, she was even luckier to remain chaste since nobody in her former owners’ barge could predict which girl will be next, let alone whoever fellow troupe mate casting a sly glance or two. So long as she could keep her legs intact, nothing untoward would kill off her future.

"Hey, how much do you charge, whore? You look deliciously tanned!"

She hated those men. In fact, she hated everybody born with a penis.

"Don't call me Lolyx! Do I look like some kitten to you?"

But he was different despite sharing the same colour as her hated bunch. He bestowed her own name, she ended up detesting his choice of gift.

“Wow, you sure know your saviour, eh? See, a nice ginger kitten with cute eyes like you!”

"I've already sealed a deal with the owner. He won't harm a single hair of yours," grinned Lolyx’s unflappable saviour, his abruptly change in subject breaking her thought, "At least there’ll be a warning stating no man shall grope my woman’s tits."

Lolyx sucked in her breath deeply, one obscene statement entertaining a brief fantasy of defenestrating that white idiot.

You better don’t let me know your name, asshole.

"You'll have to take my word against your heart, I guess," shrugged the fair youth, his expression apparently oblivious to Lolyx’s silent ire.

Lolyx rubbed her eyes momentarily in response, a sudden change in his ruby orbs seeming so fickle, but true.

A smile somehow different from others… is that pain?

"Well, fine then," huffed Lolyx, dismissal of nagging question deemed successful, "I'll take your word for it. But that's only because you’ve saved me. No more talk on my breasts though, you get me?"

"And you owe me one," came the annoying reply, Lolyx forced to her breaking point. He wasn’t trying to be a pervert to be fair because he’s already one. He’s just playing childish mind games.

"No."

Her answer dripping indignity, Lolyx was definitely wishing for a window nearby high enough. For no answer could be found against this cretin crazy enough to digress unpredictably.

"Why?"

She hated his pout as well.

"Because you forced me to run away with you!" blushed Lolyx as her counterpart caught the signs, “In fact, what’s the meaning of me owing you a debt? It’s every man’s duty to defend a helpless girl!”

"Helpless lioness to be exact,” mischievous chuckling ruled their conversation, “I won't force you to whore. Deal?"

Lolyx hanged her head in utter defeat, this infectious madcap got her flabbergasted.

"Just tell me your name before leaving, please."

Silence seized the frontal stage, an image flashed before him like a comet travelling across the night time sky.

"I've given up on Aera, but you as well?"

"It's quite a blast sending bags of rabbit entrails to stupid people’s doorstep. Only a sucker will give them charity, so what does it say about a greater sucker?"

“I don’t know. Please enlighten me, bonko.”

"Well, you know these people by their faces, Hyo. All watch, no action. Do you know it took me twenty gin-ryong plus a fisticuff in order to ensure a rickshaw opan's life?"

"And whose suggestion is this? Yours or Aera's?"

"Fuck it, dancing butterfly. If someone did teach Goldwanker some decent education, it means shit is a piss poor job."

"See what I mean, Hyo? Aera Darko has opened his golden mouth."

"Lars Alterfate," smiled a tired man beneath a capricious boy, “Just call me Lars, Lol."

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"So what do I know about him, you ask?" smiled an apathetic Sarel Aphros, her scarlet lips tasting a cup of tea, "Tea brewed from Red Leaves, do you want any? ‘Tis a fine remedy for an anxious heart."

"I'm not gonna try that stuff until you answer my question," growled Guy, “Or do you want to try me again after my bitch slap?”

"My, my, isn't everyone getting testy here?" tut-tutted the Grand Damsel, "What say you?"

Guy wanted nothing more than Gae Buidhe plunged into that unpleasantly beautiful face, a rule banning weapons in times of audience being her only shield. One false move and he would greet his grave, for sharpened senses detected assassins hidden underneath every shadow. He’s no slave to the Quintet Church, he’s not some thorough idiot. Sarel Aphros had his head forced against her breasts countless times, it was a miracle seeing himself alive after random moments of anger rightfully directed. They tend to say a beast can never be tamed, but at least one can still place an iron cage. If the Church was to be that cage, then Sarel Aphros would be that person setting up the trap.

"Do you want to face that man sooner rather than later?"

Sarel's reply caught Guy off guard, she detected trepidations within details prior to her sudden move. A tensed up posture with sapphire eyes narrowed, Guy Cody’s slightly profuse breathing was not lost to the Grand Damsel. Living long enough to understand the mortal heart, she knew one could only be either saint or sinner. Against a lion straining against chains invisible, a seemingly Human girl grinned smugly. She delivered the one answer Guy Cody desired so badly, his indomitable spirit was just a mere inconvenience in the middle of her scheming mind.

"Three days from now. Three days to prepare yourself for all things unimaginable."

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Hugue Lloris wore an impassive visage, his new found mistress kneeling in silent prayer before a frigid tomb. None understood why an innocent kitten got mutilated by a cruel brat, none understood why justice must be demanded. None save Alestrial Eliaden who buried the pitiful creature disemboweled in a tiny mound marked with tiny rocks. Every smallborne adored her, every smallborne attached themselves unto her. Yet, every smallborne could not understand her, every smallborne distanced themselves from her. Apart from him that is. However, understanding equalled not to empathy, words tolling in her mind akin to timely advice heard.

"Everyone will be betrayed one way or another, but only once with that very knife called self."

"A trade off in marriage, a political marriage…" whispered Hugue, his words went unheard with a mirthless arc drawn, "Are we not slaves to any life chosen for ourselves? Foolish little girl."

"Hugue," said an unwitting Alestrial, her pride hidden away from the Kalaran youth, "As my bond, will you dive straight to the bowels of Hell, only never to return if I command so?"

"They say a commoner pledging himself to a noble through merit of oath sworn is called a bond,” answered the golden blond as both remained rooted on the meadow ground, “I've pledged my blade to your service out of self-volition and you gifted me your best ever answer.”

“But you have not given me yours,” came a noble girl’s reply, her heart aching still.

“Should a truthful man be deemed a wonder?"

"Thank you, Hugue," smiled Alestrial, tears of hurt shielding her soft brown eyes, "Your assurance has indeed granted me my greatest reprieve."

"What about my previous bond then?"

Such was that one question unanswerable and most unavoidable, not even the Holy Quintet could help Alestrial out. This was a world where no one is ever freed, any merest mortal from the humblest to greatest had never meant to be a god. A corner of his lips shifting upward ever so slightly, Hugue's storm grey eyes were led astray to a dead hare entering a viper's jaws. Alestrial's sights arrowed onto the will of nature done as well, her soft brown eyes were adorned in stupefied shock.

"A grass viper, the most common kind of all vipers. Be wary, Milady, for rumour has it that six out of every ten children playing can easily fall afoul."

"You do have good knowledge on snakes," complimented a shaken Alestrial, a sudden cold wind tearing through the stagnant air.

“They say knowledge is the key to power, hunger is the gateway to intelligence. You don’t look well here, Milady. Let us depart, for the night is near and darkness full of fear.”

Staring into telling depths unknown within Hugue Lloris' storm grey orbs, Alestrial believed Hugue Lloris to be her other bond dependable. It was verily his smile shattering her facade in acting strong, she agreed to his proposal in holding a melee tourney for this reason itself. Sadly, another Guy Cody he wasn’t meant to be.

But at least his hand feels equally warm… is summer over yet?

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"There is no point differentiating between a lion's savagery, sins of a wolf and venom from a serpent's tongue. Every person has the right choosing or not to be a savage sinner filled with venomous deceit."

Yeras Wynda stared incredulously at Lukas Brun, his surprise visit turning into shock. She tried asking his current joy, he ended up proving himself as another man. This was a Lukas Brun alike some familiar stranger, this was not the Lukas Brun who would sleep naked under every hot summer night. Lukas Brun used to enjoy snapping at her playfulness, Lukas Brun used to enjoy sharing a bath with her.

“Yeras, do you know you’re a pain in the ass without any manners?”

“Huh? What you saying?”

“Forget it. You’re a stupid girl who will always fancy sharing a dip with a gay.”

“Not any gay, but only you! I hate you!”

She remembered her first tantrum thrown while naked, Lukas was the first and only man to see her bare. From top to bottom, from her breasts to intimate region, Lukas had seen them all and turning back was no longer an option. She was, after all, a carefree lass only remembering an escape from a forced marriage arranged. Attempts in accepting the cold hard truth begot a shaking of head from Lukas Brun, Yeras’ amber eyes now wore a pair of painful gaze. What happened to the young owner of The Drowning Bear? What destroyed everything in the face of youthful zest and all things bountiful?

"Luk..."

Lukas dismissed whatever defence Yeras tried mustering up with a slicing gesture across the neck, she knew only too well what it means. A passionate heart raced like a bleeding bull out to gore, her mind was assailed by fire and blood once more. She never screamed out loud this time round, her anguish cooled by Lukas’ most pleasing bargain.

"If you want Guy Cody, I can give him to you on my own terms. I know a lion not so unlike another northern one, I know valour's merit seven fold upon seeing one."

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‘Tis a tale of one noble son lost in pride and success, ‘tis a story full of despair and suicide. All know his last name still, his father disowning him. Alas for a father’s love, alas for a father’s sneer.

‘Tis a tale of young Lord Springall and his friends wining with ladies fairest, ‘tis a story full of feasting, rape, and ruin. All knew their heinous deeds, his father disowning him. Alas for one Viscount hanged, alas for two friends and a father raped. For ‘tis the rumoured word hailing from a court of spring sometimes said to be Demons’ hallowed ground.

A court of spring where Viscount and the rest sated their raging lusts, ‘tis truly a ruined garden named Spring Court.

Odour of death undetectable by mundane means, Aeranath's senses had more than vaguely guessed correct games playing behind his back. Because he was no stranger to Sarel Aphros herself, he was no stranger to anything. A passing tale became something taking root in the Ranger's heart, damning story retold a grandeur unchanged, yet fallen. Recalling her words four days ago, this was indeed a recipe for his customary jape.

"Alas for asses banged and tits getting sucked, ‘tis the finest place to enjoy far finer trysts."

Never one to prefer little boys and pretty men, the True Apostle only enjoyed the company of attractive whores and their heavenly goods. Memories in the Spring Court burned fiercely in his mind, reaction in between the legs was literally nothing. There had been a mass orgy prior to arrival, he only cared about his partner who was an innocent looking Half-Elven girl. The golden blond was paid handsomely, she pleased him massively. Aeranath remembered a good time dished out by his might, her perfect tits swaying and groped throughout the night.

Not to mention Claudia moaning like an innocent whore. Or was it Claudine? Bah, just fuck it…

“I hope you’re prepared for this.”

Aeranath opened an eye with seated posture unchanged, for why would he need to? He who was defeated before glared down at his better, the whimpering cub now coming of age. Making himself at home under the open sky littered with stars above, Aeranath refused to stand up before Guy Cody. There was no roof, only broken pillars with entwining ivy. A fertile ground flatly smooth, naked girls wasted so commonly seen were absent from the scene.

Two combatants in the middle of a ruined garden fair, one lone wolf versus a lion brave. A duel awaited commencement, the horn for battle blaring loud. A Human boy gripping a pole swathed in white, the last True Apostle rested across his lap a sword remaining sheathed. Two pairs of orbs painted in flaring blue, two intentions harbouring mutual intent far from pure. Murder destined to be their only game, mercy shown otherwise would be nothing more than cruelty to self.

Aeranath owed and hated Sarel Aphros, Guy Cody thanked and loathed Sarel Aphros.

And neither cared any much till their fatal duel done.

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"Hey, you hearing me?" hollered Yeras Wynda, her attitude inviting contempt from surrounding maidservants.

"Why, of course!" smiled Alestrial radiantly, relief finally giving her hopeful cheer, "Glad seeing you're back to your best again."

"Of course I've always been my best!" huffed the redhead, her chin held up high.

"Yeah," sniggered a nearby brunette maid, “And freaking out is the best of them.”

"Excuse me, miss," glared Yeras, "I don't remember such a thing."

"Of course you won't remember!" giggled the same servant, "Because it took you..."

"Enough of that!" reprimanded Alestrial sharply, "Your old master is about to be my father-in-law, your young master my husband-to-be. Will you truly enjoy much that very day where the likes of you shall be mocked by public shame?"

"But..."

"No buts," Alestrial cut off any attempt in answering back, a dismissive flick from her wrist hammering home the point, "I will call for you all once the need arise. For now, please take your deserved rest."

As every comely servant brought from House Dukes exited the pavilion, complaints and curses formed through their lips berated a future Mistress Lord. Yeras offered them nothing but a raspberry and turned back to face Alestrial.

"Wow, that's truly great, Ales! Bossing stupid people sure feels nice," gushed Yeras.

"That's social status for you," grinned Alestrial playfully, Yeras' nickname given to her warming the heart. No one had ever gone so far like Yeras to make their feelings known, not even Guy Cody could come up with this idea. All only addressed her by the first name, let alone her father and servants back home who truly adored her. Verily soon, this illusion painted in memory shall be nothing more, childish hand in marriage six years old doomed as a ghost consigned.

What then about that girl? She was undeniably a Cinha maid like her, beautiful grace unrivalled belittling her. A beautiful face never before seen hummed a mundane tune on the spot, unattainable dreams preached the only perfection. Blind faith hidden within blooming into roses of gold, Alestrial Eliaden wished everything to be a never ending story. A never-ending story of freedom and love, a never-ending story of companionship and adventure, such was a little girl’s dream in spite of naivety being a fire consuming all.

Alestrial Eliaden, oukaimida. I’m now trusting Aera to your care, please protect him till the world’s very end. Promise me, Ales…

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Background notes:

Viscount is the only honorary title in the Kalaran Empire where only merits of the highest order will deserve it.

Trinity College mentioned in previous chapter is a centralised institution boasting of the finest scholars/intellectuals. There are three sub-colleges within: School of Structuring, School of Debating, and School of Warring. The School of Structuring (mentioned in the last chapter also) prides itself in developing architecture, School of Debating is all about literature, and School of Warring specialises in military history.

Balloting mentioned by Lukas in Guy’s flashback in the previous chapter is basically a systematic form of casting lots where cadets graduating from Merseyside (also known as rookies or recruits) will write down their chosen Division on a piece of paper beforehand.

The tale retold by Sarel Aphros at the beginning of Aeranath’s POV is entitled The Viscount of Heated Spring. Despite the tale being cautionary and dark, its title is uncharacteristically satirical. The School of Debating has recently concluded that the writer was indeed mocking at the excesses so common amongst nobility, hence staying anonymous for fear of reprisal.

Spring Court is merely a place discovered by chance via a young couple on a tryst five years ago. Since then, this has been a place of lurid repute where mass orgies will be held.

Red Leaves is the highest grade of tea leaves where the tea brewed will leave a mildly sweet aftertaste. Nobility enjoy this tea the most, but it is prized even more by healers/physicians due strong therapeutic effects in calming down anxiety.

Ocean’s Blood is one of the finest red wines gracing any shore in The Known World. Produced solely in Histalonia, it is typically dry while leaving a sweet lemon aftertaste. Due to Histalonia’s violent history in marine warfare, Ocean’s Blood can be either interpreted as a mocking tribute (for nobility and smallborne) or military respect (for mercenaries and soldiers).

And now on some Cinha national education:

Oukaimida is a formal greeting term.

Bonko is a derogatory term for idiot.

Opan is an informal address to any elderly man.

Rickshaw is an actual invention that isn't really old, i.e. I don't remember anything on rickshaws existing during dynastic China prior to Qing dynasty. Yes, me=Word of Maker.

Local currency is classified under three levels of monetary value-tou-ryong (round copper coins), gin-ryong (rectangular silver pieces), and kin-ryong (hill-shaped gold ingots).

[Note: Ryong is the Cinha root word for dragon and that in spite of these creatures being non-existent LITERALLY, a dragon is still viewed as the paramount of awe, fame, and woe.]

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