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Current novel length: 140,981 words

Chapter 43

(Septham 11th Year 672 of the 4th Age)

(Merrick)

In the middle of the night, Merrick wakes up in a sweat, heavily breathing, and on hyper-alert in bed._ Just a dream, he thought as he calmed down. I completely forgot about that time, and I wish it stayed that way. So, it actually happened before._ Rubbing his eyes, he sits up in bed and waits and hopes for sleep to hit him again. He shudders from imagining hands touching everywhere on his body, clenching his butt-cheeks and wincing from a burning sensation on his rear.

From her bed, Kaera watches Merrick toss and turn in sleep during his dream and waking up. “You can't sleep also," she said in a soft voice.

“I had a simple nightmare," Merrick responded with a quiet voice also. “What about you?"

“More to do with the amount of clothing I have to wear when I sleep. I've somewhat adapted to it, but I'll be glad when I'm able to sleep like I normally do or with minimal clothing when this part of the journey is over." With more creaking sound than she wants, Kaera leaves her bed and migrates over to Merrick's. “Need me to sleep next to you like we did at Radclyff's house?"

Taking a few seconds to ponder, Merrick shakes his head in refusal. “No need to do that for me, Kaera."

“You're sure?"

“Yes. I doubt it would be comfortable for us if the bed can hold us at the same time."

The dialogue stirs Myla from her slumber, and she lightly groans as her eyes slowly turn open. Not to disturb Sylfinas, who is busy snoring and drooling, she gingerly leaves the bed and tiptoes silently towards Kaera and Merrick. “Can you keep it down?"

“Sorry, Myla," Kaera apologized. “We were just done talking about something and going back to sleep."

“You two are having trouble going to sleep."

“No, we aren't," Merrick lied.

Myla doesn't buy the lie. “Something troubles both of you. I can sense it, so don't lie."

“We both had nightmares."

“I can make you two fall into a deep sleep and dream happy thoughts."

“Thanks, but that won't be necessary," Kaera declined.

“Everybody needs sleep, and I sense that won't come by for you so easily, so you'll be tired for all of tomorrow."

“We'll sleep well without your offer," Merrick said. He does a fake yawn. “See? I'm yawning already."

“Listen, if you two don't let me help, I'll throw a tantrum and wake everybody on this ship," Myla warned. The look in her eyes tells Kaera and Merrick she means it.

“You can help us," Kaera relented.

“Yay! All we need to do is lay in bed together, and I'll do the rest."

“That's going to be difficult since there isn't enough space on the beds. Putting Merrick and I together is pushing it and with you is definitely too much."

“That's alright. I can sleep underneath, on the wood."

“We can't do that to you."

“I'll be fine, don't worry. I've slept in more uncomfortable places than underneath a bed. Now, you two put the blankets over yourselves." Kaera and Merrick take their time trying different positions before resorting to the same position from Radclyff's house. At the same time, Myla arranges her new sleeping area as best as possible to make it comfortable. The sound of their movement in bed turns to silence, and she assumes they're ready; a quick confirmation proves to her she is correct and a wave of peaceful, soothing energy emanating from her lulls both to sleep.

(Grifo, Heilim, Tylon)

Around two days left in their journey, Heilim orders a short rest for lunch to Grifo and Tylon. Inside Morinsby Forest, they are barely in the Somerin region, and it's another two days, at least at the pace they're traveling. The cornucopia of wildlife in the area has Tylon feeling rhapsodic, and he is away on a hunt. Scarlette drinks from a nearby pond while Heilim skips stones across the water; the farthest he got was five skips. Being the loquacious Halfling that Grifo is, he finds the dearth of causeries rebarbative, so he situates himself behind Heilim and strikes up a conversation.

“Hey Heilim, can you help me with something?"

Every instinct in Heilim tells him to refuse, recalling the numerous events in his head of where they usually end up. “What is it?" He looks bewildered immediately after responding to Grifo's request instead of saying 'no.' What in Ireidii's name did I just say?

“I'm currently writing a poem to stir up my imaginative juices for an upcoming book."

“And?"

“I would like your input on a word that rhymes with 'stink.'"

“And you think I have any capabilities to help you out?"

“Yes. Everybody has a creative side, and I'm presenting you an opportunity for your side to blossom."

“I'm creative at executing people."

“You're not wrong, but that wasn't what I had in mind. Go on, try it; it's satisfying to let your personal side out once in a while instead of secreting it deep inside yourself."

What do I have left to lose? “Try 'brink.'"

“Hmmm. Doesn't flow adequately. Try again, please."

“Sink."

“I'll keep it as a backup. Next, please."

“Putrid."

“That doesn't even rhyme, to begin with."

“Link."

“One more try."

“Kink."

“That actually works. Now I need a name of a monster."

Tylon hasn't been back in quite some time. Need to search for him so we can leave soon instead of giving anybody tracking us an opportunity to catch up. Gotta give Grifo the slip, and I know how. “Hey, Grifo, what would you say if I told you I have a bottle of Edeaux Rouge in my pack, and you can have it as a gift when you find it. Fifty years old was what I was told."

It catches Grifo by surprise. “A, a, a, a gift… for me? You're kidding, right?"

“I'm serious."

Rubbing his hands in excitement, Grifo skurries over to Heilim's pack and scours inside for the bottle, burying his head inside at one point, and pops out unsuccessful. “I'm not seeing any signs of a bottle ever being in here." Noting the void in Heilim's spot, he swivels his head around in confusion. “Heilim? Heilim? Where did you go?" he said before it dawned on him that Heilim played a trick on him. He hastily edits his poem. Revenge will be sweet.

After losing a trail, Tylon finds himself deep in the forest and dozes off against a tree to the sounds of various birds, chipmunks, and other wildlife he rarely hears back at the wall. Waking up and thinking a significant amount of time passed, he is about to leave to regroup with Grifo and Heilim before spotting a ten-point buck strolling by languidly. Such an opportunity never happens back home, so he moves inconspicuously in loading his crossbow to not squander his chance. The favorable winds aid in his concealment and he lines up his shot before a sudden noise alarms the deer, and he takes off—Tylon curses and glances over at Heilim in contempt.

“That was once in a lifetime opportunity you made me waste, Heilim."

“And you plan on allowing the addled smell to smother us. All that meat would've gone to waste anyway."

“We're leaving right now?"

“We have two days left, and I intend on reaching our destination in that time. Pack up your gear back at our temporary camping site, and we'll continue our journey."

(Aila, Barion, Jemeir, Radclyff)

At around eight in the morning, Jemeir arrives at Radclyff's house to discuss Aila's discovery from the bank away from the public eyes and ears. Designating the dining room as the meeting spot, they sit at the table with plates of food crumbs and silverware. After clearing the table and putting the dishes away, Aila leaves and returns with two pieces of paper from the bank; she places them side by side in front of Radclyff, so Barion and Jemeir have to vacate their chairs and stand by him to have a better look.

Indicating the two signatures at the bottom of the papers, Aila says, “Look at the difference between this one and this one."

Radclyff has to hold the papers to better discern the subtle disparity in the writing. “Writing's changed."

“Now, look at the dates."

“Two days apart."

“If the four men didn't show up last night, I would've stolen the entire folder because what I saw was consistent handwriting before the change and consistency after the swap to the new penmanship."

“Still doesn't mean anything if handwriting doesn't match the note," Barion pointed out.

Retrieving the woman's note, they assay the individual letters and compare them to the bank papers. So far, they have no luck until Aila and Jemeir both find a matching letter simultaneously.

“I found something!" they said.

“What is it?" Radclyff asked.

Aila allows Jemeir to speak. “The letter 't' is the same between the note and the bank paper with the date closest to the current date."

“That the only matching letter?" inquired Barion.

“It appears so," Jemeir answered, “but we have three different handwritings in our possession."

“Doesn't help us at all," Barion said.

“Actually, it does," Jemeir replied. “If it wasn't for the letter 't' being indistinguishable, we would be trying a different avenue right now. Shatathyor is scrupulous for a Rakshasa. He doesn't want any trails leading back to him- it's one of his strengths and also his weakness. A person who has no experience dealing with Rakshasas or him, in particular, would have a bitch of a time locating the clues. Your mother, father, and I dealt with him previously, and we only caught him because a henchman accidentally said too much. Once you have the knowledge, you can look for subtleties, and that's where his weakness comes in. He worries too much about the small details, but there's always at least one small detail that squeezes past meticulous people like him. In our case, it's the letter 't' in his name matching to the 't' in Edreth. I think we need to spy on him further to confirm."

“Or we could skip it and go straight to confronting him," Barion suggested.

“You're too impatient."

“We have the evidence."

“We have a lead, and it could be a dead end. Rakshasas love to leave red herrings and divert investigations away from them."

“The longer we do nothing, the closer he is to launching another attack at us."

“You pride yourself on being a hunter, a forager, and tracker, do you?" Radclyff asked.

“Yes, dad."

“Are there any animals that can outsmart novice hunters?"

“Raccoons and foxes off the top of my head."

“Do you charge off on the first sign of activity, or do you take your time?"

“I now take my time because they throw hunters off their trail. Raccoons are notorious for double-backing."

“Pretend that Shalathyor is a raccoon, and you discover traces of its activity a day old at most," Jemeir said. “What do you do?"

“I carefully follow it and hope I find stronger signs of it until I claim my prize."

“Do you see what I'm trying to point out?"

“I don't."

“Investigations like this are like hunting for you, although we aren't dealing with mindless beasts, and Shalathyor isn't a typical creature or a Rakshasa for that matter."

“I see your point. Now, what do we do?"

“We'll pursue this lead and hope it guides us to bigger signs instead of being a trick."

(Malfias, Eryce)

The Hearthrow Estate sits on top of a hill in Lisack Cross close to Baron Edreth's castle. Its seventy-acre land houses a 55,000 square foot mansion, hedgerows, a moderate-sized lake with geese and other waterfowl floating on top of it, and a fountain in the front side of the estate, just to name a few items. Overlooking the backyard pool, Malfias and his wife, Eryce, undergo body waxing from two servants, each from their veranda. Another servant to the family charges through the door with an exigent look on his face.

“My lord, I have something to… oh." He takes several seconds to compose himself after seeing the lord and lady naked and, felicitously, lying on their front side of the body. “My sincere apologies, my lord. I didn't realize you're occupied right now. I'll come back later."

“You might as well enunciate it right now while it's in the forefront of your mind right now. It better be damn important, though," Malfias responded, looking up from the table.

“You're brother has escaped from Meva Island!"

“What? How long ago and how did it occur?" Malfias sounded shocked and furious simultaneously.

“Four days ago, and we're still trying to figure how exactly he did it."

“Well, don't just stand there. Figure out how and alert my troops. He's going to come here for a reunion, and I'll make sure it will be a gelid fete."

“Yes, my lord. Right away." With a salute, the security officer leaves to do his new assignment.

Malfias furiously slams his fist on the table. “I won't let Raulyn ruin all my hard labor for the family."

“Come on, dear, you're worrying too much. It's one man-that should be Halfling- against the entire Hearthrow family. We'll squash him like a cockroach," Eryce said

“Cockroaches are a hassle to kill."

“Let me handle him while you rivet on the Summit that's nine days from now and your other contrivances," Eryce offered. “I know him just as much as you do." She leaves her table enough to give Malfias a kiss.

“That is true. However, it is up to me to confront him. Your job right now is reteaching Envarn the lessons he has forgotten again after our wax session concludes."

“You still won't let me take on the bigger challenges?"

“Females don't have the talent for handling major tasks such as running a vast family empire my forefather started in the Expansion Age. They are to provide a stable foundation for men and bear their children."

“I can give you examples of females that burgeoned under pressure and led their country or organization to prosperity. Some are still in power to this day. There's Elspat in Aizurius Empire, Meorise in the Wolfpack Guild… even Iliwenys Balceran and Malrina Gaaruuk." It is a struggle for her to articulate the last two names without sounding disgusted.

“I can name you even more examples where females in power led to ruin. There were empresses Ireza and Yisat of what was once the Thirial kingdom and Prulesha Empire before Kraz absorbed Thirial, and the Sarahat Empire assimilated Prulesha and the occupiers ethnic cleansed the Abaddins because Ireza and Yisat declared war on each other over falling in love with the same man. Now there are a handful of desultory, bantam Abaddin pockets across the continent because of them. Lestara brought a trading company listed as one of the most remunerative businesses in Myrith to bankruptcy because she reworked the trade routes and screwed up one crucial route by leading it into pirates and the trade deals she made were terrible. She had zero experience running any business. Merku botched a simple operation to exterminate a goblin hideout because, according to two survivors, she froze when combat started. There's Amri Drisdell. I can go on if you wish."

“No," Eryce gave up, sounding disappointed. "You made your point clear enough."

“Your examples will fail in due time. Now, we need to put on clothes, and you have a son to teach right now. Since he'll be the next baron after Edreth, he needs to have his education to rule. Afterward, it's around time that you produce me another Hearthrow to extend our family's influence."

Dressing up and leaving the veranda, Eryce halts and rotates around on her feet towards Malfias. “There have been males that were the sole reason for major fuck ups too, Malfias. Our family began because of it, and it could be our end."

Going their separate ways, Eryce ends up outside Envarn's room after a brief pit stop at the master bedroom. Knocking twice, she enters his room, and he is sitting at his desk drawing a picture. The sound of her opening the door alerts Envarn, and he throws the items into one mass of chaos before turning around. She shoves paper aside on a circular table to make room for a lioness Nakjit to place two gold goblets, two plates, and a bowl of fruit. The Nakjit returns with a container of wine, pouring it into the goblets before sauntering to a corner.

“Come here, son," ordered Eryce. She pulled out a book with a purple cover with a title Uv Ilyn Tyewe Appac, meaning The Twelve Arts of Leadership in Elvish by Elidyr Bijeon, a red book titled The Neverending War by Setorih Sathorne, and two tiny, brown books titled The Sovereign Part I and II by Gregario Matarelli.

Almost instinctively, Envarn scoffs at the book after sitting in his seat. “Father wants me to read those garbage masquerading as literature and memorize its contents." He and Eryce pick several grapes off the stem and consume them. She sips some wine out of her cup.

“He was displeased at your results when he heard them. He expected better of you considering how much he paid for your tutor."

“A waste of money on that simpleton. I can't grasp at the reasoning behind father's actions towards me."

“You're a full-blooded Hearthrow and his son; he expects you to be in a powerful position anon, and he believes you're ill-prepared."

“I'm ready right now, and I'll rule my way. Once I obtain power, father can't touch me anymore."

“I believe you'll be a great ruler, which is why I have this." In a secret holding pocket in her clothes, Eryce retrieves a black book that is wider and thinner than the previous books; the title is The Blood on the Walls of Castle Vivecz by Anatol Kaczmarczky.

With enthusiasm in his voice, Envarn says, “Judging by the title, I should enjoy reading it. What's it about?"

“It's an account of life under the reign of King Barkowski from year 234 to year 259 in the Stagnation Age. He was a significant ruler whose influence expanded to neighboring nations and absorbed them to Krusia. This book will provide everything you need instead of your father's recommendations." An idea suddenly pops in her head, and her expression changes after remembering Malfias's future plans to her. “Actually, I'll provide everything you need instead of your father." I'll provide Malfias another Hearthrow, alright.

She has Envarn's interest when she migrates over to his bed. “What are you planning, mother?"

Eryce is underway in stripping away her clothes, starting with loose jewelry and outer layers of fabric. “I'm planning on bonding with my son before I lose the opportunity." Slowly removing the layers, she stands nude at the side of his bed, facing him. “Won't you join me?"

The Nakjit freezes in place at the sight of Eryce and Envarn performing sex in front of her, becoming wet as she witnesses Eryce spread her son's legs and move her mouth vertically on his penis. Eryce then switches to utilizing her breasts to massage his entire genitalia. The Nakjit attempts to vacate, but Eryce prevents her.

“You're not allowed to leave, Daro'ura."

“I beg your pardon, m'lady?" Daro'ura asked with her hand on the doorknob.

“You'll remain with us until we're done with our bonding."

“As you wish, m'lady."

Continuing where they left off, Eryce sits on top of Envarn with his penis in her vagina. Her expression is of disappointment when he injects her womb with his semen before the action truly commences. Add one more lesson I need to teach him.

“That was... awesome... mom," Envarn huffed. “We... should... do it... again... soon."

Her hunger still raging, she eyes up Daro'ura. “You must be feeling left out. Why don't you join us?"

Daro'ura is flustered after the offer. “Appreciate the offer, but it isn't necessary."

“But I insist." Dripping with her son's seed, Eryce pulls out of Envarn and strolls towards Daro'ura. She first parts the Nakjit's robe away, revealing her breasts. Then, she completely disrobes her, and she can infer from her wet pussy that Daro'ura's also in the mood. “I need release, Daro'ura. I desire to satiate my thirst. Judging by your lower region, you are aroused and have an appetence for stimulation too." She commences rubbing Daro'ura's breasts. “We can be the most joyful females in the house right here, right now."

“Then I shall oblige to your request, m'lady."

Laying on a table and spilling the contents onto the floor, Daro'ura seizes the initiative first by separating Eryce's vaginal fold and buries her face in the slit, wiggling her tongue around inside to collect leftover semen from Envarn. Eryce returns the favor by performing oral on Daro'ura's pussy. Daro'ura's tongue meanders over to Eryce's clitoris, sending shivers down Eryce's body. Next, they mutually finger each other's slits, with Daro'ura having four fingers inside Eryce and Eryce with three inside Daro'ura. The intensity from the Nakjit's fingering provides the stimulation Eryce craves for, and soon her secretions transform from a drip to a deluge, and she releases a blissful moan; her moan mixes with Daro'ura's as she too achieves her orgasm.

“That… was… wonderful," Eryce commented after she regained her sense of reality.

“Glad… to be… of… service… m'lady," Daro'ura replied though she was still out of it.

After she's fully clothed, Eryce issues an order before exiting Envarn's bedroom, “Not a single word about our experience to anyone outside this room, especially to Malfias." The next order she directs at Envarn. “Let's actually start these books your father wants you to read. He'll most likely quiz you on them."

Standing in an aisle of books, a man with a bald head, except for the long hair turning grey, facial hair, and yellow skin, is engrossed in organizing the shelves when the sound of a door opening followed by footsteps catches his attention. Sticking his head out from the aisle towards the source, he spots Malfias trotting directly towards him. He abruptly returns to his previous spot and resumes his task when Malfias forces him to cease.

“Shung Tao, I'd like to have a word with you."

“To what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence, Malfias?" Shung asked with a bit of a foreign accent.

“What do you know of Edreth Malatharn?"

“He is the fourth son and seventh overall child out of ten of Rymil and Layara Malatharn. Actually, the first in line to inherit the head of the family after the unfortunate events surrounding Kerrek, Aladras, and Sereth."

“I know all of that."

“Then it would help if you narrow your search down to specifics."

“Something's off about him. I had a conversation with him at his castle, and I sensed his mana signature was different. More red flags went off when he forgot about the Montins in Meybury."

“That does sound bizarre of him. Even the common people know of the marriage between Linay and Julin since the city in the region with the same name has more significance than the majority of Adoranian territory, so for someone like him to not know seems queer."

Pulling out Sheilra's note from his pockets, Malfias hands it to Shung. “This was the final evidence for me. Lady Sheilra is aware of the quirks of her husband."

Shung inspects the note. “My intuition says that you want me to investigate Edreth further."

“Your instincts are veracious, Shung. If Edreth isn't himself, then I can swiftly execute my move and have Envarn assume the title of baron."

“Then I shall listen to what the shadows have to say. Speaking of moves, there has been a spike in activity amongst you and the other families in Adoran lately, my shadows tell me."

“King Theandren Noltain is dead, and his son, Dyral, is incompetent, to say the least, despite his advisors doing their job, so a vast and powerful empire in Illyria is finally up for grabs. No family is deranged enough to let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity go to waste. As a result, I have schemes in the works, including a special one."

“And I'm sure they have strategies likewise."

“All the more reason to strike first. Those who always spend their lives being reactive can never achieve greatness than those that are proactive."

“There is an aphorism among people in Hu-Jan that goes like this. He who can't see the entire picture when he acts finishes empty-handed."

Malfias disregards Shung's statement. “One more important topic I need to speak to you."

“Let me guess; it's Raulyn."

“Once again, you are correct, and I suspect how."

“Then my messenger completed his assignment."

“Raulyn is on his way back from Meva Island as we speak. What are your recommendations on dealing with him?"

“There's always amending your relationship with him."

“Anything but that."

“Then that's an arduous task I don't wish to partake in. He's an adroit strategist and has a gifted tongue. It's wise to have Raulyn as an ally than an adversary."

“He was solely responsible for the failure of the campaign in Rusask and the collapse of Orlén. Now, Orlén is a third of its original size before its conquest. Adroit strategist, my ass."

“What a shame that a single, ignominious event defines a man instead of the entire catalog of his life."

“Do you have actual advice, or are you going to spill more philosophical excrement?"

“Pray that one of the other families captures and/or executes him instead of you. Whether you enjoy it or not, he is a Hearthrow, and that comes with its own set of enemies."

(Reginus)

Dusk arrives in Dilmorn Village when Reginus and five more Cerths ride in on horses. The primary driving force to temporarily suspend their pursuit towards Heilim and Tylon is hunger. They unknowingly enter the same restaurant with the incident between Heilim and the bard previously. The ravenous patrons inside look at them with interest, mostly prejudice and some anxiety, but Reginus and the others ignore their scrutiny.

Despite the affair with the previous Farlander customers, the server still tends to the group of Cerths; for the appetizers, Reginus and two others each order tuna tartare with a drizzle of olive oil and caviar on top, and the other three have drenphin snake to split. The main courses consist of one hare on top of thin, flat noodles with a light brown sauce and mushrooms, two elk steaks with demi-glace, two mountain goat filets with horseradish sauce, and a thick salmon filet with a sticky glaze and salmon roe. Everybody at the table orders beer.

Tonight's primary source of entertainment is Lumir, and he follows the same routine he always does; he attempts, but fails, to extract money from the Cerths and does not push his luck further, remembering the reception from Heilim. However, while they are consuming food, a conversation among them catches his attention and piques his curiosity, so he saunters back over after dancing around the restaurant.

“Pardon me, gentlemen. I can't help but overhear your discourse about someone," Lumir said.

“Leave us alone, bard," Reginus replied.

“You'll change your mind once I tell you about Vallo."

“Tell me everything," Reginus ordered.

Lumir starts narrating the story, overexaggerating it with his performance. “He was here sitting directly on the other side from you a couple of days ago along with a much younger Farlander. When I asked for simple philanthropy from him, he responded by threatening me and left me to recollect the coins after he deliberately scattered them. An intrepid gentleman named Jacsan challenged him to a duel to make him pay. He had him by the ropes, but a sordid trick by Vallo cost him his life. Everybody cried foul, demanding his head, but the guard that facilitated the duel refused, and he left without any comeuppance. I was told the witnesses' news, and I heard that Jacsan called Vallo by a different name. Heilim."

So, he's been here already, and it didn't take him long to leave a trail of carnage, Reginus thought. “Where did he and the other guy went off to?"

Lumir points at the road through a window. “They went that way. Best guess is they're in the village of Catry. Beyond that, they could be anywhere." Reginus flips a gold coin to him as he and his men vacate the table to pay the tab and leave a tip using the funds from Ateano, and Licnos could scrape up, blowing through the vast majority of it. “Many appreciations to you. I hope you teach the uncouth Farlander a lesson he'll never forget."

“For the record, it was for the tip and not your performance."

“If you want to contribute more for the performance, I certainly won't inveigh." Lumir holds his hat out.

“If people reinforce the idea that mediocrity sells, then this entire country will go to shit."

Learning from his mistake with Heilim, Lumir internalizes the outburst and does not order people to challenge Reginus and the rest of the Cerths. _A single fucking gold coin for a supreme tip towards their target? I should've gotten at least a platinum out of it. And how dare he say I'm mediocre! _Pulling off the best smile he can, he waves them goodbye.

“Lextiik clouris durmix," Reginus ordered his men in their native tongue. “Immos exscik ateamaos av Catry."

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