The Rose and the Azalea - Chapter Six

• Posted by The Sunflower Manual May 4, 2018 - Filed in TSC: Short Story - #Harrow  #Sabina  #Rose/Azalea  - 1,542 views

  

   

   

  

   

   

   

   

  

  Magical influences have been known to affect the growth patterns of wildlife. Roses are particularly susceptible, forming fantastical spirals and circles in areas with exceptionally strong confluences of Magicka.
  

   

   

   

   

  

   

   

   

   

                  I stared at the ruins of the skooma den, its blackened framework jutting out of its matchstick remains like ribs on a horse’s carcass. The fires had died down, but smoke was still hanging in the air. Smoke tinged with a sickly sweet scent.

   

                  ‘My lady, you shouldn’t stay here overlong,’ Rhansan said, dark eyes glittering under his heaume. ‘The fumes-’

   

                  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, my voice muffled both from my helmet and from the handkerchief I’d wrapped over my nose and mouth underneath. Even then, I could feel myself growing lightheaded from the burning Moon Sugar, the smell tempting my nostrils with promises of euphoric bliss, tempting me to just take a deep, deep breath-

   

                  ‘Who was responsible for this den?’ I snapped, pushing the false joy out of my mind.

   

                  Two of my enforcers dragged an Imperial before me, gripping him by his arms. He was a small, squirrelly little man, with a moustache that was twitching so nervously it looked ready to fly off his face. ‘Lady Sabina,’ he whined. ‘This was a very unfortunate incident and I can only offer my most humble of apologies…’

   

                  ‘Name?’ I snarled, and the Imperial jumped, startled.

   

                  ‘Milton, m-ma’am…’

   

                  ‘Milton, do you know how much of the family’s gold comes from skooma dealing?’

   

                  Quivering, Milton shook his head.

   

                  ‘Rhansan?’

   

                  ‘One-fifth,’ the Redguard replied in his usual gravelly monotone.

   

                  ‘One-fifth,’ I repeated. ‘Now, Milton, do you know how many skooma dens the Flavanas are running in Anvil?’

   

                  Milton gulped. ‘I- I believe I-’

   

                  ‘Rhansan?’

   

                  ‘Five.’

   

                  ‘Five,’ I repeated. ‘And did you know, Milton, while you drank the night away in the tavern down the street, that this was our only skooma den in the south-west quarter?’

   

                  ‘M-m-my lady-’

   

                  ‘Edwin,’ I said. ‘My hammer.’

   

                  The Imperial paled as my bodyguard noiselessly passed me my brick hammer. ‘No,’ he cried. ‘My lady, please, I-’

   

                  ‘You had one job,’ I growled. ‘One job, Milton. What was it?’

   

                  Milton cringed and cowered as I drummed my fingers lightly on the broad cheek of the hammer. It was a simple tool, something you could find in any carpenter’s shop, but strong and sturdy, built to smash through mortar and hardened clay. And as I’d found out when I was ten, it smashed through bone with similar ease.

   

                  ‘“Keep an eye out for trouble”,’ I continued darkly. ‘That, I believe, was your job description to the letter. And a random vandal coming across the road with a torch and a barrelful of whale oil most certainly counts as trouble.’

   

                  I forced my right hand to relax. Clenched muscles would make the blow messy, imprecise. Unlike S’hni, I did not enjoy inflicting pain… but examples had to be made. I raised my voice.

   

                  ‘SO THAT MEANS THAT THAT EYE OF YOURS,’ I roared. ‘IS USELESS! USELESS! USELESS!’

   

                  I reversed the hammer, bringing the claw used for prying nails to the front. In a single, short tap, I put out Milton’s right eye.

   

                  The Imperial shrieked, convulsing. I nodded at my enforcers and they released him, letting him slide to the ground, where he cradled his maimed face with his hands and began to sob.

   

                  One of Rhansan’s smugglers slunk up to us. ‘Sir, my lady,’ he nodded at both of us. ‘We found this left in the middle of the den. The fire charred it a little, but it’s still obviously… well…’

   

                  I stared at what the smuggler was holding in his hand. A curved iron pendant, shaped like a Skyrim sabrecat’s tooth. I swore internally.

   

                  ‘Send a runner to Fjorn Iron-Tooth,’ I spat. ‘We’re not even two weeks into our peace treaty. He’s got some explaining to do.’

   

                  One of my enforcers stepped up. ‘At your service, milady. If you would please dictate the message-’

   

                  He faltered as a lone horseman rode down the street, heading straight towards us, our little group of a dozen Flavanas clustered in front of the skooma den. The rider was a Nord. We could see his braided golden beard even from this distance. He was not armed, and a burlap sack was hanging from his saddle.

   

                  ‘Hold,’ my enforcer called as Rhansan and several others of my men gripped – but did not draw – their weapons. ‘Hold there!’

   

                  The horseman reined in his mount and stopped before us, and I couldn’t help but feel a sharp prick of anger at how he was towering above me. I briefly considered commanding him to step down from his horse, but given how tall Nords were, it wouldn’t have made much difference.

   

                  ‘Lady Flavana, I come bearing an apology from the head of the Iron-Tooth Clan, Fjo-’

   

                  ‘Are the Iron-Tooths claiming responsibility for this attack?’ I asked, my voice hard. Never let up; never back down. Especially not before men.

   

                  ‘We are not, but the man who started the fire was one of our own,’ the messenger replied. ‘His name was Eifert.’ Past tense, I noted.

   

                  ‘And where is Mister Eifert now?’ I growled, bouncing my blood-stained hammer off my cuisses. The Nord’s gaze strayed to the hammer for a brief instant before he managed to regain his focus, and I smiled behind my helmet. I was unsettling him. Good.

   

                  ‘He has been punished after the fashion of true Nords, Lady Flavana,’ the messenger said, reaching into the burlap sack. ‘And while Clan Iron-Tooth cannot offer you more compensation than what we have already paid, we can offer this.’

   

                  He threw a flap of what looked like an extremely hairy piece of leather to the ground. I realised what it was when I leant to pick it up from the cobblestones. True Nord fashion indeed. Barbarians.

   

                  Eifert had been scalped.

   

                  ‘What you have already paid?’ I said, becoming dangerously loud, masking my discomfort with aggression. ‘It was Flavana coin that bought this peace.’

   

                  ‘And we have repaid you in territory.’

   

                  ‘Territory that was ours to begin with.’

   

                  ‘Territory we rightfully conquered!’

   

                  ‘Your tone borders on insolence, boy,’ I growled. The Nord was probably a full decade older than me, but one look at Edwin and Rhansan and all the enforcers flanking me and he caved.

   

                  Satisfied, I relented. No reason to reignite hostilities with the Iron-Tooths so soon. ‘Who was this Eifert fellow?’ I asked conversationally, changing the subject and throwing the messenger off with the sudden shift in atmosphere.

   

                  ‘Ah…’ the Nord floundered for a moment before he caught himself. ‘A friend of Nuresea, I am told. He had been quite upset for the past few days, but we never thought he would do something this foolish.’

   

                  ‘Nuresea? Whoever might that be?’

   

                  The Nord drew himself up on the saddle and stared at me. I could sense his dislike bubbling underneath his face. ‘The Dunmeri woman your slavemaster gutted in front of Lard’s Signpost just ten nights ago,’ he said coldly. ‘You didn’t even bother to learn her name, Lady Flavana?’

   

                  He took his leave after that and rode off, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth as he disappeared into the sprawl of the city. I wanted to blurt out some excuse. They never told me. I only saw her for a few minutes. S’hni was the one that killed her, not me.

   

                  In front of my men, though, I simply laughed. ‘Why would I bother learning her name? She was nobody,’ I sneered. ‘Just a…’

   

                  My breath caught in my throat and I coughed.

   

                  Just a whore.

   

                  Rhansan was studying me unusually closely. ‘Will you be visiting the Bouquet again tonight, Lady Flavana?’

   

                  I slammed a wall of icy reserve between me and my underboss. ‘My private affairs are no business of yours,’ I said stonily.

   

                  Rhansan’s eyes narrowed under his helmet’s slit, but he dropped the matter.

   

                  I couldn’t focus on anything when I got back to Flavana Manor. I signed off some of Denholm’s proposed projects on my desk. I played about with a map of Anvil, visualising the influence of the crime families spread out across the city. I trained my swordsmanship in the yard for a while, but even sparring with Edwin failed to clear my head.

   

                  ‘Get up,’ I told the bodyguard after I dealt him a particularly vicious blow to the head, whopping him on the helmet with the flat of my blade. The problem with training with Edwin was that he only ever focused on defence. When we crossed swords, he always restricted himself to light pokes or touches lacking any kind of speed or power – probably because he was supposed to protect me from attacks, not inflict them. I’d learned how to beat him constantly in sparring matches by the time I was seventeen, but I was of the notion that, were we to battle seriously, it would’ve been another thing entirely. I’d seen Edwin in action only twice before. Both fights were against multiple trained opponents who were directly threatening my safety. Both fights only lasted seconds.

   

                  Edwin stood up smoothly, even though his head must’ve still been ringing. His voice was as level as ever, and he didn’t seem the least bit tired. ‘A magnificent stroke, Lady Sabina.’

   

                  I nodded impatiently. ‘Yeah, yeah. Ready the coachman.’

   

                  We were both wearing our heaumes, so Edwin’s face was hidden from me, but I sensed a faint air of disapproval about him. ‘Going to see him again?’

   

                  ‘Are you jealous, dear Edwin?’ I smirked. ‘I never thought you, of all people…’

   

                  ‘I’ve been your bodyguard ever since you were four years old, Lady Sabina, and not once have I seen you so taken with a single person,’ Edwin said. ‘You’ve been to that brothel seven times over the last ten days.’

   

                  ‘There’s been a lot on my plate,’ I said defensively. ‘Even Father needed to get away from it all sometimes. You know even he did skooma, right?’

   

                  ‘If only you would be content escaping your troubles with something as easy as skooma, Lady Sabina,’ Edwin said, his usually calm voice growing slightly heated. ‘This kind of attraction is not something I can protect you from.’

   

                  ‘Protect me?’ I took off my helmet and grinned. ‘Please, Edwin, Azalea is a prostitute. An extraordinary dancer, maybe almost unnaturally pretty, but a threat?’

   

                  Edwin removed his own helmet. His mouth was grim and tight. ‘Pale skin. Unnatural beauty. Unparalleled grace. And the fact that he’s managed to charm you so thoroughly, Lady Sabina…’

   

                  I opened my mouth, then closed it and let out an incredulous snort. ‘You think he’s a vampire?’

   

                  ‘I am not ruling it out,’ Edwin muttered. ‘I’m also concerned with the way he looks at you after you leave.’

   

                  I blinked. ‘What?’

   

                  ‘You haven’t noticed? Every time you’re done with your visit, he stares out the bedroom window at our carriage,’ Edwin said darkly. ‘His eyes follow us all the way out of the Meat Street.’

   

                  Edwin must’ve seen me blush. He raised a hand to his head and groaned. ‘No! That wasn’t meant to encourage you, Lady Sabina. If anything, you should be the exact opposite of-’

   

                  ‘Don’t presume to tell me what I “should” or “shouldn’t” do,’ I snapped, covering up my embarrassment with bluster. Edwin didn’t seem fooled. Oh, to Oblivion with it. Why should I care what a servant thinks? ‘Get my carriage ready. I’m going to change.’

  
  

   

                  ‘Welcome back, madam,’ Azalea smiled. He was waiting for me in the usual room, kneeling on the bed with his robes flowing around his thighs, his hands folded and placed on his lap.

   

                  I closed the door behind me as I entered and sat down as casually as I could next to him.

   

                  ‘You didn’t come yesterday,’ Azalea said quietly, his brow turning inwards and upwards as he leant closer to me. His sweet, creamy lilac scent drifted towards my nose. It was almost as intoxicating as the Moon Sugar I’d smelled earlier in the day. Right now, though, none of my usual inhibitions were necessary. I took in a deep, rich breath and sighed, feeling for once like a normal woman.

   

                  ‘Did I worry you?’ I chuckled, allowing my tiredness sweep over my voice. Here, I could let just a bit more of my weariness show.

   

                  ‘A little…’ Azalea looked away pensively at the bedroom window, biting his lip. Two delicate fingers toyed with a crease in the wine velvet of the bed’s coverings. One of them skirted flirtatiously close to my wrist. ‘I’ve heard… stories of the recent gangland violence.’

   

                  I grinned, perhaps a little too brightly. ‘The gangs frighten you, do they?’

   

                  Azalea clutched at his breast. ‘Of course they do,’ he murmured, his eyes moist, lovingly vulnerable. ‘They control everything… no, everyone in Anvil, from the merchants to the beggars. What am I to do when I can’t even turn to the guardsmen for help?’

   

                  On an impulse, I reached out and cupped his cheek. ‘Well, don’t be frightened,’ I soothed. ‘I’ll protect you.’

   

                  Sniffing, he reached up and touched the back of my hand. ‘You’re very kind, madam,’ he said sadly. He obviously didn’t believe me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved he wasn’t prying any further – it had been a rather hasty promise, and I wasn’t sure I was going to follow through – or to feel frustrated that I wasn’t cheering him up.

   

                  ‘I don’t think you have much to worry about from the gangs. As long as you stay out of their business, you should be perfectly fine. Your brothel’s owner is a wise cat, keeping the place legitimate. All you need to do is to be smart, keep your head down. Anyway…’ I said, trying to carry the topic away from the gangs, which I had absolutely no wish to dwell on.

   

                  Azalea caught on quickly. He perked up and began to smile again. ‘Of course, madam, I shouldn’t bother you with my troubles. We are only here for your pleasure, after all. Would you like me to start immediately?’

   

                  ‘Actually, before the dances,’ I said, digging into my pocket. Edwin had pestered me so much about it on the way to the Bouquet that I’d finally given in. ‘I have a gift for you.’

   

                  I pulled out a pair of silver earrings, and Azalea gasped, clasping his hands together in front of him. ‘For me?’ he squeaked, sounding adorably giddy. ‘Oh, madam…’

   

                  Forget trying to find out if this thing is a vampire, I’m more interested in finding out if this thing actually has a c-

   

                  ‘Would you… would you like me to try them on right now?’ Azalea said as I dropped the earrings into his palm.

   

                  ‘Please,’ I motioned.

   

                  Azalea slipped the solid silver teardrops right into each earlobe, then stood and spun around in a little circle, his silken black hair glimmering behind him like an enchanted river. ‘How do I look, madam?’ he asked playfully, craning his neck.

   

                  ‘Radiant,’ I said the first word that came to mind as I stared at the silver poking right through his flesh. Definitely not a vampire, I crowed triumphantly. Take that, Edwin!

   

                  ‘Thank you so much, madam,’ Azalea gushed. ‘You’re wonderful.’

   

                  ‘Think nothing of it,’ I said gruffly, feeling an awkward wave of heat zoom up my cheeks. ‘I just wanted to see how you’d look while dancing with those on.’

   

                  Azalea beamed, then glided to the centre of the bedroom, his sleeves fanning out in the slow rotations around his body that marked the beginning of another Akaviri dance.

   

                  ‘Your wish is my command, madam…’ He raised his hands above his head and twisted, curving his entire spine into a perfect crescent moon. His hair swished a little and a fresh waft of lilac fragrance curled around me, embracing me, the aroma permeating my being.

   

                  ‘Call me Sabina,’ I whispered, already captivated.

   

                  ‘Sabina,’ came a whisper back, making my name sound like a litany to a goddess. I felt a shiver run down my back. And then Azalea began to move, and I could no longer remember anything else in the world.

  

   

  

  According to fragments of old Akaviri texts from before our arrival to Tamriel, a common prank amongst Tsaesci youths was to coat Azalea petals in white wax and mix them into jasmine tea. The number of recorded deaths from such a prank is unknown.
  

   

   

   

   

   

                   ‘I could assassinate her quite easily,’ I said, running a curling wand across my eyelashes. ‘There will be plenty of opportunities available during her… visits.’

   

                  ‘Of that I have no doubt,’ Master Haruka replied, applying a waterstone to the blade of her kunai. ‘But the fact remains that we haven’t received the order from the Council yet.’

   

                  ‘Hmm.’ I frowned.

   

                  ‘Not every problem can be solved simply by assassinating everyone,’ Haruka said sternly. ‘Killing Sabina Flavana right now would accomplish little. A successor would soon emerge, and that successor would still have access to all of the Flavana’s resources and manpower… no, our first target would likely be the underbosses, with the goal of destabilising a branch of the family first before local law enforcement dismantles them, and even then we wouldn’t be able to move right now.’

   

                  ‘Working in conjunction with the Empire seems very different from simply carrying out missions at the Empire’s behest,’ I mused.

   

                  ‘Quite…’ Haruka sighed. ‘We’ll have to wait until the Legion and the nobility aligned more firmly with the Empire have finished preparing for the crackdown to begin our own operation.’

   

                  My frown deepened. ‘What would they have to prepare for?’

   

                  Haruka chuckled. ‘How much of the spoils they will be taking, of course. Each branch of the Flavanas we will likely be sent after is rooted in gold. Similarly, so are the armies and navies of Emperor Mede-ri. Without the backing of the noble houses of Cyrodiil and High Rock, the Legion could not hope to function, and this is a time where the Empire needs to rebuild its fighting force more than ever… so balancing the gold they take for themselves with the gold they use to placate the nobles with will be a delicate task.’

   

                  I smiled mirthlessly. ‘And the Legion couldn’t simply take all of it?’

   

                  Haruka wore a similar smile. ‘The Empire’s national debt is higher than it has ever been in almost two hundred years. Simply paying off the interest to the noble houses is enough to put a significant drain on their treasury. The Count of Anvil himself owns two million septims of Imperial debt. The Emperor is no doubt quite eager to pay him back.’

   

                  ‘Hence all the deliberation as to what to do with the Flavana’s resources after we dismantle them,’ I said sardonically. It fit within the larger scheme of things. Gold, gold, gold, always gold. Even the Empire’s efforts to root out corruption were based in gold and the Empire’s need for gold. ‘Of course, Tsukikage will not see a single septim of that coin.’

   

                  ‘Our village’s main currency is assassination and information, not gold,’ Haruka reminded me. ‘We receive more than enough money from our regular mission contracts, and Mount Furiya is wholly self-sufficient. Leave economic expansion for the Tamriellians. We have no need for that kind of ambition.’

   

                  ‘Of course, Haruka-ko,’ I nodded. ‘I will be ready to move when the order comes down.’

   

                  ‘And that’s more than enough,’ Haruka said approvingly. Her ears twitched. ‘Hmm. That’s the spoke wheels of her carriage coming down the cobblestones… she’s here. I almost think you’ve been too effective, kit. The young lady is practically obsessed. Go and get ready.’

   

                  I was waiting in the bedroom by the time she arrived, my hair done, a fresh spread of gloss over my lips.

   

                  ‘Welcome back, madam…’

  

   

   

                  I watched her carriage trundle out of the streets, past cheap shops and even cheaper whores. Barely four years older than me and the head of one of the largest crime families in Cyrodiil.

   

                  ‘Sabina Flavana.’ I brought a finger up to rub my new earrings as I made my way to the dormitory. There weren't enough bunks to go around right now, so the boys and girls had to share. I usually slept with Dandelion. He had some energy left over from work sometimes, and I did not find... commixtion... with him disagreeable. I tucked myself in after I untied my hair and wiped my face with a damp cloth. Dandelion shifted and muttered something in his sleep as I snuggled next to him under the covers. I rested lightly, half-meditating, half-sleeping, and roused myself after one short hour.
  

   

                  Dandelion was already awake, eating a light breakfast of eggs and ham. The Nord was working the night shift. ‘Trouble sleeping, Zelly?’ he said, keeping his voice low. Some of the other boys and girls were still fast asleep.

   

                  ‘Not really,’ I said, hugging my knees to my chest as I sat up on the bed. ‘I'm just not very tired.’ A shinobi rarely was.
  

   

                  Dandelion was studying me with a strange intensity as he finished off his eggs. ‘You know,’ he said quietly. ‘You look a lot better without your hair styled and your eyes painted.’

   

                  I blinked, a little flustered, and found myself slightly wistful that he hadn't done something as I was lying there pressing against his body. I knew from experience that I would have liked it. ‘You think so?’

   

                  ‘Yeah,’ Dandelion said seriously. ‘You look more… honest.’

   

                  Honest, I said to myself as the Nord left the dormitory. Oh, Dandelion, I smiled. If faces were honest, you would not find me very pleasant to look at.