The Rose and the Azalea - Chapter Twelve

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    Together with honey, molasses, agave nectar and concentrated yacon syrup, rose extract forms the backbone of a High Rock joke dish known as the 'Bowl of Sweet Disgust'. Having sampled the dish once while on a mission in Evermore, I can assure the reader that the dish is very, very aptly named.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

                    Rhansan said nothing.

     

                    Nothing as I barged into his coast-side stronghold along with S’hni and a dozen men. Nothing as I shouted expletives and accusations in his face. Nothing as we shackled his hands behind his back. Nothing even as we led him towards the docks. And nothing as, in the dead of night, we rowed him out half a mile to sea and dropped him in, still in full dwarven plate.

     

                    It took half a second for the golden gleam of his armour to disappear beneath the surface. I stared down into the depths, my lips pressed together. We had executed him still with his helmet on. I had never gotten to see his face, and I was surprised at my utter lack of curiosity.

     

                    ‘Bye-bye, Rhansan old boy,’ S’hni waved cheerily as she leant over the boat, completely unfazed by the fact that we’d just murdered someone she had worked with for nigh on a decade. ‘Save a spot for me down in Oblivion!’

     

                    Psychotic little bitch.

     

                    Maybe I should just push her in, too. Have the remaining two underbosses killed, start anew.

     

                    I chuckled mirthlessly. If only I could afford to do that. Promoting someone under Rhansan to handle smuggling work would be easy enough, but S’hni and Denholm… like it or not, S’hni’s particular disposition made her very, very good at her job, and there was no better slaver in Anvil. Denholm was similarly indispensable – without him running the finances, we would have gone bankrupt multiple times over the last year.

     

                    Gods, I wish I could’ve just stayed as Father’s enforcer.

     

                    Then I shook my head. Like it or not, the family was my responsibility now. My duty. I have to keep it safe, keep it whole, keep it running.

     

                    ‘Take us back,’ I told the man at the oars.

     

                    The boat swung around and headed back towards Anvil Harbour.

     

                    It was long past midnight when I made it back to the mansion. I slept fitfully, waking after a few hours of vague nightmares.

     

                    Azalea was curled up next to me as I threw the covers off, his cheek pressing against my ribs. His sweet flowery scent was lingering around me, clinging to my skin. I smiled and stroked his hair for a while, comforted. No matter what I had to face out there, I could always come back to him.

     

                    I rose, washed, and reviewed my schedule for the day. Rhansan’s skooma dealers needed to be watched first; reorganised. They were the loosest screw in the family, and they needed stable leadership fast.

     

                    We broke our fast with a hearty meal of tomatoes and scrambled eggs. Azalea was more subdued than usual as we ate.

     

                    ‘You really should eat more, you know, you weigh less than some children I know,’ I said, a little concerned, as he poked at a slice of tomato with a morose expression. ‘Is something wrong? Why the long face?’

     

                    ‘Sabina…’ He looked up, his eyes bright and watery, and I felt an insane urge to bite something. So godsdamned cute.

     

                    ‘Yes?’ I squeaked in a voice far higher than normal, then reddened immediately at his knowing, amused look. ‘What is it? Is the food that bad? I’ll have the chef fired!’ I said, forcing my voice back down into my usual gruff tones.

     

                    ‘Oh, no no no,’ Azalea said hurriedly. ‘The food is great as usual.’

     

                    ‘I honestly think you’re a better cook than old Orto,’ I grinned. ‘I should have you make dinner more often.’

     

                    He floundered about, flustered. I enjoyed the sight for a few moments before continuing. ‘So what is it?’

     

                    ‘Are you going back into town today?’ Azalea asked, his shy smile fading as he turned serious.

     

                    ‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘Did you want me to pick something up? I’ll see what I can do, but I might be a little busy.’

     

                    ‘It’s not that,’ Azalea said, poking his index fingers together. ‘I… can you take me into town with you when you go?’ he blurted out.

     

                    I raised an eyebrow, then nodded, understanding. ‘Are you getting bored cooped up here?’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve been more considerate. Now that I’ve taken care of Rhansan, it should be safer for you to get out more. Of course you can come with me!’

     

                    ‘I’ve actually wanted to go back to the Bouquet…’ he caught my look and added frantically, ‘Not to work! Just to let the madam and my friends know I’m all right.’

     

                    ‘Oh, right, they must be worried sick.’ I tapped my chin, sympathetic. ‘Well, I’m going to the other side of the city today, so we could just drop you off at the town square. My business might take all day, so we can just meet up back there at sunset.’

     

                    ‘All right, thanks!’ Azalea said happily, perking up. I gnawed hungrily on my scrambled egg. So. Godsdamned. Cute.

     

    Certain historical Akaviri records write of azalea flowers with one hundred petals. It is unknown if the writers meant that number in the literal sense.

     

     


     

     

                    The ground beneath me was opening. From the chasm reached a pair of hands, bloody, shaking, grasping… a pair of small, pudgy hands.

     

                    And then the moaning. Always the same words.

     

                    Killed… me… Aetius howled as he rose, intestines draping from his open gut and coiling around his stumbling legs. You… killed… me…

     

                    ‘I did, didn’t I?’ I murmured, frozen to the spot as he clawed his way towards me from below.

     

                    More hands. More hands appeared, so many more. Dozens of pairs, almost a full hundred, all reaching for me. Big and small, dark-skinned, light-skinned, furred, scaled. Many of them confirmed kills, still more dispatched in the heat of battle, consequences of my mistakes, my slips into detection and open combat. Some stained with blood, or with veins black and green from poison, others with skin darkened, brittle, cracked, calcified, the telltale marks of electrocution… and a select few untouched, pristine, as if they had only gone to sleep. Finer examples of my work.

     

                    My work.

     

                    So much death.

     

                    They were many. A legion of bodies. All howling at me from the pit, their eyes bloodshot, angry, hateful. Accusing. You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!

     

                    Always the same words.

     

                    Aetius grabbed my leg and I willed myself out of the dream.

     

                    I let out a loud gasp as I woke, then immediately clenched my teeth, furious with myself. Sloppy. Inexcusable. A mistake like that could cost me my life – and the lives of my entire unit – while resting in hostile territory.

     

                    The room was filled with the scent I had released in my distress, the lilac and vanilla almost choking me with their intense sweetness. Another mistake, one far worse than my noisy stirring. With a good wind, opponents from the other end of the province could have tracked me down. Tracked my teammates down. I suppressed the scent immediately, returning my own presence to an odourless state, but the smell would continue to linger in the room for months on end.

     

                    I needed to do better. I will do better. For the village. For my village.

     

                    I laid in place for the better part of an hour, steadying my breathing, practicing my meditation techniques.

     

                    Clear your mind… inner peace… clear your mind… achieve pure focus-

     

                    But peace would not come, and focus was more elusive than it had ever been.

     

                    At approximately two in the morning, Sabina arrived home. I heard snippets of her conversation with Lysanders as she came up the stairs.

     

                    Rhansan was dead, executed after the fashion of Flavana traitors – thrown into Anvil Harbour with his arms bound, still in full armour. My brow furrowed. Drowning was exceptionally unreliable at the best of times. Kill not confirmed.

     

                    Be that as it may, it was clear that one underboss was out of the picture. I made a mental note to report this at the first opportunity.

     

                    Sabina’s footsteps stopped right outside our bedroom, and I heard her bid her bodyguard goodnight. Then she opened the door as quietly as she could and stepped inside, already stripping off her armour.

     

                    A series of metallic clinks filled the room as she unstrapped the plate and arranged it neatly next to our wardrobe, and I heard her toss her head, loosening her neck.

     

                    I felt the air currents in the room shift as she leant over me, her breath tickling my skin. She rested her chin lightly on my pillow, her nose probing my hair, my shoulder, as she took a deep sniff and sighed. Her body shifted, and she began taking her shirt off as well.

     

                    My scent, I had discovered, could act as a minor aphrodisiac in large concentrations. I kept my eyes lightly closed and laid there, limp, open, inviting.

     

                    She threw off the last of her underclothes and straddled me, pressing me down. Her body was slick with sweat, the muscles on her thighs flexing, squeezing. She stank of the sea, of salt and desire. I could taste her impatience on her tongue as she pressed her full lips against mine.

     

                    I let out a little moan into her mouth as I pretended to wake.

     

                    ‘Shh,’ she said huskily, commandingly. ‘Just lie down and don’t move. I need… I need…’

     

                    My hips twitched involuntarily. For a moment I was disturbed. No control whatsoever… Then she wrapped her arms tight around my head and shoved me against her.

     

                    Her bosom was warm, throbbing with her heart, the beats strong and fast. Throbbing with heat, throbbing with life. So much life. The most life I had ever felt in a person. And I realised that I needed it too.

     

                    Ridiculous. Absurd. I am undisciplined trash. I’m worse than the dunce.

     

                    But I- but I-

     

                    ‘Are you crying?’ Sabina stopped and peered down at me, worry shining in her hazel eyes. ‘Am I being too rough?’

     

                    ‘No…’ I shook my head, reaching behind her, pressing my hands and arms against her back as I returned her embrace. Her lungs were just as powerful as the rest of her, and I felt for them and listened for them, entranced by the steady rushing of air in and out of the organ.

     

                    Alive. She was alive.

     

                    I needed this warmth. I needed this life.

     

                    ‘Please,’ I whispered as she gripped me closer, gripped me tighter, so tightly that I could no longer tell where my wetness ended and where hers began.

     

                    Perhaps… just for one night… this was all right.

     

                    ‘Take me,’ I pleaded into her ear.

     

                    She did. And for a brief fifteen minutes, I knew peace.

     

                    When morning came, I was ready to work once more.

     

                    Sabina agreed quickly enough to let me visit the Bouquet. I wondered if I would find Bengakhi there. After all, the brothel was the main centre of command in Anvil for Shadeclaw operations.

     

                    The sun was shining as I stepped off the carriage and waved a cheerful goodbye to Sabina. The heel of my salon slipper made a sharp clack as I tested it against the cobblestones paving the town square, and I frowned. With a small adjustment to my kiai, I could move silently enough on such a surface even while wearing these…bejewelled baubles, but perhaps it wasn’t worth the effort. I had no reason to stay undetected for now.

     

                    I raised and unfurled the parasol I’d taken from Flavana Manor before we set off. It was a bright, pink and violet thing with laces on the edges. I could see why Sabina never carried it out. It suited the colour of my robes very well, though, and I had to admit it was pleasant to keep the sun’s glare out of my eyes – I was far more used to moving around in the dark.

     

                    The streets of Anvil were quite crowded. I turned a great many heads as I strode from the town square towards the entertainment districts, my heels still clacking against the cobbled pavement, and from time to time a couple of wolf-whistles rang out. A drunkard leaving a tavern – goodness, it was barely past noon – tried to bump into me in a gesture as transparent as it was pathetic. I sidestepped smartly and skipped away, rewarding his efforts with a short, teasing giggle. I could almost hear his drool pooling in his mouth. I held back a smile as Bengakhi’s words came back to me.

     

                    ‘The more flamboyantly you are dressed, the less likely common bystanders will remember what you actually look like.’

     

                    Right now, all the men and women of Anvil could see was a fashionable, carefree young lady in a fancy Akaviri dress – the furisode was not a dress, but I doubted most Tamriellians knew that – making her way downtown for an afternoon of leisure, a charming little parasol on her shoulder throwing her face in shade. It would be conceited of me to claim that the lady was a strikingly beautiful one, but I had to confess I would quite like it if those passing me thought so. Perhaps they would think that she was just a little too carefree for her own good, going out on her own in times such as these. Perhaps they would also stop for a moment and sigh as they thought of the sticky end such a lady was sure to meet.

     

                    Presumptions; assumptions and presumptions. In certain situations, they concealed one far better than shadows and rooftops.

     

                    Thank you for the lesson, Bengakhi-ra.

     

                    The drunkard was following me; he’d been doing so for quite a distance already. I swerved into a mass of shops and stalls and lost him in the crowd, and after that brief but passionate affair I reached the Meat Street without any further incidents.

     

                    I felt just the barest hint of a presence at my back as I took the first ten paces down the street. I turned as a cone of silence blossomed around me again, quite pleased with myself. I noticed this time.

     

                    Shi was standing behind me, still in his janitor’s uniform. I graced him with a polite smile. Bowing would’ve broken my character and attracted attention, but I inclined my head slightly just to be respectful to my senior. Shi nodded, and we both started walking again.

     

                    ‘You look as ravishing as ever,’ Shi said without making direct eye contact. ‘The parasol is a nice touch.’

     

                    ‘Please, Shi-jo, you’ll make me blush,’ I replied, touching a finger to my lips.

     

                    ‘“-jo”?’ Shi’s nose twitched. ‘Now who’s making who blush? A”-to” is fine.’

     

                    I might’ve actually blushed at that. ‘That doesn’t seem very proper… sir.’

     

                    ‘Oh?’ Shi smirked. ‘Just “sir”, now, is it? Oh dear, I’ve been rejected. That’ll teach me to cosy up to my junior.’

     

                    We exchanged a few more barbs – this mock flirting was oddly enjoyable – and then we were all business once more.

     

                    ‘You are here to report to Bengakhi-dro, I assume? I take it your cover is still intact. How long do you have?’

     

                    ‘Until the evening. I must be back around the town square by the time the sun sets.’

     

                    ‘We have seven hours, then. Plenty of time for a thorough debriefing.’ Shi turned abruptly from the Bouquet as we approached, turning instead towards a dark alleyway. I looked at him, puzzled. There was nothing on the other end except a couple of abandoned apartment buildings.

     

                    ‘Bengakhi-dro is overseeing our operations in one of the apartments, along with several members of the Penitus Oculatus,’ Shi explained. ‘They would not be able to move about as freely in the brothel.’

     

                    I nodded. ‘Of course.’

     

                    I wonder if I’ll get to see Lencius-do again. I had enjoyed meeting the archer.

     

                    We made our way into the second building from the right. Shi led me across a maze of narrow corridors, until we rounded a corner and found ourselves face-to-face with two very large Imperials in the black armour and red tunics of the Emperor’s personal espionage force. Gladii were sheathed at their sides. One of them raised a crossbow as I approached, then relaxed as he saw Shi at my side.

     

                    ‘Afternoon, sir,’ the agent saluted.

     

                    ‘Erius-do, Proximo-do,’ Shi bowed at each of them. I followed suit. ‘May we enter?’

     

                    ‘Course,’ Proximo said, scratching his beard. ‘Word of warning, though, there’s someone in there who doesn’t know about your order. That big commander of yours gave very explicit instructions to keep it that way. So when you go in…’

     

                    ‘We will be posing as agents as well,’ Shi finished. ‘Many thanks for the warning, Proximo-do.’

     

                    Masks. Masks upon masks upon masks, one of the many ways we kept our village safe.

     

                    We bowed at the agents one more time, then pushed inside.

     

                    The room was simple, but still tidy. A board detailing Flavana operations and movements had been pinned to one side of the wall. Spyglasses and crossbows were arranged on a table next to a row of windows, along with maps and charts. Several men – some in street clothes, others in Oculatus uniforms – were gathered around the table. Bengakhi was stalking around the room, his hands clasped behind his back, and his presence clearly made the agents nervous.

     

                    A Redguard sitting with his hands chained to the back of his chair caught my attention. Grey, woollen hair, almost white. High nose, broad chin, thick lips. And his eyes. I recognised his eyes. Dark, beady, alert. Eyes I’d only seen from behind the slit on a dwarven heaume.

     

                    Rhansan made a small noise with the back of his throat as he looked at me; his version of a chuckle, perhaps. ‘Knew it. Knew it from the moment my assassins failed. Thanks for the help. Couldn’t have gotten out without you.’

     

                    I tilted my head at him. ‘You were a lot more astute than I’d given you credit for, Mister Rhansan.’

     

                    A lot more calculating as well. With hindsight, I could connect the dots fully now. Rhansan had given up his own assassination attempt on Sabina the instant he’d learned of my involvement. He had not, after all, survived twenty years in this business without knowing when to retreat. Using me – and his comprehensive knowledge of Flavana tradition – to his advantage, he had faked his death. Maybe his helmet was enchanted… no, it was more likely that he had imbibed an exceptionally potent potion of water breathing in the moments before he was captured, the effects of which could last hours, perhaps even a full day. Escaping would have been as simple as walking back towards the docks, the nooks and crannies of which Rhansan no doubt knew very well, having spent most of his adult life working there. The process would have been slow underwater, but also exceptionally easy. The tide had not been strong yesterday night.

     

                    I felt a small surge of irritation. No one should have been able to use me like that other than my superiors in Tsukikage.

     

                    ‘You still haven’t explained how you found our hideout,’ an Oculatus spectre growled, leaning forward. The senior field agent, I assumed. ‘Or, for that matter, why we shouldn’t just send you to the headsman right now and be done with it.’

     

                    ‘Do that,’ Rhansan said calmly. ‘And you lose twenty years’ worth of information. Information worth your pensions a thousand times over. Criminal exchanges, proceedings and underground deals... the knowledge I have gathered on Anvil alone is enough to fill a library, and I’m not even mentioning the international networks yet. And seeing as I burned all my notes while little miss Flavana was marching up my front door, the only place left with that information is the inside of my head. You could try torturing me, of course, but I do advise against it. People – strong-willed people especially – have been known to go mad.’

     

                    ‘And you expect us to just believe,’ the agent snorted. ‘That you’ve this kind of inside knowledge, do you?’

     

                    ‘Well,’ Rhansan grinned unpleasantly. ‘That brings us back to your first point. I found you, didn’t I?’

     

                    The agent didn’t have a retort for that.

     

                    ‘I’ve only a decade or so left,’ Rhansan shrugged. ‘Maybe two, but I joined up around the same time Danton did, so I doubt it. I only wanted to have the young lady killed so I could turn legitimate and live out the rest of my years in comfort anyway, but since the Oculatus is getting involved…’

     

                    The Redguard leant forward, his monotone contrasting with his widening grin. ‘That means that the Emperor is really serious about cleaning this city up, and that means you need me.’

     

                    The agents exchanged dark glares. It could have been my imagination, but I could swear that I saw Bengakhi’s whiskers twitch in amusement.

     

                    ‘Name your terms,’ the senior agent said, resigned and defeated.

     

                    ‘I do still plan on ending my days in comfort,’ Rhansan said, spreading his hands. ‘So find me a remote location. Somewhere in the countryside. Supply me with high-quality food, wines and meats, the like. I want to die fat. That’s all, really. Send over a scribe with a quill and a long roll of parchment when you need information. I’ll tell you everything I know.’

     

                    More dark looks exchanged between the spectres.

     

                    ‘Very… well…’ the senior agent hissed. ‘But you will be put under constant guard.’

     

                    Rhansan shrugged again, still grinning. ‘Well, then, do we have a deal?’

     

                    ‘We have a deal,’ the agent said grudgingly. ‘By the Divines. You should have been a gambler, sir.’

     

                    ‘On the honour of the Emperor?’

     

                    ‘On the honour of the Emperor…’ the agent said through clenched teeth.

     

                    Rhansan clapped his hands together. ‘All right. I assume you’re all going after the other underbosses next, eh? Classic Imperial dismantling act. The Septims used to do the same, I think. Here, then, just a small tip as a sign of good faith. I know exactly where S’hni is going to be this afternoon.’

     

                    The entire room grew quiet as we listened with rapt attention.

     

                    ‘That deranged Khajiit likes to throw parties on a ship from time to time. Anyone can attend, so long as they bring their own…’ Rhansan’s eyes flicked to me. ‘Meat. I’ve been to one of them before. I’ve seen a great many things in this life, but the way S’hni treats her slaves gives even me pause. It goes without saying that the people she surrounds herself with are similarly twisted.’

     

                    ‘Where is this ship docked? Does it have a name?’ Bengakhi asked, leaning in to stare at the Redguard.

     

                    ‘Ja-Kha'jay’s Bride,’ Rhansan answered without flinching. ‘It’s docked in one of the Flavana family’s private ports. The ship leaves in an hour and won’t be back until tomorrow. S’hni’s lieutenants process the slaves, decides who gets to go aboard and who doesn’t. S’hni herself is usually up on deck by this time already.’

     

                    ‘Thank you,’ Bengakhi said, and slapped him.

     

                    Rhansan’s head jerked back and forth in a violent motion, bobbing rapidly from left to right like a knob on a spring. I could hear his brain smashing itself to bits against the inside of his skull. Then he slumped over, mouth agape. Blood dripped from his eyes and nose.

     

                    There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the senior Oculatus agent leapt up from his seat.

     

                    ‘Stendarr have mercy,’ he yelped. ‘What the fuck did you just do?’

     

                    ‘A kill order for Rhansan was issued by the village Council three days prior to this meeting. I merely carried out the order. If you take issue with my performance, Elinnaeus-do, please file a formal complaint through official channels, and Tsukikage will address your concerns to the best of our abil-’

     

                    ‘We needed him alive!’ Elinnaeus shouted.

     

                    ‘He was largely exaggerating the extent of his knowledge in order to better manipulate you,’ Bengakhi said impatiently. ‘If you are in need of information, you would be better off asking for our help, or gathering it on your own. This man was entirely self-serving, a wholly unreliable long-term source.’

     

                    Elinnaeus sat back down, breathing heavily. ‘I made him a deal on the Emperor’s honour.’

     

                    ‘Honour,’ Bengakhi repeated, the barest hint of a suppressed sneer in his voice. ‘If you are so concerned with honour, Elinnaeus-do, then all you have to do is make sure the events of today never leave this room. After all, shame is only shame if it becomes public.’

     

                    Elinnaeus stared at our field commander sullenly, shaking his head. ‘Fucking shinobi,’ he muttered under his breath.

     

                    ‘On the short term, however,’ Bengakhi continued. ‘I am reasonably confident that the intelligence he provided us was accurate in this instance, given that he was still trying to win over our confidence. We have one hour until the Ja-Kha'jay’s Bride sets sail. S’hni knows your face, kit… so an undercover infiltration would prove too risky.’

     

                    ‘What are our orders, Bengakhi-dro?’ Shi stood to attention, and I followed suit.

     

                    ‘Return to your duties, both of you,’ Bengakhi said. ‘You are dismissed.’

     

                    ‘Sir?’ I asked, confused.

     

                    Reaching up, Bengakhi pulled an enormous hood and an equally large cowl over his face.

     

                    ‘I will be executing this operation…’ he said, his voice slow, deliberate. ‘Personally.’

     

                    The skin behind Bengakhi’s yellow eyes tautened, and the entire room simply froze solid. The shadows seemed to lengthen, and several younger members of the Oculatus began to tremble. The bright, sunny day outside retreated, and the chirps of birdsong became muted, fading into the distance. I felt an overwhelming pressure crushing me down as he stared at each of us. Pure, malicious force of will, so powerful it was almost a physical manifestation. This was Bengakhi-ra’s murderous intent. And we all knew.

     

                    S’hni was already dead.

     

     

     

     

                       

     

Comments

5 Comments   |   Sotek and 3 others like this.
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  August 20, 2018
    Bengakhi is my favorite. SMACK!  And it's all done. Dumbarse, I would've just left. 
    • The Sunflower Manual
      The Sunflower Manual
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      Bengakhi is my favorite. SMACK!  And it's all done. Dumbarse, I would've just left. 
        ·  August 20, 2018
      Rhansan would've gotten away with it too, if it'd only been the Oculatus he was dealing with... ><
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  August 20, 2018
    Clever bastard. Or so he thought, hehehe. You can certainly count on one thing when it comes to Bengakhi. Shit's gonna hit the fan. Do you think he would enjoy that song from Drowning Pool? Let the bodies hit the floor! :D
    Hmm. And Harrow is startin...  more
    • The Sunflower Manual
      The Sunflower Manual
      Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Clever bastard. Or so he thought, hehehe. You can certainly count on one thing when it comes to Bengakhi. Shit's gonna hit the fan. Do you think he would enjoy that song from Drowning Pool? Let the bodies hit the floor! :D
      Hmm. And Harrow is starting to l...  more
        ·  August 20, 2018
      Well, Bengakhi doesn't go out of his way for wholesale slaughter... it's just that his skillset makes him more suited for that kind of carnage, hihihihihi.


      And yeah, being this close to someone - physically and emotionally - is going...  more
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  August 20, 2018
    Kill uncomfirmed.....    Nice job coming up with this...