Chapter Text
The moon hangs swollen in the night sky, a bloated corpse in the river of the heavens. Fitting for a night like this, for the job he’s about to do.
Salt is thick on the air; a strange taste for a path in the middle of a wood, so tangled and choked with briars that he can hardly pass. As it is, they catch on the wool of his shirt, pulling snags in the pile. He huffs, plucking one from the shoulder seam. By the end of this little excursion, he’ll need a new wardrobe.
His mouth curves. Good. With the mountain of dir he’ll get from this job, he can afford an upgrade.
That is, if he ever gets there. The canopy looms, branches criss-crossing in a messy tangle, blotting out the sun. They said the village was only half a day’s walk, barely an hour over the border but–
That’s the thing about borders in these parts: there’s nothing to mark them.
The brush rattles, soft as a snake’s warning. His feet slide beneath him, supporting his crouch, legs coiled tight to pounce–
“Ah! Hail, traveler!” A man slips out from the bush, his hair a sloppy thatch of mouse brown, a basket perched high on his back. “Not many on these roads, of late!”
He straightens, yanking his boot away from where a briar has latched around its brim. “Can’t imagine why.”
The man smiles at that, but it’s a faint, bitter thing. “Ah yes, well, the plant life is certainly aggressive.”
He frowns down, plucking a bramble off his shoulder. “Can you tell me if it is far to Clarines?”
“Clarines?” His lips part in a friendly flash of teeth. “Why, you’re already there. Or at least close.” He hunches, squinting into the undergrowth. “There should be a marker, oh– ah! There!”
There– a small statue, nearly swallowed by the forest, shoulder-high. He steps toward it, gloved hand pushing aside the briars.
“What’s this?” He tilts his head. “An angel?”
“To guide us,” the man says, hushed. “Or guard us. I hardly know any longer.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh. “I thought the Clarinese were above superstition.”
The stranger’s smile wears thin. “So did we.”
The man next to him is large, tall and wide as a mountain, dwarfing the stool he sits on. Still, there’s something delicate about him, almost hesitant, holding this breath like he’s taking a plunge off the world’s edge.
“There’s a place,” the man says, his voice a deep rumble, like the way rocks move beneath the mantle of the earth. “In Clarines, just over the border. A manor.”
He leans in, on the hook. A manor means money, whether the people in it are alive or not. “Clarines? I thought they didn’t brook with the supernatural anymore. They’re–” he pauses, for dramatic effect– “enlightened.”
The man’s mouth rucks into a smirk. “That they are.”
“And you’re telling me this manor is cursed,” he asks, dubious. “In this great land of reason.”
There’s gravel in this man’s laugh, the sorta of rasp that only comes from experience. “A man’s only reasonable if he believes what he sees with his two eyes.”
“And you’ve seen this?” he presses. “A cursed manor right in Clarines?”
“I have.” His teeth flash in the tavern’s dim. “And if you have any sense, you’ll see it too.”
“Where are you headed?” The man bobs along beside him, the mousy haystack of his hair ruffling in the breeze. “Down on to Wistal? I hear it’s nice this time of year. Prince just had a baby too, I heard. Holding a big party just to name the thing.”
He sighs. Clarines might be a land of reason, but they still clung to their royals. “No.”
“Eurikenna isn’t half bad either, if you don’t mind sticking to your own skin,” the man offers amiably. “They’ve got a festival of their own going on, least so they’re saying.”
He knows persistence when he sees it; this man has no intention of letting him walk in companionable silence. “I’m headed to Laxdo. Just across the border.”
The man’s brows hike to his hairline. “That so?” He lets out a huff of a laugh. “Seems as though we’re headed the same way. The name’s Shuuka.”
“Ah.” His mind whirs. “You can call me Kage.”
“Well, Kage–” he hitches the basket higher on his back– “what brings you out to Laxdo?”
The gate, in theory, shouldn’t be a problem. Those royals like to make them high, make them spiked, make them out of wrought iron to keep the riff-raff out. He’s no stranger to being kept on the outside.
Boosting over a fence is no trouble, no matter how high they make it. But the briars, well– those are a problem.
It’s the first part of his night to disappoint his expectations, but oh, it’s far from the last.
“Business.” His hands flex at his side, even as he smiles. “And maybe some pleasure.”
Shuuka’s smile stiffens. “Ah, well, there’s not much of either in Laxdo. Though if you’ve got something to trade, there’s always a few itching to buy.”
The man gives his pack a cursory look, but he assures him, “I’m no merchant.”
“Huh.” Shuuka’s mouth purses, thoughtful. “What else might bring you out this way?”
“KUREI!” A band of men raises their tankards as they catch sight of him in the corner, cheeks ruddy with drink. “The savior of Oberwald! You have a drink?”
He raises his own stein, nearly empty, but they’re all too far into their own to notice. With a raucous cheer, they turn back to the bar, wheedling for another pint.
Good. Now when they remembered that name, they would talk of the man who drank drink-for-drink with them, who told them just what they wanted to hear. He wouldn’t, of course– but this night would be a blur to them, and a conversation with the man of the hour would be a lie that was safe to make. After all, he wouldn’t be around to gainsay them.
The big man is steady as he pours, the bottle comically small in his meaty hand. “Ah, so that’s what you have them call you.”
He watches his cup fill with dismay, smile plastered onto his lips. Now this– this wouldn’t do. He could drink any of village men under the table, but this stranger–
Well, he knows when he’d be beat. “All the villages between here and Altenrode.”
“Quite a ways,” the giants says, shifting on his stool. “Thought I recognized the name they were shouting when I came in.”
“Many a tavern lifts a glass to me.” And he’s sure more than a few toast his eventual demise too. “But about this manor…”
The man’s mouth slides into a dangerous curve. “Ah, right, the cursed manor. Used to be a royal residence, you know. One of the ones built by the old king.”
A king’s manor. All the more promising. “Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t,” he agrees, “it was barely been finished before he died. The prince took up with it though. Kept a mistress of his there.”
He’d never much cared for Clarines– too learned, and too suspicious in all the wrong ways– but he did know something of their royals. At least, the younger ones. “The prince?”
“The same.”
His finger taps at the tables. “But none of this explains the curse.”
The man’s mouth splits wide, teeth flashing white in the dim. “Why do you think you’ve never heard of it?”
“I heard a rumor,” he says, casual, “that there’s a manor in Laxdo that used to belong to the royal family.”
Shuuka’s step stutters beside his. “Still does,” he manages after a moment. “On paper.”
Ah, now that was promising. “So it’s true.” He slants a sly look at him. “It was abandoned.”
A blunt-fingered hand ruffles through his mop of hair, anxiety entrenched at the corners of his eyes. “That it was.”
“The prince’s mistress used to live there, did she?” He doesn’t need to wait for Shuuka’s answer, it’s writ across his face. “Some say she still does.”
It’s silent for a moment, only the crunch of their shoes on the path to fill it, until Shuuka croaks, “Who says that?”
“So you mean this is a ghost situation.” He takes a quick sip of his ale and wishes he had more. “A haunting. Maybe a poltergeist.”
“No.” The man’s smile grows thin. “She’s alive, by all accounts.”
Alive. Now that’s a different sort of request. “I’ll admit you’ve got me intrigued, mister, but I exorcise spirits, not ex-mistresses.”
His mouth twists wryly. “Is that what you call it, then?”
“It is.” He settles back into his chair, balancing some of his weight on his toes. His knives dig comfortingly into the arch of his back. “I may make a name for myself for ridding folk of unwelcome guests, but those are the ones who have lingered, and need to pass on. By all accounts, a living mistress, well–” he winks– “she’s done her job, and I’m not the sort to pry her from her hard-earned reward.”
The man shifts, the light of the lamps skittering over the hard planes of his face, and he grins. “Glad to hear it.”
Ever so slowly, he slides his feet down, so his soles touch the floor. “Still think I should go see this manor?”
“More than ever,” the man admits, and in the light, he swears he can see red glittering among the gray of his hair. “You see, this mistress, she’s not dead–” he hesitates, lingering at the edge of another drop– “she’s asleep.”
Shuuka lets out a long string of air. “Wouldn’t think they’d talk about all that, even out in Tanbarun.”
“Ah, you know how it is.” He shrugs. “They love a good story. Even better if there’s a pretty girl with a curse.”
Shuuka grunts, casting him a measuring look. “And that’s what brought you here?”
He grins. “Who could resist?
The man shifts next to him, hesitant. “Just what was it that you do again, Kage?”
The brambles wrap tight around the bars, thorns as sharp and thin as needles. He places a hand over it, and– ah, yes, that’s not smart. Not gonna be able to climb that way.
Not that he has many other options. Forewarned is forearmed, and someone hadn’t seen the need to tell him about the thicket of thorns tangled around the only entrance. Besides what could hang off his belt– a few of his finer tools and a couple of his favorite knives, and a handful of nuts for good measure– he’s shown up empty handed to a pruning party.
Still, if she had gotten in, he could too. He’d just have to get creative about it.
He stares down at his hands, leather giving a soft squinch as he flexes them. His teeth clench at the feel of padding against his palm.
Or he might just have to do this the old fashioned way.
His mouth hooks into a smirk. “I didn’t say.”
Shuuka’s eyes narrow. “Is that how you got that bruise on your cheek?”
The salt is rough against his palms, stinging where cuts haven’t yet become calluses. This hasn’t been the easy job he signed up for, but– it’s fine. All this ends tonight.
He cranes his neck, squinting at the fattening moon in the sky. It’s not as full as he wants it, but that’s par for the course on this misadventure. It’ll do.
Stretching out a toe, he scratches a circle in the dirt. This isn’t how he likes to do this– most villages have at least cobbled stones at its center, some sort of central pavilion around the town well, but– not here.
He grimaces, pouring the sand into the trench he’s made. His payment here is more likely to be greens than guilder, but– he knows better than to turn his nose up at a good meal. Not when he knows there’s no guarantee of his next.
“Kurei,” the mayor hisses from his doorstep, not daring to take a single step from its frame. “Are you sure–?”
“Stand back!” he warns, holding out his hands. Outstretched, they just fit inside the circle. “When I call the curse’s spirit, it will be violent! It longs for a life, and if any living being stands in this square besides myself, they risk becoming its next host!”
The townsfolk murmur worriedly at their doors, and one by one they close, even as shutters peep open. Eyes peer curiously out from slender cracks, all of them fixed on him. As they should be.
“I shall now call out the incantation.” He raises his arms, hands grasping beseechingly at the moon. “Protect me now, O Mysterious Maiden, for I call forth a power both vengeful and unknowable!” He takes a breath, and projects the words, “Veni! Vidi! Vici!”
For a long moment, there is only silence. He glances at sky, frowning as a cloud leisurely passes.
He clears his throat. “Veni. Vidi. Vici!”
A wind picks up, sudden and urgent, blowing at the salt in his circle, and pricking at his hair, but–
The moon shines down, unimpeded, and the circle around him softly begins to glow. Perfect.
A grunt saws from the rooftops, followed by a savage snort and a dangerous growl. He turns, a moment too late–
And catches a beastly elbow to the face.
His lips part in a grin. “Well now,” he drawls, casting his companion a sly look. “If you want to hear about that, you’ll have to buy me a drink.”