Origin land of the eleme.., p.15
Origin (Land of the Elementals Book 3), page 15
“So, Arbor, what do you make of Victoria?” Sindra asked, leaning a bit forward and lowering his voice.
“She’s quite nice,” Arbor replied, his eyes flicking to the woman in question, who was currently talking to the Marchioness. “We teamed up together in the siege during the competition. She’s a very good fighter, far better than I am.”
“She is indeed quite the fighter, though let’s not forget who actually won the competition,” Sindra said with a smile. “Aside from that, what do you think of her in general? She’s quite attractive, and, in case you haven’t noticed, came alone tonight.”
Arbor knew what the Marquess was alluding to, but he didn’t have any interest in marriage.
“Yes, she is quite attractive,” Arbor said carefully. “And I’m sure that whoever she ends up with will be a very lucky man indeed.”
“And what if I were to say that you may very well be that man?” Sindra asked, interlacing his fingers. “I must admit that she has expressed an interest in you. She even went so far as to mention it several times in our conversation, as well as how she was looking forward to seeing you again tonight.”
“I would say that she would be best served looking elsewhere,” Arbor said, still being very careful.
He didn’t want to accidentally insult anyone, least of all Sindra or Victoria.
“That’s…surprising,” Sindra said, his brows drawing together. “Do you not find her company enjoyable? Or is it perhaps that you have higher aspirations?”
“What? No!” Arbor said, quickly shooting down that notion. “I just don’t think we’re a good match, that’s all. Why all the insistence about this? I didn’t think you cared.”
“Arbor, you do know that all nobles are required to marry by law, correct?” Sindra said. “Victoria is a perfect candidate for marriage. She comes from a powerful and well-respected family. She earned her title of nobility while having a strong showing throughout, and already has multiple suitors, including an earl, seeking her hand. You are her first choice, so I would suggest you think about it before turning her down.”
“But I hardly know her,” Arbor said weakly.
Sindra’s continence softened a bit at that, and he let out a soft sigh.
“Nobility rarely marry for love, Arbor. Our positions demand we marry to give our homes and children the best possible future. I’d never even met my wife before we were married. Sure, we have our differences, but over the years, I’ve come to care for her deeply. Relationships, especially those of people in our position, are often strained and difficult. So, I would urge you to think about my proposal.
“She won’t be expecting an answer tonight, nor next week. But don’t keep her waiting too long, or else she’ll accept a different offer.”
“How long can I wait before getting married?” Arbor asked.
“If you were an only child, I’d say the sooner, the better. You confided in me that you had a sister, however, so should you perish, there would be someone to take over the position. Most of the nobility have already been promised to one another from a very young age, and when they take over the position from their parents, they are normally already married, with children of their own.
“However, there have been occurrences when nobility have ascended to rule without a spouse. So, to put it plainly, you have exactly one year to marry. If you do not choose a wife by then, the king will choose one for you. And trust me when I say that you do not want that. A wife chosen by the king will always be working against you, constantly spying and reporting back to him. You’ll never know a moment’s peace…” Sindra trailed off, a far-away look in his eyes.
Arbor shivered a bit at that, feeling a chill run down his spine. His eyes flicked to Victoria then, watching as the blonde woman laughed at something Esther had said. Could he marry her, someone he barely knew, just to stop himself from having the king force him into something? Could she be happy going into a marriage, knowing that? Arbor didn’t know, nor did he even want to consider that question. It was too horrible to even think about.
Forget being stuck in a loveless marriage. The mere fact that she would know why he’d done it, because she was the best of a worst possible choice, would make her hate him. Their lives would be utterly miserable.
Then again, with the way Sindra had put it and the way in which Victoria had been raised, she may very well know all of this. Why she would want to marry him over an earl was a complete mystery to him, though. If she were marrying purely for position, the earl would be the obvious choice.
Victoria turned then and caught his eye. Arbor was a bit embarrassed to be caught staring, but instead of being offended, she only flashed him a smile and gave him a small wave. Not really knowing what to do, Arbor simply returned the gesture, hoping it seemed genuine. She seemed to like him for some unknowable reason, though she hadn’t even given him so much as a hint of that during the competition.
He didn’t want to marry anyone. His loss still haunted him, plaguing his nightmares and waking him at night, often covered in sweat. He didn’t want to marry anyone. Yet he had to.
“Alright,” Arbor said, turning to Sindra. “I’ll think about it. But I’ll need to talk to her before making any big decisions and give her the time to think about what I have to say.”
Sindra gave him a wide grin and clapped him on the back.
“You’re making a wise decision. Of all the offers you must have already received, I’m glad you’re considering her.”
“Other offers?” Arbor asked.
“Of marriage, of course,” Sindra replied. “I’ve talked to several people who’ve expressed interest, especially after your brilliant showing against that Azure-Leopard. I’ve even heard Marquess Bartholomew talking about sending you a letter about his daughter. Someone with your obvious power would be a boon to any noble bloodline, sure to produce powerful heirs. It also helps that you were once a commoner, which will reduce the probability of birth defects greatly.”
“You’re the first one to make an offer,” Arbor said, his brows knitting together.
“What?” Sindra said, clearly confused. “Are you sure? I know for a fact that at least seven people sent offers, and judging by the timing, at least half should have arrived by now.”
Before Arbor could answer, he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw Frunk talking to Sebastian in a hushed whisper. Prudence, seeing what was happening, quickly crossed the room as well. They were too far away for Arbor to hear what was being said, but it was clear by the silence that had fallen over the room, that everyone had noticed.
“What is it?” Arbor asked as Prudence returned.
“One of the scouts just reported in, my lord,” she said formally. “Your assistance is required immediately.”
She didn’t say anything else, but it was clear to Arbor that this was serious. If the scout was back and asking for help, then the situation must be very serious and they’d need to leave that night.
“Very well,” Arbor said. “Prepare my weapons and armor, and get Grak and Hord. I know he probably won’t be able to come, on account of the construction, but I believe he has some new armor for me. The scout can explain the rest on the way.”
“What’s going on?” Sindra asked as Prudence bowed, then headed away at a swift walk.
“It seems that there’s been a serious threat detected near one of the border villages,” Arbor said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear. “A threat that requires my personal attention. I apologize for my rude exit, but I am afraid this is an emergency, and thus, cannot wait.”
Arbor turned then and began striding toward the door, ignoring the muttering amongst the other nobility.
“No need to fret,” Sindra said, calming the other nobles. “The Viscount can handle any threat that needs to be put down. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I shall return momentarily.”
Sindra caught up to Arbor as he was heading out the front door.
“Just how serious a threat are you dealing with here?” he asked, snagging Arbor’s arm.
“If I haven’t missed my guess,” Arbor said, deciding not to sugarcoat it, “I believe it’s a Mythic Beast.”
Sindra let out a long hiss between his teeth, watching as gremlin soldiers began marshaling outside the manor as his coach was brought to the entrance.
“Do you know which one?” asked the Marquess.
“All I have is a description. It’s a large beast that’s been living in the heart of a volcano, threatening to make it erupt.”
Sindra let out a very un-Marquess-like curse then, his face going pale.
“I’m guessing you know what it is,” Arbor said, seeing Grak and Hord coming down the second flight of stairs, her carrying her weapons and armor, and Hord lugging a bulky cloth-wrapped bundle.
“I only know of a single Mythic Beast who has the power to set off a volcano,” Sindra said, his voice grim. “By your description, I can only think of one creature. It’s one of the Mythic Cats. The Magma-Tiger.”
18
Ramson watched the last border town between them and the Flatlands approaching at a rapid pace. He was half-asleep in his saddle, yet the insane woman who’d been riding the horses to near-death over the last few days seemed awake as ever.
“Come on, Ram Son, pick up the pace!” she yelled, turning in her saddle and practically glaring at him. “My darling is waiting for me, and every minute he’s alone is your fault!”
Ramson didn’t say a thing. He merely kicked his lagging horse into a tired half-trot to satisfy the insane woman’s order. Though Ramson now knew the reason for her insanity after his talk with the Duke, it didn’t mean she was any less insane. There was also the revelation that Seven – she’d insisted he keep calling her that – was Carve’s daughter. Seeing as he didn’t have any other children that he knew of, it meant that she was in line to inherit the entire region of Vergara.
It made him wonder how a father could send his only child into constant danger. Then again, from everything Ramson had seen, he doubted Seven had ever been in any real danger thus far. Despite her insanity, she was smart and fought more viciously than anyone he’d yet to meet, and with a smile on her face the entire time. He needed to get away from her, and now that she was distracted with thoughts of that bastard Arbor, this might very well be his best chance.
Their approach slowed as they reached the town, their exhausted horses falling into a tired shuffling walk. Seven kicked hers a few more times, but the horse simply refused to keep moving.
“Fine, I can walk from here,” she said, swinging lithely off the horse. “Come, we’re going to get some info, and I know just the place.”
“Oh, joy,” Ramson muttered, adjusting the sickle sword at his side.
His eye darted around the small town, taking note of the stables and the horses within. There were four in all, but only one was saddled. All he’d have to do was cut the others’ throats, and Seven would be unable to follow. Their horses were too exhausted to give chase, but with Seven calling for him, it wasn’t yet the right time to make a break for it.
The two of them strode down the single sandy road, heading for the only tavern in town. Several rough-looking men eyed the two of them as they passed — or rather, eyed Seven’s scantily clad form. He wondered why she always dressed this way, when she so despised the attention of other men. It was improper for anyone to dress that way, yet no one in the Duke’s employ, nor the Duke himself, seemed to mind.
He had several theories, the leading one being that she dressed that way as a disguise of sorts. When someone saw a woman dressed that way, they tended to concentrate only on her assets, rather than the danger she posed. It worked, as Ramson had witnessed many times before, and judging by the way Seven was walking, it was clear that she was going to be starting a fight.
“Alright, you bunch of bruties! Who wants to tell me about a man named Naff?” she yelled as she slammed the bar doors open.
Ramson covertly stepped to one side, staying close to the door as Seven strode into the center of the bar and looked around. There were six men, including the barkeeper, all looking just as dangerous as the men outside. A shadow fell across the doorway, and Ramson’s eye flicked over to see two of the men in question enter the bar after them.
“Listen, girlie, I don’t know who you think you are, but we have rules in this town,” the barkeeper said snidely.
“Oh, yeah?” Seven asked, sauntering up to the bar and leaning over. This effect gave the bartender a very good view down her already low-cut leather halter-top. “And what would that be?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the barkeeper said with a leer. “Unless you’re looking to get a serious beatdown, I suggest you and your friend leave.”
“But what if I don’t wanna?” Seven asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Then we can always help you on your way,” said one of the men who’d just entered, dropping an unusually large and beefy hand onto her shoulder.
A vein it the corner of Seven’s forehead twitched, and Ramson only had an instant to step aside before the massive brute slammed into the wall.
“I don’t like it when ugly people touch me,” she said, looking down at her nails. “Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I going to have to chop you into tiny little pieces to get you to talk? I really don’t mind either way, but every wasted second away from my honey will make me angrier.”
Ramson looked down at the huge man as he tried to recover his senses. He’d known Seven was fast and dangerous with her blades, but never before had he seen her hurl a man that size clear across a room. Judging by how little effort she’d displayed, she was far stronger than he’d realized.
What the hell kind of magic does she have? he wondered. None of it made sense. There were so many disparate pieces, but nothing to connect them.
All thoughts of that were driven from his mind when the bartender reached beneath the counter and then held up a nail-studded cudgel.
“Shame to mess up that pretty face of yours, but we don’t like the nosy types around here. Boys…”
Ramson edged closer toward the door as the men rose from their seats, drawing weapons or sliding iron spikes over their knuckles. This was turning ugly very quickly, far faster than any other time he’d been in one of these seedy bars. The only difference this time was that Seven had instigated the fight, rather than the other way around. She clearly wanted to get this mission over with, and her impatience was showing.
“Alright,” Seven said, drawing a single dagger from her belt and twirling it between her fingers. “Let’s have us a little tussle. Maybe all you big, strong bruties will be more talkative after I cut off your wee-wees!”
Seven charged then, the cudgel that the bartender had tried to bring down on the back of her head missing by mere inches and cracking down onto the bar. Seven cackled madly as she attacked the first man, slipping easily past his attack and carving a line all the way down his extended arm, severing muscles and tendons as she went.
The man screamed, his arm dropping limply as Seven came up inside his guard, and an instant later, her dagger was pressed to the man’s crotch.
“Care to tell me any secrets now?” she whispered, her grin wide and predatory.
Before the man could answer, she was forced to dance back as another came at her from the side, swinging an oversized cleaver at her head, heedless of the other man in his way. He missed her entirely and ended up slamming his weapon into the other man’s shoulder as Seven yanked him forward. He let out another cry of pain as the blade bit deep, blood spraying into the air and splattering the ceiling and table behind him.
“Oh, shut up. You’re such a whiner!” Seven said, then casually flicked her dagger across the man’s throat, opening a gash in the shape of an upward curving circle.
“See,” she said, as blood poured down the man’s front. “Isn’t smiling just so much better?”
“You bitch! I’ll kill you for that!” yelled the man with the cleaver.
He stepped forward, throwing a wild punch at Seven’s face. Instead of slipping the attack as she normally would, however, she stepped straight into it. Ramson watched in shock as the man’s fist slammed into her face, full force. He expected Seven to go flying or perhaps be knocked out cold, but instead, the attacking brute was the one who screamed in pain.
“Aaagghh! What the hell are you made of?” he screamed, stumbling back and clutching at his ruined hand.
“That’s not how you throw a punch,” Seven said, sheathing her dagger in one swift movement. “Here, let me show you how it’s done!”
Seven stepped forward, her back leg planted firmly, then drove her fist directly into the man’s abdomen. Ramson’s eye widened as the man was bent nearly in half, the sound of crunching bones so loud that someone on the other side of town could have heard it. The man let out a wheeze, then a fountain of blood erupted from his mouth, splattering all over the insane woman.
“Eeeww! You got me all dirty!” she complained. “My sweet darling won’t wanna see me like this! Now I’m gonna have to get a new outfit!”
She flexed her arm, and a tremendous force seemed to push the man away, sending him hurling into, and then clean through, the far wall, exploding into the street beyond where he lay still.
“Die!” screamed one of the men, swinging a sword at her head.
The man had snuck up on her while she’d been preoccupied with the other, but like the true moron he was, had screamed before attacking instead of just going for the kill. Then again, he probably would have stood no chance either way, but yelling was certainly not going to help his case.
Seven spun, snagging the man’s arm mid-swing, then twisted it violently to one side, slamming his own blade through his stomach and out his back.
“Do you know anything about a man named Naff?” she asked, yanking the man forward.
“Screw you, bitch!” the man gurgled, blood flecking his teeth and lips.
