Chapter 2
The small bell rang in a high pitch as the door touched the gilded metal upon opening.
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and I wasn’t supposed to be here, but I was done playing nice.
Every second I stayed oblivious to where I had to go next was one too many, and that being aimless and clueless were the overarching elements connecting the journey through Ivreia irritated me to no end.
So I’d snuck out of the inn where I and my comrades were currently staying—to do some unsanctioned investigation on my own. The others were going to be livid when they realized I’d escaped their supervision—again.
I slipped through the open door into the small general store located in this shithole they called a village somewhere along the border between Kerid and Eurionos—if I’d learned its name, I’d forgotten the moniker already—and the bell chimed once more as the door closed behind me.
The cramped space was dimly lit, with shelves lining every single wall, and the air smelled like spices and dead ends, like so many similar places among the numerous pitiful dwellings along our travel route.
“How can I help you, sir?”
An elderly man looked up from the newspaper he’d been engrossed in.
The gazette was slightly shaking in his aged hands, and his face was heavily lined by the sheer number of winters he’d spent withering away.
Usually, I had a trickle of respect for the old, but I was out of patience.
This human in front of me was the best example that more winters didn’t automatically mean more wisdom—especially when it came to avoiding unhealthy decisions that majorly pissed me off.
I lifted Nayana’s midnight dagger and extended the tip to the gray-haired human.
His face contorted in apparent terror as he was confronted with the pointy end of the blade, and I’d be damned if he wasn’t about to piss his pants.
Despite his distraught state, he raised his hands at a pace that had me stifle a yawn, but at least they shook harder by the second.
My mouth curled into a feral grin as I witnessed how the tremors of old age morphed into those of pure dread.
It was the little things keeping me afloat.
And if I wanted to gain satisfaction by scaring a senior out of his mind to get the proof that, although I’d lost so much recently, at least my effect on puny humans had stayed the same, I’d walk the extra mile to terrorize this shitstain of humanity.
It was undeniable how much easier a healthy dose of fear made some tasks—at least for me.
“Please, don’t attack me. Do you want money? You can have everything I own, but spare me.”
I growled and rolled my eyes. “Why is your lot always thinking with their purses first? I couldn’t care less about your money or anything you stock in this stinky place you call a store.
Have you ever been told that at least half of your goods are probably a health hazard?
” I reached out with my left, unarmed hand and grabbed the old man by his collar, staying clear from touching the mystery stain on the threadbare fabric.
Staring straight into his brown eyes, which were filled with fear, I relished in his palpable panic.
“Then…what?” The senior stammered, and I curled my nose in disgust when my next breath confirmed my suspicion that he’d finally lost control over his bladder.
The heavy scent of piss was an insult to my senses, but I’d better endure the torture for a while.
Soon, I’d replace the odor with a much more pleasant one.
“I know you collaborate with Perran Feroy, and a little bird told me he recently passed by in person.” The name of the King of Merchants tasted foul on my tongue, and I spat the syllables out like they were dirty.
A wave of one of the all-too-familiar dizzy spells almost caused me to lose my grip on the man and threw me slightly off balance, but I managed to hold on.
The day I got bested by a senior who had already died and had just forgotten to keel over would be the one I’d willingly join Noelk in front of the gates leading to Udiona.
The widening eyes of the old man betrayed any falsehoods he’d attempt to sell to me, and another kind of dread entered his gaze. “I—no. I haven’t seen the King of Merchants in forever. His men deliver the goods I put on sale. What reason should he have to come to my place? He has an empire to run.”
“Lie.” Maybe Nayana was right, and I loved one-word answers too much. How those infuriated most people was just too amusing.
“Sire, I’m telling the truth.”
Instead of dignifying the bullshit tumbling from his lips with an answer, I applied some pressure with the midnight dagger to his neck and nicked the skin of the senior’s throat.
Just a little, only enough so the faint scent of blood joined the stench of the piss and roused my senses with the promise of impending relief.
“You might want to reconsider your answer.”
The human whimpered, and I glowered down at him with the best menacing expression I had in my arsenal. “Everyone who crosses Perran Feroy perishes.”
“Everyone who crosses me perishes worse.” To underline my threat—as if the unhinged resonance of my voice wasn’t already giving away enough of my state—I tucked a minuscule strand of my magic to the surface, just the necessary amount to cover the senior’s eyes in a patch of darkness, effectively blinding him.
Another dizzy spell attacked me all of a sudden and threatened me with losing control of what I’d conjured almost instantly, but I held on tight.
How I hated being so fucking weak, and how I loathed that this godsdamned burnout wasn’t mending itself as the laws of magic demanded.
But at least the human in front of me couldn’t contain the escalating whimpers escaping him anymore. “What…what did you do to me? I can’t see anything. Oh, why am I blind? What is this?”
“Let’s have a conversation about Perran Feroy’s visit.” To emphasize my words, I pushed the dagger deeper another time, drawing more blood. My eyes latched onto the crimson drops rolling down the senior’s skin, and satisfaction swelled and hummed within me.
I’d make them all bleed, everyone who had helped Feroy. For each drop of blood he drew from Nayana, I’d drain from every person aiding him a thousand times over.
“He…and some of his men passed by roughly a fortnight ago. Stayed the night at my home.”
Staring down the senior was impossible, since the shivering man at my mercy refused to throw a single glance in my direction. Only belatedly did I remember I’d blinded him with magic. “Only him and his lackeys?”
“And a prisoner. An unconscious young woman.”
“Where were they headed?”
“No one told me, Sire. Please, that’s the truth.”
My lips curled up as I extorted more blood from his neck, just for good measure, and because playing with my prey kept me from simply slitting this man’s throat.
If I focused on bleeding him, I could drown out the voice demanding I should hurry up and kill him already.
“And you’re sure that you didn’t catch where they planned to go next? ”
“I—”
“Yes? I’m waiting, you poor excuse of a human being, and my patience for you had run out before I even entered your store.”
“I’ll talk. They wanted to go to Ivreiana—to Perran Feroy’s headquarters.”
Fuck, this was the proof that I’d been correct, no matter how much the others doubted that the merchant would be so stupid.
My hand shook with anger as I recalled all the time we’d wasted following Nayana’s long and winding trail across Ivreia when her abductor had just dragged her to his primary base. Withdrawing my magic, I freed the eyes of the man and allowed him to regain his sight.
“Was that so hard?”
“No, sire…please let me go.”
“Well, you finally told me what I wanted to know. But you also aided that horrible man, and that’s unforgivable.
” Holding the senior’s gaze, I bared my teeth.
I was losing it, so fed up with suppressing all the anger and rage inside of me, and caving, I permitted my urges to take over.
Within seconds, the monster was in charge.
And so, devoid of hesitation, I sliced the dagger across the man’s throat as I kept my eyes locked with his without so much as blinking. I made sure not to cut too deep so he wouldn’t instantly die, just enough to nick his carotid artery.
I pushed the dying human back onto his chair, and since I had to prevent him from staunching the bleeding, I restrained his hands with some twine I found on display on one of the shelves.
With grim satisfaction, I observed how the red fluid drained from his neck wound and, on a whim, submerged my index finger in the warm liquid. My nostrils flared as the stench of piss had finally been completely replaced by the wonderful scent of blood.
While I cherished the melody composed by the dying man’s voice—like a magnificent requiem of pain—I brushed my finger across the wall behind him, dipping my digit back into his blood again and again, using the substance like paint.
As the light left the old man’s eyes and his song ended, I observed the results of my labor. I canted my head as I examined my handiwork, and just for good measure, and because there was still so much blood left, I underlined my message—twice.
No one could claim that I was wasteful.
Finally, with an unhinged smirk on my lips, I abandoned the store and, with some pressure released from my chest, returned to the inn, where my soldiers would want to discuss with me how to obtain the information I’d unearthed minutes ago.
I would inform them; they’d want to know how I’d learned about Nayana’s whereabouts.
Then I’d brag about my skilled interrogation techniques, which would lead to a discussion about me going on another solo mission, not to mention about said techniques, which my comrades weren’t appreciating nearly as much as I was.
What a nuisance.
This day was getting worse by the minute.