Elara
A few days. A week at most. That's all it should've taken. Plenty of time for a mistake to ripple through court, but not so long that I can't fix it.
But this Red is craftier than I thought. His home is empty by the time I arrive, void of loved ones to ransom or point his direction. A note lies atop a mound of ash:
Dearest Elara,
It's an honor to catch your attention. I've long been dismissed as a quack by my contemporaries, but your wisdom far exceeds them. However, I fear I cannot reveal my methods at this time.
Deepest Apologies,
Jon
Does he think he can run?
"Your Majest–"
"Burn the house down." The words crack through the air like a whip. "Line up the townsfolk for inspection."
Some of them try to resist.
None succeed.
One by one, I scour their minds, sifting past the mundane for the slivers of silver, of glimpses caught before he could flee. A blink of red eyes. A strand of gray hair. An old man dodging eyes on the road to Naercy.
"Search the bloodbase." I gesture to the nearest servant, a Swift who disappears within minutes. As I wait, I sigh, stroking a diamond ring until my nerves settle. I'm used to being underestimated. Used to insolent little worms assuming I'm on their level. No matter. I'll have him by the morning's end.
Or the next.
"Burn the village." I turn around, waving a hand in the general direction of his hometown. "Let him know the price of toying with me."
Smoke wafts through the air as we depart, screams echoing in the distance. I smile. "Awfully noisy, isn't it?"
No one responds. I prefer it that way.
The gates of Naercy part without resistance, silent as they close behind us. The Blood Base offers little but his presence in the city, yet I'm sure he won't be too much trouble to find. Naercy belongs to me, afterall.
"Search the first few blocks." Barely a whisper, yet they scramble to meet my demands. Every head is accounted for, every mind ripe for the picking. The Red is mine.
All I have to do is find him.
"On Ashbury Avenue, you say?" My fingers curl, infinite futures one twitch from their grasp. "Lead me to him."
A path which ends not with his mind, but another fragment, a piece left behind in his hurry to escape. I find another. And another. And another.
It grows tiring.
I cluck my tongue. Perhaps I need to raise the stakes.
"A thousand tetrarchs, if he's alive. A night in the cell if he's not." I don't need to wave my hands for them to scramble, pasting posters to walls as if their lives depended on it. My son's certainly does. I can't have a Red this powerful on the loose.
I will find him. No matter how long it takes.
A/N: And so begins Part II: The Snake