Baron Riasion stood in front of Captain Anderfail. "They've gone. They've all gone," his old, bitter voice spoke. "We've won."
The captain finished refreshing the bandage on his arm. The pain was enough to make him near cringe at his own touch. Master Dyran had crippled him, there was no doubt of that. "For how long?" Anderfail asked.
"I can't say. Let us pretend for the rest of our days until there is a sign of their return." A smile passed over his lips. "Good work to your First Squadron, by the by. By your leadership and training, we managed to bring back in the girl that got away. We brought in Rhalla Gwenneth. She sits in the dungeons now, until I get ready to handle her. I heard she fought like mad -killed countless men."
"She's talented." Anderfail was no liar. "What will you do with her?"
"That depends on how our chat goes. How is your arm?"
"What needs done?" came the straightforward reply. Captain Anderfail was never known for mincing his words -nor was he known for ever showing weakness.
"The ones we lost should be reigned back in. I want Irila and Elliot Gwenneth back. I want Azabela Stryder, the woman who got away from you, if she still lives. I want Dane Gwenneth. I want them as soon as you can get them for me." There was a pause. "Unless, of course, you want your son, and then I'll make an exception. He is, after all, yours."
"I have no time for a son --especially one raised so poorly." Anderfail raised a brow. "I'll get them for you. I assume that is your command."
The baron nodded.
"What of Iris? What of Rhalla's sister?"
"Ghost still hunts her." The sound of distaste was apparent in Baron Riasion's voice. "He certainly takes his time."
"You didn't leave the task to me."
"You sound reproachful. "
"You underestimate me," was all Anderfail said.
"You underestimate her," the baron countered. "Iris Gwenneth went into a foreign country, and slaughtered the leader of their army in his own home. A commander. Consider that. We are not such a large-scale operation." There was a pause. "Ghost is responsible for a great many deaths, and he's known to be the most competent assassin in Eldia, if you know where to listen. He was responsible for the death of the former General Rothstead, even. He seems a reasonable suit to combat her. And perhaps I can never be sure of his success, but at least my own captain is not having to waste time and resources chasing after a shadow. You have bigger things still to worry about."
"I'll get your Azabela. I'll get your Dane. I'll retrieve the parents, all the same." Captain Anderfail raised a brow. "You'd do well not to lose them... again."
The baron pursed his lips at the direct criticism. "Just as you would do well to direct your men in such a way that losing them isn't a possibility."
Yes. There was a bit of enmity between the two men. It had always been there to some degree. Sometimes, it had been inconvenient. Still, theirs was a relationship built on business rather than camaraderie. It had always been functional enough to see the job done. "Perhaps you might show me how it's done, then. I'm sure your military mind far exceeds my expectations of a baron."
"Just as my gold that I pay you with," Riasion said. It was almost a threat.
"Which you earn, in part, by my sword, and the women I now bring you."
"We get nothing done by arguing. You know this," Baron Riasion ended it. "You need my diplomacy and my connections. I need your military mind. Together we prosper."
There was a pause... an understanding, even if it wasn't spoken. "What happens when I retrieve them?
"Rhalla brought ruin to my home," he said. "I will make sure to return the favor."
Captain Anderfail didn't speak again. All he answered with was a nod before leaving Riasion's side. For a moment, the baron was alone. Or at least, he thought he was. He didn't have any inclination that he was being watched. That they were being watched moments before. Ghost stepped out from a shadow, surveying Riasion's backside with faint amusement. It would have been easy to kill him right now. He left himself so open in his own home. One move of the hand, and dead. Perhaps it would have even pleased Ghost to kill him, at this point. He takes his time, the baron had chastised his work, not knowing he was listening.
Ghost stayed his hand for the time being and waited. He hadn't been paid to kill Riasion. How many seconds would it take the old man to notice his presence? Ghost started making bets with himself while lazily picking at his fingernails with a knife-blade. When Riasion finally turned around, he jumped a bit, startled at the pale presence that lingered behind him. Even though they were on the same side, it was still too close for comfort.
"Greetings," came the assassin's silk voice. "Are you busy?"
The baron composed himself. "Is it done?"
"I do like to take my time," Ghost referred to the baron's previous statement, toying with him a bit. "As you are aware of course." There was an awkward pause. The baron was a bit unsettled by the way Ghost watched him. The assassin was a wild card --a gamble. Perhaps he shouldn't have played to odds. "This Iris is so well-loved, isn't she? Someone jumped in the way of my knife. It was a pity. But I understand it," he mused. "She is more beautiful than even the rumors peg her. And I watched her fight. Such skill. Such grace. I respect what I saw."
Riasion narrowed his eyes, misreading the assassin. "Do what you will with her if you think she's beautiful and impressive. I don't care. Just make sure she's dead at the end of it."
"I doubt she'd be so inclined," Ghost raised a brow. "We've never met, of course."
"And that's a problem?"
The assassin looked incredibly amused. "Oh, I don't rape women." It was a jab at the baron, and he knew it. "It's not quite as fun if they're screaming and crying in agony, is it? Better they enjoy it. The look on their face is worth the challenge of finding out how they tick. Ah, there's nothing like it. Not that you'd know anything of that challenge."
"You disapprove. Superb." The tone was dry. Riasion flattened his mouth into a hard line. "And you speak down to me. But killing is your profession. You sell your knife, and draw blood you've been paid to draw. It doesn't matter who the victim is. You're no better than I am."
"You are correct on some accord. I'm paid to kill, and I do it. I enjoy my job, even. But there is a difference between you and I." He twirled his knife. "Most of my victims never see me coming. One minute they live. The next, they're gone. In a flash. I don't let them suffer, I let them go. It's all I'm paid to do, after all." He pointed the blade's tip right at the baron. "Your victims, on the other hand, die years and years before they are actually buried. They suffer until they wish they were dead. You break people. I only kill them."
"So do your job," the baron hissed. "Your charge is still Iris Gwenneth. I'm not paying you to stand around and question my ethics."
Ghost sheathed the dagger and ducked a bow. "Of course."
The assassin about left when the baron spoke again. "Seeing her now... will your skills be sufficient?"
"You're asking me if she's better than me?" Ghost's mouth curved up a corner. "There's only one way to find out." When the baron looked nervous, he winked and continued on to say. "Take heart, if she kills me... you don't have to pay my price."
There was a grunt. "So why did you come? You had a reason, I presume."
"I came to tell you that I've spotted my contract, of course. I came to update you on the happenings of the first attempt. You requested at the beginning that I keep you informed on the situation. And now I have informed you."
"Go, then." The baron waved his hand. "And don't sneak up behind me again. Or I'll pay you less."
Ghost didn't retort. He knew as well as Riasion that if his pay was shorted, he'd take compensation from his corpse.
----
Later that night, Iris walked into Azabela's tent for the second time since the shitstorm. And it was late. Past midnight. The archer had already been released from the medics, sent to rest and heal. It drove her mad that she wasn't able to walk. Remorda Guardians had carried her all the way from the estate. Camp had now retreated into the woods, as per Iris's direction. The huntress waited on the edge of her bed, bloodshot eyes rung with dark circles. She had been watching for the rogue's return.
"Iris," she said, her voice still shaky and anxious as soon as she registered her presence. Ever since learning of Rhalla's capture, she'd hardly thought of anything else. "Did you find whatever it was that you were looking for? It's been hours since you've visited last."
"I'm not as proficient in nature and forestry as you," she answered, her voice still near monotone. Despite the blandness of her tone, she wasn't meaning to be unkind. Right now, Iris was just very incapable of any more emotion. She felt so numb inside from all the pain. "But I did find it, I believe. Your books were helpful. I thank you."
"Let me see it," Azabela said. "What you've gathered. I want to see what you have. Unless you intend to keep it a secret."
Iris inclined her head a little and, after a moment of thought, opened her satchel and shook it out. The contents fluttered out onto the bed beside the huntress. Azabela had to double take at it once she realized what plants lay on its surface. She expected a lot of things before she expected what actually came out. Maybe some healing herbs, she had thought. Maybe even fiddler's weed to cope with the pain of loss. But it wasn't that. It was far from that.
Azabela touched the plants with gentle fingers. "You've gathered Blackthorn and Widow's root. A whole lot of it."
Iris nodded again.
"You know what to do with this?" Azabela was incredulous. "Rhalla never mentioned this about you."
"I do know what to do with this," Iris answered. "I only wasn't sure where to find the plants. I fear I lost my contact for this sort of thing when I quit my position as Rogue Captain. I learned a great deal from one of my men when I worked training him back at my last job." Iris's voice dropped an octave. "And Rhalla doesn't know this. There was no need for her to... not until now."
There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Azabela pointed out, "There are faster poisons than Black Widow."
"There are," came a simple reply.
"You know what this does to people before they die?" Azabela asked, looking down at the bed. There was an emotion in her face that Iris couldn't even begin to place. Finally, she looked up. "Can you bear it? Can you bear the sight, Iris?"
Iris wore a cruel smile. "It's fitting, isn't it? Almost ironic, even." She then met Azabela's eyes. "A black widow is said to devour the male after mating with it. And all these men who have raped these women; they should taste the widow's death, shouldn't they?"
"Black Widow isn't just named from its main ingredients: Blackthorn and Widow's root. It's named for the death it gives. It works like a spider." Azabela leaned forward. "Once Black Widow is administered, their blood is destroyed. Twenty minutes, and you're looking at painful mass hemorrhage and immediate high fever. They're organs will be destroyed into mush, their blood will never stop flowing. They will die convulsing, choking on the blood in their throat. They will gush blood and brain from their nose... their ears... even their eyes. They'll throw up their viscous belly and shit their dissolved intestines. And then they die."
"You sound as if you're trying to dissuade me. Do you disapprove?" came a cold question.
"These men raped Rhalla. They more than raped her. They deserve whatever justice you give them." Azabela choked on her breath and looked down at her feet. "But I will say... evil as my father was," she said quietly. "His death will always haunt me. It was so bloody -so terrifying. It was only a knife to the throat. I can't even imagine this. I can't imagine the sight of this." She met Iris's eyes. "If you use this Black Widow poison... I worry only that it would destroy a part of you inside. This... is the worst death I could ever imagine."
"You worry for me?" Iris gave a sad smile. "I am already destroyed."
A/N -- Let me know what you think! Also, who noticed the parallel in the Ghost and Iris? Ghost (the antagonist) spoke of merciful death. Iris (the protagonist) spoke of a slow, painful one. I thought it was interesting.