"Ketil." The world turned slightly as Aslaug opened her mouth again, replaced with a different face. "Ketil, wake up."
A hand jostled his leg and he woke up, grasping at the hole in his heart. "Nightmares again, Ketil?" A woman crossed her legs in front of him, her heavy dress crinkling with even the slightest movement. She pressed a gloved hand against his leg again, startling him into reality. "Ketil?"
Aslaug's smile faded into the back of his mind to be dredged up in his darkest hours. He took a breath, leaning his head back against the carriage's plush interior. "I'm fine, just the same thing all over again." He shifted uncomfortably, pulling at his high collar. His ringed fingers gleamed in the evening light, gold paint glittering over his hands and knuckles. He had painted the intricate design himself, one that mirrored the palaces in his native nation of Polaria. His mask sat in his lap, a beautifully nightmarish black thing mirroring a boar's snout and tusks with the same gold paint and pattern. If he looked closely he could see his family crest painted on the snout. When worn, it would only reveal his bottom jaw which was also painted with various reds, golds, and whites.
"You're anxious today. You're always like this before a heist."
Ketil looked to her, his leg bouncing as he carefully rubbed his eyes of sleep. "No, not me. I am made of iron and steel and never anxious."
"Here," she lifted up her skirts to produce a small silver flask, "calm your nerves."
He took it from her gloved hands opening it and taking a small sip. It burned his throat and made tears pull at his eyes. "Good stuff," his voice cracked a little. Another sip—this one less abrasive. "What is it?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want to know." She adjusted her own mask, a black monstrosity that covered everything but her jaw. She was a jackal, the ears curling over her head, made of feathers. It was a fitting mask for a woman named Anubis.
They sat in silence, the carriage jarring them as it went over bumps and small ditches.
"It was Empress Aslaug again?" She asked slowly as the Ketil adjusted his costume. White waistcoat underneath a red overcoat inlaid with various patterns of gold and red trousers. He was sweating underneath all the layers, but how else would he carry his weapons?
"It's always her," he said picking a few strands of long dark hair off his costume. "This thing is insufferable. So stiff."
"You don't have to wear it for too long, just enough where we can infiltrate the masquerade." Her dark eyes flashed to him, "don't take another sip of that, if you get drunk, I won't have an ally. Besides Raziel, but he's infiltrating the servants."
Ketil took the flask away from his mouth, handing it back to her. She slipped it into the band of her stockings and lowered her black skirts. "Do you know the mission?"
"Find the head of the household and poison them."
"I will kill them, you create a diversion. Raziel and you can have whatever goods you find, as long as it doesn't jeopardize our mission. We will meet back in the stables afterwards. Raziel, do you hear me?" She opened the small curtain separating the driver from the two in the back.
"I can hear you," the man driving whispered. "We're not leaving in this are we?"
"I believe the people we stole it from want it back and they can have it. We can take a few lone horses. If they come after us, we split up and head back to Kantloe."
"Understood," Raziel muttered, reaching back through the window. "Hand me the invitations, there's a checkpoint coming up."
Anubis handed him an envelope, the wax seal broken. "And remember from now on, we are the Monroe family. The lord and lady Monroe." She extended a hand to Ketil and he took it with a fake bow. She grinned, "your acting skills are good."
"I'm not exactly sure why they taught me court manners when they intended to kill me after my father's death, but I thank my father and the advisors for that. I may not be the Emperor, but I am alive, something more than he is." Ketil opened the side curtain, letting out a whistle of admiration. "Here we go, the mouse has invited the cats inside."
"Not yet," Anubis muttered, peeking out the window with foggy disinterest. "Remember who you are and use those manners to your advantage."
"You mean my charm?" He grinned, his teeth white against his painted skin.
Anubis slowly ungloved her hands, "yes, charm."
The carriage slowed to a stop, a few horses snorting as their riders asked for the invitation. Raziel gave it to them without ceremony. Ketil watched a man twice his size with arms thicker than a barrel pull back their curtain. "Lady and Lord Monroe?"
Anubis lounged back, her head slightly tilted to expose the curve of her throat. Her red painted lips parted with a smile, "indeed."
For a moment the man seemed awestruck before Ketil snapped at him. "Can you do anything else but gawk at the lady?"
He raised his eyebrows, bowing slightly. "I ask for your forgiveness, my lord." He tipped his cap at Anubis, "and my lady."
Anubis smiled and shut the curtain back. "Mercy," she whispered, slouching back against the carriage.
"If he knew what you were, he'd slit your throat."
"The joys of being a riesun. He couldn't kill me if he tried." She sighed, stretching out her legs.
The Polarian Empire called them batræ, blessed and consecrated. It was a crime to harm a batræ unless mandated by an elder law. The Rajsend Empire called them riesun, cursed. It was a crime to exist as a riesun and if the Inquisition learned of your power, they would hunt you down and destroy you. Unless you were crafty enough to avoid them or use it as blackmail for someone with enough power. Anubis was the master of them both.
"We're free, prepare to leave the carriage." Raziel muttered from the front. "Looks like a good two hundred people just outside. All of them in masks. I don't see our marks, but they might be greeting guests inside."
"Good work. We will go our separate ways. If anything happens, run and don't look back. We leave before the unmasking. Do we have an understanding?"
"Yes," Ketil whispered, peeking out the window again. The marks lived in a mansion, one that could fit the entire city of Kantloe inside of the foyer. Acres of farmland and orchards surrounded the structure. A garden marked the path to the front door where a few women in masks and large dresses loitered around.
"Are you ready?" He turned to Anubis and she extended her bare hand. "Wait, gloves first."
She drew away, slipping the thin silk gloves over her fingers. "Wouldn't want anybody to die just yet. Now are you ready?"
He took her arm. "Lord and Lady Monroe."
She nodded, pulling at her own high neck. "For once, can't you play the clingy woman?"
"No, because I am the clingy man." His hand touched his chest, feeling Aslaug's dagger still pressed into his heart. "Besides, your touch would kill anyone else. It's only the fact that you stole me from death that I'm able to be here." The carriage stopped and there was movement at the door. "Ladies first."
"What a gentleman," Anubis patted his head. "I guess that's why we're married."
"You think you could deal with me forever? Forever's a long time you know."
"I'd have to kill you again." He caught the back end of her smile as the carriage door swung open to reveal the dazzling view of Weeping Manor.
Everything was silver and gold with the lamplight, even the crawling ivy seemed to be painted in various shades of the colors. A few servants stood erect by the doors, holding them open with no ceremony on their face. A man in an eagle mask extended his arms to Anubis and she looked back to Ketil with a roll of her eyes. He helped her down, making sure his hands felt around the curves of her dress. If Anubis wasn't in disguise, she would have killed him. But she only smiled and thanked him for his help all the while his eyes wandered down her throat and the front of her dress. Anubis' hand reached for the red pendant at her throat, tugging on the silver chain. His eyes stared at the pendant, wandering down.
Ketil leapt from the carriage, stepping in front of her casually, but with enough of a glare to cut him down. "Come along dear," he said, taking her arm.
"Why did you do that?" She whispered to him, bringing her mouth close to his face. "I could've worked that one over. He could've been the one to lead me to our marks. And I could have disposed of him in any manner I believed fit."
"And if he saw the mark of the Inquisition on your back? Then how would you explain how a riesun was allowed into the Weeping Manor?"
"Then we would leave no survivors, my dearest prince. But these events are not for spending time with friends, these events are for newfound lovers and shadow escorts. There is a reason they prefer masquerades, don't you see them?"
Ketil cut his eyes to the side of the manor where a few women in matching swan masks fanned themselves, lips painted various shades of blue and purple. A few men stood beside them, each wearing stag masks, silver antlers weaving over their heads with an elegance not unlike smoke. They all wore various shades of the same outfits, but it was obvious what they were. "Escorts," Ketil whispered. "Can you tell if any are riesun?"
"Not from here, Raziel will have to cover them, we have bigger problems to face." She tripped on her skirts and Ketil caught her. "Damn this dress, you couldn't have hemmed it any further?"
"If you'd given me more time, I could've hemmed it better, but I was given a day to make alterations to a rather bland dress. And I think it turned out beautiful." He touched the embroidered silver leaves with a bit of love, remembering every stitch he put into the fabric.
"It is beautiful, one of your best creations. I don't know how you do it."
"I don't know how you can always deal with clocks, the work is utter madness. Sewing is a rhythm, a pattern. Clocks are just parts and gears—it makes no sense how they work." His eyes widened as they followed the other guests into the manor. There was a marble statue in the great hall, a white dragon, wings spread and mouth open to reveal stone fangs. Guests had draped flowers around its snout and wings, a couple spots were discolored where they had deliberately spilled wine.
"Its beautiful," Ketil whispered, feeling the statue tug at his abilities. "Can you imagine what type of damage a statue like this could do?"
"Not yet, contain your enthusiasm. When we kill the Weeping family, use this as a distraction. I know you're itching to use it."
Ketil stared down at his painted hands, "I will wield this as a sword. How do we know our marks? They're all wearing masks and there's so many."
The colors were dizzying, there was the iridescent greens of the peacock women and the glossy blacks of panthers and a gleam of jewels. Every person wore their best, painting themselves with thin and intricate patterns. Servers in cherub masks floated around the party, carrying various platters of flutes of champagne, small pastries, and thin cuts of meat. Ketil took a flute of champagne, his rings clinging against the glass.
"Are you sure you should be drinking now?" Anubis said, grabbing a pink tart from a server's tray. She took a bite, obviously surprised by the taste because her eyes widened. "You know how you get when you're drunk."
"But I'm not going to be drunk." He raised an eyebrow at her, "I simply need a boost of confidence. Maybe a little ingested courage and strength." He toasted her, taking a sip of the lavishly tasting stuff. "To the grandest of heists and to our lovely marriage."
"If you keep saying we're married, I'm going to stab you." She stopped when the crowds parted to reveal a group of women staring at her and talking behind frilly fans. She shoved the rest of the pastry into her mouth and rubbed her gloves against the sides of her dress. "I am going to find our mark. I suggest that you stay close to the statue and wait."
"Go along then," he took another sip and straightened up. He had work of his own to do. There were so many willing marks with so much wealth on display and his kleptomania was itching for a workout. Anubis disappeared into the shifting crowd as the crowds pressed into him.
A woman near him was showing a thick strand of pearls to a man, another man flaunted a gold pocket watch. So much wealth. Ketil hoped he hadn't acted like these people when he was a prince. No wonder people hated nobility.
"Master, may I take this from you?" A man took his now empty champagne flute from his hand. He hadn't even realized he had already swallowed the rest of its contents. Anubis was right, at this pace, he was destined to get washed out before the clock struck twelve.
He cleared his throat and put on a smile that the Emperor would have taken pride in. All he had to do was find the mark. After all, it was the game that he wanted, not the prize.
Women pressed into him, their overwhelming perfumes mixed in with the acrid smell of pipe smoke and the overflowing bouquets of roses and lilies marking the marble pillars. A woman grabbed him from behind and he jerked to attention.
"I don't believe I've seen you before." She giggled, her hand brushing over his shoulders to curl around a lock of his hair, pulling it until he leaned his head back towards her.
Ketil was glad for all the paint on his face because he was blushing. "It must be the mask," he said as he faced the woman. She was beautiful, from what he could tell. Her vixen mask covered her eyes and forehead but exposed the upturn of her nose and gold of her lips. She was also perhaps ten years his elder. She smiled, curtseying to him.
"I would remember a face like yours." She lifted her head. The details of her dress were remarkable, the tailor must have spent months just doing each carefully crafted gold and red flower, and the beading… it must have taken them an unholy amount of time. He thought back to his own work on Anubis' with less confidence.
"My lady," he bowed a little and she touched his face fingers tracing over his jaw and the intricate designs painted there.
"Your eyes—beautiful. Like the ocean in the Northern Territories at winter. And your hair is like snow. Your mask doesn't do you justice, a boar is not fitting for the face of an angel."
Ketil blushed harder, taking her hand and kissing the back gently. The glittering of her rings almost made him stop because there on her wedding finger was a blue sapphire that called to him. He smiled a little; he had found his mark. "And a vixen is not suitable for a queen."
"What is your name stranger?" She entwined her fingers in his, running a finger down the embroidery of his coat.
"Princes' don't give their names," he whispered. He couldn't help but stare at her finger, at the magnificent blue sapphire surrounded by small diamonds in a gold setting. He didn't exactly need it per say, but he wanted it. He wanted to make her into the mark she'd never been. To crush her because if she knew what he was, she would kill him without hesitation. Or she'd call for the Inquisitors to have him burned at the stake.
"Then why don't we uncover a few of our secrets," she motioned forward and took him by the arm. Ketil swallowed down his anxieties, grateful for that last flute of champagne to calm his nerves. He let her lead him through the crowds, her skirts brushing up against his trousers.
She led him away from the crowds, up the steps. He looked back, trying to spot Anubis. She'd be angry that he left his post, but that was such a beautiful ring and it wouldn't take him long to get it off her finger and into his pocket.
"Where are you taking me?" He whispered into her ear as their footsteps echoed down the mostly empty corridors. There was so much more silence here than in the crowded ballroom. And the light was dim, almost darker than the night outside them.
She grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a doorway. She shut the door behind him with a small laugh. The darkness was thick around them and Ketil began to think he underestimated her.
There was a small prick of light, but she turned up the kerosene lamp until everything in the small bedchamber was revealed. Her eyes were molten metal in the light and she unstrapped her mask. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders and she pulled away the delicate creation.
"Your turn, Angel-boy."
Ketil unstrapped his mask, taking a breath.
She stared into his eyes for a long moment before kissing him on the lips and knitting her fingers through his curls. Ketil cringed but went along with the act. She pulled away, turning to the slightly open balcony door. The moonlight illuminated her silhouette, turning her brown locks into amber.
Ketil looked to the nightstand, spotting a bottle of wine. He took a small glass of the red, tasting it on his lips. It was cheap and unfortunately quite warm. But it was enough to make him a little more bold, a little bit braver.
"Have you ever seen a riesun?" She whispered from the doorway, a cold breeze filtering through the bedroom.
Ketil took another sip, tapping his rings against the chalice. Maybe he wasn't that brave. "A riesun?"
"Yes," she looked back at him, shifting her shoulders. She was much older than she appeared to be. Perhaps in her mid-thirties. "My husband had one killed where you're standing. It was a servant, one that masqueraded as one of us. He cut her down right there. Her blood still stains a little, no matter how much the others clean it."
Ketil shifted uncomfortably, but didn't let his face show his fears. She turned to him, and smiled. "They say riesun blood can heal or kill. They say it holds the very fabric of our universe. The thing about riesun blood is, it stains everything—skin, floor, fabric."
"Whoever told you this lied."
"Really?" She pressed a hand against his chest, balling up her fists in his clothes. "Have you ever met a riesun?"
"Perhaps once, before the Inquisitors cut them down." His hands were sweating and he choked down the rest of the wine. He'd need all the courage he could muster.
"What is your name?" She said, her eyes smiling.
"Yours first."
Her lips parted to a smile, "Mistress Chastity Weeping."
Ketil's blood froze in his veins. Weeping. She was the one they were sent to kill. He felt the knife in his coat pocket grow heavy and swallowed down his anxiety. He had to play it cool. Had to quiet her before taking revenge upon her. Hopefully Anubis was dealing with the other Weeping.
"Well Angel-boy, what's your name?" Her hands felt the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.
"My name is Ketil Østberg." He lifted his head up a little, taking out his knife.
She took a step backward. "Ketil Østberg? The Riesun Prince?" The fear lit up her face as she took another step backwards. "Ketil Østberg is dead, the Empress Aslaug killed him."
"How can you be so sure?" He took a step back to match hers. "Besides, how do you think I know about the riesun? I am one."
She started to scream but Ketil grabbed her by the throat, slamming her back against the wall. "Don't scream, dear. I'd hate to get anyone else involved in this game."
"What are you going to do? Kill me?" Her eyes watered.
"Beg."
"For my life? Østberg, I am a Weeping and we don't beg." She bared her teeth as he pressed the knife into her trachea and slipped the rings off her fingers. He pocketed them with a sly grin.
"I said beg for your life. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a sadistic person. But when it comes to those who kill my kind for sport, I will be as sadistic as I desire. And one who assisted the Empress in finding and killing me will not be spared my mercy."
"You're dead. She stabbed you through the heart. How are you alive?"
Ketil smiled, "I don't die."
The door opened quickly, a servant girl rushing inside. "The Master Weeping is dead!" The girl looked to them, her eyes widening with a scream pressing into her throat. She backed into the door
"Scream and I cut her throat," Ketil whispered.
"Riesun!" Mistress Weeping yelled. "Call out the guards, he's rieusn!"
The girl stopped, frozen. "You're riesun?"
"Well now that we're all introduced, why don't you play your part. Free yourself and help me or enslave yourself for eternity. The choice is yours." The Mistress struggled underneath him and he drew a thin line of blood over her throat. She gasped in pain.
The servant's face grew stormy. "She killed my sister for being a riesun. Move boy, this will be my revenge." The servant girl produced a jagged shard of mirror from her robe.
"You can't do this! I protest!"
Ketil pressed a hand against her mouth, muffling her yells of insolence. Tears ran down her face, washing away her makeup. There was fear in her eyes, a human emotion for someone who was really a monster.
The servant girl pressed in beside him, her blue eyes reflecting the fire's lamplight. "No. Release her, I want to kill her in the way she killed my sister."
As soon as he took away his hand, she let out a piercing scream that made him cringe. She screamed again. The first time was in fear, the second time was in pain. The mirror shard cut deep into the Mistress Weeping's throat and she fell to the floor screaming and gurgling as the red flood began.
"Drass," Ketil groaned shoving his knife back into the sheath in his jacket, "now you've alerted everyone to my presence. Gaudy amateur."
She backed away, her hands bloody. Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at the calloused digits.
He strapped his mask back over his face adjusting his collar, "my mission is complete and I bid you all a lovely evening and adieu."
The doors burst open again, this time men with guns. They rushed forward, staring at the dying Mistress Weeping. The leader raised his weapon as the servant girl raised her hands in placation. Ketil turned his back on them as the crack of his weapon and smell of gunpowder filled the air. If he didn't move, he would be next. He closed the glass doors to the balcony, looking down at the grassy courtyard below him. There were a few people milling around, having moments of their own.
He looked back at the men who were examining the Mistress' body. The leader caught his eyes, yelling with a fat finger pointed in his direction. Ketil climbed onto the railing. A fall from this height would break ribs and crush bones, maybe puncture organs and kill him if he fell the wrong way.
The guards were nearing, weapons raised. Ketil jumped as the balcony doors opened. People screamed, rushing to get away from the falling figure.
"Riesun!" Came the cry from the balcony. "Stop him, he is a riesun!"
The ground hit him hard, his knees striking the grass as if it was brick. He grunted with pain, momentum sending him rolling to a stop. His paper mache mask was crushed close to his face and his white clothes were streaked with grass. He groaned in pain, the world spinning. There was a stab in his side as he forced himself into a sitting position.
"Drass," he cursed breathlessly as his arms failed him and he fell back to the ground. His body ached and he pressed his hand against his ribs. Definitely broken. He crawled forward, gasping a little at the pain.
"Riesun!" Came the shout again and he stumbled to his feet.
Ketil let out a cry of pain, staggering forward until his feet tripped up and he fell into the exterior wall of the Weeping manor. People were staring at him now, women scurrying away like he was a black cat. It was like he carried a plague—no, he was the plague.
He staggered almost drunkenly back into the ballroom, his hand pressed into his jacket and against his ribs. People scurried away as they saw him.
Men drew sabers and Ketil collapsed, his back against the wall. He could just make out the stone dragon statue over the heads of the crowd. He sent up a silent prayer and turned his open palms into fists.
Awaken.
In the center of the room rose a scream.
Ketil focused hard, feeling the statue break from its concrete base. The jaws opening and shutting with a stone crunch. The men with sabers turned back as the stone dragon opened its wings, stretching them as if they were made of flesh and bone.
"The riesun! He's controlling it! Cut him down." They knew what he was, but there was no way they knew how powerful her actually was.
Protect me, Ketil thought and the dragon smashed its way through the crowd, standing in front of the armed men. It gave a soundless roar, the scales on its body ruffling as it crouched in front of Ketil, ready to defend him.
A hand grabbed Ketil's shoulder as the armed men began to strike at the stone dragon, chipping away at it's impervious hide. "Riesun?" The man asked.
Ketil unsheathed his knife as the man raised his hands and took a step back. The dragon faltered as Ketil lost concentration and one of the men slid past it, rushing for Ketil. He focused harder and the dragon slung him across the room with its tail. He hit hard against a stone pillar, falling limp into the crowds.
"No," the man said, opening his palms. He was an escort, one of the men with stag masks and blue paint weaving around his dark skin. "I figured you could use some help. You're doing pretty good but I want in." He closed his eyes, muttering to himself. Ketil watched in fascination as a blue mist began to roll in from the windows and doors. It smelled of wine and roses and perhaps rain?
Everything stopped to watch the fine mist. Even Ketil let the dragon remain still as it rolled over the crowds. Then the first man fell. A cry of fear ran through the group as people collapsed one by one and then as a whole collective fell.
"You're a riesun." Ketil whispered as the dragon laid down, wings curled up and mouth shut. It was sleeping now. He felt sorry to watch it go.
"I'm glad someone finally told, me I was really starting to get worried that I could do this stuff. Thought it might be a contagious disease of some sort. Not many people can do things like this." He closed his palms and the haze dissipated immediately, the smell disappearing. "This will keep them down for ten minutes, let's go."
"Why am I still awake?"
"Only affects normals." He grabbed Ketil's hand, helping him up. "Can you walk?"
"Maybe, I don't know. I think I broke a few ribs. My partners are somewhere, hopefully they've already fled after I killed the Mistress Weeping. I have to get back to the Spire."
"I was hoping to do that." He slung Ketil's arm over his shoulder and helping him walk.
"Really?" Ketil groaned in pain, forcing his body to take some of his weight.
"I was hoping to charm my way alone with her and then kill her. You've heard the games the Weeping family plays with riesun?"
Ketil nodded, panting and straining. "They hunt us like fox, for sport. The Inquisitors get paid to round up less powerful ones to the estate where they participate in the hunt. The more they fight, the slower their death."
"She was rumored to bathe in the blood of riesun, she believed it would make her younger and more beautiful. She took my sister, kept her hostage in the pits, draining her like a bottle of wine. Killed her when there was nothing left."
Ketil let out a scream as he tripped forward. "Drass! My ribs!"
The man adjusted his grip on Ketil, taking most of his weight. "You're Polarian, eh? Should've known with the pale skin and hair."
"Ketil Østberg at your service," he said with another scream of pain.
"Vasco Dracon. Can I ask how you expect to get out of here?"
"Steal a few horses, ride hard and fast."
"You think you're up for that?" Vasco ducked into the stables, startling a few servants. "I'm thinking that perhaps a buggy might be your safest bet."
"Can we escape them when they wake?"
"Would you rather chance falling off and dying?"
"You have a terribly good point." Ketil leaned against the wall, servants milling around with stony expressions at them.
"Stay here," Vasco muttered, running towards the first servant he could find.
Ketil panted, "trust me, I'm not going anywhere." He sunk down to his knees, dots coloring his vision. His ribs ached and his body felt almost numb from pain. He wanted nothing more than to pass out, but unconsciousness didn't come.515Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX08gxNUKf0
