Chapter 5 - Eels

The climate in the deep south of the continent was warm near year-round, with some inclinings of winter, during the late months, but, because of the Endless Sea, and the warm draft, it was always planting season.

For that, the fields around Loch were always bountiful, but bounty meant danger, in these near lawless lands, so far from the influence of the Imperial Throne.

"Lyns Eye… It's an infamously difficult breed to grow, do you do it yourself, my lord?" A woman with a white face mask on spoke in a somewhat muffled voice.

She held a bag with both hands in front of her and bore a white dress, several madams flanked her on either side, with the servants twelve steps behind.

A garden full of life.

A young man wearing a loose white dress shirt, and a pair of long pants, stood up from his work and turned around.

His eyes widened a little, and he lowered his head momentarily, "You all put my meager garden to shame, welcome to Loch. I pray your stay has been enjoyable."

A prince in blood alone, his name no longer marked as one in line of the throne.

"You're too kind, Baron. My daughter still speaks of your hospitality here, a year ago. She said the flowers were beautiful, this time of year. Their thorns are a testament to their resilience," Madam Inkwell smiled politely, among the ladies of the frontier, she was among the Count's Family, which served no one, boasting the highest percentage of military power in the region during the invasions, "She couldn't come, due to illness." 

Lyn's Eye, a famous flower of the South, that was robust when fully grown, but its gardener needed to be equally so, to take care of it till then, since they were weak to everything, as younglings.

Their fully bloomed state, a beautiful purple iris, with a mild white interior, that smelled of redwood and lavendar. 

"Her health is above any small ball. I'll send her some flowers, as a gesture for her recovery. And some taels, to assist with the cost of medicine," Argo smiled politely in return, "How have you found Loch?"

Madam Inkwell looked at him quietly for less than a second, and then he raised his arm, to lead them along the garden path.

She nodded, with some approval.

She was no young lady, but a woman inbred with manners and etiquette, to stand around speaking when a perfectly good garden was here, was no less than rude.

He held his arms behind himself, holding his hands together.

She held her posture very well, and had her arms resting in front of her, on her dress.

"The town is lively. Merchants were hawking in the streets, and children ran around in both alleyways and the open without fear. I must ask, how did you change this little slice of southern dirt into such a haven?" She had a tinge of sincerity in her voice, that could not falsified.

He smiled, with some sincerity as well, "It wasn't easy. When I arrived, most of Loch was an abomination. Things too dirty to tell such beautiful ladies." 

"Southern Ladies aren't quite like the guppies in the capital, do tell." Madam Inkwell's remark made the ladies giggle and chuckle.

But she was right.

In the south, where conflict with the Endless Sea, was a yearly fact of life, alongside the culture of Karlan, being honor duels and battles of blood for succession, it was never quite peaceful.

Even a lady would have to shed blood, from time to time.

"Well… The first difficulty was the organ traffickers. As I'm sure you've heard, they're everywhere. People taking advantage of the less privileged and selling off their bodies. We could only run them out, after one chose to come to the estate, to try and get my support in doing so." 

He quietly monitored her reaction, from behind his smile.

She merely nodded slightly, and raised a brow, shaking her head, "Inkwell had a few of those as well. We skinned and burned them at the gate, spreading their organs around the county. Didn't see too many more of them after that." 

He knew well that the County of Inkwell was a hub for Organ Harvesting since they were the top buyers of his own export of criminal organs, usually used by Mage Towers in order to do experiments for medicines and poisons.

Heinous as it was, it was extremely lucrative, based on her reaction, he couldn't tell if they had a deal, or were just too incompetent to dig deep enough to uncover what was left of that organization.

"Do you enjoy tea, Madam?" 

"Hardly. My teeth take offense to cheap tea, after so many years." 

"Then, perhaps, you'll enjoy this," Argo flicked a look at one of the servants who swiftly took out a box with specially imported Northern Cocoa Leaves, "Not quite tea, but, it's sweet and warm. From the deep north." 

Madam Inkwell inspected it, and spoke as she took it into her hands, "And how did you get this, so far south?" 

"Gifts from here and there. Friends from my academy days." 

"I hear so much about it, from my grandkids, it's a shame I was already too old when it went up. It seems to be so worthwhile."

Argo led her to the gazebo, in the garden, and pulled out a chair for her, allowing her to sit down.

There were several more chairs and tables, he invited the other ladies to sit, with a look.

"We had not yet conquered the Dumbarans back then. It was your generation's sacrifice, that allowed that opportunity to us all." 

Madam Inkwell didn't turn her eyes, keeping them on the leaves, as her tea was being prepared.

Lady March had made a mistake, entering a conversation without being spoken to first, when she had a lower peerage, a mistake born out of a new situation in life.

Though, her new peerage as a March in blood alone, was known to few, so no one batted an eye.

"You've got a silver tongue. It's a shame what happened to your Mother. She was among the greatest our era had to offer." Madam Inkwell, had a curious look in her eye.

As a woman from a Military Family, that stood at the front of the southern invasions year after year, for decades and had participated in the battle against the Dumbaran for the years before their defeat, she had lost many sons, daughters, and friends.

And she knew better, than perhaps any of the younger people here, true loss, as well as what it took to be someone like Duchess March, had been.

Both a warrior, a mother, and a leader.

"She died honorably at her brother's hands. March is in good hands now." At the mention of her mother having any form of shame, attached to her name, Eida couldn't help but have some ire in her eyes.

At that remark, Madam Inkwell did turn her vision over, for a second, before looking back down at her now-served tea, "You inherited her strength of character, it seems. But lack her talents. What are your plans now, Daughter of Diana?"

She didn't call her Lady of March, which was duly noted by everyone who despite having their own conversations, were keenly listening.

Argo knew immediately that Madam Inkwell was well aware of Eida's current position and place, but, wasn't going to push on it.

Which was when he felt a sidelong stare pointed at him.

He caught her look and quietly understood.

"I was thinking of having her stay here, she is trained in feudal management, and, I was unfortunately born only with good blood, but no talents. I'd like to keep her, as my left hand." 

Madam Inkwell closed her eyes, as she drank her tea.

He knew he had been had.

There was clearly some sort of agenda, that Madam Inkwell had wanted done, and she had come here herself to see it so, despite being a Countess.

Was it to get Eida stuck here in Loch, in a public way? 

Or was it to try and have Eida taken in here, so that her life would be tied to Loch?

To weigh her down, as some sort of petty revenge against the Late Duchess, or to protect her and force a decision?

Or perhaps something else.

Her cup landed back on the table.

"...I am relieved to hear that my old friend's daughter has found a place like this, with a competent lord, to look after her until she is married, and on her feet again." 

She did not want Argo marrying Eida.

And she wanted him to protect her until she could protect herself.

A clear support for Eida, without supporting her.

If anyone pushed her on the meaning, she could easily skirt around it.

Despite being a military wife, she spoke like an imperial court noble.

He instantly understood her intentions.

Feeling the coldness in the air, he knew it.

Their distaste for the Late Duchess' Brother, the current Duke, was beyond their distaste for him, and though they could not take her in, for the repercussions of going against the current Duke, if he did, then no one would bat an eye, since it was, a shameful place, but she was alive, and taken care of.

It was the best they could do, given their circumstances.

He'd been had, were they all in on it?

To quietly support Diana's descendant.

"Marriage… I don't know when I'll be ready for something like that," Eida touched her mask, and many of the women there had pity in their eyes for her, but many also had malice lingering, "I don't know of a man alive or dead, that would be interested in this." 

"Oh, baby, men have scars too…" A woman approached her, with a slight smile, urging her to sit.

Madam Inkwell flicked a look at Argo, and he stood up, "I have to prepare for the Ball tonight. So, if you'll please excuse me." 

He'd served his purpose, he got it.

She closed her eyes in response.

Behind, Eida, with the underhanded support of Madam Inkwell, and the pity of the ladies, was quickly surrounded and being heard and accepted, though, how sincere it was, he did not know.

He soon arrived at where he started, and picked up his tools, heading for the estate, while the ladies socialized.

The baked goods of the Patissier passed him on carts, heading for the Gazebo, to serve snacks.

It was going well, as planned.

When he entered, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and Stephan arrived beside him.

"The food has been prepared and the desserts are going to be cooling now in the ice room. The ladies will be directed to their rooms in an hour, to prepare for tonight's Ball. The lord's gathering is almost complete." 

Argo nodded, and took the clipboard, to read what was said during the meetings, they thought had been a secret one.

Every wall had ears, in Loch.

Count Inkwell was not in attendance, as he was preparing the County for the waves from the Endless Sea.

Baron Conch and Baron Bazeyan had spoken curtly about current events, sticking solely with the opinions of the day, and not veering off. 

Baron Balanil and Baron Dontejo which were close blood tied allies, as they had married each others sisters, were marry making, and spoke briefly of how disgusting Loch was, and their wish to leave as quickly as the morning after.

The merchants in the meeting, who had bought their way in, had spoken of how good the trade routes in Loch were, and the safety on the roads being impressive for such a place, leaning the conversation in that direction.

The unlanded sons, had caused a few disruptions in the town, but were for the most part controlled, with the guard force being higher, and the House Knights who are of equal status to those unlanded sons, leading the patrol squads.

Overall, everything was progressing smoothly.

"They really hate him though, don't they?" Stephan didn't need to say more, for Argo to know who he was talking about.

The paintings hanging on the sides of the hallways depicted the countless struggles of the South, and their lords and ladies.

It was impossible to go anywhere in the South, without taking a history lesson, the pride of their ancestry seared into the marrow of their very bones.

"Wouldn't you?" Argo shook his head.

They'd both studied the history of the South in detail.

Stephan slightly nodded, but it was still a shock to see in progress.

For someone to against a Duke, let alone the Countess, but those other Ladies of lower families, was unthinkable in the Center.

For Madam Inkwell to go as far as to publicly say that the Late Duchess Diana, was her friend, and defend her daughter... a ridiculous thing he wouldn't belive unless he'd seen it himself.

Such a thing was tantamount to declaring her support for the daughter in public, though, she had maneuvred it well, the underlying meaning was clear to those who listened.

And no one had rebuked her, just a silent malicious agreement.

The Dumbaran War changed the South forever, back then.

And Duchess March, had been the face of the conflict, and the back to which all those fighting looked to, for support, in their darkest hour.

Her brother had essentially torn the South's Heart out.

"His security must be top of the line, or he won't last very long," Stephan shook his head, and they turned into the deepest portions of the estate, his private office ahead, "Speaking of which, he squealed." 

Argo opened the door, his lips parting, "And?" 

Stephan pushed the bookshelf to one side, "Rouge leaked to the Spider through Mage Thread, about our assets, and confidential information about Loch. They'll be at the Old Sparrow tonight, just before the Ball."

"To create a distraction, while they escape with the target." Argo began down the dark sleek stone steps.

Stephan began in proper pace behind him, the smell of lavender had grown weak in these days, and the dungeon would need cleaning again soon, he took a big breath, to get it over with, "It seems so." 

He arrived at the bottom.

The cages were quiet and empty.

"It seems the fishing didn't go well." Argo merely spared a glance and continued forward.

Stephan, remembering the labor, shook his head, "Rodrick had some trouble. But, it's ready."

Stephan opened the heavy metal door, and took a torch, walking ahead of Argo.

Pigs squealed and ran into their doorway, bones were left all over the ground, some with meat still attached.

"Give him some time off, after this. To enjoy his new friends." Rodrick had disposed of several of his friends since it was getting crowded, evident by the bones.

He must have been quite sad.

Soon he would have new friends.

They walked through the long slope.

It opened into a giant, crystalline room, blue magical crystals hung off the ceiling like moss, giving off vibrant light.

In the center, a giant hole, laid.

The stench of blood was thick.

Something was hunched over, crouching and doing something to the ground.

There were a dozen different tunnels attached to the room, that led to different places in the labyrinth.

Pigs waited at the edges, their faces illuminated by the crystals, had nothing but a sown mouth, their eyes gouged out, and their noses torn off.

They chuffed excitedly, smelling the crouched thing.

It raised a withered old hand and pointed in that direction.

Something crackled.

A streak of blue spider-webbed through the air! But before it could reach them, it was curved upwards and devoured by the blue crystals! 

The pigs squealed! 

Ancient words, leaked from the old withered form, mutterings that could be a forgotten language, or just insane things ramblings.

It turned its head, neither human nor inhuman.

An amalgam form of charred withered flesh.

"Your aptitude for Magic is very low. But you'll do." 

Argo approached the hunched thing, and it stood up, a tall man, that didn't look quite human, wearing an old robe, it looked like a ghoul.

"Your suffering will be over soon."

"...karlan…" 

The old creature shook, and lightning coiled around it's arms, sizzling.

Its eyes came slowly into focus.

It raised its lightning hand straight at him.

"...KARLAN!"