Collab bet'w Fox and Silent
Location: Lady Luck, docked at Arc-en-Ciel Ile
Two Weeks After The Court Meet
Midnight
A gentle caress blew against Sid's cheek as he slept. Adelaide knelt beside him, cradling a purring Chaos in the crook of her arm while teasing her owner awake. The crew was docked at a waystop; one of the common restocking islands that attracted all sorts of people and life. The harbors were bristling with sails and ships ranging from a junker to naval warship. Jack'd asked for them stop here as their food stores were running low, thanks to an anonymous someone who'd eaten all the bread and dried chicken. After rigorous interrogations and a thorough investigation from the ship's hull to helm, Jack grudgingly concluded that
who took the food was not nearly as important as restoring the stores. This port happened to be closest, despite its unwanted traffic and governmental control.
"Come, tomcat. We have a job to do." Adelaide chomped on a chicken sandwich while waiting for Sid to wake up. She got enough impatient enough to roll the bread in her mouth, preparing to spit-ball it into the young man's face for ignoring her so long.
Cedric rolled over very reluctantly and his eyes opened. He thought Adelaide would give up if he pretended to be asleep, but he refused to do so anymore. He was in danger of a very disgusting wake up call. Sitting up, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "E'tu plus vieux q'moi?" (trans. (not literally) "Are you really older than me?"; implied: you don't act your age)
An ear-reaching smile answered his question. Finishing off her sandwich, Adelaide patted his leg and stood up. The movement caused Chaos to jump from her arms, stretch languidly on the floor, then pranced out of Cedric's room. "Up up,
matou (tomcat)."
He threw back his covers and stood shirtless in front of the pest of a woman. He ran his fingers through his hair while groping around for his shirt. Suspecting that it had been added to the ever growing cat-nest god knows where on this ship, Cedric stalked towards the cupboard to get a replacement.
"I wish you'd steal Jack's shirts too," he muttered under his breath as he buttoned up his shirt. "I know why you don't. I swear the man is starting to smell as bad as his curry pot. I know it's him even before he passes my door. The stench practically oozes from his pores."
He turned to check his appearance in the mirror. Dissatisfied with his messy hair, Cedric undid his ponytail and began combing his hair. He narrowed his eyes at Adelaide's reflection daring her to mock him for using a hairbrush. His eyes narrowed further when he thought he spotted a twinkle in her eyes. He sighed. "It was a gift from one of the Tankards. He wanted to please the pretty new lass."
"Let's say he doesn't enjoy the affections of another man, merci l'toiles." He placed the brush on the table and tied up his hair. "Whatever the origin, this brush is a small price to pay for getting embarrassed. The bristles are really soft."
Adelaide smiled but offered nothing more than a shrug. She leaned against the doorframe and inspected her nails.
Chester crawled out from underneath the cupboard. He had the missing shirt clamped firmly in his mouth. Master and cat stared at one another. Sid's lips twitched. "I knew it! I'm going to find that cat-nest one day and the shirts are returning to this cupboard."
Green eyes narrowed. Chester flashed his tail at Sid before vanishing with a loud pop. Chaos purred in amusement. The kitten knew exactly where her sibling disappeared to. A secret both swore not to tell Cedric. Their owner cursed under his breath.
"By job, I assume you didn't wake me up to eradicate a cat-nest, Zebby. So, I'm giving you fifteen minutes to convince me to follow you or I'm going to find Jack." He crossed his arms. The fingers of his right hand drummed his left forearm impatiently. "I'm also going to guess that you aren't here to share the latest your latest Felix scheme. I'm not going to try stealing his aeter when I'm supposed to be dead."
They were lucky to have their previous attempts dismissed so readily. Stealing another Reve's aeter was the surest way to earn a life sentence. He couldn't believe he let Adelaide talk him into it not once but twice.
Had he really gotten that drunk?
Jack wasn't happy when seventeen-year-old him had been escorted home after each failed attempt, but his brother's wrath was nothing compared to Charlotte's. It made him think twice when the opportunity presented itself again.
No, he'd have to be more discreet if he wished to try again.
His eyes flicked to the diminishing sandwich. "So is it Madam or the Guild?" He wasn't foolish enough to hope for a simple night out. It had been too long since they wandered the streets at night, hit a few pubs and instigated drunken brawls for laughs. He recalled their last sojourn involved an opium den and them leaving with even more money in their pockets. He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Adelaide didn't move for a solid second. Only her eyebrow twitched up as she watched Cedric mull through his questions, her posture nor features giving away the truth. She pushed off the door frame, arms crossed under her chest, and sauntered soundless until she and Sid were close enough to touch noses. Despite his large height, the smirk she wore gave the feeling that she was looking down on him. She leaned forward, invading his personal space. Her eyes never broke contact from his.
"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked him with a mild tone. "Why do you think I'm on this ship?"
"Jack," was the automatic reply. "Anything that brings you within a few feet of him has to involve him. Considering you left Madam's side, then yes, the reason borders on unpleasant." His eyelids drooped into a lazy gaze. "I doubt his cooking would be enough to bring you here. Nor, shall we say, his prowess in bed."
"Then, if that's my reasoning, do you truly need another to follow me? It's for Jack after all." She patted his cheek.
Stepping back, she went to the corner of his room and picked up a bundle of clothes. She tossed them at his chest. "Oh, did I forget to tell you? You won't be needing a shirt." The bundle consisted of full ensemble: a blue dress, right for Sid's height and styled from Trovale's fashion, their home country. It was simple but elegant with a full, sweeping skirt and low-cut bodice. With it were a black cloak, Sid's personal shoes and necklace made by his own hands, a gold ring, gloves and lady's face paint.
The smugness practically radiated from the woman like the sun's heat in doldrums. "Get dressed, tom cat. You're going undercover."
He gave a very exaggerated sigh. "The things I do for fère. You and Jack are going to be the death of me one day."
Very reluctantly, he allowed Adelaide to lead him to the nearest stool. She always insisted she liked pretending he was her little sister. He believed otherwise; she probably enjoyed emasculating him at every opportunity. Jack couldn't have fallen for a more sadistic woman.
Dead even before he's married. L'toiles benissent d'morts! (trans. (not literally) "Bless him."; the equivalent of saying Rest in Peace)
"You better not suffocate me when you lace the corset," he hissed through gritted teeth. He could feel her yanking his hair with savage glee. He winced again. "Zebby, please! Let me do my own hair."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Outside Douzette
The cat-calls and wolf whistles became more obvious the closer they got towards the pub. Sid's eyes narrowed as he elbowed a drunk sailor in the gut. He rolled his eyes. He was sure Adelaide did this on purpose. The two of them could have gotten here before this wretched hour. He really hated this woman at times.
"Em gái, những người đàn ông này thật đáng sợ." He whispered using the local dialect. His eyes widening ever so slightly. He leaned closer to Adelaide. His arms wrapped around hers even tighter than ever. "Chúng ta có thể về nhà không?" (trans. "Sister, these men are scaring me. Can we go home?")
Arc en Ciel Ile, or Rainbow Isle in Common, was a resort island for the nobles. An idyllic summer getaway known for beautiful flower fields. Cedric realised he hadn't visited this Trovalian colony in years. The crowd was even more unsavoury than he remembered. He guessed such a lovely place couldn't stay untainted forever. The poor from the other colonies would come here to look for work. He frowned.
How badly were the other colonies doing for the slums to be overflowing?
He leaned his head closer to Adelaide's, smelling saffron and cinnamon oils from her curls. His breath tickled her ear as he murmured. "Ba đâu rồi? Chúng tôi cần anh ấy." He lowered his gaze modestly just as she led them into a smokey pub. (trans. "Where's father? We need him here.")
He could feel her tensing; she heard his coded message. He waited patiently for her answer. He didn't like what he witnessed so far. Their king (or father in his coded message) didn't strike him as someone who would let the colonies suffer like this. He would send government officials to check on the governors every year. Cedric sensed that Trovale was sitting on a powder keg of social and political unrest.
He hoped the government was wise enough to avoid a second bloody revolution. This one was going to much worse. Their army lacked the manpower to clamp down on the unrest both at home and abroad. No matter who took over in the end, Trovale would end up poorer than ever. Losing the colonies meant losing huge tracts of arable land and their status as the top agricultural producer.
Adelaide's eyes slid over him but she didn't respond as they entered the pub. A smoky haze blasted in their faces the moment they crossed the threshold. It stung their eyes to water as the din of loud, arguing, drunk voices fill the small hole to its brink. Filled to the brim with patrons, the thin wooden walls looked ready to burst. It was hot and claustrophobic. The ideal place for visiting, criminal riff-raff to spend their nights before kicking off again.
Adelaide's eyes shifted endlessly across the bar and tables. She identified pirates by their leathery tanned skin and excessive need for ear jewelry; bounty hunters by their rugged clothes and shifty eyes, always glancing towards the door to see if a new target had the misfortune to wander in tonight. Disgraced soldiers were the loudest, their arrogance tripled by drink and loss of purpose. The rest were thieves, cutthroats, swindlers, conmen and any other character with blood money in their pockets. The spy hummed-- it sounded like Chaos's purr. Sid felt her slip into an effortless; this was her kind of stage, a place she was most relaxed in.
She suddenly gripped Sid's arm and directed his attention to the bar tucked in the far right corner. She leaned until her lips grazed his ear, and even then it was difficult to hear what she said. "One o'clock at the bar. Black-haired grimace with a white scar on his neck. Trovalian badge on his arm. That's your target. Get to know him. See what he's doing tonight."
She made a smile and pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I'll be watching."
She nudged Sid further into the pub and disappeared from his side. The void she left was nominal; it didn't feel like she'd been there at all.
Cedric pretended to hesitate. He was supposed to be skittish young noble woman. He would have lingered longer, but he saw someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye. The lecherous intent was evident in those red, twitching eyes. He tried his best not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. His persona wasn't supposed to be that observant.
The interior reeked even more than the streets. Sid withdrew perfumes lace handkerchief and covered his nose. He wasn't liking this mission at all. The number of hands he slapped on his way to the counter deepened his foul mood. He guessed that'll explain the lack of bar maids here. This wasn't the type of establishment women would thrive in. The men here were loathsome. He huffed softly.
Yellowing, bloodshot eyes landed on him shortly after he reached the bar. Sid gave the barkeep a nervous smile. He shrank back by a half step. The hunched man remained silent. Sid waited for a few more minutes, but he failed to get a word out of the man. Great!
"E-excuse me, good sir," he began in accented Trovalian. It was the accent common among the nobles living south of the Trovalian capital. They were also the owners of most of the resorts on Arc en Ciel Ile.
The barkeep blinked. Sid continued quickly not wanting to lose the man's attention. "I - I'm looking for my older brother. My parents heard that he was here before he disappeared."
There was slight frown. Cedric sensed the man was about to protest. Nobles, as far as the barkeep knew, don't hang around this part of the island. He wasn't wrong. Most nobles would avoid the slums, but the young men found it thrilling to mill around these cheap pubs. It wasn't a pleasant situation for everyone involved. The number of pickpocketing, muggings and murders increased exponentially whenever a particular slum became fashionable.
Sid pretended to wilt. "It's … he came to this area with three friends. He disappeared after having a few drinks. No one has seen him since."
He twisted his handkerchief around in his hands. A universal sign for anxiety. He saw the frown lightened confirming that the barkeep bought his story. A similar incident happened five years ago. Baron Guilhem's second son met his demise in an opinion den two streets down. It was the opium den he and Adelaide raided a week later. From the looks of it, a successor had already taken its place.
"My parents offered a reward for his safe return … or any useful information." His eyes were downcast. The handkerchief in his hands was crumpled beyond recognition now. Cedric noticed his mark shifting a seat closer to him. He kept still and waited for the man to approach him first.
"Three friends?" The words came out as five syllables instead of three at Sid's shoulder. The hunter Adelaide targeted slid over to the next stool to leer at the faux noble mistress. His eyes were unsubtle as looked Sid over, taking a drink before continuing. "'Might be knowin' somethin' aye. Wha's your brother look like?"
He grinned a cracked smile, two front teeth broken with one silver replacement shining dull against the pub's smoky light. Up close his stench was prominent: cheap whisky and tobacco on his breath, and the odor of man who hadn't bathed in weeks lay heavy in his clothes. His look overall was dirty and rugged; he must've only come into town recently, being on the road and seas prior. The only untouched accessory was the Trovalian badge on his arm. It shone bright and clean, obviously well taken care of.
Bracing himself on the bar by a forearm, he extended a dirty hand to Sid. "Name's Fyox. Fyox Drevidge. I'm a Trovalian bounty hunter, milady. I know all about finding folk...for a price, natura'y." He winked then waved at the bar tender. "George, give the lady whatev' she like to soothe her worry over her lost brother. My treat. Nows, what can ya tell me abou' your brother and family?"
Cedric's eyelashes fluttered. "Oh …. merci, M. Drevidge." He relaxed his grip on the handkerchief and edged cautiously towards the bounty hunter. He didn't take the man's hand as it was a faux pas for a noblewoman to do so. Instead, he waited for Fyox to dust the seat of barstool before he sat down. He gave the man a shy smile. "I've never met a bounty hunter before. I heard you are brave and dedicated men who risk your lives to catch criminals."
"Ah, lassie, ya too kind. Just a way 'o livin', it is," the more he talked, the more his lowtown accent came through. It was similar to Adelaide's, when she slipped into speech of her childhood. Musical, yet rough and uncultured.
Sid acted a little flustered when the barkeep placed a honey coloured drink in front of him. Sid cupped the glass in his hands but didn't take a sip. He didn't like the cloudy appearance of the glass. It looked like it hadn't been washed in months.
"Is this whiskey?" He asked. "Father doesn't allow me to drink alcohol unless I'm accompanied by my brothers."
"It rum, lassie. Not the you had, probably, but likes the best good ole George got. Ain' that right George?" The bar keeper grunted. Fyox laughed and cleared his throat. "Ah. Alas, I lose focus. Probably got more in me than needed, you know wha' I mean? You were, uh, gonna tell me about your brothers?"
"Ah, I guess I should. I don't think my chaperon would be comfortable waiting outside too long. Madam Lettie has been insisting we go back to L'Oustal soon."
He fell silent and waited to see Fyox's reaction. Chateau L'Oustal Des Fleurs belonged to the Noailles, one of the wealthiest families in the south. The current head, Duke Noailles, was a first cousin to the current king. Little is known about the family since they were extremely private. All anyone really knows was that he has five grown children, four boys and one girl. His only daughter was rumoured to be well-acquainted with the current crown princess.
Fyox choked on his mead. He coughed and pounded on his chest, spilling a little more over himself in the process. He waved for a towel from George and did his best to cover up the slip. "Yer- ack- related to the Lord Noailles? That right?"
"Oui, I'm his daughter Lady Victoire Noailles. My brother, Lord Hadrien Noailles, is the one who's missing."
Sid proceeded to describe Hadrien although he felt it was a little redundant. The man was a familiar face at the court up till a year ago. According to Belvedere, there were rumours that the youngest son had been travelling abroad with several friends. This was the only reason Cedric felt that this cover story was plausible.
Fyox nodded along, showing he was listening as he ate peanuts with grubby fingers. He allowed "Victoire" to describe the missing brother, scratching at stubble thoughtfully. "Your brother, ain' he the one parading about the Trovales' estates?"
"I see you are well-informed, M. Drevidge. Are you an important person in the court? I don't recall seeing you around the palace when I visit Her Highness Princess Celestine."
He laughed from his belly, nearly choking on his drink again. "Hah hah, my lassie Victoire, your thinkin' too highly o' me. Nay, never been to the Court meself-- I only hunt their enemies.
Le Renard de la Nuit, Court of Miracles, the Jackal, Lady Red--"
"I've never heard of The Jackal before," his eyelashes fluttered before his eyes widened. He tilted his head in the bounty hunter's direction giving the impression that he was being extra attentive. "I … oh!"
He pulled away just as his fine locks brushed against Fyox's forearm. "I remembered something, monsieur. Alfie, I mean Lord Brimeu, mentioned seeing a man approach Hadrien. He didn't recognise him, but Hadrien did. The two of them left the private room after and approached the bar. Alfie lost sight of them then as it was just too crowded."
He blinked slowly as if struggling to remember vague details. "He was a noir. Lean physique with hair in tight curls. The type the foreign men his nationality usually have. It flows down his back. His clothes were hidden beneath his cloak. And … oh! He had cat-eyes. Golden like a ginger cat's…"
Sid broke off abruptly and stared at the whiskey glass in front of him. "I'm sorry if that's not very helpful. None of us could figure out who the man was."
The bounty hunter's silence stretched for too long. He stared at Cedric with beady eyes, looking him up and down in a practice notion, reading who he was from the tiniest details. On the back of Sid's neck, a chilling breeze created goosebumps. It was Adelaide sending a warning.
Caution.
Just when the silence dragged too long, Fyox burst into another rowdy laughter. "Never? Never hear o'
The Jackal? Lassie, milady, wha' rock is your family livin' under?" he crowed and held his chest, wiping tears from his eyes. "The Jackal been the most notorious wanted criminal since the traitor Phalton Beaux. King Delmont's a'calling that murderer's head for a year now. Don' tell me you nor your family know nothin' about him?"
Sid didn't bother looking over his shoulder. He wouldn't be able to spot Adelaide unless she wanted him to. He folded his hands, right over left, to indicate he received her message. He tried his best to recall the numerous bounty hunters he met, but the name Drevidge eluded him. Strange. He knew he wasn't the type to forget a face so easily.
"My family, M. Drevidge?" he tensed up. He gave the man a withering glare, as he straightened visibly as if offended. "My father raised me to be a lady befitting my class. Such matters are often left to men. I have enough trouble keeping busy with the numerous charities I volunteer with."
Sid reminded himself not to cross his arms, because it wouldn't appear lady-like. He opted to turn his stool slightly to the left so that he wasn't looking Fyox straight in the face anymore. He would only face the bounty hunter again if the man apologised. "I think it's best if I leave soon, monsieur. It's getting late. Please let me know if you are interested in helping me."
"'Pologies, milady. I mean no harm. Just that man you described sounded like the Jackal."
Sid gave a small start. His hand flew to his mouth, but his "attention" was back on Fyox. He blinked slowly and leaned away slightly. The man seemed a little too eager to study his reflection in Sid's eyes and that meant invading his personal space. Fyox appeared to be hoping for more out of this interaction. Good.
"I … Monsieur! I don't think Hadrien would associate with criminals."
Fyox settled back, shaking his head. "The Jackal's wanted for mass murder, milady. He massacred a mining village, Oublia. Him and his bloodthirsty pirate crew looted the place and killed every last man, woman and child." Fyox spat on the ground and slammed his hand on the bar. George, overhearing, made a sign against evil on his chest. The bounty hunter sighed. His expression flushed red with outrage but his eyes shined overbrightly, growing wet on the corner. The look in his eyes burned with loathing, far more heated than a hunter simply afflicting his nation's opinion. "No one left livin', there was. A great tragedy. Lots of people in the capital lost family, you know? Was s'pposed to be a great payin' opportunity fer thee lower class folk-- Oublia, I mean. Digging up aeterium there. Good 'mount of precious stones too, far as I know. Guessin' the pirate scum found out and got all greedy like, decided take it fer himself. Ye know I heard tha' the man was a heartless sun'a bitch-- if you don't mind me language, milady. Killed all sorts of people, he did. Contracted by the spymaster, some say. 'Splains how he knew about Oublia."
"Bonne Florilege a'pitié." He crossed himself the way the barkeep did earlier. "What has my dear brother gotten himself into? Father would be so worried …" (trans. (not literally) goodness gracious)
The faux noblewoman grabbed Fyox' arm in a beseeching manner. "Monsieur, how terrible is this Jackal? Would … is my brother safe?"
He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his hair. "Man's been on the run for quite some time. Bounty hunters' all over lookin' for him...makes me surprised he'd turned up with your brother, if ye don' mind me sayin'. Ye described him prett' well off. Hold on, I think I got a- ah, here it is. This yer man?"
Pulling out a rumpled parchment, Fyox handed it to Sid. It was a bounty of the Jackal. A man with messy dreadlocks from beneath a face mask. He wore a haphazard turban with a cloth connecting from ear to ear hiding the majority of his face. Slanted eyes stared up at Sid. It wasn't hard to imagine them a glittering gold hue despite the blank and cold expression the drawing gave them.
Sid didn't have to stare very long at the poster. He recognised the person immediately. The information he gleaned was giving him a headache, but he couldn't afford to be distracted. Adelaide already warned him to be careful.
Thinking quickly, Cedric forced tears to gather in his eyes. His lashes fluttered delicately causing them to trickle down his powdered cheek. "Oh M. Drevidge, it's truly terrible. The picture matches Alfie's description all too well. I … what are we to do?"
His slim frame began shaking with stifled sobs. He read Fyox enough to suspect the man was likely to be sympathetic if "Victoire" started crying. True enough, he heard the rustle of fabric as the man moved closer. Sid's mind was made up. He was going to kill this man for Jack's sake. It would be one enemy less to worry about. He allowed his eyes to close. More tears spilled down his cheeks.
Not wanting to leave any loose ends, Sid realised he needed to figure whether there were others working with Fyox. The actual number didn't matter. The two of them could take them out easily. He faked a shuddering sigh and allowed his mark to draw him closer. Cedric disassociated himself from the physical action. His mind already calculating his next move.
Fyox' body reeked of stale sweat, dried mud, mead and tobacco. Cedric tried his best not to recoil. He could feel a hand rubbing a little too suggestively around his waist. Definitely an opportunist, he thought. Then again, Trovalian noble women weren't known to be very chaste. Not this far from home at least. He wondered if he could persuade the bounty hunter to introduce him to the rest of his group.
"M-monsieur?" he stuttered in a softer, more sultry tone. He allowed his eyes to stare wistfully into the man's darker orbs.
A rough thumb wiped away the lingering tears from Sid's cheek. He could smell the man's breath stronger than ever as Fyox leaned closer. The other's lips were so close that the rancid breath warmed his ear. Sid was glad he replaced his usual earrings tonight. He was sure the man would recognise aeterium the moment he saw those stones.
Cedric's mind wandered back to Adelaide. He wondered whether she was still close by. She was holding onto his aeterium in case he needed them. All he had on his person was a poisoned dagger hidden in his corset and a vial of strong sleeping draught. He guessed this had to be her plan all along. If not, she wouldn't have provided him with these tools.
"I … really should go," he reminded Fyox again. There was a hint of reluctant in his voice. It was implied that he wouldn't mind having the company for the night. An act that wasn't going disgrace the real Victoire since Cedric shared her bed more than once. He was sure he wasn't the only one. "It's not proper to be seen in public like this. I hope you understand."
He batted his eyelashes coyly. His hair brushing suggestively against Fyox arm. He made sure to sound wonderfully breathless after that hasty kiss. "We can't return to the chateau nor are there hotels discreet enough in this area."
Fyox grinned, barely believing his own good fortune on this night. "Don'chu worry, lassie. I think I knows just such a place."
Downing the rest of his drink, he tossed some coins on the bar for George then took Sid's hand and tugged towards the pub's exit. His grip was tight on his wrist. Not enough to cause bruising, but in the bounty hunter's overexcitement, he didn't want to let his luck go. Red marks blossomed quickly on Sid's pale skin.
Fyox forced their way out, the pub somehow becoming more crowded in the time they'd been talking. He kept Sid close to his side being careful enough to ensure the Lady Victoire wouldn't stumble or be pushed aside by the ruffians. It over a minute to reach the doorway-- in that time, Sid glimpsed Adelaide only once. Their eyes locked in the briefest moment of two bodies parting, revealing the spy against a paneled wall, her hazel eyes intense in the dimness. Her mischievous air was replaced with blank seriousness. Despite their distance, Sid could imagine how the air around her would've dropped ten degrees, remembering the times when she became all business and cast aside her acts humanization. The times when their mission was about to take a bad turn.
The bodies pressed together again. Sid didn't see her again as Fyox and him breached the pub's exit, into the cool night.
Fyox stopped short a few feet away, his grip tightening again, his body stiffening. He swayed from the drink yet there was a clearness in his eyes that wasn't there before. His gaze swept across the town. If asked, the bounty hunter would say a feeling came over him, like they were being watched. He stood there for several seconds, then shook his head. He gave Sid an apologetic smile. "C'mon, milady. 'Tis a few minutes' walk from here. A little place on the edge of town I rent whenev' I come about here. Pop'lar among us bounty hunters. Whadda say?"
Long lashes fluttered seductively, as Sid giggled. He sensed Adelaide tailing them but reminded himself not to turn around. "I trust you, M. Dervidge."
Fyox's hand wrapped around his slim wrist even tighter than before. Sid gasped. He was shoved against the wall as rough lips met his again. The kiss was desperate and panicked. His eyes widened in surprise.
A yellowed smile flitted across Fyox's face followed by a wink. The Stardusk tailor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Cedric's heels clattered softly against the cobblestone. They were weaving through dark alleyways. He sensed that Fyox was trying to outrun Adelaide. It won't help, he thought.
Clasped in Sid's hand was the aeterium Adelaide passed to him earlier. While Fyox was busy kissing him in the bar, the crafty woman pressed close and slipped it into his hand. His stones, being sibling pairs, meant they were able to communicate with one another. Track one another even. So, with Adelaide holding onto Chester's stone, she'd have no problem finding him.
"Where are we, Fyox?" he asked softly.
"Just round the corner, lass," came a voice thick with lust and adrenaline. The sweat on the man's palms were eating through Cedric's lace gloves.
The younger man tensed. He clasped his soul stone even tighter. He didn't want to know what Fyox was planning. His eyes darted around as the man pulled him through the doorway.
Five other men sat around a scarred round table. The wood was literally grey with age. Sid coughed as the smoke filled the area like a toxic haze. His spotted the Trovalian badge adorning each of their arms. He pretended to sputter some more.
Leery conversation passed over his head. Cedric pretended to shrink away, pressing himself closer to Fyox. He hoped the man would whisk him away sooner, so that he could get this over and done with. He wasn't keen to keep play acting for such foul men. He suspected that if the real Victorie was here she'd end up another missing statistic.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"It wasn't just Jack, was it?" Sid asked as he allowed the blood crusted dagger to clatter on the floor beside his last kill. "They were responsible for another noblewoman's disappearance, yes?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Whose fiancée or daughter was it this time?"
He felt he deserved to know. He and Adelaide used to do this all the time. Investigate then dispense justice as they see fit. Fyox and his men were just another statistic. Same as the gang running the opium den where Baron Guilhem's son met his end. Charlotte never soiled her white gloved hands.
The pause was a little too long. Sid rolled his eyes. "No? Then it must a young couple. Disappeared and were never found. I bet you received word of it when you dropped by outpost."
He straightened his ruffled dress, ignoring the tear in the front. He stole a fallen cloak off the floor and threw it over his shoulders. Slowly, he began searching for two corpses. He tried not to smile at the irony of the situation. Even after going into hiding, he was still doing Charlotte's bidding. How quaint.
They found their first body stuffed inside the closet. The young lordling's clouded eyes stared at them from the floor. A foul smell assailed their noses, forcing both to step away. Maggots and a strange greenish-yellow liquid seeped into the dusty floor. Adelaide turned his over. The multiple slashes, some crusted with blood, told them all they need to know.
"Not the killing one," someone muttered.
On instinct, Adelaide turned the corpse around. The skull was caved in. Blunt but effective. Neither of them blinked. They've done this before. Surveying corpses and getting rid of them before their relatives saw the deceased in such a horrid state.
Sid ripped the cloak off the nearest fallen bounty hunter and threw it over the dead nobleman. "He fought hard enough for them to try and subdue him. It's one of the more dignified deaths we've seen."
"Nothing's dignified in death. It is what it is," she replied in a flat voice. They were the only words she spoke during their clean-up of the hunters' hideout.
The second corpse had been thrown down the dried out well. A quick glance was all they needed before they replaced the lid. There was simply no retrieving the body when the well was that deep. Sid turned to Adelaide and she nodded.
Remaining completely silent, they tossed the young lordling into the well. Next, they dumped a copious amount of kerosene followed by a lit torch. They remained just as silent as they rearranged their crime scene and made it look like a drunken brawl gone wrong.
The two assassins strolled nonchalantly down the streets. Both knew that even if there were witnesses, no one would ever step forward. The people here were simply too suspicious of authority. Some even resentful. Sid pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders not enjoying the nippy pre-dawn breeze.
"She's going to know," Cedric said finally.
Adelaide stopped. "I don't think she'll be your immediate concern."
Farther down the street, Jack stepped out from a darkened alleyway. Two hard, disapproving eyes met each of theirs in turn. Adelaide smiled at his gaze. He closed them. He took a cigarillo from his mouth and stamped it into the ground, then turned his back to them and walked away before they could get close. Doubtless they'd hear his words later and separately. Adelaide hummed low in her chest. "What's the number one rule of Stardusk? 'Don't kill unless given permission'? I think we just broke it."
"We killed? I thought we visited the brothel to pass time. There's been a lack of good looking people lately and I needed the distraction."
Cedric saw Jack's back tensing and knew the man heard him. The wind wasn't an obstacle to such sharp ears. He added as a side comment. "I'd prefer pancakes for breakfast today, merci. No more naan with too much garlic."