Lucas patted Vash’s shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah. I bet they have some good wine here. Oh, and servants! We’ll get more than wine!”
Vash stepped closer to Severin and shoved him with his finger. “Don’t fall back on your word.”
It was a poor threat, but Severin nodded in acknowledgment. “Farewell,” he said. “And do try to be safe. You’ve made it this far…”
The old man lowered his black hood and hobbled toward a large wooden door. Upon opening it, he led them out to the back of the premises. The sun was setting along the horizon, casting a rich purple hue over the entire sky. In the near distance, an old and rather worn down barn stood, and behind the structure, cornfields flowed with the wind, only a few short months away from being ready for harvest. That is, if the ears turned out to be viable to distribute. The land was essentially barren. Every year, it was getting harder to grow anything outside. Fitting.
The wind scurried across the land, causing the stalks of corn to loudly rustle against one another as if they were issuing a dark warning. Killian knew where they were. They had fought on this very field so long ago. They’d watched their best friends and soldiers die here. It was remarkable to see what could grow with the lifeblood of so many victims, but Killian felt the quiet urge to run.
The man hacked and spat on the ground. “You came at a terrible time. I was about to stuff the queen’s new trophy.”
“Trophy?” Lucas asked.
“Yes, from what I have heard, the twins had a fine day of hunting. She nicked a blackbird and wished to keep it as a trophy.”
“Doesn’t sound like our Precious,” Vash said. “Are you sure she shot the creature?”
“As sure as that the world is turned upside down every twenty-four hours,” the man said.
Killian peered back at the grounds. The structures were immaculate and massive and must have housed at least one hundred rooms. Made from solid marble, the buildings reflected the royal-purple-and-orange-sherbet sunset against his pale skin. “Perhaps, the world has already turned down,” he said to himself. “Vash, do you get the sense that we’re walking into a trap?”
Vash nodded and appeared troubled. “I have no doubts that we have agreed to play a wicked game designed by wicked people, but we’d know if we are walking into a trap. Trust me on that.”
“Severin enjoys speaking in riddles, but he lacks the quality of a mystic,” the man said. “Don’t listen to the apple-polisher.”
“I’m not worried about Severin,” Killian said.
The old man paused and shook his head. “You should always be worried,” he said.
Lucas laughed and opened and closed his fist methodically. In prison, he worked out every day. “I don’t think you understand who we are and where we come from, old man.”
Pointing at Lucas’ tattoos, the man showed his teeth. “Ouroboros trader scum. I know exactly where you come from. Do not fall into the trap of believing that this world is polished and new. It’s a ghastly hideous palace, built on death and deceit.”
“We survived the worst wars mankind has yet to offer,” Vash boasted.
“And now, you are the villains. In the New Republic, there are heroic leaders,” he said. “You can’t take away the cards in a poker game. You can only hope the dealer shuffles the cards correctly, can you not?”
The men stayed silent until they reached the barn. The inside was empty, spare a rough bed of hay and some rusted shackles. Killian’s stomach shifted, and he instinctually darted his eyes toward a patch of land where they might escape. The only problem? The fields were endless.
“You’ll sleep in here tonight until we find something for you to do,” the man said, motioning them forward. “Come on, now. Into the chains. And no funny business either. I may be old, but I know when someone is lying. I keep it on record.”
The old man pointed to his skull, and smiled. He watched as the alphas put on their chains, tugging to make sure they were latched correctly. After adjusting the metal rings, he let them drop and began walking back to the quarters.
“Wait,” Killian said. “You’re leaving us, too?”
“It wasn’t your design to come here, yet you made the mistake of following. Now, what is your next move?” he asked.
This time, the man’s laughter sent Killian into a fit of rage. “You fuck!” He pulled on his chains, not at all fazed by the pain of the metal cutting into his flesh. He lunged forward until his wrists bled and ached.
“Keep your insults to yourself. You will come to need that energy soon enough,” the old hoary rat said.
Killian lowered his voice and panted. He felt as if all was lost. “Please… Before you go, please just show us where she is.”
The man put on his hood again and snickered. “Go to sleep. It might be your last time to dream.” The day turned to night as the pestered man walked back into the marble towers.
“What the fuck…” Lucas growled.
“He’s just messing with us,” Vash said. “These people want to get under our skin. We’ll be back with her by tomorrow. Hell, they’ll probably hand us new medals of honor by next week.”