The Wine

“Spread out,” Blaire ordered, pointing his claymore outward toward the remains of those fallen in the battle that raged here. His face was covered in blood, as was his armor, from the top of his raven black hair down to the tips of his iron greaves. A sickness had rolled over him as he looked at the aftermath, the bodies strewn everywhere, some missing limbs and other parts of their bodies. It was horrifying, disgusting.

Necessary, He reminded himself. If we are ever to reach peace. He found this thought oddly soothing and allowed it to drift over him. However, his sight refused him the pleasure of bending to his will. He was still on the verge of throwing up.

Lieutenant Blaire Vonne despised killing, regardless of how good at it he was. Trained from birth by three exceptional swordsmen, and raised in general by his father, one of the many, many dukes of Kagia, Blaire was exceptionally good at killing. It was the very reason he had risen the ranks of the Kagian military so quickly. But that didn’t mean he had to like the conflict between Kagia and Kiris, the two main kingdoms of Ocune. It was pointless, to kill and kill and eventually come to a decision that could have just as easily been made without killing.

“Sir,” Blaire turned to look at one of his soldiers, Kyle, running up to him. He was holding his sword to stop the annoying thumping noise emitting from the handle smacking against his armor. It was an amusing sight. Kyle snapped to a salute before speaking further. “Sir, I think you should come and see this.” Blaire frowned but began to follow.

Kyle led him through a streak of bodies before coming to rest at one that had been cleared from the rest, a small circle of blood pooling around him. But Blaire could tell he was still very much alive. He knelt beside the boy, and slowly removed his helmet. It was one of his own, Jakob, he believed, that laid there. His face was sweaty, and his brown hair matted down as he gasped in breaths of air. Blaire further observed the wound that he could easily find on his hip. It was clean though, most likely a javelin or a very large arrow. It had clipped the kidney, however, which was a fatal wound.

To most.

“Hold still, Jakob.” Blaire ordered, and the boy nodded, muttering a weak “yessir” before stilling himself as best he could. He was still racked with spasms from his fatal injury, and so he could only do so much. Blaire understood this.

Laying his hands across the wound’s opening, Blaire began to speak in a low, inaudible tone, forcing the words through his mouth attached with power. With magic.

“Sanus,” Blaire hissed, feeling the magic that was gathered at his fingertips burst forth, using his voice’s command to lead it to its goal. Blaire watched as Jakob’s wound began to close, but it wasn’t enough power. Just not enough. Blaire redoubled his efforts. “Sanus!” He pressed deeper into his pool of energy, reaching deeper into the well of dark energies that his darkened soul gave him. It was enough. Jakob sighed in relief as the wound finally closed, and he laid his head back, breathing heavily. A smile displayed on his face. He weakly brought his hand up in a salute, and his brown eyes looked at Blaire’s stormy gray ones.

“Thank you,” Jakob gasped, “Sir.” Blaire smiled, nodded, and stood up. His gaze fell upon Kyle.

“Make sure he gets proper care, there may still be internal bleeding. Be careful as you transport him.” Kyle snapped into a salute and began shouting out various orders to ensure that it got done.

Blaire sighed. He didn’t like being in charge, but he had little choice. Sometimes we just have to do shit we don’t like He thought bitterly, his facial features turning sour. The strap of his sword hung heavily on his hip as it got wrapped around the haft of a spear that had wedged itself into the ground. By the time he managed to free himself, he had realized that his bracelet was shimmering, waiting for a free moment of his time. He sighed again, before connecting to the Demon that lay within it.

Hello, Igro. He greeted politely. His Demon’s true name was Igroloth, but it was more polite not to call him that, and after all, they were bound to each other by heart and soul, so who needed formality?

Blaire. I need to speak with you. Igro’s voice always sounded like a heavy-set, older version of his father to him, though he didn’t really understand why.

I noticed. What do you need?

You didn’t ask permission to access my magic. That is very rude. His voice almost sounded pompous, though Blaire knew otherwise. This was a fight they almost always had, and it basically became a daily-struggle with Blaire in regards to his shared strength.

Suck it up, buttercup. Blaire smiled inwardly as he disconnected from Igro before his outrage came through. He looked around again at the carnage, not wishing to get the final death count.

Sometimes we just have to do things we don’t like…

***

Celine Maddison looked forlorn at the garden surrounding her. She had barely finished trimming a quarter of the flowers and daylight was already fading quickly. She sighed and decided to call it a day. As she stood up, wiping her palms on her dress, her mother appeared from one of the many archways and led herself into the courtyard of roses.

“Hello darling,” She greeted, a smile displayed on her withering features. Smiling was quite natural for Lady Maddison, as she seldom did anything besides. Her father, Lord Albert Maddison, was an entirely different story.

“Hello, mother.” Celine gave a small curtsy, and her mother responded in kind. Lady Maddison peered around the garden, looking closely at the rosebuds. Her smile widened as she knelt beside a patch of dying roses. She gripped the bud of one lightly, turning it towards her softly. Celine looked, curious as to what her mother was doing. After a moment more, Celine gave up being patient and asked.

“I’m looking at their story.” Is all that her mother said. It did little to help break Celine’s confusion.

“What do you mean, mother?” Lady Maddison’s smile faltered, and the age began to show. And the bruises.

“Every rose, Celine, has a story. Just as every person has theirs.” Her smile returned, and for a moment, Celine almost forgot the marks lining her mother’s cheeks.

“Mother?” Celine asked, daring to pose the question in her mind. Her mother had gone back to looking at the rose but nodded for her to continue. “Did father give you those bruises?” Celine immediately felt the mood in the air shift, and she began to feel very uncomfortable. Lady Maddison made no move to answer, but instead, her face was framed in thought as if she were debating how to answer. Celine didn’t press, but let her mother take her time.

“Sometimes, Celine, your father gets very stressed,” Lady Maddison began slowly, as if carefully wording what she was saying. “And it’s not that he intended to hurt me, it can be accidental. He has quite a bit on his shoulders that he must bear, more so than the both of us combined.” Celine knew that what she said was true, but refused to believe that it was an accident. Celine also noticed that the temperature had dropped very suddenly as her mother had spoken. She had to rub the chill away from her arms, even though it was mid-summer, and a rich, lovely day.

“Ok, mother.” Was all the Celine spoke. Her mother stood and left with one last smile. She could hear a door shut in the distance. Celine looked down at the rose that her mother was holding.

It was frozen.

***

“Oh do I have to, pops?” Connor pleaded, setting his head against the wall of his run-down kitchen. His younger sister Anna laughed playfully from the table, finding the whole event highly amusing. Connor’s dad sighed for the third time that night, nodding as he spoke.

“Yes, Conny, you have to go shopping with Anna tomorrow.” Even though he sounded annoyed, deep down Connor Bricklan was enjoying himself quite a bit. “And this time, Anna gets to pick something out.” Connor thought of a new rebuke.

“But Anna’s a big girl now, no reason she can’t go to town herself!”

“No can do, kid. Don’t want your little sister getting hurt now, do ya?” His father posed, and Connor couldn’t think of a good enough reason at that point to argue any further. “That’s what I thought. Go and get some sleep now, rascals. You’ll go first thing in the morning while the food is still fresh!”

And that was how Connor found himself at the farmer’s market in the nearby village the next day with Anna in tow. He was still in a good mood..

“Conny! Conny! Look what I found!” Anna called, thrilled as she pointed out a sewn up stuffed animal of some sort. It looked as if a rabbit had been mixed with a bear, and it sent a tiny chill down Connor’s spine as he looked at it.

“You sure that’s what you want, Anna?”

“Yes!” She turned on him, a great big smile on her face, her eyes sparkling.

“Hey, Bricklan!” Connor turned to see a local bully by the name of Eli walking up to him. He wasn’t anything to be especially known of, but his verbal torments had really gotten to Connor, so he had a special vault of resentment made just for him. As Eli approached, Connor slowly pushed Anna behind him and stepped forward to meet the bully in the middle. Eli, though a few inches shorter than him, still made Connor flinch as he feigned a punch at his face. Connor stepped back, anger rising in him as Eli began to mock him.

“What, you afraid, Bricklan?” Eli feigned another punch, and Connor fell for it a second time, this time tripping over himself to “avoid” it. Connor fell flat on his back, scrambling to get back to his feet as Eli, as well as some of the surrounding people, laughed at him. He stood back up and brushed himself off, noticing three other boys had surrounded him, clearly under the command of Eli. Connor kept his mouth shut as he accessed the possibility of escape.

He sadly had grown used to this kind of treatment around town, as well as anywhere anybody walked. Ever.

He turned towards Anna, who had watched with fear in her eyes. He waved her off.

“Go find Jasmine! I’ll catch up, Anna.” Anna nodded, and quickly scurried behind one of the stands and disappeared from sight. Connor turned just in time to feel a fist connect with his gut. Eli had stepped forward and hit him. Hard.

“Fuck,” Connor gasped as he dropped to one knee. Eli took his mutter and used it against him.

“Oh, the monster speaks, does he?” This time a backhand took him to the ground, and he could feel the blood running down his lip. Connor felt a helpless bout of anger rise in him, but he swallowed it, allowing it to lie dormant until a better moment. Eli continued his taunting. “I didn’t think anything with hair of fire could speak so clearly.” A kick to the stomach took the wind from Connor’s sails. Connor felt a small tingle of defiance flow through him.

“You,” Connor gasped, sucking in air, “Are the monsters.”

And that bought Connor nearly an hour’s worth of a beating.

***

“Good morning, Sir.” Blaire turned to see his long-time friend and companion Kurt Hark walk through the doorway into his small private quarters, where Blaire was enjoying a quaint breakfast by himself, a book in hand.

“Morning Kurt,” Blaire responded, Kurt laughed, and Blaire looked at him in confusion.

“I just find you eating by yourself humorous,” Kurt explained. Blaire shook his head, a smile on his face.

“It tends to be the only time I have to myself!” Blaire jokes. “The rest of the time I’m far too busy cleaning up after you!” Kurt laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, taking a seat across from him. Blaire allowed the good mood to last for a moment before he questioned about work.

“So, anything new today?” Kurt’s mirth was slain and replaced with seriousness.

“Yes. There was another case of a public beating today. Sir, I think we should address it.” Blaire nodded thoughtfully as he took a bite of his food.

“Who was it?” He asked after swallowing. Kurt shook his head.

“Same kid.”

“Connor Bricklan?” Kurt nodded. Blaire slammed his hand on the table. “Goddamnit, Kurt, I thought this was settled!” Kurt put his hands up in a defensive gesture.

“As I did, but it happened again.”

“Who did it?”

“Elijah Yalek” Blaire sighed. He knew the kid, a classic bully, and trouble-maker. An all-round pain in the ass.

“Alright. Where are they now?” Kurt frowned thoughtfully before answering.

“I believe the Bricklan kid is still in town, but Yalek bailed as soon as the guards had come to break it up.” Blaire nodded once more, finishing the last morsel of his food.

“Ok, I want you to send Aldis to speak with the boy.” Kurt nodded.

“I can do just that, Sir.”

“Good.” Blaire finished the matter with a wave of the hand. “What else?” Kurt straightened himself in his seat.

“The casualty count from last week’s conflict.” Blaire nodded, silently allowing him to continue. He didn’t wish to hear it, but duty calls. Kurt pulled a small scroll from his pouch, cleared his throat, and began.

“On our side, we have one-thousand-thirty-six dead, half that wounded. On the enemy side, three-thousand dead wounded were unknown. Thirty have been captured, and they await trial in the dungeon.” Kurt closed the scroll, and Blaire let out a breath of air. It wasn’t as bad as he had thought it was, but still not amazing. He let his hands fall into his lap as he thought what to do with the POWs.

“Alright,” Blaire finally said after a moment, “I believe this matter should be handled swiftly, with a clearer mind than mine.” Kurt understood what he was doing, passing on the responsibility of the prisoners to someone higher up.

“Who do you suggest?” Kurt asked. Blaire stood up from his chair, brushed off his area, and slid the seat neatly back under the table.

“Godfrey. He would know what to do.” Kurt too stood up and agreed.

“I will send word to him immediately. I will be sure to send Aldis to the boy as well, Sir.” Blaire smiled.

“Thank you, Kurt.” He walked over and set his hand on Blaire’s shoulder, radiating confidence.

“That’s what friends are for, Blaire. Get some sleep. You look like shit.” He felt like it too, Blaire thought. He wished him goodbye and watched him leave.

It had been quite a while since he had seen Godfrey, his mentor. Godfrey had taught him everything he knew about magic, and what he didn’t learn from Godfrey, he learned from Igro. Though Godfrey was a far better teacher. He connected with his Demon and nudged him awake.

Rise and shine, buddy. He teased me. Igro stirred mentally before lashing out with his magic. Blaire felt the blow in his groin, a sudden blast of wind similar to a sucker-punch.

Blaire fell to his knees. And stayed there. For quite awhile.

Once Blaire finally found his tongue, and his testicles were safely back in the proper places, he spoke, wiping tears from his eyes.

That… was… not… cool.

Wasn’t meant to be, buddy. Is all that Igro responded with.

You are unbearable, you little demon. Blaire spoke with venom in his words. He wasn’t very fond of the little pest, but on his good days, he was at least manageable.

That is what I am after all. Shouldn’t have signed the contract if you weren’t ready for the burdens. Blaire knew the Demon was laughing.

Well, the contract spoke nothing of being low-blowed out of nowhere, asshole. Igro’s laugh seemed to echo loudly in Blaire’s mind.

Yeah, well, you woke me up. What was it that you said? Suck it up, buttercup? More laughter.

“Fucking typical,” Blaire muttered to nobody in particular.

Now that I am awake, Igro spoke formally, Is there anything that you needed? Besides a new set of jewels? Blaire ignored the last part of his question.

There is. In fact, I was about to thank you for your battle plans, they worked. We only lost a third of what they did. Much better than the last attempt. Igro’s tone seemed to change from playful to serious.

You’re welcome. I’m glad to have been of service. Now, did I complete my end of our bargain? This is what Blaire had been least happy with in regards to their sealing.

You have. You may take your price.

Very good…

Blaire fell back to his knees as Igroloth took his price. A tiny portion of his life force. The pain was gone almost as quickly as it had come, and before he knew it, it was over.

Many thanks, Igro said, now stated. If ever you need another deal, I am always here. And with that Igro disconnected from Blaire’s mind and vanished back into his own realm. Blaire leaned against a chair to help himself back to his feet, muttering something vulgar as he rose.

“Fucking Demons.”