Chapter 173: First Retainer
🕑 Added 2024-08-01 20:11:09 +0000 UTC...
"Oh, look at who we have here ~♪—" Narsiz smiled charmingly, opening his arms to greet his late-night visitors, "—The Major with his friends!"
When Narsiz swung open the door, he saw four disgruntled seniors, visibly beaten up. They were well-known and respected on Dog-Pudding Island, ironically being one of the few philanthropic personalities—all merchants, men of independent means, and the Major.
"Wha'?!"
As such, the gasp behind him from a shocked Trixie was well-deserved. Fortunately, they were no danger to anyone as they wore slave collars, which restricted their energy and physical abilities.
Behind them were Petra and Jorsh, escorting them. Narsiz allowed them to act as they saw fit, so he was very curious about what the elven pair spied on that caused them to act this harshly.
However, before Narsiz could ask them, Petra suddenly ran toward one of the guards beside the house, talking to them through sign language. After a few seconds, the guard left in a hurry.
'Interesting.'
Narsiz wanted to stop them immediately and ask what was going on but stopped himself. He always had trust issues, and while it was fine when he lived isolated in the Estate, away from any responsibility, now he needed to let go and have confidence in his colleagues.
"Mr. Narsiz—" He came out of his thoughts, seeing that Jorsh came over, pulling a giant bag out of a spatial pouch with ominous and noticeable stains, "—Most of his colleagues were trying to flee, and we only got a few while the others sadly got—" He sighed, heaving the bag slightly up, "—harmed in the process."
Narsiz smiled, becoming a little tense. However, he still held back, thinking they had a good reason. This situation wasn't too bad, as he could use this gruesomeness to threaten the others for whatever means he would need.
"You may use them as fertilizer later, but for now, we need the living ones—" he pointed them to the living room where Trixie was sitting, "—and maybe later, one group can join the other."
As they came in, Narsiz still remembered the disgusting smell when the Major started to talk for the first time. Almost every word was, in some way, untrue or a lie. Because of that, it was a straightforward decision to let Jorsh and Petra shadow him, giving them full authority to act as they see fit.
However, when he ordered a quick and rough investigation of the island, the information he got made him suspicious—it reeked of corruption, clogging up the economy and trade.
Yet, he found something much more precious in this heap of dung—Trixie. When she showed him around, he felt her talent and hard work with every sentence she uttered when introducing the little shops and people. It was as if she made herself bled to keep the island alive as much as possible—Narsiz wanted her.
'She is quite nervous.'
Narsiz glanced toward her as the situation massively perturbed her. However, all he felt was disgust toward the person she was worried about, the one who sullied her—the Major.
When chatting, Narsiz learned how she saw the geriatric amphibian kin as her mentor and savior. She always felt small as he tried to undermine her fantastic personality. He wanted her to become less honest and more vacuous, less hands-on and more dodgy—an act of absolute holiness.
Reminder: holy/unholy meanings are reversed for beast-kin.
For Narsiz, those attributes, combined with her extraordinary administrative abilities since she handled the whole island, were perfect. All one needed to do was to teach her everything but social skills.
"Maj'r?"
When they stopped in the middle of the rustic living room, lightened up by the small chandelier hanging above them, Trixie finally said something, her voice almost breaking. It was sad, even heartbreaking, considering her life—a puppy who lost her family twice—it was clear that she didn't want to go through the same fate again.
'Let's show her the truth.'
Narsiz came forward, his smile gone, as he pulled a throwing knife out of his sleeve, gesturing with it, "My dear Trixie, for now, I want to decide if he really will stay a Major—" He turned his head toward him, making him flinch, "—so for now let's be cautious and honest, all right, Oboro?"
However, while many would now try to do everything in their power to get free—be it bribing or lying—Oboro didn't do anything of that, knowing that it would only cause him more problems.
'He is shrewd.'
Bribing was generally seen as an insult toward the Leonadra administration, especially under his Mother's leadage, which executed hundreds, if not thousands, of corrupt officials when she began her reign.
Oboro also didn't say anything, as everything, a word, sentence, tone, or even his expression, could become a lie, as he probably understood that someone had something akin to a lie detection skill.
As such, he only looked down, grimacing and presumably trying to think he could be absolved of whatever crime Jorsh and Petra saw through his years of serving under the Leonandra household.
Narsiz, though, needed to resolve it tonight, as he wanted Trixie to break away from him. If he waited, she would probably think that it was her fault or even try to blame herself, as she was manipulated her whole life by Oboro.
'Undoubtably a scumbag.'
Even though isolated from the world and having only his loved and trusted ones around him for most of his life, Narsiz was able to manipulate others through their emotions and saw others who could do the same—it takes one to know one.
"Oh my, what should I do ~♪—" Narsiz tapped his chin slightly, humming as his tail swung from side to side, with him finding the current stalemate indeed exciting as it was a welcome challenge, "—you see, I think I have an idea how we can come to a satisfying solution for everyone."
Narsiz had a lot on his mind as he needed to plan his next steps, not knowing what the adorable elven pair had to report to him.
First and foremost, he needed to know their exact crimes and hoped that the elven pair followed his instructions. They should only act if they see any serious crime. If it were something amateurish, like smuggling cheaper alcohol or tobacco over the border, he would certainly also lose Trixie, as such behavior was criminal but not severe enough for his people's actions.
Second, the decision to act hastily was on purpose, as he felt his people outside when Trixie and Narsiz were still alone. He gave his all to believe in his colleagues, and if the Major and his friends indeed committed a severe crime, the pressure he applied without giving them any breathing room was perfect.
The third and most crucial issue was Trixie. Narsiz gambled with her loyalty as the trophy. She ran the whole island by herself, an accomplishment for her age that could only be compared to educated nobility or their retainers—a genuine talent.
As such, for her to realize her massive potential, she needed to want to be his retainer. Forcing her would only lead to a mediocre administrator.
Narsiz tilted his head, smiling charmingly at the elven couple, "Peter, Jorsh, and all others, if you may?—" He mimicked the gesture to take off their masks, "—Please feel free to show who you are—" He chuckled, "—I have a feeling that only the ones who should know about you will remain."
They looked at each other, shrugged, and took their masks off, which made Narsiz very happy that they were this trusting. However, all others were stunned, seeing that other races were serving a noble, which, while not illegal, was unusual since they should always prioritize their own.
"What?! These cattle dare to lay a hand on... keugh!" Before one of the merchants ended his sentence, she was interrupted by a kick into her stomach by Narsiz, "—aren't we chatty today?"
The merchant's body bent forward, kneeling and looking at him with hate. However, Narsiz cared little and slowly strolled around them, trying to make everyone in the room more unnerving.
"So, tell me exactly what you heard, but I guess I will not be happy with it, right?"
After almost a minute, Narsiz signaled to Jorsh and Petra to come over and tell everyone aloud what they saw and heard. They looked at each other, with Petra starting and Jorsh filling the gaps in her rough storytelling.
'These bastards.'
Narsiz became increasingly irate while listening. To calm down, he tried to play slightly with the throwing knife, but at some moments, he almost threw against the scum kneeling on the floor.
It was a tale of severe crimes that, besides the disgusting and harrowing acts they committed, would also put their whole fief in danger, as the Count would investigate such things, arguing that something like that happened was the fault of the ruler and their carelessness—it was humiliating.
'It's... why...'
They sold and bought beast-kin, primarily those barely attaining their legacy. For beast-kin, especially Moorgrelians, it was worth eradicating the whole bloodline if someone performed such an act as they suffered through thousands of years because of such people, not wanting even having a drop of their blood anywhere near them.
'I see.'
Narsiz exuded his aura, which slowly filled the room. Aura represented an individual's emotions, such as threats, signs of readiness to mate, or generally conveying aggression to make others avoid them. It was seldom used for more joyous occasions, which led to an interesting philosophical contemplation about the world and how it functions. However, the current situation was not the right place to dwell on those thoughts.
The Leonandra and generally the guardian household's typical aura was one of killing intent and bloodthirst, forged on numerous battlefields. However, while Narsiz's siblings could use it, he couldn't. There was just no raw intent in his emotions, something which mirrored his relatively cautious personality.
However, he became much more honest when his little brother persuaded him to join the operation. It was like an enlightenment he experienced. With every meeting, discussion, and debate, his skills and genuine personality slowly came to light—one of malice and predictability.
Like a venomous snake, his aura slivered around the living room, watching everyone, forewarning and plotting. There was no need to kill as there were worse fates than death—cold and grotesque.
Narsiz always had ambitions, but they were buried after the assassination attempt—suffering for months, whimpering and crying, not able to see anyone else than his family as every shadow became an assassin and every creak a monster.
After recovering, he loved to challenge his siblings in a much more sophisticated way than what he did to Lorient. Everything was gone from his personality, leaving only anxious thoughts and fear—a puppy who tried to hold onto his past mindset—a useless endeavor.
Years were needed for him to trust his little brother, an anomaly he couldn't control and figure out. It was only after his legacy that he felt more control over their relationship, and he was able to overcome his anxiety.
Narsiz always forced himself to do anything. His actual wish was to live his whole life alone in a hut with his parents. The rendezvous with Linuel, the love that progressed, was beautiful but frightened him slightly. It was a dreadful experience, with him able to dull his genuine emotions, pushing them deep down to become nothing but an uncomfortable memory.
Yet, it all changed over the last year. Harsh training and the operation made Narsiz become like he was previously—Ambitious and cold-blooded.
However, he changed too much. Now, he noticed that he didn't want to lead anymore, and his fear flared up, making him stagnate and unable to make decisions—daggers lurked in every shadow.
Narsiz could only show his true self when he knew a loved one was behind him, catching him when he fell. Did he have trust issues? Yes, but trust was always something beautiful and, sadly, fragile—he loved it.
With Alexander in front of him, it was as if Narsiz had free reign. His little brother would gladly take all the attention while he could act freely—he couldn't be happier as he was himself at last.
Because he was himself, his aura made everyone shiver and flinch from everything slightly unexpected, increasing until Jorsh and Petra finished their retelling.
"My, what I heard sounds quite egregious—" he chuckled, "—I first had some worries in the back of my mind that I was too hasty in my decisions, giving out maybe nonsensical orders, but my worry was unfounded, right?—" He shrugged, pointing at a merchant, "—Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"No... keugh!"
When the merchant talked, Narsiz smelled decisiveness before they uttered any word. It was disgusting, as if someone had thrown him into the canalization—It was too much, with him not even wanting to listen to their convoluted tellings.
As such, he used his newly acquired [Throwing Arts] with specific techniques he had just devised, making them immensely more potent with his spell, all thanks to the training with a crazy fox-kin.
Narsiz's energy entered his throwing knife, activating its prepared enchantment, making it suddenly float between his hands and spin around itself—It was beautiful and elegant, with no raw power but precision—He chanted again, and the knife burst forward, piercing the merchant's throat.
As he stood there, he wanted to use the tense moment of someone dying to capture the atmosphere with the merchant slowly bleeding out—an art he had learned from Sarusos.
'He should die in a minute.'
While waiting, he thought it was bizarre that he had a knack for such devious techniques, but also with bow and arrow. Unfortunately, no guard household could train him with techniques on the same level as their Leonandra martial arts.
As such, Narsiz hoped those visiting Alexander's exchange ball could bring techniques they had lying around in their archives—Sharing techniques was trivial and done almost openly and in good faith.
However, through them, he may get inspired to create his own techniques using physics and magic as he did with the one he used against the merchant.
'Around 58 seconds, perfect.'
As Narsiz's inner clock stopped, he turned around, smiling widely, "Fun fact: I can—" He tapped his nose, "smell when you lie. A handy skill if..." The merchant suddenly fell, gurgling and convulsing. It interrupted his speech.
After another minute, when it ultimately ended, he scratched his neck sheepishly, "Well, I can detect lies, fun, right? ~♪"
It was silent, with the criminals even trying to hold their breath, fearing that it could trigger his skill, which would result in the same fate as the corpse on the floor beside them.
"Well, it doesn't really matter, right?—" Narsiz shrugged, "—You made this island into a desolate Outer Circle, killing the economy because you probably wanted to have as few eyes as possible on your little deals while perpetrating disgusting acts against our kin—" He turned toward the frightened shark-kin woman, "—What do you think Trixie? Any opinion? ~♪"
When Trixie looked into his eyes, she flinched. He saw her inner self, making him somewhat happy. It was as if all the manners she was forced to learn were gone, and niceties like poison vanished from her body—It was an obvious shock but also an opportunity.
For Narsiz, who had a knack for manipulations and social interactions, he saw a canvas, empty and begging to be painted, filled with how he would imagine the perfect version of Trixie.
"Oh, no answer? Well, let me ask you something more specific—" He tapped his chin, "—Were the deals the Majo..." He stopped talking, chuckling suddenly, "—Sorry, I meant to say previous Major. Did he miss some great opportunities for dumb or fantastical reasons you couldn't comprehend, thinking you were too inexperienced?"
She looked down, clenching her pants, "I... if I tell this, you will kill 'em."
"Of course, I will—" Narsiz walked toward her and squatted down, trying to softly raise her chin so she would look into his eyes and realize who her Major was, still in denial, "—didn't you tell me you love all of these people who were like your family that you are ready to die for them? How can it be that you don't want to kill those who harmed all those loved ones?"
He held her head in place with her, unable to turn away from him, "Sorry... I... damn... heuk..."
She broke down after she could not move her head away from him. No skills were needed, and she slowly understood who he was and what he did.
Trixie broke down and cried as her whole world suddenly became a lie she didn't want to believe. She was an honest and trusting soul, which Narsiz didn't want to damage—Putting family over everything.
Narsiz sensed her motivation, as Alexander did it for him. He needed to give her what she desired, as simply breaking something was not his goal. All he needed was undisputable evidence to make the little bit of denial she had left in her heart vanish.
Narsiz stood up, looking over to the previous Major and the merchants, "I will make a deal—" Every one of them looked away, "—The one who will tell me the truth will get a clean and fast death."
The other, though—" He shrugged, "—I am apparently the best apprentice my Father's retainer had regarding torture and slowly getting information out. So, suit yourself, but know that you all will die."
As one merchant was about to speak up, Petra interjected, even though he was perturbing her, her voice slightly shaky, "Do you mean to get the kids?—" She pointed with her thumb to the outside, "—They are waiting outside. We sent some of ours to look around, and I guess they were successful."
After being joyfully surprised, he only now sensed the puppyish smell from the outside. It was concealed with some weird herbs, usually used to smuggle beast-kin.
"Great!—" He immediately left the house, trying to plan his next steps, "—Now, everyone will follow me! ~♪—" He suddenly stood still when he opened the door, "—I... apologize."
Narsiz's smile vanished. He saw despair and suffering, almost wanting to stop his little act. Before him were puppies of every subrace, all malnourished, dirty, and frightened. He felt their emotions. They were terrifying and breaking him apart.
It went so far that he felt that his smile was something he shouldn't have in front of those poor souls—he apologized, an act a noble rarely did.
'Vengeance.'
He saw their cut-off tails and ears, carved-out eyes, and pulled wings. There was no word he could find to describe how much hate he felt, needing to suppress his aura with every cell of his body.
"I... why?!"
Before Narsiz could remember all the diaries he read from his late ancestors describing their lives as slaves, which would make him probably even angrier, he sensed how Trixie was behind him, as shocked as he was by the sight.
"Get them immediately inside—" He suddenly remembered the corpse, "—through the backdoor and treat them with talismans, give them food, and take care of them—" He nodded toward Petra and Jorsh, genuinely thankful, "—You did a great job, but I need you to send a message to get a healer here, one from the Temple. Got it?"
After instructing them to get the puppies treated, he also told them to look all around the island for more. It would take a day for the night elves to search through every nook and cranny.
'I am a terrible person.'
When they walked past him, he thought there would be at least a slight smile since they were free, but it was only wishful thinking. Their dead eyes told him that they had years of recovery before them.
'Hm, Alex was right again.'
They had long discussions about all those social stations and how they treated those who needed time to recover, mostly mentally. Narsiz found it a stupid idea and a waste of gold, but seeing those puppies, he knew they would need it the most.
When they were finally gone, they all stood in the front garden of the previous Major's house, with Narsiz glaring at the perpetrators. They had committed a crime against his kin, something no one should suffer.
He clapped his hands once, "I, Narsiz K. Leonandra, as the rightful son of Kairoso Leonandra, honorable druid..."
He was interrupted by the previous Major, "Stop it, you... ugh!"
As he spoke up, Jorsh hit him in his liver, silencing him. It was a depressing atmosphere, with Narsiz unable to intellectually understand why someone would do it. Still, it didn't matter as he would announce a verdict and exercise the right to execute any commoner as a noble.
It was a disgusting behavior, and Narsiz, overwhelmed by his emotions, wasn't able to let the scum live a second longer. His rationale was gone, replaced by hatred and sadness.
Narsiz continued, "—honorable druid of the Twin-Acorn Temple and my Mother, Marisia S. Leonandra, meritious knight of the East part..."
Narsiz stopped himself as one of them tried to run away. However, before any of the night elves could move, he moved his arm in a lazy motion upwards, with a throwing knife escaping his sleeve, flying in an arc and unceremoniously killing the escapee.
After another moment, as the silence was pressuring everyone, he did the same again, two more times, killing the last accomplices of the previous Major, not feeling the need to end his verdict.
'The last one—' After killing three people, his anger subsided slightly, seeing that the previous Major was the only one left alive, '—I will make her mine.'
What was the reason he now wanted her more than anything else? He didn't know and wouldn't need to. As long as he wanted it, there was no need to rationalize it. He also wanted to be emotional once, making impulsive decisions that he rarely made.
"Trixie, let me ask you—" He pulled a throwing knife out of his sleeve, "—what should be done to someone who kidnaps and sells puppies? Cutting them into pieces maybe even or using as the sexual release for some perverte..."
She interrupted him, screaming, full of fury, "Why are you doing... Mr. Narsiz?!" Narsiz turned his head, looking behind him at her. Something cracked inside the young boy—He cried.
However, it was the right thing to do. Alexander was honest and open with his emotions, never too ashamed to show them. As such, why shouldn't Narsiz do the same if he wanted someone to follow him?
Both of them looked at each other, tears in their eyes and somewhat broken—One by betrayal and the other by their innocence.
"Do we really need a reason not to see and hear the suffering? All of this happened because my household trusted the wrong people, and you followed—" He smiled, full of hurt and sadness, gesturing for her to come closer, "—We need at least to witness and correct our mistakes. Do you disagree, Trixie?"
She slowly came closer, and for some reason, Narsiz knew what to say and do. This moment, like for her, was something he needed to experience.
He barely knew anything and barely understood people, only able to know what to say to manipulate them. He tried to rationalize and intellectualize, but was it wrong to feel it? He wanted to sense it and share the moment.
Contradictarily, his Mother was cold-blooded, but he couldn't do it even though he idolized her. Yes, he wanted to become Alexander's right hand, making their wishes come true as a strategist, but like him, he wanted to do it his way, influenced by all kinds of people who taught him throughout his life. He wanted to use his ironic gift of sensing other people's emotions.
As she stood before him, he walked behind her, putting the throwing knife into her hands and slowly pushing her toward the previous Major, gripping her hands steadily but softly.
"Take it and show that you care about our people and want to do the right thing for your mistake of not following the right person and being unable to see through him."
Trixie's hands shivered in fright, taking the knife, barely holding it. She slowly walked toward the Major, looking into his eyes as he kneeled, with her still crying. Narsiz was still behind her, guiding her and experiencing the exact moment, knowing that his household was at fault for letting this monster stay alive.
"I saved you, and this is how you thank me, bitch?"
However, when she brought the knife closer, the previous Major spoke up, obviously wanting to plant a seed of doubt, a vicious one to make her doubt herself for her whole life as revenge, breaking her—Narsiz wouldn't let him.
"Did he genuinely save you? Who was there who found you after the sea monster attack?"
"Je... remy, a friendly fisher."
Trixie was confused when she said it, but it was as if she almost understood something, but still not there. Enough to let her stop crying.
"After saving, who cared for you until you were well again?"
"His... aunt, Marisila."
Trixie straightened up, her posture becoming more determined. From her crackling voice, she was now more steadfast, understanding what Narsiz tried to show.
"Who introduced you to all others, letting you slowly adapt?"
"Mostly Grandma Himi."
She became calmer and calmer again, with Narsiz letting go of her hands.
"Now, what did this guy do?"
"He... gave me a job and let me do everything."
Narsiz smiled. Even though he felt like a villain, it was to make her whole again. She understood and followed his rationale perfectly, sensing that he wasn't a cold monster but also felt with her.
"So, did he save or exploit you, wanting to make you do his work while he was doing evil deeds?"
"I..."
Before she could argue back, he continued, needing to show what it meant to follow such a person, ruining their kin and, for Trixie, her family.
"But let me ask you this, Trixie: what would you do if the puppies we saw were Jeremy's?"
Trixie gripped the knife stronger.
"What if they made Aunt Marisila into a potion?"
Her eyes opened wide, now shaking, not in fright but wrath. Her rough side came back, but she was much more innocent. The aura she emitted felt as if there was no holding back anymore.
"What if they didn't give Grandma Himi a proper burial, respecting her dignity, but dug her out and turned her corpse into..."
The previous Major screamed, anxious and full of venom, interrupting him, "Don't lis... keugh!"
However, Trixie was incensed, screaming back and pushing forward with the knife entering his chest. Narsiz sensed a rough emotion, like from the deepest parts of her, which were buried for so long, everything came out—The scent was addictive.
"You bastard! You murdered my family!"
Unfortunately, this moment was too short, with her letting go of the knife after he was about to fall, "I... this bastard!"
Her emotions came back, with her refusing to become now what he wanted her to be. However, the shock of killing a person still overwhelmed her, making her hands shake in fright.
"Urgh!"
She puked, kneeling and trying to comprehend what she did and who she was now.
Narsiz squatted beside her, patting her messy hair and sensing how much she had gone through. She was ready and made into what she once was—it was time.
"Trixie, do you want to serve me so we can protect not only your family but all families and give them a better life?"
"Aye..."
Trixie was silent, frightened, and distressed. However, she was full of determination and motivation—his first retainer.
...
Do you like the chaotic perspective? I did it specifically to try and make it more turbulent.
Comments
Wyatt Hilbert
Great chapter
