C15 A Familiar Face

Chapter 15. A Familiar Face

Finnigan stretched as he woke. The night had been long. Painful. The potion the Regalia gave him did its work, but it was unpleasant. He had woken every few hours to sharp pain as his body healed. He stretched his arms and legs in the large bed then sat up. Fei wasn’t there.

“Fei?” he called. He waited a few moments, and when no response came, he stood and dressed. He left the bedroom and found a pile of steaming dumplings waiting for him. He took a bite of one, it was filled with savory meat that exploded with flavor in his mouth. Finnigan ate dumpling after dumpling until the pile of them was gone. His belt dug uncomfortably into him, so he loosened it. He leaned back into the chair, the feet of it kicked out as he reclined.

He closed his eyes and felt sleep slowly creeping up on him. He sat bolt upright as the door to the room opened. “My lost puppy overate and fell asleep?” Fei said. She was wearing the double dragon dress of the Regalia, which clinched tightly to her womanly figure. Finnigan felt a sudden urge of desire but repressed it.

“What’re we doing today?” Finnigan asked, feeling embarrassed.

Fei looked at Finnigan’s engorged stomach, smirked, then said, “I have been asked to attend a tryout for the Far East Martial Federation.”

“We accept tryouts?” Finnigan asked.

“No,” Fei said simply. “This is unusual. If you impress any of the three heads of the Far East Martial Federation enough you are able to join the federation.”

“How else can someone join it?” Finnegan asked.

“You must be accepted as a protege of someone already in the federation, an understudy of sorts. That is how guilds are formed. When the person training you is confident you can perform without shaming them, they can let you take your own apprentices. Then once they have trained enough apprentices, they can become a member. The trainer then attains the rank of master,” Fei said

“So all the Federation’s growth comes from within?” Finnigan asked.

“Yes,” Fei said.

“So, who are the three heads of the Federation?”

“The Premier, The General, and The Ornament,” Fei said.

“How does someone get you to look at them?” Finnigan asked.

“They don’t,” Fei said simply. “We have to notice them on our own.”

“Then how come we’re going to watch someone?”

“We are not. I am, and you are accompanying me,” Fei said.

“But why?” Finnigan insisted.

“That is not something you should be worried about, lost puppy,” Fei responded.

“Alright, well, how about we take a little time for us before we leave?” Finnigan said, wrapping his arms around Fei. He caressed her body with his hands. A crack sounded, and he was sent backward, light blinding him. There was a pain in his face and neck as he fell hard onto the table.

“You are nothing more than a pet, I decided when and where,” Fei said, glaring down at Finnigan.

“If what you’ve been doing with me is how you treat your pets, then I sincerely hope you’ve never owned a puppy,” Finnigan said, glaring back. Fei scrunched her face mockingly but didn’t have a retort.

“We leave by portal in five minutes,” she said. With that, Fei turned and swept from the room.

Finnigan rose and inspected himself in the bathroom mirror. Blood was pouring from a deep gash that started just below his right eye and ended on his chest. He stripped to nude, kicking his bloodstained undergarments to the side. He went to his leather pouch and removed his wand and a small vial full of a translucent green slime. He used the wand to siphon the blood, the stream going into the tip, and a small stream of flame coming out. The flame filled the wound, cauterizing it.

Finnigan gripped the edges of the sink, cracking the porcelain. He let out a growl as the flames burned his wounds. The pain seemed to radiate throughout his entire neck, face, and chest. Finally, the burning stopped. The flame had gone out, but had left his skin welted where it had sealed the capillaries.

Finnigan pulled the stopper from the vial and poured a small amount of the green slime into the palm of his hand. He rubbed the slime into the wound, and it cooled on touch. The injury sealed itself wherever the slime touched, taking the pain to no more than a sting.

A long thick scar remained, somewhat jagged around the edges. The rage began to bubble inside of Finnigan again. He’d spent all that time as a duelist trying to bury that anger, only to have Fei bring it out. Not again, no more distractions, no more Fei. He had to stay focused on Yang.

“Lost puppy!” Fei’s voice yelled from the hallway. “Where are you?”

“Lost,” Finnigan yelled back as he pulled his hood up over his head. He looped his wand into the chain attached to his right arm then tucked it neatly up his sleeve. He stepped into the hall where Fei stood waiting with two of her Regalia.

“You, lost puppy, look like quite the dangerous man. You’re missing something though.” She pulled her wand out and pointed it at Finnigan’s shoulder, and light blasted out of it. Emblazoned there was now the insignia of the Regalia, opposite the crest of the duelist on his other shoulder.

Finnigan resisted the urge to tear it off, then thought of the hours spent training with the women of the Regalia, and couldn’t hold back a smile. He looked up and saw Fei and her Regalia beaming at him, pride shining in their amber eyes.

“He is a man,” one of the Regalia said. The same one that Finnigan had dueled.

“Yes Jade, he is a man,” Fei said in admiration. “Now,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “We must leave. The boat will be arriving soon.”

The ship arrived at a tiny wooden dock, with a rickety old rowboat tied to it by worn ropes. Kench stood rocking comfortably with the ship, his and Valera’s belongings in a bag on his back.

“Is this the harbor to the Far East Martial Federation?” Kench asked. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

“Not exactly,” Valera said beside him. “This is the home of the Regalia, the home of my aunt.” He looked at her, hair blowing gracefully out of her face in the light ocean breeze.

“Why is the dock so small?” Kench asked.

“The Regalia don’t travel by boat,” She responded simply.

“Then why are we?” he questioned. “And who are the Regalia?”

“The Regalia?” Captain Nightsfog croaked as he approached from behind. “Dammit girl you didn’t tell me we were coming here!”

“Ask no more, the Ornament approaches,” Valera said. Nightsfog choked on thin air as his face paled, but he said no more.

Kench looked to the shore, and approaching from the treeline were four figures. They were far enough away that Kench couldn’t make any of them out, but they all moved in a way that made Kench think of an animal about to pounce for the kill. As the small party drew closer, Kench could make out three women and one man.

“Is that Finnigan Higginbotham?” Kench blurted.

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“Yes, now remain silent. I will speak,” Valera said.

The boat finished docking, and Kench and Valera climbed down an awkward rope ladder. It was made difficult as all their possessions were strapped to Kench's own back. He put his foot on the dock and the wood concaved slightly beneath his weight. It was soft, worn, and weak. He walked carefully along the pier, making sure to step on boards that were supported by the docks frame. He looked back and saw Valera walking along the dock, not a step indenting.

“You may depart captain,” said a woman's voice. Kench turned and saw a woman talking. She had wide eyes like Valeras, and a flowing dress held together on the shoulders by gold mail. He could see every curve of the woman's body so averted his eyes. Blood rushed to his face, he sincerely hoped no one saw him look. “We have no further need of your services.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Nightsfog said. Without delay, the boat left the dock.

“Ornament,” Valera said, prostrating herself at the feet of the woman. Kench didn’t know what to do, so he threw himself to the ground by his beloved.

“Niece!” the woman exclaimed, rushing to Valera, pulling her to her feet. The two women stood, embracing each other. “You’ve been away for too long! You must stay and continue your training with a wand! Tell me everything!”

“Aunt!” Valera said. “I have found a man! He’s a duelist, and we are to be wed.” Kench felt his stomach drop, married? He felt his mouth open.

“Is this him?” The Ornament asked.

“Yes, aunt, he is a tremendously skilled duelist who was second place at...”

“I know who he is,” The Ornament said. “Let’s have a look at him. She pointed a wand at him, and a flash of light and a loud bang blasted at him. He shot into the air, rotating as The Ornament inspected him. “He is fat,” she said matter of factly. Kench felt himself blush, his eyes darted to Valera who shifted uncomfortably as he rotated.

“He is a good man,” Valera said.

“So? That is meaningless. He lost to my pet, he has no place here. For you I allowed him to come, but now for you, I must keep you, and send him away. Your father is looking for his lost children and intends to clean up any loose ends. No better place to hide you than here in the palace,” Kench felt panic start to set in.

“Aunt…” Valera said, panic in her eyes. She looked back and forth between Kench and her aunt.

“I’ll hear not another word,” The Ornament said. There was another bang and flash of light and Kench fell to the ground. He looked up, the Ornament seemed to have dropped her wand.

“Fei, don’t pick on Kench,” Higginbotham said, striding forward. He gave a hand to Kench and a reassuring smile. Kench took his hand and stood. “This man is the first protege of the duelists guild. He’s a part of the Far East Martial Federation. Since I have to stay here, he can stay too.”

“Exquisite, lost puppy. You will build your duelist guild into the finest guild in the Federation,” the ornament said. She looked at Finnigan with a fondness one would have for a well-trained pet. Finnigan noticed and glared back at the woman.

“Regalia, move The Ornaments belongings from my chambers and replace the bedroom with sleeping quarters comprised of bunks. I won’t need my attendant to sleep in my quarters either, instead put her in the servants quarters.” The Ornament’s face turned cold as Finnigan spoke, and Kench let out a laugh.

“Lost puppy,” The Ornament said in a dangerous whisper. “If you…”

“You were commanded to be my attendant by the acting premier. Don’t dishonor yourself and the entire Regalia by begging,” Finnigan said, eyes dark. Kench noticed a thick scar was on his face, disappearing beneath the tunic. “On second thought, attendant, you do it all. There’s blood, my blood on the ground. Clean it up. Regalia, see to it that she does this task. If she fails to obey, take her for reconditioning.”

“Yes sir,” the two Regalia said in unison, though when they moved to escort the Ornament, they both hesitated. The Ornament picked up her wand, glared at Finnigan one more time and stepped out of sight behind, well, nothing at all.

“Thank you, Finnigan!” Kench exclaimed.

“This won’t be easy Kench,” Finnigan said, rounding on him. “I’ve had my first match, and I don’t think you would have lived through it. You’re going to train every day, studying and becoming more than just a duelist. Can you commit yourself to that?”

“Yes!” Kench said. He could feel the excitement welling within him, first the training with Nightsfog on the ship, now this? It seemed that Kench was having doors opened for him left and right.

“First, you get one night a week with Valera, if Fei’s training lets her. You can decide which night unless it interferes with what I plan. Do you both agree?” Finnigan's voice was passionate and stern.

Kench looked at Valera who nodded to him. Her eyes shone with grim resolution. “Yes,” Kench said, “We agree.”

Finnigan looked back and forth between the two of them. “Should I ask her my questions?” Finnigan asked, anger in his voice.

Kenches eyes darted back and forth between Valera and Finnigan, the wide-eyed woman looked abashed, averting her eyes from Finnigan. “No, you don’t have to ask me,” she said.

“I do have a question for each of you. In The Far East Martial Federation, the contests can be lethal. You can be killed. Forever dead. Not just knocked out of competition, but out of life. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” His face was grim, serious. Kench felt the hair on his arms stand on end.

“I am,” he said, sounding more courageous than he felt.

“It is honorable for a man to die fighting in the Far East Martial Federation,” Valera said emphatically. She looked at Kench, and her resolved look cracked as concern marred her beauty. “But let’s prepare him as best we can.”

“Very well. Kench, you’ll be with me today. Valera, report to the Ornament. Tell her I sent you,” Finnigan said.

Kench felt his stomach drop as Finnigan looked at him appraisingly. “You’re probably not going to enjoy this,” Finnigan said. “I hope we don’t get you killed.” The tremble in Finnigan’s voice made Kench feel light-headed.

Yang stood, armored guard invisible around him. Garen was to have arrived minutes ago, and here Yang stood, surrounded by darkness. This place was a room without walls, in a world created by Garen. This was always their meeting place. Several more minutes passed, and Yang turned to leave. He opened a portal, which was quickly snapped shut.

“What’s this?” he asked in shock.

“I couldn’t let you leave before we met,” said a familiar voice from behind him.

“Garen, you have kept me waiting for too long. I am the leader of a nation and will not wait for you,” Yang spat. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this steward.

“We agreed to meet alone,” Garen said. Yang turned to face the man, ready to spit venom. He saw the look on Garen’s face and stopped in his tracks. The man looked like death incarnate.

“I had to take sec…” he fumbled his words. “Security precautions,” Yang said. He hated the stammer.

Garen’s face contorted with rage, “Molentis” he bellowed, wand flashing at the armored guard. The guardsmen were crushed by an unseen force, armor and all.

Yang pulled on the imperial stone in his wand with all his might and felt his face twist in anger. “Facit!” he screamed. Yang felt the spell blast from his wand, it’s power was so immense that Garen would be cut to ribbons in front of him. Garen reacted quickly, crouching low and pointing his wand at Yang's spell. It froze in place, the magic pulsating in the air.

He flicked his wand, and the spell shot out into the darkness. “Involvent,” Garen said, Yang pulled harder on his imperial stone, magic flowing through it into him. Time seemed to slow to his perception. The glimmer of magic from Garen’s wand erupted in a cone. If it hit the air surrounding Yang he knew it would immobilize him, so he cast a barrier spell between the oncoming cone of magic and himself. The cone hit his barrier and shattered it on impact. He tried to erect barrier after barrier, and none of them stopped the spell. The spell vanished into the air, which wrapped Yang tightly, pushing his wand from his hand to the floor.

Time regained its speed as Garen began to speak, “Your imperial stone didn’t save you. That’s another welcomed discovery for me.”

“This is not possible,” Yang stammered.

“Here’s the deal Yang, Higginbotham and Andromeda got away. They are going to find out eve-ry-thing.” He enunciated every syllable of the last word. They already know The Shadow wasn’t responsible, and it’s only a matter of time before they show up at one of our doorsteps. Your job is to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Garen spoke as though everything was a matter of fact.

“You realize, this will get you killed? You won’t live after assaulting me,” Yang threatened.

“Yang, this is your last chance!” Garen yelled. Grabbing a handful of Yang's hair, he jerked the general’s head back, bringing their eyes within inches of each other. “I have magic you idiot!” he breathed hoarsely into Yang's face, garlicky breath filling the older man's nostrils. “I can make you do what I want. I just don’t want to micromanage. Now, what do you prefer? Free will or servitude?”

Yang's mind raced, he had to find a way out. “I...I…” he stammered, mind blank.

“Nocicepto,” Garen said quietly. The spell left his wand and hit Yang in the chest, and agony exploded through all of him. It was blinding, consuming every portion of Yang's mind, of his thoughts. The rage melted away, the pain melted everything away. It finally stopped. Yang's heart was skipping beats, unable to hold a rhythm after the agony.

“I will...I will...I will…” Yang gasped between breaths. “Please…I will.”

Garen snapped his fingers and Yang fell onto his face. The pain of the floor seemed like nothing compared to what he had just experienced. He hated Garen. He’d do what Garen said now, but the moment he got the opportunity he would kill the man. No one treated Yang this way. But Garen was so much more powerful than Yang, that should be impossible, not with the imperial stone. He had to learn Garen’s secrets. He had to find a weakness to exploit.

“Good, now go, use your underground, and bring me their heads,” Garen said. “He is with a man named Kokorum. It’s believed he lives in the United States, somewhere in Louisiana. Find them, Yang. Don’t disappoint me.” Yang nodded and grabbed his wand off the floor. He was careful not to point it at Garen at all as he created his portal directly into his bedchambers, where he fell onto the floor and began to sob as the portal snapped shut behind him.