Chapter 227: Mistake

Author’s note: Hi guys.
I apologize in advance for any formatting errors. The last update on patreon seems to have messed with the formatting of copied text to the page. I did my best to put it all back the way it should be, but there's a chance I missed something.

Enjoy this one!

Chapter 227: Mistake - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/124625657

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Chapter 227: Mistake

Ashe knew those eyes. Not the monstrous guy - just the look. That cold, predatory stare that latched onto you and didn’t let go. No use pretending she hadn’t noticed, not with the number of sigils she had. No point running, either. That only made the predators back in the Yallara desert give chase. Best to meet him head-on.

'Fuck. That’s what you get for snooping where you shouldn’t, idiot.'

Of course, Ashe knew patience won battles. So she waited, leaning into the unwritten rule. Three breaths. Then a nod. Then out.

The bastard didn’t let her.

"You, the southern lady over there. Wait." 

The words slid through her like cold steel, making her fingers twitch for her daggers. His voice sent a shiver through her entire body and almost made her let the daggers appear in her hands. It didn't ride on the wings of his presence or anything, there was just something deeper to it - experience going hand in hand with the number of his sigils.

'Better not fuck this up.'

"Yes?" Best to keep it short. The fewer words, the fewer chances to slip up.

"Come here for a moment, please."

'Fuck!'

"Sir?"

He didn’t explain. Just moved. A blink, and he was crossing the space between them in strides that should’ve taken twice as many. Sweat prickled down her spine. Even in her own domain, Ashe struggled to track him.

Then the monstrous guy stopped. Two steps away. Too close. Instinct flared. No blades in her hands, at least, but it took effort.

"Sharp reflexes," he noted, hands stuffed lazily in his pockets. A stark contrast to her. "No need to get your knickers in a twist, though."

"Not so sure about that," Ashe muttered, straightening up.

"Why? Done something?"

This time, she kept her reaction in check, offering a small, uneasy chuckle.

"Felt like it when you came at me.”

"Didn't mean to."

'Tell that to someone else.' The lie sat plain as day, not even a flicker of shame to hide it. What she couldn’t figure out was why. If he had recognized her - linked her to past work - he wouldn’t be standing there talking. He would already be on her arse.

“Sure. Well, just here to report my place of stay."

"Outsider, even better," the guy beamed her a smile. "Would you grant me a moment of your time?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

Although there were always enough idiots who tried, he certainly wasn't here to flirt with her - that much, she was sure.

"Nothing strange, don’t worry. Just curious about your thoughts."

"On what?" Suspicious people in the barracks snooping where they shouldn't? Though, in fairness, she hadn’t forced her way in or knocked anyone out. Just drifted further into the courtyard than she should have.

"You see, I’m training my apprentice," he said, nodding toward the half-terr woman struggling through a painful-looking split on the training grounds.

[Slave: 101 sigils]

"Her?" The question slipped out before she could swallow it. Not that anyone could blame her.

'What the fuck is up with this place? First the workhand, now her.' 

Slavery wasn't usually something that landed you a cushy office job, or an apprenticeship under a mentor with three hundred fucking sigils. No, they mined, they hauled, they shoveled filth - or they warmed beds. That was the way of things.

'Was she meant to be his meat shield down in the labyrinth?' She may not have been able to see the mark on the back of his hand with his hands in the pockets, but there weren't many other places where he could achieve that kind of strength. 'Would make sense - except it doesn’t.' He’d taken her as an apprentice, trained her himself.

'So what, she caught his eye? People have strange tastes.'

"Yes, her," the man confirmed with a nod. Not in uniform, unlike most in the barracks.

'Off duty, then?'

"I know - she doesn’t seem like much. But trust me, that girl is full of surprises."

'Ah. So she caught his interest. Well, good for her.' Ashe returned the nod. "All right. Still… not sure how I’m supposed to help someone like you, sir."

"Deckard. Just Deckard. No need for 'sir'," he said, casual as anything, his eyes going to his apprentice, but not his attention. Ashe could feel it on her skin, the tickle of his presence, sifting through her like fingers brushing through pages. Of course, she was doing the same.

"Ashe," she offered, measured.

"Not much for words, huh? Good. Well, seeing someone here with experience from Hero’s Sorrow, from the south, figured I’d take the chance to get some pointers on the girl. She’s got claws, but I was thinking of training her in daggers."

'Of course, he noticed the mark.'

"A weapon or two tucked away never hurts," she said, nodding without much thought.

"Right? So?"

"Don’t you have enough people here to give her pointers?" Unless she had the nerve to pull something against the Lattice right under his nose - which she didn’t - there was no hiding her real Array from someone like him. [Blade of Rot]

'Sure, this is a barracks. But I can't be the only one here versed in daggers, can I?'

"Not as many as you'd think. Plus, they’re all trained in the same way."

'Fuck. Good point.'

"Even so, someone like you must have the experience to make up for it."

His smile wasn’t the kind she usually earned by sweet-talking strong men. "A mistake to assume. Strength won't teach you to make shoes or bake bread. So, just because I know how to fight a blade doesn’t mean I know how to wield one."

'Schooled like a little girl,' Ashe smirked, the feeling tugging at old memories - fumbling through her first lessons in picking pockets, getting scolded, getting better. Never thought she would feel like that again. 'What a lucky half-terr bitch.'

"All right, what do you want me to do?" she gave in. As much as she would rather be anywhere else, curiosity gnawed at her. Something about these two - an itch she couldn’t scratch. And not the you haven’t bathed in a week kind.

"Just need your take. Think daggers suit her?"

"Let’s see, then."

At their approach, the half-terr slave shot to her feet, violet eyes burning into her. Ashe tensed, resisting the instinct to step back. It wasn’t the half-terr’s rather unique looks giving her pause - she had seen her fair share of their kind - but the presence behind those eyes. Despite the slave's array and her number of sigils, she felt for a moment like she was facing a mighty beast.

"H-hello?"

A smirk tugged at Ashe’s lips. ‘This bitch knows the weight of a collar.’

"Girl, this is Ashe. Ashke Korra, my apprentice." The pride in his voice was unmistakable. Was she truly that capable, or was he just pleased to have one at all? Either way, Ashe only gave a silent nod.

"An unbiased opinion on your fighting style might do you good, girl."

"But didn’t you…?"

"Nervous?" The guy cut his apprentice off, lacing the words with challenge.

The half-terr bristled. "No! Just tell me what to do."

"Attack me," Deckard told his apprentice.

"Just like that?"

"Use your claws."

Ashe perked up at that. He had mentioned his apprentice’s claws before, but to all her oddities, the half-terr bitch had ordinary human hands. No claws. 

However, that quickly changed. The bitch closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, the visible tufts of fur and feathers on her body expanded, her pincers grew sprouted, a bestial growl escaped her throat, and most importantly, claws extended from the tips of her now fur-covered hands.

'Fuck my arse! A half-terr shifter - taboo.' 

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