Revenant's Resolve Chapter 21

“That was… an impressive fight, Reznik.” Luminita broke the silence she’d kept on the carriage ride home with a deep breath. “I… I thought for sure you were going to kill Sir Botezatu at the end, there.”

Well.

I almost did. 

Apparently, even with as much control as I’ve gained over my body, the brakes still need some work.

Reznik’s replying thoughts were almost conversational, like he was speaking directly back to Luminita. 

Unfortunately, Zarah was not present, having been pulled away by the Prince for a discussion that would take at least an hour. That meant that there wasn’t anyone present to read his thoughts and act as a mouthpiece on his behalf. 

So, in lieu of being able to string together a reply, Reznik simply nodded slowly. 

“But… you didn’t. You stopped when I shouted.” Luminita observed slowly, nodding her head sideways as she continued to stare at Reznik’s feet on the bottom of the carriage. 

Mmm, I don’t know about that. 

I think it might’ve helped, though. A distraction that was just enough to break the momentum I’d gained up until then. 

I was also trying to get my body to stop, but it just wouldn’t listen. 

“Does that mean you stopped because of me? Because I wanted you to?” 

Reznik paused, considering how best to answer the question. 

He hadn’t stopped purely because of Luminita, nor had she really been a thought at the time. However, her shout did seem to have a physical effect on him, and could easily be lumped in with everything he’d done to force the breaks on his pain train. 

Additionally, he was hungry, and being nice to Luminita usually resulted in food and/or storytime.

Slowly, Reznik nodded. 

"I thought so.” Luminita’s smile grew incrementally brighter as she leaned back against the wall of the carriage. She seemed to wriggle contentedly deeper into her seat before adding: “I’ve been thinking I should make spiced brisket for dinner tonight. I already have the spices rubbed in and everything. It seems like it would be a nice reward for your win.” 

Reznik wasn’t entirely sure what brisket was, but if Luminita was cooking it, he was sure it would be phenomenal. 

What Reznik wasn’t prepared for was the agonizing hunger he felt at the slow-cooked, abundantly fragrant meat and spices that came from the oven as he waited for Luminita to finish. The fight had left him ravenously hungry, and all the smells did was further drive the feeling of a stake piercing his abdomen to maddening levels. 

Just as Reznik’s hold on his sanity felt like it was about to break, he heard the distinct sound of the front door opening.

Turning where he stood beside the table, Reznik saw Zarah standing in the doorway blinking in an odd, stuttering way as if she’d just been hit by a blinding light. 

“Gods, Luminita, did you use the entire spice cabinet?” Zara blinked again before coughing once and shaking her head. “It smells like a Tursijj bazaar in here.”

“Not the whole spice cabinet, but I did use a good bit of the ones in there for the rub! It’s an old recipe my mother taught me.” Luminita replied cheerily as Zarah shook her head further before closing the door behind her. “It was something we only really had on special occasions, or when my father could talk the butcher into a good deal.” 

“Mmn, well. Reznik, in two days, the royal family will be holding court. Our presence, both you and I is… strongly requested.” Zarah frowned and took in a deep inhale as she moved to sit down at the table before continuing: “The Prince was resoundingly impressed with your performance in the duel earlier, and made a point to stress how much he wishes to see what you can do for the kingdom by my side. 

“With the reputation that Revenants have, it’s no surprise, really. What is a surprise, to myself at least, is what we’re going to be doing for the foreseeable future.” Zarah scratched idly at a small scar on the underside of her lip as she stared unblinkingly at the table. “Apparently, there’s been some tomfoolery with graveyards around the city, and the rumor mill is hard at work spinning tales of a Bessarban necromancer trying to wreak havoc on the country.

“It looks like we might get personally assigned to put them to rest, either through investigation or force.” 

Neat. 

But… where do I come in? 

I’m not exactly subtle in this armor.

An investigation doesn’t sound exactly like something I would be suited for.

Reznik imagined himself hunched over, loudly crouchwalking through a wide open, dark alley as he tried to follow a set of muddy tracks

Zarah snorted and looked up at him with a bemused grin. 

“Well. As much as I’m sure you’ve grown attached to that suit of armor, if there is any sneaking of us required it won’t be happening with you in full plate. Honestly, the best way to sneak around a city like this is by pretending to be a vagrant or day-laborer.” Zarah’s grin took on a small, malicious edge a moment later. “And I know how well you can pull off the whole ‘insane vagrant that smells like body odor and month-old sewage’ spiel.” 

Hey.

I like to think I’ve turned over a new leaf. 

Besides, I’m far less insane than I once was - I haven’t eaten a human in weeks!

Or an Elf. 

Or even a… what the hell are those spider people that Vezemir was? 

“Oh, if only it were that easy to be considered sane.” Zarah quipped as Luminita opened the oven, releasing a practical torrent of wonderful smells into the room. 

As Reznik ate dinner with the pair, he recognized the taste of the meat. 

It was the same as what Luminita had left as an offering in the woods after he’d rescued her. 

The thought behind it, that it was a special meal left Reznik feeling warmth in his heart, even as the message failed to reach his body, who simply guzzled the meal down as if it were nothing more than a common breakfast. 

She cooks for us all the time. 

I should find a way to properly thank her. 

Maybe talk Zarah into a nice night where she doesn’t have to cook. 

That would be nice, I think. 

*

Reznik waited for the gate guard to finish searching him for weapons, staring up and marveling at the towering walls of the central keep. 

Zarah had turned over her pistol but was allowed to keep the sword belted at her waist, and now stood several feet ahead of Reznik, patiently waiting with her hands interlocked behind her back. 

She also wore a light grey tabbard over her dark grey overcoat, the same one she’d put him in before they’d left. 

It was unlike many of the similar garments he’d seen in and around the castle, all of which were decorated with elegant filigree and opulent crests emblazoned in the fabric. 

Zarah’s by contrast, was strikingly spartan. 

There was no motto, no artistic designs of great creatures. 

Instead, the only embroidery was solitary black eye, surrounded by half a dozen ears. 

“You’re free to enter, sir.” The guard instructed, waving his hand dismissively towards Zarah and the open front doors of the castle, having finished searching Reznik for weapons. 

Reznik felt no small amount of amusement that the fact he was a Revenant in a full suit of plate armor wasn’t considered a weapon, but he wouldn’t say anything to that effect to the man who had already turned to search the next party of nobles trying to gain entry into the castle. 

Well.

I guess I’m moving up in the world. 

 Zarah gave him a curt nod and a flat smile as he fell in beside her, approaching the palatial banded oak doors at a fast walk. 

She’d given him many instructions on how to act while here, both on the way in and at her townhome. 

It all boiled down to acting like wallpaper. 

Stay by her side, stay silent, and most importantly, stay out of other peoples way. 

She’d also fed him one of the largest breakfasts he’d had yet, all in the hopes that he could behave and control himself without risk. 

Climbing the steps, Reznik panned his head from left to right, eying the number of guards standing rigidly on the steps, and the many weapons they carried. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I dislike events like this?” Zarah whispered from beside him as they entered the receiving hall, which already had several groups of finery-laden people that Reznik could only interpret as other nobles. 

Quite a few times just on the way over, actually. 

“Well, you’re about to find out why. Everything’s a pissing contest, a veiled threat, or a backhanded insult.” 

A man stepped out from a group of chattering people dressed in fine silks and gold - or more accurately, slithered, heading towards them at a pace comparable to a fast walk. 

“Oh there you are, Dame Bukewicz! How are you? It’s been too long…” the man greeted with a plainly fake smile and a tone that sent a shiver up Reznik’s spine. “I was worried that something had happened out there after you weren’t present at the last few royal addresses.” 

“Wonderful seeing you as well, Lord Sarpe,” Zarah greeted the half-man, half-serpent politely with a small curtsy. “And I’m sorry to worry you - I have been on several expeditions, and a brief foray on campaign to rescue some border settlements the past year or so. My time has been monopolized by duty, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, that would explain your recent absence.” Lord Sarpe scratched at his jaw thoughtfully before adding with a slimy smile: “However, it doesn’t quite explain why you haven’t responded to any of the letters and missives my cousin has sent you. He’s most anxious and hopeful for your reply!” 

“Ah, I -did- receive them, Lord. I’m afraid I just haven’t had time or confidence enou-“

“Nonsense!” Lord Sarpe interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand and a hint of a scowl coloring his smile. “I’m afraid you’ve struck quite the impression on him, and he’s not willing to let you slip out of his grasp, Inquisitor. 

“He’s… well, I guess you could say he’s positively smitten with you.” Sarpe finished with a pleased smile, staring down at Zarah with an eyebrow raised. Then, he turned fractionally to Reznik, narrowing both his eyelids and his slit-like pupils. 

“Perhaps this is why you haven’t replied to his attempts at courtship? You’ve taken a lover?” 

“Oh, Reznik?” Zarah asked, nodding her head at him. “Well, I’d be lying if I said that he hasn’t grown on me since our introduction, however, the reason I haven’t returned your cousin’s contact is because I don’t feel the same way. 

“He’s a fine man, and certainly one of the premier eligible bachelors in Bratsow, however, I’m afraid he simply hasn’t captivated my attention - as I’ve told you before.” 

“And -I’m- afraid that simply won’t do.” Lord Sarpe’s tone abruptly went flat and cold, though his polite smile remained. “Now, I have a great many men at my command, and I could simply levy challenges at your… consort here until the day that you formally engage my cousin, if you like.”

Oh. 

Can I kill him now? 

That sounded an awful lot like a challenge! I dislike him, and I bet he can’t fight half as well as Botezatu. 

“You are… welcome to try.” Zarah offered, her tone unchanged from before - polite and conversational, as if completely unbothered by Lord Sarpe’s ill-veiled threats. “Though, I worry for the embarrassment that could cause - how many of your ‘best’ fighters would my man-at-arms here have to tear limb from limb before you conclude that my hand isn’t worth a hundred of theirs?” 

“Fantastic confidence. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Lord Sarpe nodded politely at Zarah, shot Reznik a scowl, then turned and returned to his group of nobles, who had been overtly watching the byplay. 

“I was honest about him being a nice enough man, I just… I just can’t get over the idea of twin, prehensile cocks.” Zarah offered from inside his head as she began to walk forward again. “More power to whatever woman wants that in her bed, but I find that my desire for mechanical equipment is far more in-line with my own race. I only have one hole that needs filled, and besides, my work takes up far too much of my time - not to mention, I have no intention of ever being a mere housewife to a count.”

Reznik thought a moment on the idea, shuddered at the idea of two dicks that could move independently, and mentally agreed with Zarah. 

Completely understandable, actually. 

I honestly wonder what I’d do in your shoes. 

It seems like your not-so-secret admirer has powerful friends. 

“Well. It seems the clarity of your thoughts is steadily improving - I actually understood most of that.” Zarah noted with an amused edge to her telepathic tone. “And yes - he does have some powerful backing. Unfortunately, he’s been leveraging that to try and pressure me into joining his gaggle of sycophants.

“But that’s a story for another time. We should take our seats for the address.”

Deftly, Zarah weaved between the grouped throngs of people dressed in the colors of their various noble houses deeper into the front hall before they went through another smaller-but-still-massive set of banded-oak doors. 

Reznik followed several steps behind her as she led him to the middle outside edge of the rows of resplendently-upholstered pews. She took the seat closest to the edge, and gestured for him to sit beside her. 

While he attempted to sit down slowly and carefully, his body seemed wan to comply, and instead flopped into the pew with a resounding thud and creak of wood that echoed around the great hall. 

Well…

Shit.

Looks like I still need to get used to the weight of this armor. 

Zarah snorted once, then coughed as she slowly shook her head.

“Subtle.” She quipped, flicking her eyes over to him, then back to the front. 

In front of the rows of pews stood a raised dais with two opulent red velvet futons. 

There wasn’t a throne in a traditional sense, but given what Reznik had seen of Prince Vezemir, he wouldn’t be able to use one regardless. 

A fancy futon made of the plushest and softest material would suit his needs far better. 

Zarah leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, calmly awaiting whatever they were there to do. 

“Ahh… you know, I’ve found these audiences a little boring. Especially when there’s no one to have genuinely good conversation with.” Zarah offered quietly beside Reznik, tilting her head fractionally towards him.

“I imagine you will too… so, let’s see if there’s anything interesting happening around the castle.” Zarah continued her conversation from inside of Reznik’s head. 

Abruptly, Reznik’s mind was filled with internal monologues, snide thoughts, and lurid imagery of people in the room. 

All of them felt garbled, scrambling over one another like a tumultuous river current of a hundred different subconscious thought trains before it focused in on one mental voice. 

Then the voice became an image, playing through the back of his eyes like vivid imagination, but somehow more tangible. 

Reznik watched through the eyes of someone unknown as Prince Vezemir argued with a woman inside of a large antechamber, who shared his spider-like appearance. 

Though the woman was taller, with a far larger spider abdomen than him with starkly brighter colors. A bright golden yellow contrasted with stark, almost-iridescent black stripes that ran up the center of her abdomen to her back, fading almost imperceptibly into her dress-like silken black shirt.

“My son, taking on direct control of a campaign is an undertaking far more suited for one of our generals. Risking yourself, even proximally to the front lines is simply asinine.” Vezemir’s mother advised in a calm, assertive tone. “I simply cannot allow it.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think, mother.” Prince Vezemir snapped back in an acidic tone, pulling a black and red dress coat over his vibrantly dark silken undershirt. “I will be taking the throne as early as the second summer from now. We have some of the best officers on the continent, and our infantry vastly outclasses the Bessarbans.

“I doubt I will be at any real risk, and even if I am, Captain Harvish and my royal guard will easily decimate any saboteurs and assassins that might make it near me.”

“You’ve never shown any desire to take the field before, Vezemir. Why have you so suddenly woken up this morning and proclaimed that you’re going to announce extra levies and go lead the army from the front?” Vezemir’s mother’s voice held an edge to it, despite its soft and warm overtone. 

“Oh. That’s not good.” Zarah noted in Reznik’s head as he observed the private byplay. “I was hoping he wouldn’t do something stupid like that. Even for a noble, Vezemir has a wonderful understanding of economics and statesmanship, but I doubt he truly can comprehend life at the front.”

So…

What, then? 

Is there something we can do to help? Talk him out of it?

“I don’t believe we can help, no, if that’s what you’re thinking. He gets his stubborn streak from his mother.” 

“Great leaders are made in times of trial, mother. My father was a great leader, unifying our lands even as Prussany tried to twist their iron tendrils into us, just as they do again.” Vezemir answered resolutely after a long, thoughtful pause. “I must follow in his footsteps. If breaking Bessarba over my proverbial knee is what it takes to return a measure of stability, then so be it.” 

The Queen Regent took in a long, calm breath as she clearly pondered the best way to respond to her son’s words. 

“Vezemir, I care for you dearly, much as I loved your father. But he was a vastly different man from you.” She began to explain with clearly ever-fraying patience. “He was born into a land of warlords and collapse. He grew up on campaign, leading soldiers. 

“You’ve grown up in the safety of a castle. Long after the bloodshed of your father’s youth. If you are so confident in our army’s ability to quash the Bessarbans, then let our generals and nobles do what they are paid and duty-bound to do.

“The front line is not your plac-“

“What? Because I’m a child to you? Because I lack some esoteric, made-up knowledge on war that can only be learned through years of trial and error?” the Prince cut off his mother’s speech with a harsh, biting tone, spinning abruptly to glower at her. The pedipalps on the front of his body that looked vaguely like a pair of human legs briefly lashed before demurely folding again. “You want to know what I think, -mother-? I think you simply don’t wish to cede the throne to your son until after you’ve left this life, and you’re using some ill-founded notion of inexperience to justify your plan. 

“I think you crave the spoils of absolute power so much that you would spite your own son his inheritance.” 

Vezemir’s mother took in a long, sharp inhale of breath as Vezemir brushed forcefully past her, storming out of the room with clattering footfalls. 

The image being beamed into Reznik’s mind abruptly cut off as Zarah sighed deeply and shook her head. 

In the time that she’d been exploring the minds of others with him, the great hall had quickly filled with people, both seated and standing. There were even nobles seated beside Reznik, clearly trying to watch him inconspicuously. 

“Those in attendance will be seated and be silent!” a thundering voice echoed through the hall, silencing the din of conversation with an accompanying crack of halberd on floor. “Presenting their royal majesty’s, Queen Dzvina Albescu, and Crown Prince Vezemir Albescu!”

The door beside the armed, armored herald was opened by two royal guardsmen, allowing Prince Vezemir to exit and make his way to the dais. 

Despite his earlier anger, Vezemir’s face was a mask of calm. He walked up to his futon on the right side of the dais, and lowered himself down onto the plush fabric. 

Several long moments later, and he was followed out by another. 

Reznik hadn’t gotten a good look at Vezemir’s mother through the eyes of the man that Zarah had hijacked, but still hadn’t expected to be surprised. 

The woman who followed Vezemir was dressed entirely in black silks, with silver jewelry so finely crafted that it appeared to almost be a jewel-studded metal lace clasped around her neck. 

The queen also observed the room with six almost-luminescent blue eyes - a stark contrast to the Prince’s measly two resoundingly-human brown ones. 

Her face also seemed crafted by the finest painter, with high, sharp cheekbones and full, red lips atop olive-toned skin. 

The Queen’s starkly pale blonde hair was equally as elegant as the rest of her outfit, being artfully woven into a tight bun from which dangled more silver jewelry. 

It gave the woman who ruled the land an entirely alien appearance. 

As if she simply didn’t belong with the common rabble on virtue of presence alone, not to mention her position as a head of state. 

“Thank you, chamberlain.” Dzvina nodded respectfully at the man who had heralded their arrival after she lowered herself down onto her own futon. Then, she turned to the room with a captivating, focused stare from each pair of eyes that independently scanned the room. “I call this body to order, and greet all in attendance with thanks.”

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Hello everyone!
I am sorry for the lack of posts the past month, I was busy with stupid nonsense, testifying before the house judiciary committee, and helldivers!

the regular posts will now resume, and I thank you all for your patience