Age of Beast Tamers and Exorcists
Chapter 61: The Royal Army

Chapter 61: The Royal Army

Zmey clenched the sword in his hand. ’Sure about that?’ ’Yes, master. I waited at the top of the white rock wall as you requested. And waited in silence until I saw him appear from thin air. After looking at your prints heading in the left direction, he then took the right one. I followed him with caution. He turned around by the mountain and headed towards the building. Zmey frowned. ’Nice work done. Thank you, Spark.’ Spark lowered its weight. ’Always at your command, master.’ ’These years of waiting... they all seem to be worth it. I have learned different skills and lessons in different souls. And these will be important tools to kill you, Asmodeus Ithaqua!’ .... Zmey appeared before the building as soon as he could. He clenched his fist more and more. It was unfair for a murderer to live in a building that exuded both liveliness and peace. How else could it be if locked close to nature? A prominent second-floor timber-beam construction extends over part of the ground storey. Zmey saw a tall shadow move across the window. Dark wood framed the window. The roof was pitched and tiled with weathered, reddish-brown clay shingles. At that moment, Zmey heard a voice. It sounded like a man and a woman were having a discussion... surprisingly like one was completing the statement for the other. ’He even has a family of his own!’ The sparse greenery that framed the house only added to its welcoming mood. Taking note of everything about this house, though, raised his rage second by second. But he knew it... He was doing this to hold back. The rusted hinges on the iron door felt familiar. They were like those on the cabin door that had once trapped him to death. What if this man intentionally led them here... to carry on with his plan? ’Could this be a trap?’ Zmey couldn’t shake off the consequences. Someone like him would want to face his murderer to show he wasn’t in as terrible a state as they might have thought. That he could still put up a good fight... He strode with ease over the cobblestone path that led close to the door. At this point, he wasn’t even sure of what his next action would be... The voice came from the upper floor. "Did you think I wouldn’t be able to find you?" It sounded both masculine and feminine... Zmey halted. ’Me?’ He clenched his jaw, then glanced at the upper floor. A still shadow was there, Zmey’s senses telling him it was staring down at him. Time seemed to zoom in. Zmey held his stare, his breath slowed down. His sight was as though magnified, that he could almost say he was looking at the man... with an inch’s distance between them. But still, it didn’t feel like he was the one whom they had addressed earlier. He wasn’t even noticed at all, if you could say so. He glanced at the door. Should he enter and risk everything? Not knowing what lay beyond the doorstep? .... In the upper room, near the window that faced the front of the house, someone was standing there. The face of a man with rough and hardened features like chiseled jawline. Together with the soft one of a woman. A half man and half woman, if you could call it that. The man-like face featured a wide nose and an eye that appeared lifeless. As legends say, there is always an unknown touch and allure born together with a woman’s eyes. Seductive, persuasive, and a sight to behold even for a dying man. Now, the contrast between a man’s and a woman’s face was much clearer. Both kinds were now combined into one face. He had a black robe on, wearing cotton shoes. By his side was a bed on which a boy in a white shirt, having golden raven hair, lay, his eyes closed. Someone had tucked a multi-coloured blanket over him. One would assume this boy was having a sleep. But, as a matter of fact, he was having the very long and peaceful sleep a restless man could ever dream of. And before this half-man was another. One wearing a black cloak, kneeling before him in total submission. The half-man said out of pleasure, gesturing at the sleeping boy. "Beings like us face a prohibition of not only mating within one another, but also with any human. Yet, you went against that... Is it now clear to you why you shouldn’t have done so?" Meanwhile, Zmey shifted his weight outside the room with care. He had climbed the building and was gripping the chimney near the roof. The cloaked man stared at the hem of the halfie’s dress with an expressionless face. His scarred face showed no emotion; he placed his palms on the cold floor. He had done enough to take care of this single challenge in his life... Since the day he came to know there was something far more powerful than the Shadow Legacy’s authority. And that’s love. After anger and rebellion, this was the next emotion he came to know. To tell the truth, longing for the face and arrival of your loved ones warms the heart as standing next to a river does. The first time you feel this, you always want to return to feel it the next time. And this craving... it was what ruined his life. His rebellion against the legacy’s orders caused his wife’s death. It also left his son suffering from a terrible illness that he is still treating today. The half-man glanced at the container beside the cloaked man. He paused for a few seconds. "Was it worth it? Love, I mean..." The cloaked man had nothing to say. He was in no position to wish for a pardon ever since he openly ceased going on missions for the Legacy. And went against their rules. He only wanted a normal life. Zmey’s fingers dug into the chimney on hearing all these unclear statements. He groaned inwardly, ’What... what the hell are they talking about!? The Shadow Legacy...? Love...? How’s any of this related to who I am chasing after?!’ The half-man chuckled, "... How many containers of blood have you used to stem his life until today? How many people have you killed for him?" "I have lost count, my lord," replied the cloaked man, his tone suggesting that it is something normal... for his kind. Zmey’s saliva turned salty in his mouth upon hearing that. The half-man’s voice echoed in his ears. "I see. The security of this capital kingdom must have weakened in comparison to years ago. That your wife wasn’t provided with blood after urinating every gallon of hers. Urinating entirely blood has always been a fitting punishment for lawbreakers. It will make you see that those you risked everything for are nothing more than a design of flesh and blood..." The cloaked man clenched his fist. A breeze from the other window of the room shifted the lid of the container. It revealed a thick crimson liquid inside. Blood. Zmey’s saliva tasted metallic. ’What a cruel thing you are up to again, Asmodeus. You still kill people. But contrary to your usual behaviour, you’re doing it to keep some alive. It’s even surprising that you’re a lowly slave of the Shadow Legacy. What...’ The voice of the half-man hollered in Zmey’s ears. "Due to our past collaborations, I will be sparing you. Take care of your son... for up to four days till you find out what to do with him. Either you give him a quick death or make him decay inside the house. What’s important is that you should meet me at Solvardia. We have got a lot of work there." Zmey’s instinct kicked in. ’Solvardia? One of the Five Kingdoms?’ He clenched his fist. ’... So that’s their target.’ Time passed... At that moment, the creaking of iron jolted him back to reality as contemplation had gripped him. In the meantime, he saw a black-robed person walk down the stone pathway. And behind him, the cloaked man he had followed here trailed in silence behind the halfie, bowing. Zmey clenched his fist. In that instant, he immediately jumped down from the roof. As soon as his boot thudded on the ground, both figures turned in his direction. His joint threatened to give in for jumping from such a height. But instead of marvelling at it, he raised his sword in a vertical position. "... It’s been a while, Asmodeus! I guess you do not remember me... I don’t recall your face anymore either. But I know it’s you..." The cloaked man tilted his head. "Orin Stonewood?" Zmey was about to at least smile, to not tear up... ... The half-man pointed at him and said, as though trying to recall something, "Aren’t you Orin Stonewood? The prodigy martial artist of the Astral Kingdom that died..." he grinned, "due to the ritual?" Zmey gasped in astonishment. ’How come... both of them know my past? What is...’ his eyes shifted from one of them to the other, ’... going on?’ At that moment, an external voice screamed out. "Freeze, thou accused! Move an inch and you’re dead already. This is the Royal Army of Eldengrove..." Zmey gasped. "The Royal Army....?" Sounds of boots marching on the ground echoed. The flop-flop sound of approaching horses screamed out too. He saw men in armour; horsemen, caverns, archers, and everyone else positioned themselves. He looked deeper into the crowd. He saw Skyler, the last lady who ranked third in the assessment, and two green-jacketed men. The Task Recruits! His instincts kicked in immediately. He rubbed his hand over his jacket until he touched something. Taking it off his jacket, it was a small beetle... ’Curse it! Lys has betrayed me!’