Sand & Stone

Chapter 13: Control

"I wish to be like the wind, free and fierce."

-Jolgar, Eight Blade of the Empire

The man was ugly, undeniably ugly and frightening. He gripped the table edges with white knuckles and his eyes were bloodshot from some unknown effort. He was shirtless and covered in scars, like some frankenstein monster pieced together as a cruel joke. In the flickering lantern light his skin seemed to squirm and wriggle, hinting at something sinister underneath. He looked as if he had waded through blood for years and truth be told he had.

I sighed wiping steam from the mirror and picked up the razor blade bringing up to my skull. I took a deep breath and began to shave, the sound of the blade scraping against my skull echoing in the small room. The few patches of hair that clung desperately began to fall away.

The thing in my arm squirmed and pain shot through my body causing my hand to twitch. Fresh blood dripped down my face. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the searing pain shooting through my body.

As I continued to shave, I could feel the hunger and pain building inside me.

What to eat, who to kill.

After a few minutes of breathing I was able to quash the feeling. I finished shaving my head and dropped the bloody razor. Without the numbing effects of Brute's Brew the hunger and pain due to the Creeper Vines was becoming unbearable.

I glared at the man in the mirror one more time, his bloodshot eyes matching his own. I thought of her and wondered if in her last moments she cursed me to this. I slammed my fist against the mirror, shattering the glass and sending shards flying. Picturing how Varga would swoon at the broken mirror made me feel slightly better.

I donned a new shirt and set out to find something to eat.

Varga had provided us baths and rooms despite his reluctance, Azeal did a good job at reeling the bastard in. I remembered the look on her face in Vargas meeting room as she discussed an army of slaves and plans to stick up the finger to the fucking Empire. I grinned as I thought about it and a passing servant grew pale dropping a tray. She was a cold bastard that's for sure but it still wasn't clear if she could go all the way, she still cared after all, but the choice was made and there was no going back.

Fuck, I'm hungry.

—

It was sometime later that Azeal arrived at the dining hall. Despite being a cripple, she carried herself with an air of regal grace and dignity, it helped that she had a new cane which clacked sharply as she walked over. The odd black uniform she wore had been cleaned and its sharp creases indicated a militaristic inspiration. Her black hair was less disheveled than usual and a shrewd eye peered at me underneath the bangs. Her lips curled into a thin smile as she scanned around the room.

I didn't bother waving, I wasn't exactly hard to spot.

At a quarter past midnight the place was empty, I suspected half due to the time and the other half due to Varga telling most people to fuck off. Doubt he wanted word getting out that he was harboring the Queen who was supposed to be dead.

Before sitting she hobbled into the kitchen and was in there for a while before returning with a plate of food. Odd behavior for a Merchant, usually they had servants or slaves serve them, Varga definitely had some around.

I finished off the last piece of bread as she sat across from me and stretched out her bad leg massaging it. I placed the empty dish down atop the large stack. My hunger dimmed after eating enough for ten men, like Anna said it never fully went away and everyday without Brute's Brew the baseline was growing.