THE FORTUNIST

32. Wuxhia

“The Twin Mountains take the form of earrings.”

🕳️🕳️🕳️

The captain of the Albenian Bureau, Bough Andenad is the only one in the strategy room when Wuxhia reaches it. Wuxhia had spent over an hour trying to reinterprete the Fortunist's fortune and watching the purplish glow go back and forth on Salem's Flower. He feels weary, he wants to sink into the ground, return to his body and be free. But he will not be truly free until he is more than just regent.

Bough notices him standing at the entrance and rises to acknowledge him, his chair giving a groan for the release of weight. "Idris?" Wuxhia inquires and Bough tells him the Hand had given up in a fit of rage and let himself be escorted to his new residence.

"You are very patient Bough."

"Ah, thank you."

"They say patient people get the best fortunes."

"Oh."

"Do you think I'm patient?"

The strategy room door can only be locked from outside but with a touch of fist, the series of bolts on it disintegrate, falling to the ground as dust. Wuxhia closes it, unlocked. He smirks at Bough, it is an elaborate show of power. "We have a lot of intimate things to discuss Bough, and I'm glad you knew that enough to wait, and wait. And wait."

"O… of, of course."

"Sit down Bough."

The captain obeys, trembling more than usual. Wuxhia stalks towards him.

"You tap in with the Salem Cryfix don't you Bough?"

"I… I do."

"I think I seem to recall your ability to be sending your spirit into glass objects. You don't use it much because," Wuxhia sniffs and laughs, "well it's not because it's not a useful skill to have is it? Every cryfix wielder no matter how powerful they may feel have the flaws they try to hide. As for me, I can destroy but I can't create. I'm not a hundred percent as nobody would ever be. Why do you look so scared? Will you possess the centerpiece for me?" A pause, "My my, have you forgotten how?"

Wuxhia digs his hands into Bough's shoulders, lowering his head till it meets Bough's ear. "I know what will happen if I destroy that centerpiece while your spirit is in it."

"I… can move out fast enough," Bough chatters.

The couple of fresh flowers fall on a pile of ash within the blink of an eye. Their holder, the glass centerpiece, disintegrated. Wuxhia breaks into a mocking laugh, he is out of Bough's personal space and standing close to the destroyed artifact. "Do you think you are faster than me Bough?

"But then again, with these assertions of Salem wielders malfunctioning, you might find yourself trapped in a vase one day. Or a spoon. And someone will dip the vase in water and your spirit would drown. Someone could use the spoon to stir soup and your spirit would boil. It's just a risk you can't take. Your house is as fragile as the glasses you possess. One little mistake and…well, you don't need me to spell it out some more do you? Are the children any more promising?"

"What are you getting at?" Bough seethes harshly, the mention of his children enough to rile him up but only by a miserly bit.

"There's the spark. You house can fall Bough Andenad," Wuxhia says severely, "look at the fate of House Salem. You'd be worse off."

"House Salem had a daughter…"

"Missing since then, missing forever. The only reason she's not coming back is because she's dead. The king disgraced her house and the queen watched and nobody wants to be the first to say it aloud so I will. Salem House is no more, therefore, neither should its cryfix."