FIVE MILLENNIA OF ANIMOSITY

FIVE MILLENNIA OF ANIMOSITY

chapter 8

I

—

Like the baron, Leda had apparently been blown there by the energy overload. Only she’d been somewhat unlucky—though perhaps it was safe to say she was fortunate just to be alive.

More than Leda’s cries, it was the leather satchel hanging from her shoulder that drew a gasp from the baron. “That’s mine. Damn that little sneak thief. Hey, get that back for me!” he said, shaking the man beside him by the shoulder.

“And you call yourself human?” the man retorted, knocking the Nobleman over.

“The hell I do!” the baron shot back.

From overhead, something black fell, winding around the man who’d knocked him down. Another water beast had poked its head over the sand dune. This one was thirty feet long.

“What is that thing?” asked the baron. While he couldn’t make out its details, it did seem to have a certain solemnity to it. The baron’s tone was one of admiration.

The man he asked glanced quickly to either side with bloodshot eyes before replying, “It’s a water beast! One of the monsters the Nobility let loose on the world!”

“Why would they do that? Isn’t that rather dangerous?”

“That’s a question for the Nobles, damn them.”

“Hmm—well, I’m sure they must’ve had their reasons.”

“You stupid asshole!” the man shouted, and then he was lifted easily into the air. All that was clear was that the other water beast had caught him. Though the thing had coiled around him, it didn’t have hands or feet to hold him, yet it seemed to adhere to him as it carried him away.

“Break out the mortars!” the beanpole shouted. Blood streamed from his forehead.

Two men dove into the tent, then each carried out a black cylinder supported by a base. Apparently the cylinders were already loaded. Setting them down in the sand, they took aim through the sights and pulled the firing levers. Two streaks of white smoke and flame arced elegantly into the air, sinking into the water beasts. Fireballs formed. They were the color of blood. The beasts were blown apart.

Pieces of them rained down. The baron covered his head. However, it wasn’t blood and chunks of flesh that rained down on him.

“Water?”

Right beside him, the giant remarked with apparent disgust, “What’s so surprising about that? They’re liquid creatures that move through the ground, after all. They say it’s easier for them to move as a liquid than a solid. Say, are that kid and Ernie okay?”

Ernie must’ve been the name of the man who’d been carried away.

One of the men headed toward the dune, checked the figure on the ground, then shook his head.

“Didn’t make it, eh? How about the girl?”

“She’s all right,” the wrestler called out from the other side of the tent.

“Well, that’s something,” the giant said, heaving a sigh.

“Are you guys idiots?” the baron asked in utter amazement. “You got knocked around and lost one of your own, all for one little girl. Which is more important to you: some girl you’ve never seen before, or one of your compatriots? Well?”

The baron wore a frightened expression as the men who surrounded him stared him down.

“So, you think a man should run off and leave a little girl to her fate? You call yourself human, you son of a bitch?” the giant said, shoving the baron’s shoulder.

“Wh—what do you think you’re doing?” the baron shot back.

“No, you’re wrong. He’s a Noble!”

All eyes focused on Leda, who stood by the side of the tent. The girl’s clothes were tattered, her right shoulder exposed, and she was covered from head to foot with sand, but she pointed at the baron and shouted, “I know that guy—he’s a Noble who can walk in the light of day! Don’t let him trick you.”

—

A few minutes later, the hogtied baron had been put back in the tent.

“If you’re a Noble, you should find the place we’ll be taking you shortly pretty interesting. And behave yourself if you don’t want a stake through the heart.”

A few minutes after that, Leda was tossed in, also tied up.

“What happened to you? Did you try to rip them off?” the baron asked nonchalantly.

“They’re the ones running a scam,” Leda spat. “They say they’re Desert Hunters, but what they do is find people who’ve run into monsters out in the desert and sell them off in a nearby town!”

“Sell them off? You mean they trade in humans?”

“Bingo!”

“So, the only reason they saved you was so they could sell you?”

“That’s not all, though. When they rescued me, they really were concerned about me.”

“Then at some point after rescuing you, they no longer cared what happened to you?”

“I guess so.”

“I don’t understand that at all,” the baron said, and then he fell silent, blue veins bulging in his temples. “If you’re simply going to sell the person you save, you shouldn’t even save them in the first place. Or do they save them so they can sell them? But then there’s the chance some of them will get killed, so, as you said, they must’ve truly intended to help you. This just gets more and more confusing. What are humans, anyway?”

“How should I know? But that’s a fine question to be asking at your age.”

In a strangely childish turn, Leda was in the process of sticking her tongue out at him when the tent moved.

“We’re on the move. Where are we headed?”

“To the slave market. It’s near the town of Toro.”

“The hell, you say! I’m a Noble!”

“That’s why they’re gonna sell you. A Noble goes on the block maybe once in a hundred years. Now, a Noble who can walk around in broad daylight—that’s a real curiosity!”

“A curiosity? I’ll show you who’s a curiosity! I’m going to escape. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of being sold into slavery.”

“You know your leather bag? They’ve got it. What can you do empty handed? The sun will be going down in a little while, and when it does, the desert outside will be crawling with monsters. The days are too hot for them, too, so they prowl by night.”

“Damnation!”

“Just settle down. This is how life goes. Something will turn up—in one form or another.”

“Don’t presume to lecture me, you slip of a girl!”

“Slip of a girl? You’ve been asleep for five thousand years and don’t have a clue how the world works! In my fourteen years, I’ve gotten to taste all the good and bad this world has to offer. When I was six, my mother and father ran off, and my brother and me were picked up by a thief. We’ve been living that way ever since. You know, a vigilance committee cut off my left tit. My little brother doesn’t have any toes on his right foot. See, he made a grab for a gangster’s bankroll. Still, life goes on. And the next time you start that ‘What are humans?’ trash, I’ll kick your nuts in.”

The baron bared his teeth. Everything she’d said contradicted what Piron had told them when they first met. And no matter how he looked at it, the older sister had to be telling the truth. “You—you—you pair of insufferable liars. If I make it out of here alive, I’ll tear you to pieces!”

“Shut up, you half-assed Noble. You’re good for nothing outside your precious castle walls, so don’t go threatening children!”

The tent shook violently as they continued squabbling, on the way across the twilit desert toward the town of Toro.

—

With the coming of dawn, the tent stopped and the beanpole came in.

“We’re there. We’ll take a little break, then off to the auction house before noontime.”

“Why there?”

“For the auction. They deal in everything from daily essentials to weapons and supernatural creatures. The folks from town set the prices, with the goods going to the highest bidder. Nobles are rare. You’re going to make us a damned fortune!”

The baron went mad with rage. “Wh-why, you miserable human bastard, you intend to sell off a Noble? You’ll face heaven’s wrath for that!”

“Fool,” the beanpole sneered. “If ever we felt heaven’s wrath, it was when your kind came into the world. At any rate, there’s a shower stall in back of the tent. Can’t show our customers grubby merchandise, after all. You two had better clean yourselves up real good.”

“Ah, that’s great,” said the girl. “I’ll be able to freshen up. Who’ll go first?”

“You’re so vulgar, you’d have to use it until it drowned you. I shall pass.”

“Gross! You’re filthy. Why not?”

“Running water is a no-no for the Nobility. Didn’t you know that?”

“Ah, yes, now that you mention it. They say that’s why there are no castles near rivers. Why, I even heard that a long, long time ago, there were plans to fill in every river on Earth.”

“That’s right. However, as that would’ve conflicted with the accurate re-creation of the world of the Middle Ages the Nobility so idolized, the plan was abandoned.”

“Wow, so there were some people who were still thinking clearly. Okay, I’m hitting the showers, then.”

Lifting the flaps to the back of the tent, Leda disappeared, and before long the sound of the small shower rang out, drawing a grimace from the baron.

—

The town of Toro was located approximately in the center of the northern Frontier. Since there was a mine in the area that produced an antimatter catalyst, the town had grown extremely prosperous despite its inconvenient location, with a population of around seven thousand and a reputation as one of the five most successful communities in the northern Frontier. The suburbs were equipped with an airport for shipping ore, and the train tracks into the industrial zone were always humming, with fifty cars a day of cargo coming and going. Consisting of the usual bars and casinos, the entertainment district was as busy as could be, with many of the places lit up with neon and open for business even by day. The effect was enhanced by an artificial night that covered the entertainment district alone—a bit of scientific trickery made possible by particle-tinting technology.

Beneath the clear blue sky, that part of town was sealed in darkness, from which spilled singing and gunshots and the glow of lights in the quarter that never slept. Its habitués were drifters, gamblers, bartenders, dancing girls, outlaws, warriors, killers, bodyguards, prostitutes, monster peddlers, arms dealers, and so on, and so on. Any form of vice that could be conceived of in a Frontier town was put into action in this area that was dark even by day.

That included the slave trade. And today’s auction was a little different from usual. First to be led out before the ranks of monster dealers, bordello owners, and rich folks were a girl who seemed to be about thirteen or fourteen and a short, fat, bald man. After the girl—Leda—was pulled up onto the auction block, the crowd that pressed forward was then left surprised, dumbfounded, and snickering the moment they laid eyes on the bald man who followed—Baron Macula. On hearing his introduction as a Noble—and one who could walk in the light of day, at that—their reactions became peals of laughter.

“Who’s a Noble? You mean that uncouth midget?”

“He has the face of an imbecile, a real moron.”

“He’s just some Nobility-obsessed old guy. Get down from there right now, you damned fool!”

Though the baron met that hail of jeers and insults with protests that he was a genuine Noble, he only fueled the mocking laughter.

Leda went up for auction first, and she was won by the madam of a bordello called Pastoral.

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed, pumping her fist triumphantly. It was unclear whether she was excited because she’d finally found a steady means of employment, or because she was confident she could run off at some point in the future.

It didn’t appear to anyone that the baron would fetch more than a thousand dalas when he went up next, but a cry of “Ten thousand dalas!” came from a potential buyer, so the matter was decided without any further commotion or even any counterbids.

—

II

—

“The self-proclaimed Baron Alpulup Macula is sold to Madame Belle Kamiskly!”

After the auctioneer’s pronouncement, the baron gazed out at the audience from his place on the block with an inquisitive look, but he only saw someone who looked like the steward of a well-heeled family. As he came down off the block, the Nobleman asked the auctioneer, “Hey, just who is this person you mentioned?”

“The lady is one of the most famous people in town. She’s quite renowned for her various collections. It may well be that you’ll be going into one of her collections, too. As Noble #1.”

Surrounded by armed personnel, the baron was loaded into a sumptuous carriage and driven straight to a residential area to the south of town. No one dared to carry the commotion of the entertainment district all the way out here. That was the rule in town—one that need not be put in writing. The carriage passed through the gates of an estate so vast it took another thirty minutes from that point to reach the house. The house was like a veritable castle or church from the Middle Ages, and on entering it, the baron was greeted by android servants and ushered into a hall of sorts.

“What is this place?” the baron muttered, since the room was bound by a faint gloom. “Is this what entertains the lowly human curiosity seekers? Hmph! Mark my words: I’ll escape from here, and then there’ll be a reckoning, I swear!”

And having laid his curse, the baron twitched his nose. A certain odor hung in the house.

“That’s the smell of blood. Hmm . . .”

Any other Noble would’ve been licking their lips, their eyes agleam, but the baron looked rather hopeless as he buttoned the neck of his jacket.

“There’s something unsettling about all this. I’m a sensitive Noble. I desire well-lit interiors.”

As if waiting for him to say precisely that, a single beam of light shone down on the floor in front of the baron. A figure came into view. The baron gasped aloud.

—

Leda arrived at Pastoral about an hour before the baron reached his destination. She was promptly escorted to the dressing room, where she was told, “Change into whatever outfit you like. Then you can start learning the basics.”

The woman who’d escorted her left, and when she’d finished getting changed, a different middle-aged woman in garish makeup appeared, saying, “You have a customer. I’m surprised. He says he heard about the auction.”

“But I still don’t know anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. A woman’s born knowing right off the bat how to please a man. Now, get out there and make some money.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Leda replied with the aplomb of a seasoned professional, following the woman to a waiting room.

On seeing her customer, Leda froze in her tracks.

—

“Lord Begley, what are you doing here?” the baron cried out. He stopped, shocked. “Your expression—it’s one unique to those who’ve undergone brain surgery. What in the world happened to you?”

Perhaps overwhelmed by the sight of an acquaintance from five thousand years ago in such a pitiful state, the baron stepped closer without thinking and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. The man’s clothes were in tatters, he had a long beard, and there was a hard clanking down at his feet. His limbs were secured to the floor by long chains.

“Who could do such a thing to a Nobleman famed for his unrivaled courage? You’ll pay for this, you human scum!”

Once again, his words acted as a trigger. The world filled with dazzling light. Shrill laughter echoed from somewhere in the lofty ceiling. Android servants—or servoids, as they were known—were clustered about an old woman who stood by the door. Her long gown had countless gemstones stitched to it.

“You have terrible taste, you old crone. Release the two of us immediately, wretch. Lord Begley needs a doctor—no, I shall see to his care personally!”

“Welcome to my mansion,” the old woman said in a frightfully hoarse voice. “I’ve collected so many things. However, at long last I have a second Noble. I’ll be able to vent my animosity on you for another century.”

“A century?” the baron said, his eyes narrowing, and then they opened preposterously wide as he jumped up. “You’ve kept Lord Begley like this . . . for a century? A miserable human like you? What ill will . . . do you bear him?”

He was so angry, he had trouble even speaking, and steam rose from his bald head. But a cool voice chilled him off.

“He receives such treatment because he’s a Noble. Ah, leave it to the Nobility! You can do things to them that would kill a human being a thousand times over, yet they regenerate without a problem. How wonderful that is, and how horrible.”

The baron grew red as a boiled octopus. “Damn you, I’ll get you for that!” he cried, and he was just about to charge at the old woman when a thin arm wrapped around his neck from behind. “Lo-Lord Begley?” the baron stammered, and as his shocked face swiftly flushed, blood began to drip from his nostrils.

“That will do,” the old woman said, stopping Begley. “He’s going to take your place entertaining me for the next century. Step aside, now.”

The arm came away, and the baron, now free, put his hand to his throat and coughed. A pale blue light flashed around him. His nose was assailed by the smell of ions and air seared by a jolt of high voltage. The electrical discharge bays in the servoids’ chests were open. Lord Begley writhed in the flames and black smoke. Jolts of electricity continued to strike him.

“Please, don’t hold this against me,” the old woman said almost in a whisper. “I think it safe to say Lord Begley doesn’t hold it against me.”

“What did he do?” the baron shouted. “And next, it’s to be me? What did I ever do to you?”

“You do know what the Nobility did to human beings, don’t you?” the old woman asked in return.

She quickly got her answer.

“Because we treated you like slaves? What was wrong with that? That was our relationship, wasn’t it? Your kind didn’t complain about it. At least, not five thousand years ago.”

Beneath swollen eyelids, the old woman blinked almost imperceptible eyes. “Five thousand years?”

“That’s right. I’ve been asleep for the last five millennia. However, I can imagine what happened in the interim. But no matter what that was, isn’t five thousand years enough water under the bridge?”

The old woman laughed thinly. “Oh, five thousand years? For your answer, kindly watch this.”

Suddenly, the area around the baron was enveloped in flames. The gloom changed—to darkness! To the left and to the right, figures were fleeing. Humans. Some were alone, some were men holding their children by the hand, or women clutching babies close. The sound of heavy breathing rang in the baron’s ears, and the swirling night winds buffeted his cheeks. He wasn’t in the vast chamber. In the heavens, the nearly full moon shone, and when he focused his gaze, he could make out burning houses and the outline of a castle’s walls in the distance. The screams of the women and shouts of the men made the baron cringe.

A party of black riders and steeds cut in front of him.

What’s this?

As the baron stood frozen in place, just before him the tip of a lance reflected the moonlight. The shadowy figures landed amid the fleeing people. Skewering one after another like beef kebabs, they hoisted the impaled people into the air on their lances. The baron saw a crimson mist scattering in the darkness. Right in front of him a black steed halted, and a particularly large rider looked down at him. The rider took the shape he held with his left hand and brought it up to his mouth. Lifting his helm as if to allow the baron to see him and then focusing his gaze, he quickly wheeled his horse around.

“Wait . . .”

The baron had taken a step forward when a small figure was thrown down at his feet. The corpse of a boy who looked to be three or four years old. His neck had been bitten halfway through.

Stillness returned.

He was back in the same room.

“Do you still believe five thousand years is long enough for our rancor to fade?” the old woman asked, her tone enough to make the baron stand bolt upright.

“I don’t know how the world is at present. But five millennia ago, that was normal. Who are you, anyway? You may be old, but I don’t think you’ve lived five thousand years.”

“I may not have lived five thousand years, but our hatred survives. I have inherited the task of making the Nobility taste that hatred.”

“You know, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Holding onto a petty curse and keeping it alive for five millennia—you humans are such dark creatures. Hell, we should’ve destroyed the lot of you!”

“Silence!” the old woman commanded, raising her right hand.

A number of points of light formed in the darkness. From them, streaks of light pierced the immobilized form of Lord Begley. Though they were fainter and weaker than the servoids’ electrical discharge, they hurt the lord a million times worse. His clothes burst into flames, and his flesh melted.

It was sunlight.

The baron threw himself on top of the writhing, melting Nobleman to shield him.

“Would you stop it already? When did you capture him? How many years must you torment him before you’re satisfied? Just think of it—he’s immortal. That means he’ll feel that pain for all eternity. Your kind were killed quickly, without having to suffer much at all. Give me a stake. Let me put him out of his misery once and for all.”

The old woman didn’t smile. The look she gave the baron was a strange one. “You’re right . . . Perhaps it has been too long.”

The baron’s eyes widened as he gazed at the old woman. A pale, three-foot-long stake had been dropped at his feet. As the baron was bending over to pick it up, the woman said, “Please, don’t.”

She stepped forward and picked it up instead. Raising it high, she said, “I shall dispose of him.”

She walked over to the lord with a gait so smooth it didn’t seem that of an elderly woman. Black smoke and little flames still covered his upper body, but she took aim directly at his heart.

“Let’s put an end to this now. Farewell, Lord!”

She drove the stake forward.

—

III

—

The finely honed tip was caught between iron-like fingers and jerked aside. In the blink of an eye, the old woman was held fast in a man’s arms.

“Lord Begley?” she cried out in astonishment. The baron hadn’t moved.

The stake was held horizontally and pressed against the side of the old woman’s throat like a door bolt sliding closed, and a wicked grin formed on a pair of lips, revealing fangs—those of Lord Begley. The lord laughed aloud. Bordering on insane—but most certainly not crazy—his howling laughter shook that world of gloom.

“Lord Begley, my good man, you were in your right mind all along?”

“Ah, my friend, I remember you well. Have the years been kind to you, Baron Macula?”

“I’ve managed to get by. It pleases me to no end to meet you here. Why, I feel like I have a legion of men to support me now.”

“Ha, ha! As always, you’re a timid man, depending on others. But wait. Before you and I can begin five thousand years of prosperity, I shall rid myself of five millennia of animosity.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once I’ve torn this woman limb from limb, we shall take this insipid little estate for our own and begin conquering the surrounding area.”

“Oh, Lord, I don’t think that would be very . . .”

Eyes ablaze with flaming vengeance shot right through the baron.

“Do you have some objection?”

The baron recoiled, saying, “No, not at all. Well, actually, a little bit.”

“What is it?”

“I wonder if the lowly humans might not have fairly good reasons for hating us.”

Lord Begley had nothing to say to that.

“Don’t get me wrong. What I’m trying to say is—couldn’t both sides let it go already?”

As the baron was wringing his hands, Lord Begley gazed at him with eyes filled with scorn. “It was five thousand, three hundred long years ago that their kind attacked me while I slept and took me captive. From that day till this, I’ve been their plaything. I, who controlled seventy percent of the northern manors, a toy for the likes of humans! Can you fathom the humiliation of that?”

“O-of course.”

“How could you understand? Are you me?”

“No need to twist my words.”

“Then keep your unwarranted comments to yourself. For more than five thousand years, I’ve had stakes driven into my limbs, sunlight burning my face, and acid dissolving my flesh and bones just for their amusement. My manors were all burned, reduced to ashes. My daughter, my son, and my retainers were all destroyed. If it were you, what would you do now? Would you make peace with the humans as if nothing at all had happened?”

“I don’t suppose I could.”

The old woman’s body twisted and squirmed. “That was because you slaughtered people,” she said. “For no reason at all, you carried off girls from the village to use in cruel experiments, and when their families tried to stop you, they were viciously murdered.”

“Such is the proper relationship between the Nobility and the human race.”

The tip of the stake sank into the old woman’s chest, making fresh blood drip from it. She cried out as if the sounds were being crushed from her.

“That’s not . . . I mean . . .” the baron said in haste. “When you think about it, both sides are to blame, aren’t they? In this case, we need to make some concessions—let’s reach a compromise.”

“We cannot,” the lord said in a tone so severe it froze the hall. “I’ll hear no more of your interruptions, weakling. First, for the woman—watch as I show her what it really means to tear someone limb from limb.”

Lord Begley raised the stake. The baron witnessed the death throes of the writhing old woman as she was run through the heart.

“Arrrrrgh!” echoed a beastly cry of anguish. Lord Begley was trying to adjust his grip on the stake but the Noble never finished the task, with the weapon falling from his trembling fingers. A needle of rough wood stuck through the back of his hand and out through his palm. Eyes gleaming red with malice, Lord Begley turned. He still showed no signs of releasing the old woman.

Three figures stood there in the gloom. Two were short—a boy and a girl—but the tall one was exquisite. Even in silhouette.

“Who in blazes are you?” Lord Begley inquired, baring his teeth.

“D,” the figure said, stepping forward. His right hand reached for the hilt of the longsword that adorned his back.

Though Lord Begley focused bloodshot eyes on his new foe, his expression warped unexpectedly. “What a strange presence I sense. I know of only one other like it. But that is . . . the great one’s . . .”

He backed away. Shock colored his unsightly face. His hands fell, drained of strength, and the old woman was dropped then and there.

“I have heard things. It was . . . from you, Macula . . . And I only laughed. However . . . it was the truth . . . was it?”

Without making a sound, the vision of beauty came right up to the lord.

Stooping down, the lord picked up the long stake.

“Could it be? Could you be his, my lord?”

He held the stake up over his head with both hands, but it was chopped in half by the Hunter’s sword. The face of the Noble who’d been tortured by humans for five millennia was split down to the chin, and a heartbeat later a horizontal swipe of the blade danced through the air.

Not even glancing at the body that sprayed a fountain of blood as it thudded to the floor, D went over to the old woman and knelt by her side. The smaller figures—Leda and Piron—rushed over, too. The two had been reunited thanks to D. He had been Leda’s customer back at the bordello—and Piron was with him.

“Are you okay, lady?”

At Leda’s query, the old woman opened her eyes and slowly shook her head. “It’s my heart . . . I’m not long for this world, now. What of the Noble?”

Spying the ash-gray mound of dust spread across the floor, Piron said, “He’s gone.”

“Really? That’s for the best . . . I really didn’t care for . . . what I did . . . to him.”

“Is that so?” the baron cried out in surprise.

“Even if he was a Noble . . . it’s not like he did anything terrible . . . to me. It’s merely that since long before I was born . . . he was in our house . . . And torturing him . . . was my job.”

“Wow . . .” Leda and Piron mumbled, their expressions dazed.

“Then why’d this go on for five thousand years?”

“From animosity . . . Just as he said . . . I was controlled . . . by pure animosity . . . Strangely enough, I didn’t hate him . . . But somehow . . . I did those things . . .”

The baron heaved a long sigh.

“Please believe me . . . I . . . wanted to stop . . . But I couldn’t . . . Thinking back on it . . . it was anger over the people he’d killed . . . But that’s over now . . . Now I can rest at last . . . and he can . . . too . . . A grave . . . has been prepared . . . in the garden out back . . . Bury me there . . . and him . . . together.”

That was all the old woman said before closing her mouth. After a short while, a rasping breath escaped her, a great shudder passed through her body, and the old woman was freed from the cares of the world.

No one moved. Not a word was said.

D turned his back to them, saying, “Let’s go.” Whether that was directed at the baron or Leda was unclear.

The trio was rooted there, unable to do anything, but when they finally did follow after him, the form of the gorgeous Hunter melted away in the darkness.

—

A pair of cyborg horses and an elegant carriage were waiting by the mansion’s foyer. While D was switching off the servoids, Piron and Leda had brought them from the stables.

Climbing onto one of the steeds and riding out into the light, the baron looked up at the sun and groaned, “Damn, it’s bright. Perhaps brightness is all there is to this world.”

“The same thing goes for the dark,” Leda spat. Then, in a soft, earnest tone she continued, “Maybe they’re the same. Maybe humans and Nobles are, too.”

The baron fell silent. As did Piron, and D.

When they reached the gate, Leda halted the carriage. “We’re going back to Toro. We’ll try to make a living there.”

“Good journey to you,” the baron said.

D merely gave them a small nod.

Pulling a face, Leda stuck her tongue out at the Nobleman. “I hope we meet again some day,” the girl said, looking down at the ground. Her words were directed at D.

D’s lips moved. Perhaps he’d even smiled.

“I almost forgot. Here!” Piron cried, reaching under the carriage seat and pulling out something that he threw to the baron. It was his leather satchel, which had been reclaimed from the desert Hunters on the way there.

“Off we go!” Leda nodded, cracking the reins. Drawn by a pair of horses, the carriage sped off toward town.

By Leda’s side, Piron—who’d remained silent since they left—stood up and waved one arm with great, sweeping gestures. “See you later, little bald baron and cool dhampir!”

“Little shit,” the baron cursed, but for some reason his voice was rather weak. It was time to say goodbye.

“Let’s go,” D urged, and the two of them rode off in the opposite direction.

“I didn’t mention it, did I?” the baron said stiffly.

“What?” the hoarse voice inquired.

The baron ignored it. Perhaps whatever weighed on his soul wouldn’t let him hear it. “Five thousand years ago, Lord Begley went to kidnap the village girls at my request.”

Perhaps he wanted the Hunter to say something to him. However, there was no response, and the dhampir and the Nobleman went down the road with an endless expanse of blue sky above them and the afternoon light continuing to shine down divinely.