Chapter 270

'Ugh, maybe I should have stuck with Raymond.' Zesshi rolled her eyes at her own impulsiveness, but when she looked back the way she'd come, she refused to turn around. 'No. I will see this through. I want to talk to him, I won't be talked over or talked down.'

"Who are you kidding, you're being stubborn, Zesshi." She said to herself. In the far distance she could see a small village, impoverished prosperity, in a manner of speaking. Her effective eyesight let her see the distant crops, enough that she could be sure that even if they had very little, they had enough.

She ran hard in that direction, her feet ate up ground like fire ate dry grass, and little by little the village grew larger in her eyes until she could see the heads of various people poking up amidst the fields of wheat, their bodies rising and falling in the endless rhythm of the farmer's dance.

Her ears pricked up when she heard them singing, 'That's a nice noise.' She mused and slowed down to listen.

"Oh- raise that ho and bring it down

Harvest food to feed our town"

"Our kids grow up and we grow old

But farmers' tools they'll always hold!"

"The gods look on and laugh all day

While I swing and swing a-way"

"Cuz crops may stand and crops may grow

But not one stalk with-out my ho"

The depth of the voices indicated that they were mostly male, but there were a few women among them. Zesshi hummed the music, it was a contented, rollicking tune that set the rhythm of their actions and probably made the work go faster.

It was hard not to like it, and Zesshi's slow pace let her hear it go on and on until she was spotted heading toward the village and someone shouted. "Traveler!"

For just an instant she thought it was a sense of alarm, women rushed into houses, and children with them. 'What did I do?' Zesshi wondered and pursed her lips into a tiny frown until she saw the women emerging again with a multitude of baskets, followed by young children carrying more of the same, they lined up by the road and began to wave at her with wild enthusiasm, their arms flapping faster than a hummingbird's wings as they tried to get Zesshi's attention.

'Do they honestly think I don't see them?' Zesshi wondered about that for a moment and then shook it off when she recalled what Cenna once said to her about villages. "Everybody there is a merchant when it comes to travelers, some of them would sell their own kids for enough money."

Zesshi counted that an exaggeration, 'Only elves do that kind of thing, it's why they have to be kept down.' She recalled her answer to him, and the laughter that followed, the dark haired Captain was prone to laughter, and never took much very seriously. 'If it were up to him, we'd all just take naps, drink, and chew sweetbark all day.' Though why he found her statement funny, she still didn't know.

"I never did ask him what was so damn funny…" She mumbled and recollected the mouthwatering flavor of the sweetbark he gave her right after he laughed, and just before he walked away.

"Great, now you want sweetbark… and Cenna is on yet another one of his vacations." Zesshi mumbled to herself and resolved to see him as soon as she got back to Kami Miyako again.

When she came closer, the peasants added words to the gestures, they wore decent enough clothing, simple laced up shirts for young boys, single piece dresses for women, and boots for all of them.

"Hi, welcome to our village. Would you like to stay the night, I have an extra mat you can borrow?" An older woman asked, "I'll even throw in an evening and morning meal for two silvers."

"Nonsense, I'm sure she just wants to move on, Miriam." A younger woman with chestnut hair said, "But I'm sure I don't see her carrying any supplies, so perhaps she'd like to buy some fresh fruits and vegetables. I can sell you some jerked meat, of course it'll be a good deal at a silver for a basketful." She held up a large woven basket packed with brightly colored fruits of various sizes, along with green, leafy vegetables, bright orange carrots, and long strands of yellow Zesshi didn't recognize.

'I have no idea if those are good prices, but I do get the feeling I'm about to be robbed.' Zesshi thought, and looked down when she felt a little tug on the long hair that hung behind her. She looked down to see a small boy and girl with bright grins on their faces holding up a pitcher of water in both hands, when Zesshi looked inside she saw various cut lemons floating around.

"Buy some lemonhelp water!" The pair shouted in sync.

"I'm afraid I don't have money." Zesshi said, "I'm looking for someone though, did a man with blue hair and a katana pass through here?" When Zesshi asked, the little sea of happy faces became crestfallen.

"No… nobody like that. You're the first visitor in days but-" An old woman was speaking, and then fell silent, the wind picked up, and Zesshi felt it flow over her face and lift up strands of hair enough that it exposed the half elven ears she otherwise concealed.

"Mongrel." The old woman hissed, "Get out."

As soon as the word was hissed, the mood soured, the faces went from crestfallen, to hateful. "Mongrel…"

"Mongrel? I-I'm from here." Zesshi said, her black and white eyes blinked back the dismay she felt at their sudden hostility.

"Mongrels be mongrels no matter where they be from." The chestnut haired young woman said and spat in the dirt at Zesshi's feet. "Beat it, we don't want your kind around here."

"But- the one I'm looking for…" Zesshi looked around at those who glared back at her, not one friendly face in the little crowd.

The old woman who offered a place to stay was the only one who didn't look hateful, instead she was only relieved and Zesshi made to finish her sentence directed toward her instead.

When the old woman saw Zesshi's face center on her, she screeched and spittle flew from her wrinkled lips out of her toothless mouth, "Thanks be to the gods I didn't dirty my mat with mongrel touch… I'd never be able to rent it out again. Get out before we drown you like your father should have!"

Zesshi feared none of them, even bare handed, killing them would have been easy. "I'm a soldier, I help defend this country, how dare you speak to me this way!" Zesshi snapped at them and cracked her knuckles.

"Go way!" The little ones with their lemon water shouted, then tipped over the jug they carried and dumped it against Zesshi's leg. The cool liquid had a faintly acidic smell to it, and Zesshi raised her hand overhead.

"Little rotten bastard!" She snapped.

"It's violent! Call the watch on it!" One of the women screamed, and Zesshi lowered her hand to back away.

'If I go too far…' The lessons imbued within her from the earliest years of her life, to be careful not to harm weaker people around her, stayed her hand.

She backed away again, then turned and ran. 'At least he didn't come this way… I'll go try a different road… but what was wrong with those people? What even 'is' a 'mongrel' supposed to be?' She wondered before mumbling under her breath, "Zesshi, you have got to get out more."

The Elf King gored the woman underneath him, rutting like a bull in heat, his supremely powerful fists held around her throat, threatening to snap her neck if she relaxed herself even a little. She didn't move, only laying there and waiting until he was finished.

It did not take long, it never did, for the cruelest of kings, it wasn't a matter of pleasure, though he took that as he could, but about creating strong children. Something his people did very little of. "Get out, get out and go try to make something worthwhile." He snapped and got up, being encamped on Theocracy territory wasn't something he worried much about, the chance of being caught was minimal, the chance of being caught by something that was a threat, he dubbed 'impossible'.

His golden tent, much like the golden hair that tumbled sweaty and loose down his back, stood out. 'Founding that worthless Kingdom was a waste of time for so long, the only 'real' success was from that human female, if I can find more like that one at the tournament, I won't even need these worthless servants any longer.'

That last thought was at least partially a lie, any King needed servants, but the world was a big place, 'I can always replace them.' He shrugged off the thought and waited while the husband of his last plaything brought the King's preferred green robe. The cloak keeper stood on a stool while the King put out his arms, with a grunt of effort the cloak keeper stretched out on his tip toes and slipped the sleeve over his lord's left arm, then did the same with the right.

Tears blurred his eyes as he listened to his wife's feet withdrawing to their quarters. The humiliation of attending the one to abuse his wife was at least a familiar one, and one in which he had expansive company. 'Serve or die… some days… the latter would be better…'

It was an old thought, but rarely followed up on by the elven population which remained hopeful that one day someone might rise to bring down their tyrant.

"Have the cook prepare me something that isn't trash, and send me his wife while he's cooking." The elf King commanded, his cruel, piercing blue and purple heterochromatic eyes at least, couldn't be seen from the back. The cloak keeper went to the lord's front and reached up to his waist to begin binding the robe shut.

"As you will it… but… may this humble one beg a question?" The cloak keeper asked. 'This is it, this might be the end for me…'

The fist of the King did not descend to splatter his head, this was the safest time to ask him anything, just after he'd finished using someone, and the nature of the situation was odd enough that curiosity replaced hostility for just a moment.

"What?" He asked, and the cloak keeper kept his head lowered while he bound the royal knot of the robe.

"Your Majesty has always wanted strong children, and we have all heard your will about the tournament, but we wonder why you fear to begin on the journey there?" The cloak keeper shivered, but again the heavy fist did not splatter his head.

"Who says I fear?" The elf King said with quiet wrath.

"None," he answered, which was true at least, "but we note that you avoid the many humans along the way, and instead prefer the safety of those who have already failed you in their worthlessness."

In any other circumstances, the elf King considered, 'I would crush his brain in his skull, but… now? He has a point... Stealth doesn't suit me, and there are many chances along the way, why waste time with their wives when there are so many I haven't tested yet… why should I wait to take that empire as my prize?' The thought set his loins to stirring.

"Forget the chef and his wife, we're moving out tonight, there is a village only a few miles ahead, yes? We will go there and I will find out if the successful brat's mother was a fluke or not."

"As Your Majesty commands." The cloak keeper said, stepping back, he bowed and stared down at the ground, his eyes trembling around the edges while suppressing the mad laughter, over his successful manipulation of the cruel King. 'We are spared… our wives are spared… let the humans pay the price, they deserve nothing less.' He told himself, though that did not completely rid himself of the twinge of guilt he felt when he thought of what their Lord would do all the way north to Arwintar, to all manner of unsuspecting peasants.

He then straightened himself when he had his face under control, and backed out of the tent until the flap closed in front of him again. "The King wants us to head to the nearest human village, he has chosen 'other' targets for himself.

The guards who stood outside the tent holding their bows at the ready looked at the cloak keeper with brief awe, "You-?" He cut the question off.

"I did. Our wives are safe for now. Those of humans?" He shrugged, "Let them deal with him." The cloak keeper answered, and the two elven warriors almost fell forward as they embraced the servant, their tears of happiness stained their cheeks and his own as they held one another fast in their unexpected sense of relief.

"Hurry and get ready. I… I have to go and comfort my wife." The cloak keeper said, and hastened away to follow the sound of quiet weeping.