Chapter 3: Race War
As I take in my surroundings, I can't help but wonder just how large this flying ship truly is. The dining room alone is spacious enough to comfortably seat at least twenty people, and I've only seen a fraction of the vessel so far.
Vallenora sits beside me, resplendent in a gown that seems to shimmer and change colors with her every movement.
A server approaches, carrying a crystal decanter filled with a deep crimson liquid that almost seems to glow from within. With practiced grace, they pour the wine into ornate goblets before us.
I stare at my cup nervously, memories of my past struggles bubbling up unbidden. The familiar itch, the craving I thought I'd left behind in my old world, starts to make itself known. I glance at Vallenora, my throat suddenly dry.
"Uhhhh," I start, my voice hesitant, "I can't drink this."
Vallenora raises an eyebrow, her crimson eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and annoyance. "Nonsense," she says dismissively, "it's not poison, my love. This is the finest wine we have here. It's a delicacy even among the nobility."
I shake my head, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. "No, no, it's not that," I explain, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I was sober for two years in my old world. I... I had a problem with alcohol."
Vallenora's eyes widen, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her features. It's as if she's hearing this information for the first time despite our supposed two years of marriage. Her brow furrows as she mouths the words "alcohol problems" under her breath, her gaze distant as if trying to process this new revelation.
After a moment, she snaps back to attention, her crimson eyes locking onto mine. "No, no, it's fine," she says, her voice taking on an overly casual tone that immediately sets me on edge. There's a forced lightness to her words that doesn't quite mask the tension underneath. "This wine is... different. Special. It won't affect you the same way."
'Oh wow, either I gave up on sobriety, or she's gambling here. My sponsor would hate her.'
I can't shake the feeling that she's bluffing, trying to cover up her surprise at my revelation. The nervousness in my gut intensifies, and I find myself eyeing the goblet with growing apprehension.
'Should I become an agent of chaos again?'
As I struggle with my sobriety, the doors to the dining room burst open with a thunderous bang. A man strides in, his presence immediately commanding attention. He's clad entirely in black gear that seems to absorb the light around him. A hood shadows most of his face, but I can make out a strong jawline and piercing eyes that scan the room with practiced efficiency.
There's something about him that instantly draws me in. Despite his intimidating appearance, I can't help but feel a sense of kinship, as if I'm looking at a long-lost friend. It's an inexplicable feeling, but in this moment of uncertainty, I find myself oddly comforted by his presence.
The man's gaze falls on the full goblet of wine in front of me, and his eyes narrow dangerously. With lightning-fast reflexes, he snatches the goblet from the table, his movement so swift it leaves a trail of crimson droplets in the air.
"Absolutely fucking not," he growls, his voice deep and gravelly. He glares at Vallenora, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Vallenora's face contorts in a mix of fury and frustration, her earlier composure cracking. "How dare you interfere with me and my husband." she begins.
The man cuts her off with a sharp gesture, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Last time Saber drank, he started a race war!" he growls, his voice echoing through the ornate dining hall.
I feel my stomach drop, horror and shame washing over me in equal measure. The floating orbs of light seem to dim, casting ominous shadows across the room as the weight of his words settles over us all.
"Between the blacks and the whites?" I ask hesitantly.
"What do the drow have to do with this?" Vallenora mutters
The man looks at me, utterly dumbfounded. His piercing eyes widen in confusion, and for a moment, the intimidating aura surrounding him falters. "What? No..." he says slowly as if explaining something to a child. "Between the elves and the dwarves."
I feel a strange pang of relief wash over me. While still horrified at the idea of inciting any kind of conflict, I can't help but feel grateful that I didn't cross any lines from my old cultural perspective.
Vallenora clears her throat, her crimson eyes darting between me and the imposing figure in black. "Saber, my love," she begins, her voice taking on a formal tone, "allow me to introduce you to Raven Shadowtooth, the spy who infiltrated the White-Haired Devil's castle and aided in your rescue."
I nod, a sense of gratitude washing over me. "Thank you," I say, my voice thick with emotion I don't fully understand. As I stare at Raven, an inexplicable feeling of familiarity washes over me. It's as if we've known each other for years, shared countless adventures and inside jokes. Memories I can't quite grasp tease at the edges of my mind, like wisps of smoke that dissipate when I try to focus on them.
A mischievous grin spreads across my face, fueled by this strange sense of camaraderie. "You look like you're easy to annoy," I say, my tone playful and challenging.
Raven's eyes widen to a manic state, his jaw clenching as he glares at me. The shadows in the room seem to deepen, coiling around his feet like restless serpents. He turns to Vallenora, his voice low. "Did you tell him to target me?"
Vallenora's laughter rings out, a melodious sound that seems to lighten the very air around us. The floating orbs pulse brighter in response, casting a warm glow across her features. "Not at all," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems some things are simply ingrained in his nature, memory loss or not."
Raven's glare intensifies, but I catch a flicker of something else in his eyes, a grudging fondness, perhaps? He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, "Some things never change."
Raven's intense glare softens, the shadows around him receding like the ebbing tide. A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming his stern features into something warm and familiar.
He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he visibly composes himself. The very air in the room seems to lighten, the floating orbs pulsing with a gentler, more soothing light. When he speaks, his voice has lost its gruff edge, replaced by a tone of genuine warmth.
"You seem well, Saber," Raven says, his smile reaching his eyes. "It's good to see you smiling again."
I blink, confusion creasing my brow. "Was I... unwell before?" I ask hesitantly, my eyes darting between Raven and Vallenora.
Raven's expression shifts, a shadow of something haunted flickering across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, his eyes distant as if recalling a painful memory.
But before he can utter a word, Vallenora's voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Raven," she says, her tone sharp and commanding, "that's enough." Her crimson eyes flash dangerously, a silent warning passing between them. "Please don't interrupt dinner between a loving wife and husband."
Raven straightens, his face smoothing into a neutral mask. He nods once, a gesture of agreement, though I catch a flicker of frustration in his eyes. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the tension dissipated. Raven's smile returns, softer this time, tinged with a hint of sadness.
"It's good to see you safe, Saber," he says, his voice warm and sincere. The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
As Raven takes his leave, Vallenora turns her attention back to the lavish feast before us. Platters of glistening fruits I've never seen before sit alongside ornate bowls filled with soups that shimmer and swirl with otherworldly colors.
Vallenora reaches for a platter piled high with what appears to be some kind of meat. It resembles beef, but the deep purple hue and faint iridescent sheen tell me it's something far more exotic. With practiced grace, she begins to slice into the tender flesh, the knife gliding through it like butter.
As she works, I notice a faint blush creeping across her porcelain cheeks. Her crimson eyes dart up to meet mine, a coy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Honey," she says, her voice soft and melodic, "say 'ahh.'"
It takes me a second to process her request, my mind still reeling from the day's events. But something in her expectant gaze compels me to comply. I open my mouth, feeling slightly foolish as I do so.
"Ahh," I say, the sound coming out more tentative than I intended.
Vallenora's face lights up with unbridled joy. She delicately places a morsel of the strange meat on my tongue, her fork lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The taste is unlike anything I've ever experienced, rich and savory, with undertones of spices I can't even begin to name.
As I chew, savoring the complex flavors, Vallenora watches me intently. Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of pride and something deeper, more possessive. "You used to love it when I'd feed you entire meals like this," she says, her tone taking on an almost arrogant edge.
I swallow the bite, raising an eyebrow at her statement. "Oh yeah?" I reply a hint of playful skepticism in my voice.
For a split second, Vallenora's expression falters. Her crimson eyes go eerily blank, devoid of the warmth and passion I've come to associate with her. It's as if a mask has slipped, revealing something cold and calculating beneath.
Just as quickly as it appeared, the moment passed. Vallenora's eyes lock onto mine, her gaze intense and unwavering. "You agreed to trust me with everything, yes?" she says, her voice low and measured. "I wouldn't lie to you."
As Vallenora's words hang in the air, a chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of the dining room. There's an intensity to her gaze that both unnerves and excites me. I can't shake the feeling that I'm playing with fire.
'I wonder if this ole move will still work on someone like her,' I think to myself with a mischievous glint in my eye.
Without warning, I lean in and press my lips against hers. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but charged with an electric undercurrent of desire. Vallenora's eyes widen in surprise, another faint blush creeping across her porcelain cheeks. For a moment, she seems caught off guard, vulnerable in a way I haven't seen before.
But then something shifts. Vallenora's crimson eyes darken with hunger, and she pulls me in for a much deeper, more passionate kiss. Her lips move against mine with fierce intensity, demanding and possessive. I feel her tongue slide into my mouth, exploring and claiming every inch. The taste of her is intoxicating.
Suddenly, the air around us begins to crackle and hum. Tendrils of violent purple lightning erupt from Vallenora's skin, arcing between us in a dazzling display of arcane energy. The floating orbs of light flicker and pulse in response, casting eerie shadows across the ornate dining room.
I can feel the raw power coursing through her, electric and wild. It should be terrifying, but instead, I find myself drawn in even more. The lightning doesn't hurt; instead, it sends waves of tingling pleasure through my body, heightening every sensation.
Vallenora pulls away, her eyes smoldering with unfulfilled desire. The purple lightning crackles and sparks around us for a few moments longer before finally dying down, leaving the air charged with lingering energy. Her crimson gaze rakes over me hungrily, and I can see the internal struggle playing out on her face.
"If we continue like this in the dining room," she says, her voice full of desire and strained, "we could take down the whole ship."
The disappointment in her tone is palpable. Her fingers twitch, and for a moment, I think she's about to grab my arm and drag me back to the bedroom. But then her eyes flick to the elaborate spread of food before us, and she lets out a resigned sigh.
"You probably need to eat, though," she says, her tone oddly detached, as if the concept of sustenance is foreign to her. Her gaze sweeps over the array of exotic dishes, a faint furrow appearing between her brows.
Vallenora's eyes settle on the slice of meat she fed me earlier, a slow smile spreading across her face.
"Say 'ahh,'" she purrs, her voice low and silky as she picks up another morsel with her fork.
I comply, opening my mouth as she places the meat on my tongue. The flavor explodes across my palate, even more intense than before.
As I chew, savoring every nuance, Vallenora watches me with rapt attention. Her crimson eyes never leave my face, drinking in every minute reaction.
"Good?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, still processing the complex flavors. "It's incredible," I manage to say after swallowing. "What is it?"
Vallenora's brow furrows slightly as she appears to search her memory.
"Ah, yes," she says, her voice lilting with a hint of excitement. "I believe it's Veal, cooked on an enchanted stove. The arcane energies infuse the meat with those lovely flavors you seem to be experiencing."
I think for a moment, letting the exotic flavors linger on my tongue.
'This is baby cow? Rest in peace little guy.'
The word "veal" echoes in my mind, a familiar term in a sea of otherworldly experiences. Suddenly, a question bubbles up from the depths of my fragmented memories.
"Do pigs exist in this world?" I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
Vallenora's scarlet eyes widen, her delicate brows arching in surprise. For a moment, she stares at me as if I've just asked if the sky is blue or if water is wet.
"Yes," she says slowly, her tone dripping with a loving condescension. "Of course, pigs exist, my love. Just like they always have."
I can't help but feel a bit foolish under her gaze, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "So... bacon exists too?" I venture, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice.
Vallenora nods, her expression full of amusement. "Yes, bacon exists," she confirms, her tone suggesting she's explaining something painfully obvious. "It's a well known breakfast food, especially among the commoners."
As she speaks, I notice a flicker of something in her eyes, a momentary lapse in her composure, perhaps? It's gone before I can fully process it, replaced by her usual intense gaze.
"Would you like some bacon, my love?" Vallenora asks, her voice taking on a syrupy sweetness that doesn't quite match the sharp glint in her eyes. "I can have the kitchen prepare some for you if you'd like."
"I... uh..." I stammer, feeling heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment. "Maybe some bacon tomorrow morning? If it's not too much trouble?"
Before I can fully process what's happening, Vallenora rises from her seat in one fluid motion. With inhuman grace, she glides around the table and straddles my lap, her crimson eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath away.
"My darling husband," she purrs, her voice low and sultry, sending shivers down my spine. "You can have whatever your heart desires." Her fingers trace along my jawline, leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. "Bacon, entire roasted boars, the rarest delicacies from across the realms, all you need to do is ask."
'Probably can't get American cheese, though.'
"Your every wish is my command, my love. Your happiness is all that matters to me." Vallenora Speaks with genuine reverence in her voice.
'I really cannot get a read on what this girl's deal is at all. But her affection at the least seems real.' I resign myself to my current fate. 'This kind of life really doesn't seem that bad.'