67 Resist or Submi (1/2)
Corco's eyes swerved across the decorated front yard and the people who had taken seat at its tables. Forty-two. He had a hard time putting names to all the faces, but it seemed like all of their collected allies were here to celebrate their apparent victory. As the forty-two small groups of lords and attendants busied themselves with the food and drink in their front, they seemed to have forgotten the reason for their visit. Corco himself did his best to smile and accept the various congratulations which came towards himself.
However, he found himself distracted throughout. The reason was simple: He was worried, much more than he thought he would be. Every time his eyes moved towards the entry, he just couldn't focus on his responsibilities as a host. As the day progressed, his eyes had been drawn over more and more. Sonco and Fadelio were late. By his own count, they should have returned a while ago. He had been confident before, but by now his worry had once again taken the upper hand over his confidence. With slow movements, to make sure that no one would notice his inattention, Corco looked towards the side, to the mercenary who stood guard in the corner.
He would have Dedrick take a few groups of his men towards the inner city, just in case. The prince was about to excuse himself from his onerous duties to ease his mind, but like so often since his return to Medala, his plans were subverted. Without warning, the doors of the inner yard burst open and released the outside world into the exuberant atmosphere. Since the revelry in between himself and the door across the yard drowned out all noise, Corco couldn't hear a thing the new arrivals were saying.
However, just the same he could see his uncle being carried inside by several warriors; and he could see the blood as well. A chill ran down his spine. Corco shot up and sprinted towards the entrance. Like a ripple in a lake, silence spread throughout the yard as more and more lords and attendants turned their heads towards the new arrivals, alerted by the quiet wave from behind. By the time Corco had reached his uncle, the entire place was dead still.
The prince looked down onto his uncle, who had by now been placed on a table by the Saqartu mansion servants. All the while, the guests whose seats had been taken up by the injured warrior had scattered around and observed in shock.
There laid Lord Sonco Saqartu, motionless. His elegant silk tunic had been burned at the edges and dark and heavy spots had formed where blood had soaked the fabric. Its source were the bloody holes which riddled the lord's body. Sonco's eyes were glazed over and swam around in confusion. It was impossible to tell if the lord was still conscious at this point.
”What the hell happened!?”, Corco shouted as his head shot around in search for someone to give answers; or in search for someone to blame.
The warriors who had carried the lord before all stepped back and looked towards the ground, repelled by his eyes. None of them were willing to answer. They knew that a noble in rage could kill any of them without repercussion. Their step back, however, revealed the view onto Corco's attendant.
Fadelio himself was also in a sorry state. His armor was bent and dented by countless tiny impacts. Whatever had happened, the warrior had taken the brunt of the attack, it seemed.
”The Rubria mansion was a trap. All our men are dead. You have to save him.”
Unlike his usual calm, terse self, Fadelio's words were disjointed and erratic as he grabbed Corco's shoulder and shouted in his face. Corco felt a liquid drip on his hand. A look down showed the blood which had formed a stream from beneath the warrior's iron gauntlet down onto Corco's arm. Fadelio was injured as well.
”...what is going on...”
As if a spotlight had been shone onto a stage, the world around went dark as all Corco could see were his uncle and his warrior. Confused and unsure of what to do, he could only stare back and forth between the two of them.
”Laqhis! Do something!”
Fadelio's shout finally brought Corco back to reality. He turned to the injured Sonco, who had since started to groan and wriggle on the table. At least he was alive. Corco drew his dagger and began to cut open Sonco's tunic. With great care, he unveiled the source of all that blood which had since started to form a mirror under the lord.
Slowly, drop by drop, the life force escaped his body and ran down the table, like mountain snow melting in spring. In horror, Corco looked at the wounds. On the left arm alone, he could see two bullet holes. He ignored his uncles groans and turned the arm. No exit wounds. The projectiles were still inside. With slow, mechanical movements, Corco turned his head towards his assistant. His uncle's arm still in his hands, he spoke in a disappearing voice.
”What am I supposed to do about this?”
”You're the genius, aren't you? Don't you always have all the answers? Fix him!”
Furious and desperate, Fadelio began to scream. Corco snapped out of his apathy as well. He wouldn't have this burden placed upon himself.
”I'm not a doctor, so what do you want from me!? I know some first aid, that's it! What fucking good is that gonna do here?! And I'm not a miracle worker either! I can't... I can't do anything...”
His eyes scanned his uncle's body and did what he had always done. Analyze the problem and look for a solution. For a way to fix what was broken. He couldn't find one. His eyes turned back to Fadelio. Hopeless and desperate, he did the only thing that made sense, no matter how pointless. He vented.
”It was your job to protect him! What the hell did you do!?”
The warrior was about to fire back when they were both interrupted by a feeble voice from the table, one which nevertheless bored itself into their minds.
”Don't...”
Corco shot around to face the injured, but conscious Sonco.
”Uncle! How are you?”
The Lord gave a weak smile.
”No need to fight. I am not dead quite yet.”
”Prince Corco...”
Though Corco's mind was already in far too many places at once, again he was distracted by another voice.
”What.”
The prince gave a blunt reply. He really didn't have time to deal with the self-important nobles and pretend to like them. Not right now. Still, he turned to face the lord who had built up his small frame behind himself. The prince wasn't entirely sure which one of the forty-two it was, but the man had an uncomfortable look on his face. Corco had a bad feeling about this.
”Prince... since Lord Saqartu seems to be uncomfortable, it may be better for this Lord to retreat for the night.”
”So you're bailing out.”
He should have realized that this might happen. While Corco had been busy trying to find his father's killer, their alliance had been, to a large part, assembled by his uncle. In the end, it had been Sonco who had held their group together. His uncle was not even dead yet and already some weak-willed lords had reconsidered their position in the face of danger. He could already see them form a line to demand refunds.
”Prince should understand, we live in trying times and these matters should be considered with care,” the man gave a shallow excuse for his cowardice.
”Upao Ogulno, you're leaving already? But I just got here.”
Against anyone's expectations, Sonco preempted Corco's furious answer. His voice much more powerful and steady than it had any right to be, Sonco left the table, to the horror of his nephew. Once again the surroundings froze, until he stood there, tall and imposing, while the life flowed out from his wounds.
”Upao Ogulno! Do you not have the spirit of the great Yaku warriors? Where has our might gone? Our glory? We've already sold everything else to those snakes from across the sea. Will we sell our honor as well?”
”Lord Saqartu, is this not somewhat dramatic...”
An unconvinced Lord tried to justify himself, but Sonco wouldn't let the excuses slide.
”Septus Tineius! Is this how you shame your ancestors? Your own grandfather still resides in the ancestral hall. Will he celebrate once he finds his own heir to be a wimp, afraid of a little death?”
With only his eyes, Sonco commanded over the now silenced crowd. Their heads lowered in shame, all they could do was wait for the man's next, and maybe final, words.
”I'm sure many here are curious. Just who would do such an evil act and attack a lord of Medala within Arguna. You want to know what happened, right? It was Amautu, that little bastard! All of it. The traitor worked with the foreigners. Bought their weapons! Lured us into a heinous trap! Under his temptation, even a mighty hero like Callo Rubria would give up his honor! Give up his honor and betray his own kind to serve his new masters from across the seas!