Chapter 542: Pleasure of such potency
***
The Noble Emissary had no real idea how much time had passed since his targets left the room through the hole in the wall. He tried to keep count with the beats of his heart, but they were so irregular and prone to just going silent for long stretches of time—almost to the point of no longer beating at all—so they couldn’t be trusted for an estimate.
Then he tried simply counting, but that was practically impossible with the sheer strain the Formation was putting on him. Nothing worked as it should, and while he was sure he had the strength to break the Formation, he was kept down by the revulsion he felt. The longer he remained in the Formation, the more he began to believe he indeed deserved to suffer for ever finding blood enjoyable.
If he had spent so many centuries killing and bloodsucking with delight and impunity, he surely deserved to be punished like this...
"ARGHHHH!!!" The Emissary yelled and tried to shake his head to dislodge such stupid thoughts that were so obviously caused by the infernal Formation that trapped him.
And then, he heard sounds of distress. The sounds of distress had been around for a long time as the guests at the inn became roused to the situation by the many sounds of impact, but now, there was a bit of purpose to the agitation. There was also a steady thud of footsteps approaching the room.
Soon, a group of men in military wear, all taking spell-casting stances, entered the room. Inn security or County Guards— it wasn’t quite clear which they were, but their reason was clear enough.
"There’s still one here!" One of the Militants said, and the Emissary felt many eyes fall on him.
The humiliation of the situation— him being on his knees, doubled over in a complete show of weakness while these actual weaklings looked down on him as though he was theirs to capture. The indignity of it all caused the Emissary’s blood to boil, and for the first time since the Formation had appeared around him, he took a calming breath.
More footsteps and more men.
"Just one?" Asked another voice.
"We clearly didn’t act quickly enough."
A grunt of agreement sounded then.
"What do we do with this one?"
Oh, the fucking Indignity!
"Secure him," said an authoritative voice that should belong to the Leader of this group of Inn security or County Guards,
"He’ll tell us what happened here."
"You are not worthy," The Emissary said, and every one of the militants froze.
"You are not worthy of my Capture!" The Emissary snarled.
His blood raged, but it wasn’t just his strength that was roused but also the Concept he had been armed with; The Concept to overwhelm all in his path.
Magical energy surged from the Emissary in a pulse that spread all about and struck the circular boundary of the Formation.
The first pulse was seemingly absorbed by the Formation.
The second pulse was the same.
The Militants, who had been caught by surprise and a strange awe at the Emissary’s words, began to stir again in clear disregard for whatever power or authority their would-be captive might have. They moved...
... and that was when the Third Pulse thrummed, hitting the boundaries of the Formation but not getting absorbed and rather spreading all about the room in a ripple that cracked the wall and sent the Militants flying back either through the hole in the wall where the door used to be or against the wall where they made indentations on impact.
And then, as though the third pulse had been a test to properly know what to unleash, the Emissary released a fourth and even more powerful pulse.
There was the sound of a blast, and the Formation shattered. There had still been a good bit of blood in the pool that powered the formation, and that blood splashed all over the walls, smearing them.
"AHHHH!!!" The Militants all cried as one, shutting their eyes at the flash and sound of the blast as well as the violent expulsion of blood all over the room.
One of them, the Leader, only shut his eyes for a split second because he knew how important it was to keep an eye on one’s enemy. When he opened his eyes, he saw the Emissary standing upright, rolling his shoulders and taking a breath of relief, and then the Emissary was gone.
Next thing the Leader felt was a hand on his jaw and another on his shoulder before a tugging feeling, and then he saw nothing but darkness.
The other Militants had finally opened their eyes to see their Leader’s head effortlessly wrenched from his body, and after a moment of shock, they began to cast their spells.
Alas, it was all pointless.
Their magic was useless against one backed with such a Concept of Overwhelming strength who was also in the mood to work through his frustrations and hate.
The Militants’ spells were blasted aside by the Emissary’s superior ones, and their blood joined that of their Leader on the ground one after the other until there was only one left.
The eyes of the last Militant were wide in horror, and he just pressed his back against the wall. He contemplated escape, but he wasn’t the first among his comrades to consider it, and none of them had succeeded at the attempt. Plus, he was too paralyzed with fear to even form a full defiant thought.
The Emissary stepped toward the last Militant. He had left that one alive to watch it all, and as he smelled the fear in his blood reach a feverish peak, the Emissary almost shivered with delight.
In a flash, he sank his fangs into the Militant’s neck and drank with such hunger that he drained the entire body of every drop of blood in seconds. There was a pale and sunken quality to the body when the Emissary let it drop to the ground.
With his eyes closed and a wide grin of delight on his face, the Emissary savored what he had just enjoyed.
He reveled in the fact that, despite how much that infernal Formation had tried to turn this pleasure into something he should detest, it could never succeed. This was a pleasure of such potency that no trickery could douse or reverse.
The Emissary’s good mood didn’t last long, though. His thoughts shifted naturally from the horrible Formation to the ones who had subjected him to it.
"I failed," he said with a sigh,
"But I know they know where she is. I will not rest until I learn what they know. Weeks with nothing and finally a clue— I cannot let it slip through my fingers!"
And without another look at the death and destruction he had wrought in the room, he floated inches above the ground and, with his wine-red robe billowing around him, he flew out the hole in the wall and out into the night to begin/continue his hunt.
...
...
...
***
It had been many hours since Caius and the Leopolds left the Inn behind. The sun was already out, and the day was heading very close to afternoon, but no one had said a word.
It was Meline who broke the silence eventually.
"We owe you an apology, My Lord."
"How so?" Caius asked.
As far as he was concerned, they had all acted swiftly and capably to get them out of a terrible situation. They had done exactly as he hoped they would when he brought them along, and he saw no way they had done him wrong.
"We never should have suggested a rest in the Inn," Meline said, and she sounded anguished.
The other Leopolds agreed with nods, including, to Caius’s surprise, Roxanne, who he felt should already know this was all his fault.
"Had we not done that, none of that would have happened, and we wouldn’t have put you in danger," Meline continued saying.
Caius laughed. He couldn’t help it, and there was no joy in the laugh, only guilt. And when he stopped laughing, he looked weary and just let out a sigh.
"It’s none of your fault. Being at the Inn would have been fine if I didn’t say a name I shouldn’t have," Caius said.
"A name?" Roxanne asked, and then her eyes went wide as she understood what he meant.
Things had been crazy, and she had barely been paying attention to what was being said as she was focusing more on how they might survive. But now that things had calmed, she took note of one name Caius had called and which the Emissary had also mentioned himself.
"A name?" Meline repeated, but without the surge of understanding that filled Roxanne’s red eyes.
"Yes. The name of my Creator. I can’t repeat it now, though, because I fear it would make it easy for them to find us again. I don’t even think it’s worth the risk to try saying it with telepathy."
"But how—" Nadine started to ask as she stirred from where she had slumped.
"A Formation," Roxanne supplied instantly in response to the question Nadine was about to ask,
"It has to be."
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