[This chapter contains graphic violence and foul language. All characters, cultures, and events are purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.
Reader discretion is advised].
Chapter 5.
Tea With Executioners.
"How much time has passed?" Elisa murmured, stirring from her slumber. She rose from the bed with a languid stretch, a heavy yawn escaping her lips.
As the fog of sleep lifted, a prickle of unease settled in her gut. Something was wrong.
Her eyes swept across the chamber, and she froze. The portraits that once graced the walls had vanished, replaced by unfamiliar canvases. The very pigment and texture of the walls had shifted, and the furniture is entirely different. It was as if she and Sia had woken up in a completely different room despite never having left their bed.
"I am confused," Elisa whispered, her voice a low mumble. "Everything has felt... off since yesterday."
A sharp knock-knock echoed from the heavy wood.
"My Lady, are you awake? May we enter?" Margaret's voice drifted in from the corridor.
"Ye... yeah," Elisa answered.
"Greetings, My Lady. I trust you found your rest restorative," Margaret said, dropping into a low, practiced bow as she entered. Her gaze lingered on Elisa, flitting back and forth with a strange intensity. A faint, rhythmic twitch pulled at the corner of her lips—a small, smooth smile that felt both peaceful and unsettling.
"Ugh... morning, My Lady," Sia added with a groggy yawn, rubbing her eyes.
Margaret moved with silent efficiency, pouring steaming rose tea into a delicate porcelain cup. She set it on a side table alongside a plate of biscuits, the scent of butter and sugar suggesting they had been pulled from the oven mere moments ago.
Karlo stepped forward, his hand disappearing into the pocket of his coat. He produced a small glass vial and approached Sia.
Sia flinched slightly, tucking her chin toward her chest as a flush of bashfulness crept up her neck. She looked uncomfortable under his gaze.
"What is that, Sir Karlo?" Elisa asked, lifting her tea.
Karlo popped the cork with a clinical flick of his thumb. "Holy water, My Lady. It will heal Miss Sia's wounds." His voice remained as stoic as a graveyard monument.
Holy water? Elisa was bewildered.
They called it holy water.
Some said it was the tears of Goddess Kiana herself—shed in some forgotten age of sorrow, gathered before they could touch the earth. Whether that tale held truth or was merely temple-born fancy, none could say for certain.
What was certain was this: holy water was scarce.
Painfully so.
Only the High Priest and the sacred order within the Holy Temple of the consecrated lands were entrusted with its keeping. It was sealed in crystal phials, guarded behind iron-bound doors, watched day and night by sworn devotees. Even nobles could not lay claim to it without cause. To waste a single drop was said to invite divine displeasure.
Elisa pondered the matter as she made her way toward Karlo's quarters. The room felt colder than before, or perhaps that chill had settled in her bones. Her steps slowed.
She set her untouched cup of tea back upon the table. The porcelain made a soft clink against the wood. The steam had long since thinned, carrying with it the faint scent of dried herbs.
Her fingers lingered a moment on the rim.
Something was amiss.
And she meant to know what.
How in the devil's name did a mercenary come to possess it?
"What do you mean, Holy Water?" Sia stammered, her eyes wide. "I... I cannot use this. I am but a maid, and this is far too expensive!"
"It is a simple gift from our Boss, My Lady. Please, accept it."
Elisa exhaled a long, soft sigh. "Okay. Say thanks to your Boss."
As Karlo handed the vial to Sia, the girl's hands trembled. She held the glass as if it were an explosive.
This was the substance that had sparked a decade-long bloodbath between the Empire and the Holy Land. The previous Emperor, Titone, had only secured a peace treaty after the Holy Temple refused to return a sacred heirloom—a gift from the First Emperor to his friend, the first High Priest and founder of Holy ladn. The greed of the Imperial line for that heirloom had led to a war of steel and magic that claimed thousands of lives until Titone took his father's head and claimed the throne.
Since then, the Temple and the Empire had remained bitter adversaries. The Temple fears no Emperor, Elisa thought, her mind racing. Why would they grant such a relic to a common guild?
She watched in silence as Sia tipped the vial back.
"Oh! My Lady, look! My pain is gone!" Sia leaped from the bed, stomping her foot against the floorboards two or three times to prove her recovery.
"Hey! Stop it!" Elisa shouted with care. "Are you a child? You'll only end up hurting yourself again like that."
"O-okay... I'm sorry," Sia mumbled with a pout.
"My Lady, once you have refreshed yourself and eaten breakfast, you may meet the Boss," Karlo informed her. "Ring the bell when you are prepared."
"Very well," Elisa replied.
A short while later, Elisa stood before a tall mirror. The maids had dressed her in a fresh gown, and the scent of crushed roses clung to her skin.
These people... they are certainly unique, she mused with a faint, wry smile.
She reached for the bell. Within moments, Karlo appeared.
"Let us go, then. Let's meet your Boss, Sir Karlo."
Karlo gave a curt nod and led her toward a door on the far side of the room—a door Elisa was certain had not existed the night before.
Everything is changed. It's magic, I'm sure of it, she thought.
"After me, My Lady."
I know this is teleportation magic.
Elisa was certain of it.
Teleportation itself was no forbidden art. It was not rare either—merely costly. The carving of a proper magic circle required master enchanters, rare inks, mana-stone, and weeks of careful inscription. One mistake in the sigils and a man could find himself scattered across the wind.
Many high nobles kept private circles within their estates. For them, it was convenience—an indulgence of wealth and status.
But for an ordinary guild?
That was no small matter.
As Elisa stepped across the threshold, the wooden door creaking softly behind her, the thought lingered at the back of her mind. The corridor beyond felt cooler, the air carrying the faint scent of wax and old stone.
A common guild did not simply possess such resources.
Not unless someone powerful stood behind them.
"Boss, we are entering."
The room beyond was the height of luxury. Heavy velvet drapes muffled the outside world, and the air tasted of lavender. On a plush sofa sat Dane, the boy she had seen with Karlo, nonchalantly munching on an apple.
But Elisa's eyes were drawn elsewhere.
Behind a massive desk sat a young woman, perhaps nineteen years of age. Her hair was a vibrant, shimmering green, her skin pale as cream, and her eyes... they were the eyes of a predator. Elisa felt a cold shiver of both curiosity and dread.
The luxury of the room stood in sickening contrast to the floor.
Two men lay bound on the rug. Their faces were swollen masses of purple flesh, their fingers twisted at unnatural, broken angles. Their wounds wailed of a calculated, merciless torture.
The young woman rose from her seat and glided toward Elisa. "Greetings, Lady Elisa Nirvana." Her voice carried a sharp, testing edge. "I am Lily. The Boss of this guild—the Wild Dog Investigation Bureau, as you know it."
"Thank you very much for your hospitality, Lady Lily," Elisa said, her gaze flickering to the broken men.
"Lady Lily," Karlo interrupted, his voice tight. "Perhaps we should remove these men. It is hardly a sight for guests." He could see Sia beginning to tremble beside him.
Lily shot Karlo a look and smirked. "No. I believe it is vital for Her Ladyship to see this. Our clients must understand exactly how we operate." She reached for a dagger resting on her desk. "Dane."
Dane tossed his half-eaten apple into a trash bin and stood, a bored pout on his face. "Ugh, I'm hungry, Lily. We could have finished this later."
He pulled on a pair of leather gloves studded with jagged stones.
Thwak. Crack.
With rhythmic cruelty, Dane rained punches down upon the men's faces. Blood sprayed the floor in dark arcs.
"Stop, Dane," Karlo commanded, his voice booming.
Dane flinched. "But I was just starting to enjoy myself!"
"Finish it quickly," Karlo snapped.
Elisa and Sia were ushered onto a sofa. While Sia clamped her eyes shut, Elisa watched with a stoic mask. She had died a hollow death once before; she knew the song of pain—the bite of a blade, the dull thud of a fist. It did not frighten her as it once might have.
"Lady Lily," Elisa said, her voice remarkably steady. "May I ask what these men did to be tortured like this?"
Lily bit her lip, her eyes flashing with fury. "They attempted to rape a fifteen-year-old girl. Do you not agree that such a sin deserves death with more pain?"
Elisa said nothing, but her jaw tightened. A cold rage took root in her chest, though she refused to give Lily the satisfaction of a verbal response.
"Ugh, okay, enough. I'm bored now. Move aside, Dane." Lily stood and spun the dagger with lethal style. Dane's white shirt was now speckled with crimson constellations of blood.
Lily dropped the dagger and a small vial of poison onto the floor between the two men.
"Ugh... My Lady, please," one of the men wheezed, his voice a wet rattle. "It was a mistake. Let us go."
"A mistake?" Lily hissed. "You call that a mistake, you rotten pig?"
"Do you have any idea who we are?" the second man barked, his arrogance outliving his health. "We are High Nobles! If we choose to amuse ourselves with a filthy commoner, what of it? She should have been honored! She refused us—she needed to be taught her place!"
"Shut up, you bastard!" the first man sobbed, pressing his forehead to the floor. "My Lady, have mercy!"
Rotten bastards, Elisa thought, her eyes glistening with rage and fury. They deserve the worst death.
Lily's grip tightened on the hilt. With a sudden, blurred motion, she drove the dagger deep into the shouting man's thigh.
A blood-curdling scream ripped through the room.
"I offer you two choices," Lily whispered over the cacophony of his agony. "First, If I kill you with my own hands. It will be slow and painful. Or... you drink this poison. I know not its contents, but perhaps it offers a painless death."
"Please... please..." the man begged.
Lily sighed heavily. "What a headache."
Without warning, she began to plunge the dagger into the man's stomach, over and over, until the floor was slick with a lake of gore.
The violence was so sudden that Elisa felt her breath hitch. Sia squeezed her eyes tighter. Dane laughed. Karlo stood like a statue, devoid of emotion.
Lily picked up the vial and turned to the remaining man. "And you? How would you like to depart?" Her body was now soaked through with hot blood.
Trembling, the man snatched the vial from her hand and gulped it down.
Almost instantly, a thick, purple froth bubbled from his lips. His skin turned black, and the sound of snapping bones filled the silence. He buckled and died in a spasmodic, silent heap.
"The poison seemed more painful, wouldn't you say, Dane?" Lily mused, staring at the corpses.
"No, I preferred the dagger," Dane replied with a witty shrug.
"Sever their heads and dump them on their doorsteps," Lily commanded, her predatory gaze shifting to Karlo. "Include a warning letter. People should know the price of touching the innocent."
Karlo nodded silently, his eyes reflecting a mix of brotherly concern and grim duty.
Lily turned back to Elisa, her expression shifting instantly. "Now... shall we discuss your little problem? Would you care for some tea, My Lady?"
Elisa remained silent. She looked at the blood on the floor.