Chapter 14: Xienorra

Hide, Xienorra. Let's play hide and seek.

Xienorra grunted when she heard that annoying voice in her mind. Yet, she was here in the kitchen, crouching behind the tables, hugging the package, playing hide and seek.

The moment she met the eerie silence in the mansion, the only word that came to her mind was opportunity. But before everything else, she needed to convert this mansion into her domain first–not that she has a special ability like Razuhas, but it's about knowing the settings and the characters that would play. Therefore, she could control the scene without any surprises.

She then heard a hiss and looked above where Roh was crawling on the edge of the ceilings, with his knives wedged on the wall, lifting his whole body through his arms without sweating. He had to release his one hand to sign numbers–raising his one finger and pointing at the outside, then three fingers to point at the inside. And used hand language to tell:

"Confirmed." Meant that they were facing the rebels.

Then Roh left.

One enemy on the outside and three enemies coming inside. But she would anticipate that the two would stand by to block the doorways to trap them. And this was, as she guessed to be the opportunity–to let the rebels find them and drag them into their hideouts as prisoners for interrogation–if they decide not to just kill them and go.

What about Efran? Roh questioned earlier.

She wished she could just dump him and find another forger. But unlike Roh and Caesura, her client picked Efran itself, and she knew why. Efran might have no social life, but he could still be another gate of connection–his father.

Xienora wore her fox kimono mask and walked casually in the hallway. Now that she had known the stage and characters, all she needed now was to perform the script.

Through the dim yellow lights of the torches, a lad in a black buttoned cloak and a giant sword appeared from the dark. They both stopped and stared at each other.

Xienorra met thousands of people and repeatedly saw similar patterns in different characters. If you're a stage writer, you should be aware of these things that you'll put in your characters to make a consistent personality and connect with their backgrounds.

This one has a laid-back posture, lazily carrying the heavy sword over its shoulder. Even though his eyes were hidden by his black hair, she could sense a stare of boredom. No doubt he's the one who made this mansion a butchery. Meaning, this guy has no moral compass. He may be mentally unstable, but doing things according to instinct was the most dangerous opponent against deceivers.

"You're blocking my way," Xeinorra said calmly but with authority.

The lad grinned in his raspy voice, "And so what if I?"

She dropped the box, blagged on the ground, as she yanked her double-glaive from her back. "I wish there was no blood to shed, but I'm in a hurry for gold so I need to cut my walkway for a shortcut."

The man giggled. "Gold? People are really blind when it comes to gold, huh?" Right. Gold was the keyword she inputted to continue the conversation.

She pointed the blade. "I won't need one if I wasn't born in this filthy country." This would make it clear that she had no loyalty to the kingdom.

The boy pulled out his sword from his shoulder but instead of aiming at her, he tucked in on the floor, leaning his palms carrying the weight of his body, his spines arched down, giving interest in her story.

"I hate this country as much as you feel. But do you think it's right to just dump things you hate away instead of fixing them?"

A tricky question. He was testing her. He took the bait.

She made a bitter smile, "I once tried but look what happened? I lost everyone I loved." He may have no sympathy for her, but if their group wanted to win, they needed more army. And rebels won't multiply with their own blood–they convert potential civilians to join. She was once a rebel, but in a different stage–in a business domain.

No man is an island. No one could ever set up a stage without a crew–everyone needs allies and she wouldn't be the infamous parasite employee without any help. Like a hide-and-seek game, every business owner was cautious to be found by her. And once they were infiltrated, it was their turn to find her among their employees.

"Come with us, let's change this country together," he said calmly, standing up as he leaned the sword on his shoulder. That was supposed to be the bingo word she wanted to hear. But it was too soon as she expected. She needed to play a little bit hard-to-get to confirm.

"Just who are you? Are you here for the box too? What will you do with this?"

The lad stepped slowly. "I'll tell everything on our way." A deep calm raspy voice, but something was off–his stare. Xienorra felt an impatient gaze from the man, shivering her skin. She gripped her weapon.

"Does it kill you if you tell it now?"

"We will be caught by the civil guards anytime," he carelessly said.

"Your people will signal if they scouted one."

The lad stopped in front of the opened door and looked at the room window. Xienorra followed his stare and witnessed ice shards that were already blasting in the air to the tall man in a brown uniform holding a lance.

"Seemed that they didn't." He turned back to Xienorra. "Now, let's retrieve that box before our priest girl dies."

Xienorra looked out the window again and saw a young girl in a black priest's robe. Xienorra never thought a religion would be involved in a fight and teamed up with the rebels. Their god, rather, their bishops seemed to want to punish the sins of the kingdom as well and they ended up giving support to the rebels.

"Why would a young priest be involved in fighting instead of telling people not to fight?"

The lad began to step. "I told you, I'll answer all your questions on our way."

No. This was what she wanted to hear but not the calm tone as if suppressing the excitement, a stare that can't wait to have fun, and gentle gestures with muscles twitching to sway his sword right away. This man wasn't taking her bait because she missed something.

Without a warning, she threw one of her glaives and spun aggressively like a wheel. The man had a bit of delay to block with his giant sword but still managed it with a little surprise. Their blades clank together and her glaive flew back. She caught it with her hands.

Xienorra then spoke furiously, giving herself the right to be angry. "I can sense when people lie. So let's make this straight. Are we on both sides or not?"

The lad laughed, gripping his weapon, blades were back on the ground. "You're turning the table. You're the one who's lying here. I almost believe in your acting but someone is whispering to me to not to. I'm curious, what are you trying to get?"

"You think I'm playing with you?"

"Playing or not..." He shrugged and raised his weapon, licking the side of its blades as it passed in his grinning face. "Your worthless soul will be added to my collection, anyway!"

The time flew too fast, the lad was already in her front, a giant sword in the air, and the sharp tips didn't bother to scratch the ceiling. This might be his disadvantage, though, fighting in a narrow battlefield with a long giant sword.

Xienorra jumped away as the sword sliced the air and then crushed the walls. Is he planning to destroy the mansion? The answer was revealed in his laughs as he continued attacking her and demolishing the hallway.

When Xienorra failed to catch his pace, she had no choice but to block the giant sword with her glaive and thin arms, and the impact threw her on the ground, her weapon almost slid off from her grip hands.

She bit her lips and flipped up to stand and dodge the quick attack. Right. The missing formula was to prove her worth to join. This battle was to test her ability. Some people can't be convinced just by words, but through actions. She hoped.

But looking at the way he smiled, almost breaking his cheeks to reach his ears, laughing while furiously slashing his blade at her. He tugged his sword on the ground for the moment and leaned his forearm to the handle, giving Xienorra the chance to recover her breathe as he combed up his front hair with fingers, and stuck his palms above his eye, showing off his pale forehead and the other eye full of madness and excitement–an enchanting dark purple iris–the eye that everyone prayed to be the last person to face. A Malvado. A Razuha who gets stronger the more they kill people and feed their power with body parts. This explains why guards were cut into pieces.

"This is more fun than the rat guards in this mansion!" he laughed louder.

Her hopes withered. Does this man even care about recruiting allies to strengthen their army? He seemed more likely to enjoy the present than to think of a better tomorrow, focused on that short shriek of dopamine of turning humans into pieces and strengthens their power.

"Let's fix this country together, my ass," she gritted, "You rebels are damn hypocrites!"

Zao Xienorra

The Queen of Connections