Bertan`s quest by Michelle Tarynne (ereader android .txt) 📕

It could be the way to make her scared. It could be the King's way to keep her safe until she made up her mind. Even more undecided than before, she stared at the curtained walls of her main room. She could almost taste its deep red color, recalling how thick and fleshy the curtains were, unchanged throughout the time she had last seen this room, it had given her refuge for so long, when she refused to live and learn by the Sword's rules.

Safety and belonging she desperately craved appeared once again at her core when she looked at the small, still unconscious body, guarded closely by the Unnamed who was standing still as a monument cut from an unforgiving stone. He never stopped fulfilling the task once it was given to him.

"Who wants me dead now?" Bertan asked quietly. She couldn’t stop herself and admired his perfect guarding stance. He was the best protection she could have ever given to her newfound young friend.

"You mean generally or specifically?" his rigid combat position remained unchanged.

"Both," she muttered taking off her hood with its mask to be able to breathe freely again.

"Probably the whole line of ours. The King is…" He tried to find the right word to describe the seemingly ever-present and seemingly un-dying being that led the Swords.

“Fading. Yes, I’ve noticed it today," she said, disliking how bitter those words felt on her tongue. It was as if she started to actually like that old giant.

"What you have noticed just mere moments ago, has been evident for the rest of us for a long time already. It was clear even before you went away for the southern lands. There are no males at the Head positions of the Lines anymore to contest for his position. Your deed made you the most vulnerable Sword, compared to other Heads of Lines.” He looked right into her eyes, “Let's face it, you are the weakest of us, the young lad you told me to guard here aside. You had vehemently refused to kill and train to fight and you are still so unnaturally small, even for a female. You stand no chance to survive for long, even with my protection," he explained patiently, there was no hint that he was being mean for he stated only cold and pure facts, she knew anyway.

"Take off your mask," she demanded suddenly, tired with the useless custom that made them look, act and feel inhuman. She wanted to see his face for the pure fun of it. "Now." She needed to see his face again, to remind herself, he was a living, breathing creature too.

"What? Why?" He was taken aback and would not obey immediately. Bertan could see his hesitation.

"Just do as I say and take it off," she said testily standing in front of him. He was kneeling, so she could see right into his defiant eyes. Still, she craved to see more. For all their face hiding, the Swords had no habit to control their expression at all times. She wanted to exploit that fact. Especially, that he was always wearing a full mask, which revealed only his eyes.

The Unnamed hesitated for a long while, too long. She stared intently, right into the eye slits of his mask, until hesitantly, he lowered his hood, and she just could not look away. Mesmerized, she watched the way he was untying his mask at the back of his head. His unwillingness to take his veiling off was evident in the deliberate slowness of his movements.

It took all of his willpower not to bail out at the last moment, even his Mother had never requested such blasphemy. For the Swords a face was a private sanctuary, revealed only at certain times for certain people. He could never understand Bertan's willingness to show it off, like a slave, to everyone, to let everyone see her emotions and truth.

However, he knew exactly why she asked for it. She was still so young and without any ability to scent. Though it would be of no use for he used the foam to seep into his body more often than others did. His position required to remain unchanged and unrecognized. He knew that she would want to read his face instead. Futile venture, in his opinion. He had been trained with fire and pain to control his face and all of his muscles. She was so oblivious to their practices and customs, he still couldn’t get over his amazement, that she managed to grab the Mother's position. He was still surprised that Bertan even wanted it in the first place.

The moment his mask touched the floor everything stilled. All of the breathable air seemed to leave the room altogether. To hide her own uneasiness, she took a great interest in her fingernails. When they finally looked at each other again, bare face to bare face, none was willing to break the silence, or the eye-linking. There was no space to take a deeper breath. It wasn't a battle yet, though it could be.

After spending so much time in the foreign lands, Bertan didn't realize the full extent of the intimacy it meant for every Sword. Even if she could realize that, she would never understand the raw feeling the unveiling brought to someone who spent all of his life hidden behind a mask, like the Unnamed had.

"Do you hate me?" Bertan whispered slowly, taking her time with her words. Silence that followed stole her senses.

"Sometimes more than the others," he answered tense to his bones. All of his efforts were focused onto hiding how affected he felt by baring his face for a casual conversation.

"Do you wish me dead too?" she asked, ready for the hard, painful truth in return.

"Sometimes," he smiled playfully to soften the blow. Such knowledge had to hurt her. It was clear he wouldn’t lie to her, no matter how painful that truth was.

"Do you want to kill me too? Like the rest of our House does?"

"At some point, I probably will," he admitted without a twitch, his eyes narrowed unintentionally.

"Are you planning to kill me now?" She asked, unaffected on the outside. She was ready for this pain, she could take it, she knew.

"Not yet, I don't have to, too many people do that already. None of my plans to are of any importance now," he said.

"Do you know who is planning to kill me at this moment then?"

"The ones who will ask for your hand soon," the Unnamed paused thoughtfully, "If you live that long."

"Do I want to find out?" she asked with hesitation.

"Choosing a partner is the only way for you to survive now, but at the same time you would look at your biggest enemy standing by your side, waiting patiently to kill you when the time gets right," he paused for a while to look at the ceiling, frowning as if he saw something unwanted up there. "At least till the competition to take the King's position starts, then all bets are off again."

"Whatever I can do, is to buy me some more time only," she mused, grim facts made her unhappy. She strived to find a way in her own mind-maze.

"It would be much easier for you if the Mother was still alive. You would only have to choose a consort, or to leave again to the foreign lands. Your troubles are all your own doing." In his tone, there were threats and hatred towards Bertan that he wasn't able to hide. Each time he mentioned or thought of his Mother all of his feelings came up to the surface of his face. He seemed to have no control of the emotions he didn’t like and wanted to be free of any of them, wanting his safe black emptiness cover his core once again.

"Our King would say it's the Fates." She ignored the raw hate coming off of his whole body and voice. Their Mother and her death would always stand between them. She couldn't explain, even to herself, why she was still avoiding to tell him the truth about what really happened on Winter's Peak.

"Our King is back into the Madness again. He has been dwelling too far in the past," The Unnamed answered, all too knowingly for her liking.

"That he is." Looking at the carpet, she just had to ask the question that burned her core the most, "What do you think I should do?"

"Are you asking for my advice?" he frowned. He looked genuinely surprised. Clearly he wasn’t used to having anyone asking him anything.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Bertan looked up right into his eyes again in a search for a deception. She knew he could hide it well.

"If you want to stay here, you need to pick your partner as soon as possible. If you wish to pick him from the other houses… Ash of the Second Line would probably be your best choice. He is the most powerful and driven enough to both protect you and contend for the King's position. But then again, you would have to be aware of his Line House Mother. Fortunately, she would be the only person to be unhappy about. Mind that his earlier visit here was a show of his force, and a sign of his connections and interest in you. Choosing a partner within our Line would make you a target until the new King is chosen, but only from other, weaker families. If you pick that option, you should decide on the strongest family, which would now be the Cassesses.

If you disappear, you would deprive all of the Third Line from contending for the Throne, and that is, of course, the worst decision you could take from my point of view. You have to sacrifice your life for our Line's future whether you want it or not. Everyone knows of your past inclinations, so the hunting has in fact already begun. You will become the prey the moment you leave your rooms," he nodded in the direction of the main doors.

"I don’t seem to have many options," she sighed. There was no easy way out of the mess she got herself into. 'Not as many as I would have liked… And none I'd want to go with.'

"You actually have more options than the others. It was bold to do what you have done. I have to admit. But now, you need even more courage and wisdom to keep what you have gained because losing it is to lose your head in your case," he said emotionlessly. A moment of silence fell between them. Both were deeply in thoughts, oblivious to the time passing by.

"Would you like to drink some Juice with me?" Bertan asked suddenly, taking him by a surprise again, breaking rigid focus of his mind once again.

"Why?” He asked bewildered, “Yes. I think yes." He frowned at his stutter, watching her walk to the tray nearby.

He had to take a deep breath when he saw her pouring the juice into two glasses. Then she did something even more outrageous. She sat down on the floor next to him, letting him take in the full extent of her small size and weakness. He could break her in half despite the reinforced suit she wore.

"Do I have access to the Mother's rooms?" she asked when he decided to join her on the floor. She sipped the Juice slowly while her mind worked on the evacuation plans to follow.

"No. You know that there is a fifty-Cycles moratorium when a Mother’, or a Royal' death is involved," he scoffed at her inability to remember the basic laws.

"Is there any way around it?"

"The only way around it is to break the laws and break in unnoticed," he looked into her calculating eyes, "You cannot be considering that."

"I am. The Mother took few things from me, and I want them back. It's not like they are going to be of use to her anymore." Her eyes suddenly