Chapter 73: Meeting The Money

Kamiko’s carriage rolls to a stop at the edge of a bunny-kin village nestled in the middle of a wide, fertile plain, late afternoon light stretching long and gold across acres of tilled fields, the whole settlement ringed by neat wooden fences and the low, contented hum of livestock settling in for the evening.

The air smells of turned earth and something baking somewhere nearby, sweet enough to carry all the way out to the road.

They’re greeted almost instantly.

The entire village, it seems, turning out at once, delighted at the sight of Kamiko’s carriages rolling in through the gate. Dogs bark somewhere off to one side, chickens scatter indignantly out from underfoot, and somewhere a bell starts ringing in a rhythm that’s clearly meant to summon anyone still out in the fields, the sound carrying clean across the flat, open plain.

Lucien pokes his head out the window, squinting against the low sun, and watches as dozens of small bunny-kin children come tearing out from between the houses to swarm the carriage, ears flopping wildly, tiny paws waving, cheering at the top of their lungs like the circus has finally come to town after years of waiting.

His heart melts on the spot.

He actually swoons a little, one hand pressed to his own chest, watching them all bounce and shriek with delight, utterly disarmed for a moment by the sheer, uncomplicated joy of it.

Then his gaze drifts, entirely on its own accord, toward a small cluster of bunny-kin farmgirls standing near the edge of a harvested field, glistening faintly with the day’s sweat, ears tied back with simple cord, fur ruffled from hours of honest labor, each of them balancing a woven basket heaped with the day’s harvest against one hip.

They catch sight of him at almost the same moment.

All four of them turn toward the carriage at once, biting lips, murmuring quickly amongst themselves behind cupped paws, one of them going faintly pink beneath her fur while another elbows her sharply in the ribs, paws lifting to point with a distinct lack of subtlety in his direction.

Lucien’s body reacts entirely on its own, without so much as consulting him first.

He leans further out the window, angling himself just so, making absolutely sure that just enough muscle pokes free of his half-open collar, arranging his face into exactly the right measure of smirk and smolder, a performance he’s clearly given considerable practice.

Somebody clears their throat, firm and dry, directly above him.

He glances up to find Serenith perched calmly on the roof of the carriage, legs swinging idly over the edge, watching him with a small, entirely knowing smile.

Lucien’s gaze flicks back to the farmgirls, who wave at him cheerfully.

Then back up to Serenith, who waves at him too, with considerably more menace packed into the same small gesture.

He hitches, eyes going suddenly, suspiciously wet, and dives back through the window into the carriage’s interior.

"This," he yells out, voice cracking, "is causing me genuine, lasting emotional trauma! You’re evil!"

Serenith only answers with an all too satisfied giggle.

The carriages draw to a full stop and are swarmed almost instantly by villagers of every age.

Kamiko steps out first, already reaching into a satchel at her hip, handing out small gifts to the crowd as she moves unhurried through it. Trinkets, ribbons, little parcels of something sweet wrapped in wax paper, often greeting the recipients by name, remembering some small detail about each of them, a sick relative, a new litter, a good harvest, that has the villagers lighting up with delight every single time she brings it up unprompted.

The chieftess of the village steps forward to greet her properly, and Kamiko bows to her with real warmth. "It’s been far too long since you’ve visited, Lady Kamiko." the chieftess says, taking both of Kamiko’s hands in her own. "The children ask after you constantly. Practically every day."

They fall into easy small talk, the kind built over years of familiarity, right up until Brina bursts bodily out of Kamiko’s carriage and sprints straight into the chieftess’s arms, burying her face against her mother’s shoulder.

"Lady K! Why didn’t you wake me!" Brina scowls as she runs past a giggling Kamiko. "Mother!"

The chieftess laughs, warm and delighted, hugging her daughter tight before holding her out at arm’s length to look her over. "I hope you’ve been behaving. Working hard for Lady Kamiko?"

Brina leans in close and whispers something directly into her mother’s ear, voice pitched low, something about forced labour and watching over perverts.

The chieftess’s eyes fly open wide.

Kamiko drags a hand slowly down her own face. "It’s a bit more nuanced than that particular phrasing," she says, sighing. "Though I won’t pretend Lucien isn’t a bit of a ladies’ man, admittedly."

The chieftess looks between her own daughter and Kamiko, back and forth, and then bursts into full, unrestrained laughter. "That sounds like fun, honestly. I hope she takes the opportunity to actually get properly broken in, for once." She leans in toward Kamiko, one hand cupped beside her mouth in a whisper that isn’t remotely quiet enough to be private. "She’s been of age six years now and still hasn’t let a single man lay a hand on her. Six years. Can you imagine?!"

"MOTHER!" Brina gasps. "I’m right here!"

A deep, bellowing laugh breaks out from somewhere, and Brina snaps her head toward Lucien’s carriage, cursing his name under her breath.

Kamiko sucks air sharply through her teeth. "That sounds dreadfully boring, honestly."

The chieftess shakes her head, solemn as a funeral, ears drooping for full dramatic effect.

"It’s a downright tragedy. I couldn’t imagine it, honestly. We bunny-folk are simply not built for restraint the way some of the sturdier folk are." She presses a hand to her own chest, entirely earnest, utterly without shame. "I’d genuinely die if I had to go even three days without a good humping. Wouldn’t survive it. Wither away on the spot."

"Three days," Kamiko repeats, marveling. "That’s practically a vow of chastity, for your lot of people. A death sentence for some."

"Don’t I know it." The chieftess sighs solemnly.

A long, drawn-out wailing sound erupts from Lucien’s carriage. The unmistakable cry of a wounded animal, muffled slightly by the curtains but carrying clear, and undeniably across the whole gathered crowd regardless.

The sound of a man very deep in mourning.

Kamiko bites back a laugh.

Up on the carriage roof, Serenith has gone fully horizontal, laid out flat on her back, rolling with silent, helpless laughter, gasping for breath as Lucien cries into a pillow, begging the gods to take him back.

The gathered bunny-kin all startle at the noise, ears shooting straight up in alarm. The chieftess turns toward the carriage, brow furrowed.

"What was that?"

"A victim of divine retribution." Kamiko chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. "Pay him no mind."

That’s the exact moment Val throws open the carriage’s door and folds himself out of it in stages.

First a polished boot, then a long leg, then the rest of him unfolding upward with a slow, deliberate stoicism. The whole carriage visibly lifting several inches once his considerable weight is off it, springs groaning in evident, audible relief.

Every bunny-kin present turns to look at once, eyes going round.

The sheer height of him, the immaculate silver-grey hair not a strand out of place despite the journey, the obsidian suit tailored so precisely it looks less like clothing and more like something forged.

Val pulls his own cuffs straight, adjusts his collar with two brisk motions, and walks over to join Kamiko, radiating something ancient and powerful and entirely, unmistakably dangerous with every step he takes.

Kamiko introduces him to the chieftess with a small, formal gesture.

The chieftess’s eyes begin at his boots and travel slowly, steadily upward.

Up past the tailored legs, the broad chest, the sharp, unreadable face, up further still, to the two small, elegantly curled horns folding neatly back from his hairline.

She squeaks.

Valgereth looks down at her from his full height, looming like a very well-dressed volcano that has decided, for the moment, to remain dormant.

He offers a single, measured nod.

"A pleasure," he says, in a tone that suggests he finds absolutely nothing about the moment particularly pleasurable, nor particularly interesting either.

The chieftess gulps. Loudly.

Beside her, Brina lets out a long, mortified sigh.

"Please don’t embarrass me." she mutters to her mother. "Please! These people are—"

The chieftess stammers out the question anyway, unable to help herself. "What are you?"

Brina chokes down a squeal.

Val’s grin spreads slow, fangs gleaming in the low afternoon light, and he draws himself up a fraction taller before answering, delivering the whole thing with entirely too much casual pride packed into every syllable.

"I am Valgereth," he says, "First Flame of the Thirteen Hollow Peaks. Eternal Custodian of the Obsidian Vault. Last of the Ashborn. Devourer of Kings. Wyrm of the Seventh Spiral. Keeper of the Crimson Contract." A brief pause, just long enough for added effect. "Last remaining Elder Shadow Dragon of the Ashlands."

Silence falls over the entire gathered crowd, complete and total, broken only by the distant, oblivious clucking of a chicken somewhere, entirely unaware of the gravity of the moment.

Half the bunny-kin surrounding the carriage promptly faint dead away on the spot, including, with a soft, undignified thump into the dirt, the chieftess herself, one ear flopping over her own face on the way down.

The ripple of collapsing bodies spreads outward through the crowd like dominoes, a few of the older villagers grabbing at nearby fence posts just in time to stay upright, while several of the children, blessedly unbothered by the weight of any of it, simply stare up at Val with wide, delighted eyes, one of them already tugging at his coat sleeve to ask if he can breathe fire.

Kamiko turns to Val, hands planted on her hips.

"Was that really necessary?" She asks, face arranged into a flat, thoroughly unimpressed sneer.

"What," Val shrugs, unmoved by the scattered bodies around him. "She asked."