Chapter 2: The Butcher (Click here to access Chapter 2)

Chapter 2; The Butcher

/Planet Erhin

Theren of house Rolan was a light-skinned woman with wide, brown eyes. She had long, thin eyebrows and a rather cunning look. A sharp glance.

She walked into a great wide corridor in the home of house Rolan. Large windows made way for the morning light of wiola—the sun of her world—shone brightly on her, like a spotlight, all non-living objects seeming dim in comparison. Great marble pillars held the ceiling up, each decorated with markings of ancient Corr, the native, but not commonly spoken language of Erhin. The pillars were decorated with paintings of her family’s victories and conquests in the past. Theren walked out of her chamber with a straight, confident posture. It was early in the morning—her family was asleep around this time, whereas she would wake the earliest for she always had business to attend to. She walked across the great hall, her heeled footsteps on the marble floor booming loud enough for Sir Muriel to hear. She looked straight ahead and saw Muriel, the short man in his long gown, approach from quite far away. They crossed paths and stopped. 

She looked down at him judging his height with a condescending stare.

‘Sir Muriel.’ She greeted him, wondering how her father could have possibly knighted this man. 

‘Lady Theren.’ He said in a soothing voice. She never wanted to mention it, but she always thought his voice was terribly mismatched to his appearance. 

‘I was informed that an urgent matter has come up, what of it?’ She asked him. The man was not only a knight but a cheeky spy as well, working for Theren and heading her group of spies.

‘We believe that there has been a sort of… discreet invasion, as you may call it.’ Muriel said, wearing an aghast expression on his face. He had his hands folded, and was wearing a rather long gown, which drooped over the floor.The measurement of his gown was all wrong—sleeves tightly wrapping around his wrist, and the bottom of the gown drooping way further than it should. It sort of annoyed her at times. If a knight were to wear a gown, leastways he should wear it in a formal manner. She thought. 

‘Invasion?’ She laughed, ‘How so?’

‘Well we believe two-hundred vicers have arrived on the shore of Kais, just South of here.

Vicers? She thought. She hadn’t seen one in a while. That race of beings didn’t make their way to the West of Erhin quite so often.

‘Vicers? Whereof?’ She asked Muriel.

‘I assigned three of our spies—Evan, Hvit, and the Earthian Dek—to look into the matter. In fact it was Dek who spotted the vicers when he was doing his duty by the shore. He saw two hundred vicers arrive, not one citizen questioning them.’ Muriel said.

Two hundred vicers, no questions asked? She thought, That can’t be accurate.

‘You’re talking about vicers, and not humans. You are sure of it?’

‘No m’Lady, my eyes were lying to me. They have deep regret for their actions when they reflected on how I punished them afterwards.’ He batted his eyelashes sarcastically.

She ignored him. ‘He is an efficient worker, that Earthian, it must be said… I—did he follow them?’ Theren asked, doubting that the man of Earth would have. She thought of all of them as cowards.

‘He may be an efficient worker, but you know the way men from Earth get scared, like little cats being chased by dogs.’ Muriel said. 

‘Understandable. Well if it means something you should’ve been able to conduct a questioning or…found out the reason of their presence. Well, for now you best get this message across to my father. Make sure he suspects none.

‘But it is not the pressing issue as of now. Is there any idea as to where they are of?’ She asked again.

‘Dek spoke of the vicers having scars on their faces. So it’s safe to say they’re from Kaandor’ Muriel said. Kaandor was the ruling kingdom on another planet Layonas.

‘Kaandor? But the war is taking place in that kingdom—hell, on that entire planet! Why would they send so many slaved vicers to our planet at this time of peril, when they need all the men they can get?’ She said.

‘My lady, you know what a gem-boat is, I take it?’ Muriel said to Theren with a small grin. Theren rolled her eyes, she didn’t want to waste time on his nonsense but often ended up—

‘It is a boat with an enchanted diamond on the end of it, which allows one to travel through dimensions and to other planets—’

‘Muriel, yes I am well informed of the mechanism of a gem-boat. Why are you wasting time? We know these vicers are slaves of the kingdom Kaandor, I take it?’ 

‘And I am sure you are well informed that Linteres’ kingdom in Layonas, started by the crazy dairy farmer, Sorman Lintere—’

‘Muriel, stop!’  Theren screamed

‘—began a kingdom rebelling against the founder of Kaandor, namely Layon Rathor—‘

‘Please, we do not have the time,’

‘—Who is the ancestor of the current head of the kingdom, namely Koralisar Rathor, engaged in war with Eswan Lintere, the current ruler of the rebelling Linteres’ Kingdom—’

She stood there with an annoyed expression on her face and her hand on her head. 

‘You paint with words, sir.’ She said. 

Muriel laughed slightly and then said, ‘But you understand, My Lady, my point is that they have been sent here as spies, at least according to Isolde’s inference.’ 

‘Everything you said before had absolutely no relation to your point! You were merely wasting my time!’

‘But my lady now it is you wasting time. Please let us not drift astray into the ashes of dead matters.’

‘Ah.’ She replied, rolling her eyes.

’Why does Isolde believe them to be spies?’ She asked.
She heard the click of a lock, and the large metal door at the entrance of her hall swung open.

In walked a man with long, dark hair, messily tied atop his head, a muscular build and a stern look on his face. His hands were behind his back as he walked up to the two.

He bowed down to Theren and greeted Muriel with a hand shake. Theren enjoyed the company of Isolde; he was well mannered, the head of her spy department, only second to Muriel’s spoken command, and he carried out all the actions and orders. She looked at Isolde and smiled at him.

‘My Lady, I believe they are spies, but poor ones. They have no commander and have been seen at various spots in Unith, after they journeyed across Kais. We have followed and spotted various scarred vicers in the er… brothels, around Unith.’ Isolde began.

‘So they have not come here as slaves, then?’

‘It would be safe to guess they are here as spies—’

‘I do not see how they could be spies, Isolde. All two hundred just…washing ashore on their gem-boats, being spotted all around the brothels in Unith? No—this sounds more like they are here on business.’

‘Business?’ Muriel asked, ‘M’Lady, why would two hundred slaves come here on business?’

Theren shrugged her shoulders, ‘To be slaves.’

Isolde widened his eyes in disbelief.

‘You’re not suggesting that someone in Unith itself is hiring them?’ He asked. ‘I mean who would buy slaves from a rival kingdom and import them to Unith? On the edge of the royal city! Bah, I don’t buy it.’

‘And yet it is the most logical explanation we have. Isolde, I want you and your team to look into the matter. Find out why the Kaandorian vicers invade. Humans here don’t take to ‘em kindly so you best find out right away. Muriel, draft up strategic plans. I wan’t all of this ready within the next few days.’

Muriel bowed to her, ‘Right away, m’lady.’

Isolde smiled at her, and walked towards her as Muriel exited the corridor. 

‘M’Lady, we must look into this matter as of now, but another has arisen—a matter of grave importance.’

She frowned, looking towards Isolde, ‘What is it?’

‘The Triad. Reports are in from Dek that they came along with the vicers.’

Theren’s eyes widened, ‘You must be kidding me.’

***

‘There, you see?’  The old, fat man said, bent over the table working on the massive half-skinned beast that lay dead.

‘Yes father, that’s the precision of an actual butcher.’ Lothar said, smirking.

Keran Rolan—the lord of Loazer—looked towards his son Lothar with a deep frown.

‘Heed not in calling me a butcher you foul bastard!’ 

His father took pleasure in calling him a bastard, even though he wasn’t one, but was his youngest born child. ‘Before I dethroned my uncle Georgon, I was a bloody butcher, selling meat off of a poor man’s shop, abandoned by my family. Now I am the Lord of Loazer,’ he said, looking up and waving his arms like a king, ‘the Great fekhin West of Erhin.The ruling kingdom of this planet. The last thing I wish to be called is a miserable bloody butcher.'

'Yes, father. You were, once, a miserable bloody butcher.'

Keran slapped his son across his pale yellow cheek. Lothar was never one of Keran’s favourite children.

‘You're too liberal with that bastard tongue of yours, Lothar.' Lothar would always feel indignant when he would be called a bastard. Keran picked up a goblet of wine kept at the corner of the rickety wooden table. He took a sip of his wine and relaxed. Lothar, on the other hand, was frowning with his mouth slightly opened, his left cheek now painted red with the mark of Keran's hand in red.

He took a moment to think and said, ‘Son, do not let me unravel myself into such an idiot. Do not be so insolent. I am teaching you how to butcher, because this, this is what I was banished to by my family. My uncle Georgon ruled Loazer as a drunk pig. Before you all came along, I lived like the beggar this one’s son probably is,’ Keran said, pointing at the local butcher who stood in the corner of the room, watching. He nervously shifted around. 

Lothar looked towards the glass of wine kept in the corner of the table, then looked at his father's belly. He then looked him in the eye and smiled. 

'Oh don't call me a bloody pig,’ Keran said, with a hearty laugh, ‘Georgon was a fekhin pig. I, on the other hand, am the man who unravelled him into his true form. I took everything from that son of a bastard. Everyone worshipped me like I was a bloody god. And I loved it. Do you understand, the power that even a butcher can have, with a little bit of luck?’

Lothar slowly nodded, eyes lost staring somewhere into the ground, deep in thought. He began to consider what his father had to say. 

                                         ***

The air in the room felt melancholic. The small room felt claustrophobic as the green walls closed in on Theren and ten other men, two being Muriel and Isolde. Little light shone through a small window, each man illuminated more than the dimly lit objects.

 This meeting was taking place in a house owned by one of Theren’s spies, namely Shen. It was at the break of dusk. Aside from these ten men, absolutely no one knew of Theren’s operations. Dek, the only man from Earth in all of Erhin, stepped up to speak. ‘We spotted two hundred spy vicers on the coast of Kais. They proceeded to move someplace; I did not follow but recently we located many of them, by their scar trademark, in brothels all around Unith.’ He said.

‘Should we… take care of it?’ The short Muriel asked.

‘How do you propose to kill two hundred vicers when they clearly out-strength any soldier in Kenneth?’ Theren asked, feeling irritated. The walls were starting to make her feel more and more claustrophobic. She looked at Shen in a discerned manner.

‘We know where to find them.’ He said.

She looked at the walls more and more; it felt as if the room was getting smaller and smaller. 

‘In the plain sight of men in the brothels you propose we kill them? And if the whore is an only witness, you propose we kill her, an innocent, along with them in the process? Killing two hundred men is not an option.’ She said. 

The room grew in on her further as she frowned. She looked at Shen again. 

‘We could capture them.’ Isolde said.

‘Unith’s law system is not devised very well, er, no offence meant M’Lady, but it would not show a spec of difference if one or a hundred or two hundred were gradually kidnapped. And, of course, these Kaandorian slave vicers, so vulgar and lazy, they probably don’t even know why they are here.’ Muriel cheekily said.

‘Uh, well, uh, don’t mean to be rude but Kaandorian vicers are the most well trained of the lot—’ Dek said, getting interrupted as Theren silenced him. 

‘Sir Muriel, whether in Unith or Kenneth or anywhere, in fact, a mass kidnap like this is one that we can not carry forth.’

‘Muriel is not wrong My Lady. A gradual capture of all these people would not be a difficult thing. In Unith especially.’ Dek said. There was a moment of silence as the talk diminished. 

The walls stopped closing in on her so much as she moved back subtly while lowering her head to think about the matter. 

‘Capture one of them first.’ Theren said. 

‘What?’ Said Muriel, as if he was going to disapprove this. 

‘Capture one of them first.’ Isolde also looked like he didn’t wanted to approve this, but instead he just asked, ‘Why one, m’lady?’ 

‘We can capture one, question him and find out where the rest are.’

Isolde looked to the short man, and they both understood her stand on this. Jumping to a conclusion and capturing all of them out in the open may not have been very sagacious. 

‘Very well. As you say m’lady.’ Muriel said. He nodded and walked out of the room. Isolde followed and then the rest. And then Theren left the room as soon as it started to close in on her again.

Strange walls, these are. 

***

Rothrin, the oldest child of Lord Keran Rolan, walked into the butcher’s room. He, too, was fair skinned, tallest of all the brothers, and he was thirty years old. 

The tiny room had strings of meat and full cows and whatnot hanging on the walls. At a corner of the room stood a butcher, carefully watching Keran and Lothar. 

Rothrin had a green sheath on his belt, made out of the finest leather in Loazer. He felt like unsheathing his sword and cutting up that full cow hanging on the wall opposite to his father.

He walked into the room and found his brother and father slicing up a massive deer—brown fur lying all over the place. He eyed the deer and remembered everything he’d learned from his father, even though he hadn’t practiced butchery in a while. It was a sign of manhood in their family—to be taught how to cut the deer by their father. And that was why he felt surprised that his father was already teaching Lothar.

Firstly, skin it. Use the long, narrow, but sharpest blade. Once done, precisely cut off the bones using a smaller knife. Split the dear in half and let the blood leak. Marinate it with a little bit of salt, Unithian seasoning is said to be the best, even the ones found at the general markets. Cook it over a fire half my size, and you’ve got a feast, he thought, eyeing the deer with an appetising look.

 His father had already taught him how to butcher. In fact, he’d already taught Nathanial as well, the middle brother out of the three. Lothar turned around, ‘Oh, brother, as you can see, father is teaching me his old ways.’ He said. 

His father casually picked up his goblet of wine and took another sip. Lothar stood smirking. His short hair spiked as usual. Always complemented his smirk—the rogue look.

‘Father?’ Rothrin said. He turned around with a brow raised. 

‘Yes, Rothrin?’ 

‘I’ve looked into the reports, and we've three incidents to discuss.’

‘Oh good, please for Krilin’s sake get me out of this wretched room.’

Lothar—like his brother—had a green coloured sheath on his waist. He unsheathed his sword. It had the mark of a snake, unlike any other Rolan’s sword. It had the head of a snake on the tip, and the handle was green in colour. It was scaled and had jagged, burnt edges. It had seen fire, war, and blood many times before falling into the hands of Lothar. 

He held it out and began to cut the bones of the deer out, as Keran and Rothrin watched in confusion.

‘What in Krilin’s sake are you doing?’ Keran asked.

‘Father, I’m deboning the deer.’ He said, with his thin eyebrows tilted upwards as if he were expecting disapproval. 

‘No, Lothar. This is not the scrupulous way. You must use a shorter blade, for precision. The long blade is only used to separate the skin from the meat.’ His older brother advised him. 

Lord Rolan stood still and watched his two sons tussle, eyebrow raised.

‘I use whichever bloody blade I want, brother.’  He said in an acrimonious tone of voice.

Keran turned around and muttered a few curses under his breath, and Rothrin walked off. He did not like being disrespected. 

Rothrin and Keran were walking right out of the Butcher’s room and unto the hall just opposite Nathanial’s chamber. Lothar could hear his father and elder brother speaking, though he could only hear a few of the words coming out of his father’s mouth. He faintly heard him say, ‘Either way, Rothrin, your love for him or Arabella’s, or mine, in fact, does not change the fact that he is the worst son a Lord could’a asked for.’ 

Bickering away to glory, isn’t he? Lothar thought. 

Keran stopped walking, and a second later, Rothrin did the same. Lord Rolan turned around towards his younger son, ‘The feast will be served in a twenty-fourth,’ he said. A twenty-fourth meant a half hour. ‘You may come if you like, bastard.’ His father and older brother turned back around and walked towards the hall. 

Lothar stood there, hopeless, in the butcher’s room. In a fit, he pressed his lower teeth against his uppers and stiffened his neck. He lowered his eyebrows and began to let anger pent up inside him. He screamed in rage, his cheeks red for he stiffened his face completely in anger. He was red—no control of his temperament whatsoever. His father could not care, and neither did Rothrin. They were used to the boy’s sulking. 

                                                             ***