The General’s family was made to watch, shackled and kneeling in front of the black platform upon which Byrun was chained. The taut silver metal chains extended from a thin tall arc on the platform, their ends secured into Byrun’s flesh through hooks that pierced his limbs and wings.
The Executioner began at the feathered wings, severing them at the base. He then moved to the feet, cutting at the ankles. The hands followed. Once the General was hanging only by the hook embedded through his head, the executioner delivered the final blow to his neck.
From start to finish, through the pain and the humiliation, Byrun was silent.
Tyra looked away from the blatant injustice, but her gaze landed on something not any less unpleasant.
Quinn bowed his head in greeting. “Your Highness.” His bearing was relaxed, expression pleased at the fruit of his labor.
Tyra was determined to ignore him. She pivoted away, paused, then turned back, a question that had been nagging at her finally finding relief. “Why did you marry Ilai?” she asked.
From the very beginning, Quinn had never hesitated when revealing Byrun’s ‘betrayal’. He yearned for his downfall with all his heart, that much was clear.
So clear, in fact, Tyra knew the answer to her own question the moment she’d asked it.
There was a momentary stiffness in Quinn’s languid demeanor. He looked at Ilai’s distant figure—disheveled and trembling. On her knees.
As if aware of his gaze, Ilai's eyes snapped to the tiered seatings of the cavea. Hatred spilled from her pupils, enough to fill the arena.
Quinn's brows drew closer.
“They’re all rotten, Your Highness,” he said as he turned to Tyra. “Someone had to bring them to justice.”
- Chapter Twelve ‘Severed Wings’, The Tale of Arrogance
Quinn.
The name birthed a strange emotion in Ell’s chest. Something warm and suffocating. Something that belonged to Ilai.
Ell wanted to step away from this husband and the dissonance of emotion he brought with him, but Ilai wanted something different. “See them out and bring him in,” Ell instructed Klarn despite her inner protests.
She'd missed the timing to disable Impersonator. If she didn't find a way around using the skill without having it dictate her moves, she might be doomed to Ilai's original ending.
Tahu gave Ell's knees a tight hug before waving goodbye and leaving with Versan and Klarn.
Ell settled herself back on the swing, outwardly relaxed—inwardly cursing.
In fact, meeting this husband was not too troublesome if one was to ignore the fact that he’d destroy her life in a month’s time.
Thanks to Quinn gaining a passive Reader Blessing a month before their wedding, the married couple did not touch a hair on each other.
Ilai had never allowed it.
The princess had been desperate to hide her thoughts, but not desperate enough to call off the matrimony. Quinn had been courting her for a year prior, and though she’d grown fond of him, she didn’t trust him with her secrets just yet.
When it had been made clear that the wedding would only take place if Quinn agreed he would not have physical contact with Ilai until she was comfortable with him reading her mind, Quinn had agreed with little reluctance. Relief, even.
Ilai had expected his reaction.
She had known he wanted the marriage for the foot it would gain him in court, that he held little affection for her in lieu of her infamous repute. But she had believed, in time, she would entrust him with her true thoughts and covert designs, and he’d see her for who she was.
Little did she know her secrets paled in comparison to his own.
Softs thuds came from the pathway to the gardens.
Impersonator kept Ell in her reclined position, eyes closed at ease as Klarn and Quinn drew close. Only she knew of the thundering of her heart.
The newcomers settled into silence. Ell could feel the presence of one as they moved behind her, and the other as they sat opposite to her where Versan had been earlier. It was not too hard to guess who was who.
“I’m tired, keep it short,” Ell addressed her new husband.
Wind blew stray strands across Ell’s face.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you yesterday. You must have been frightened,” Quinn spoke in a low soothing tone. A Reader was not allowed into a temple even if they wore restrictive artifacts to constrain their ability.
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Ell’s eyes parted lazily. “Frightened?” She quirked an eyebrow as she tugged unruly black hair behind her ears. “Frightened by what?”
The man, wrapped in dark blue robes from chin to heel, leaned forward, face etched with worry, but eyes devoid of concern.
He extended a hesitant hand then let it fall onto his knees in feigned helplessness. “That crude scum. Not only did he attempt to hurt you, but you had to see him so—” he deliberated the right adjective as not beckon unpleasant memories, “—wretched.”
Ell smiled coldly. She leaned forward, mimicking his posture as she drew close. “Quinn. The one to dare take this Princess down has not yet been born.”
Quinn frowned in confusion. “What do you…?”
‘Ilai’ scoffed at his oblivious act but indulged him. “Yesterday’s play, I had penned myself. I've been wanting to get rid of that father and son for a long time.”
Ell watched his reaction carefully. He returned her gaze steadily, a hint of brown in the black of his irises.
Quinn smiled.
“You did well. They always tried to come between us; to shake our affections for each other. They had it coming,” he said, tone unwavering.
‘Ilai’ laughed lightly. “That’s not why I killed them.”
Quinn was unshaken. “I believe in your judgement.”
“So you don’t want to know why?”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
Only a fool would believe his loving husband act. Ilai surely hadn’t. But she had thought little of his indifference, until the ramifications withered her into an empty husk.
"Good." ‘Ilai’ rose from her seat, head throbbing with yesterday’s excitement and today’s dullness. Her hand lifted in the air, ready to wave him away. “You—”
[Impersonator Deactivated]
The cold mechanical sound echoed in Ell’s head. She lowered herself back into the soft seat.
“Quinn,” she called his name, calm as she tore through his facade of righteousness. “That pair feasted on and traded Blessed flesh and blood. I did what had to be done.”
Ever since he stepped into the garden, Quinn had been composed, each expression deliberate. But now, his face donned a semblance of truth, eyes widening. An involuntary twitch overtook his left cheek as he looked away.
When reading The Tale of Arrogance, Ell had always had the same impression of Quinn: a hypocritical bastard who thought himself a hero. He had schemed his way into the General’s mansion, framed the man who’d welcomed him into his house, betrayed the woman who had trusted him, yet always held himself in high regard.
He believed they were villains. He believed himself a hero.
“Klarn, see him out.”
Ell didn’t believe he would back down on his plans if she proved Ilai was a good person. Those who believed themselves to be of superior morality, always found a way to vilify those they despised.
Quinn stood slowly, nails digging into his palm. His lips parted then hastily closed as a dry croak escaped. He cleared his throat and, finally, met her eyes.
“Next time, don’t dirty your hands dealing with their likes. If you let me know, I’ll clean them up for you.” Ever the perfect husband, he donned a reassuring smile, bowing with a hand to his heart in a tired display of sincerity.
Resting an elbow on the handrest, Ell supported her cheek with a loose fist. She hummed softly, neither in agreement nor in rejection.
“The chessboard is still as you left it. When you have time, we should finish our game.” He dipped his head in farewell, leaving with Klarn. Ell’s gaze followed him until he was out of sight.
She reached a hand to her shoulder, kneading gently.
Quinn must die.
Ell had contemplated ending his life there and then. With the skill of a Puppeteer, and within the confines of the General’s mansion where only select protective artifacts worked, it was easy to make him take his own life. Quick and clean.
But she had to get rid of the ‘evidence’ of the General’s treason first—the unholylander. The question was how to find them.
Summoned by a thought, a panel of her current stats appeared.
[Deviation Points | 0103]
[Plot Deviation | 3.91%]
[Integration | 005]
The hand comfortingly massaging the spot where Glutton usually clung paused.
The DVPs that had been on the rise yesterday, now cooled their ascent, numbers crawling up slowly. The plot deviation had risen by 0.01%, a pathetic figure Ell attributed to Quinn’s discovery of Ilai’s motivations—something he could have known with a simple inquiry.
But he didn’t want the truth; he wanted a villain.
Her gaze drifted to the Integration value. The benefits of increasing it were tied to Checkpoints, but the latter was vague and unpredictable.
Given, increasing the Integration value was not too hard; it rose whenever Ell gained a deeper understanding of the world and people around her. At least, that’s what she had observed.
Regardless, if Ell had to start somewhere, she’d rather increase the—
“Your Highness." Ell had been too engrossed in her thoughts to notice Klarn approach. "The Emerald Gardens are hosting the Storyteller this evening. Shall I prepare your outerwear?"
Ell pulled her robes tighter around her. "Another time. I'm tired," she said as she passed the attendant.
A hand clamped on her shoulder and pushed her against the ground. Another hand nailed her face in the dirt.
"You dare possess the princess?" Klarn's tone was menacing.
It was hard to breathe.
"Your death will be painful."
[Puppeteer Activated]
Ell rolled away as Klarn's grip loosened. She gasped for air.
The attendant watched her with a disgusted scowl. "Unholy scum," she spat.
'System,' Ell frantically called in her mind as she controlled Klarn to shut her mouth. 'Can Puppeteer control thoughts or memories?'
'No.'
I'm screwed. Ell dug her thumbnail into her forefinger. Her eyes caught onto the glow above Klarn's head, and she froze.
Three. Her Favorability was a three.
That meant Ilai hated her to death. And probably for good reason.
So... Ell did not have to feel guilty killing her, right?
Grass and soil rolled off as Ell trembled to a stand. "I didn't want to do this." Klarn frowned as her own hands wrapped around her throat. The force they exerted increased by the second until her face became a shade of blue.
Ell looked away.
She didn't have enough DVPs to strangle her to death. She had to break Klarn's neck.
A shadow fell over, and cold metal coiled around Ell's neck.
[Interference Detected | Puppeteer Deactivated]
Ell stared blankly at Selin as Klarn's painful gasps filled her ears.
The guard wore a novel expression, one Ilai had only ever seen once before.
Pure wrath.