~ Directed Rage ~
To his credit, Vargon listened to Stefano’s narration of the evening’s events without interjection. However, once his chylde had finished, he sat forward on the settee. Odessa remained silent as she sat beside him.
“While you have covered facts well, I find details greatly lacking. I hope you had no immediate plans, I intend to have my questions answered. This night.”
“Of course, Sire. I am just going to refresh my glass.”
“I’ll get it, love.” Gerik offered. He took everyone’s empty glass and headed for the bar.
“Bourbon for me, my heart. And not house. I need the alcohol.”
Gerik giggled. “Yes, Stefano.”
Vargon gestured at Viktor, who was still quiet, barely breathing. “He has been like this for how long?”
“Less than an hour. Gerik and I had barely finished talking about the balcony doors when you walked in.”
“Fine, then. If it should ever go beyond two hours, you will need to wake him, which is done by slowly dropping ice water onto his hands. First left, then right, and keep alternating, every few moments. Be certain the water is bitter cold and you start with his left hand.”
“What if he still doesn’t stir?”
“He will. Of this I am positive.” He accepted his glass from Gerik, took a sip, then turned his attention back on Stefano. “Now then, you are saying a tree came through the doors?”
“No sir. A large tree limb came through the one, shattering the glass while it knocked the other free of its hinges. This is why that door is secured with my harp.”
“Gerik, I must commend you on your astute thinking, and Stefano, I am quite pleased with your ability to maintain emotions when dealing with the damage, not to mention the current placement of the harp.”
Gerik bowed his head in gratitude while the other responded verbally. “Thank you. I will admit my temper flared initially, but Gerik’s reasoning was sound. To object would have been ludicrous.”
“Agreed, but back to the doors. I’m assuming Gerik, you removed the tree limb?”
“Yes, Lord Vargon. It was required in order to mend the doors at all. I only tossed it off the balcony; I imagine it will need proper disposal when the weather clears.”
“I never knew you to be the muscular sort, young one. Not saying you are lazy, just physically inclined would not be my first thoughts of you.”
“No offense taken, sir. I honestly didn’t think about what strength it might entail. Stefano had given instructions and as his chylde, I needed to carry them out. Debris also covered the floor; it needed attended. Since stained glass is notoriously thick, I had Viktor’s ‘First Attendant’ remove all the pieces while I tended to the door. I trust I made the right decisions.”
“You did, indeed. Well decided and acted upon. Did young Argest have any suggestions or thoughts regarding Viktor?”
“No, my lord. He did ask we let him know if Viktor’s trance lingered more than a couple of hours.”
“Viktor made a solid choice in him, then.” Vargon’s eyes drifted to the mage. “It appears my friend’s countenance grows more like himself and less … ancient.” He turned his attention back to Stefano. “The shattered glass brings us to our third mystery. Jence’s injury. But I wish to back that up, to his behavior prior to the hall exploding.”
“In that case, Sire, your questions will be best answered by my chylde, as he was the one present.”
“Well then,” Vargon took a sip of his drink as his gaze swung to Gerik. “I’m afraid you shall remain under my observation glass for a while longer.”
“It is my honor, Grandsire.”
“Grandsire?” Vargon’s eyebrow shot up in query. Stefano coughed and sputtered, trying not to spray his surroundings with bourbon.
“It is not a term kindred use. Nor is it a term I appreciate. It comes from the muritor world and denotes age, and therefore inappropriate for me.”
Stefano butted in. “We have not yet discussed that word, Sire. In truth, I have just begun instructing what words or phrases are to be stricken from his vocabulary.”
“Calm yourself, chylde. I am not angry. And you should remember from your own instruction that even if I were upset, protocol demands I would leave it to you to address it. It would not be my place to correct your chylde. More so now that you are Prince.”
“I remember, sir. I should have not answered in haste.”
“Good.” He turned to his wife. “Dessa, love, do you need your drink refreshed? Is it a great discomfort to sit through my inquisition?”
Odessa smiled up at him, her eyes glowing with her devotion. “Of course not, dearest one. It is never uncomfortable being with you. You are my sire, you possess my heart. Though I would like a house sherry.”
“Stefano, get your sister her drink. I have more questions for your young one.”
“Yes, Sire.” Stefano headed for the bar.
“Now then, young Gerik, you say Jence was behaving poorly from the start?”
“Yes, my lord. Sire had just gone for a swim when Jence asked to see the grounds. He showed great interest in the stables. I assumed it was because of his work with animals.” He paused to sip his blood wyne. Should have followed Stef’s example and had alcohol. We had toured the stables, Jence had many questions and compliments on our steeds. He seemed genuinely interested. It was when we stepped into the hay store room that he … he attacked me. I know of no other word for it. His hands were on me, his lips were on me. He growled like one of his own feral patients.”
“And you fended him off and returned to the hall.”
“Not at first, my lord. It took a bit of maneuvering to get free from his clutches.” Gerik stopped, deciding whether to go further. Vargon noticed the pause and leaned forward further.
“There is more. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I would rather not…”
“Prince. Speak to this chylde.”
Gerik jumped in before Stefano could answer. “He became more aggressive. It wasn’t until… that is, I didn’t feel truly threatened until he …” He took a breath. “…he shoved a hand into my trousers.”
“He WHAT?” Like a volcano, Mount Stefano erupted, crushing his glass in his hands. Bourbon splashed around them, Odessa wiped some from her cheek, which of course triggered hurricane Vargon.
“I will not tolerate such behavior. You will watch yourself around my wife…”
Odessa lightly placed her hand on his arm. “My love, it was not intended.” She licked the alcohol from her index finger. “In fact, the taste is more pleasant than I would have thought, for bourbon.” She held her hand up and winked at her husband. “Would you like to taste?”
Vargon stopped cold. His transformation took just a few seconds. The anger slipped away, his eyes shone, and he smiled. He kissed her fingers. “I shall save that pleasure for later this night.” He turned to Stefano. “My apologies, Lord Prince. We may continue when you are ready.” He bowed his head slightly and sat beside Odessa.
Stefano blinked, then did it again. I cannot have seen what I just saw. Not only did he defer for his wife, he submitted to my authority as Prince. He bowed. “My sincerest pardons, my Lord Vargon. Lady Odessa, my sister in blood, would you like to try a glass of bourbon? I have need to . . replace my glass. Not to mention wash.”
“No, Stefano. My sherry is enough.”
Vargon waved a hand at Stefano.” Go wash then. I have more questions for your chylde.” He leaned back and relaxed, smiling at Gerik. “You need not give any more details, young one. I have a clear picture of your guest’s actions. This would be the point when you returned to the hall?”
“Yes, my lord. I tried to order him from the house; he said I wasn’t Prince and couldn’t order him. Stefano was just entering from upstairs and came to my rescue at that point. He reminded Jence who was Prince, and instructed him to leave. That is when all of Hades walked i
n.”
“The remainder I know. The doors, the glass, Viktor’s expense at healing Jence.” He looked over as Stefano stepped up with a fresh glass of bourbon. “It seems your next decision, my Prince, would be what to do with the wounded one upstairs - once he is back on his feet.”
Their conversation was interrupted by an anguished cry outside the front doors. A moment later, both doors swung open, admitting a large, muscular grey-black wolven wearing brown trousers, ripped short at the knee. The shreds of a shirt hung from him like a vest. He looked around the room slowly before speaking.
“A party, and I wasn't invited?” He strode forward confidently, curling his upper lip and bearing canines that glistened with saliva. He stopped half-way across the room and locked his gaze on Vargon, who returned the cold, spiteful stare. If the wolven had been feline-natured, he would have purred in pleasure. “And I cannot express how pleased I am to find you here.”
Vargon growled softly, though the sound seemed to fill the room.
“Draxis.”