Scene XIII: Postlude, The Interruption
Corax Asylum, Togaduine
The 1st Day of the 4th Moon, 1536 P.V.
Nicolas was fuming. He had been quite happy holding Allyra and tricking her into subconsciously believing all sorts of revelations as she slept, whilst sneaking the odd fondle, when Ghorab arrived with an urgent letter. The letter read,
‘Sir,
Apologies. You must return to Corax immediately. Urgent. Apologies. Sorry.
Ever Loyal,
Chives.’
Nicolas knew that Chives would not dare disturb him unless the matter was of the utmost importance. He did not want to leave Allyra alone on The Sombre due to the sausage fest in the Clachdhu Beacon. He therefore quickly scribbled a note to Bigglesworth, who had already received his first job of the impending new day which involved a visit to Sapari. Nicolas’s letter read,
‘Commodore,
Once the pirate alarm is raised, check on our bride. She is aboard The Sombre.
N.’
Ghorab took the letter and made haste with it, and Nicolas travelled by his transport raven, Ghorab the Second, an innovative and long-considered name, directly to Corax. He spent the speedy journey lamenting leaving Allyra and winding himself up over the annoyance of the interruption. By the time he arrived and ‘de-feathered,’ as he called it, Nicolas was in a royal stonk of a mood.
Chives was waiting at the door of the main entrance,
‘Sir, I am so sorry, but he would not wait. He says he must speak with you right this second.’
Nicolas fiddled with the hole in his pants,
‘I want my new suit fetched forthwith.’
‘Very good, Sir. I have left him in your office.’
‘Who exactly have you left alone in my private office, Chives?’
‘Your son, Sir.’
Nicolas rolled his eyes and sighed,
‘What does he want?’
Chives fidgeted awkwardly,
‘I will have your suit collected immediately, Sir.’
‘Fine,’ Nicolas snapped, ‘I will find out myself.’
Nicolas threw open the office door to find Behmor sitting on HIS chair.
‘Son, move!’ Nicolas said.
Behmor stood and walked around the other side of the desk and sat down in the smaller chair, which strained and moaned under his weight.
Nicolas eyeballed Behmor as he marched, head held high, to his own chair, and threw himself down.
‘Something amiss father?’ Behmor asked.
‘Yes, something is amiss. I was busy attending to important errands, and I got summoned like a dog back here because you got the urge to invade my chair.’
‘No father, I needed a little chat regarding legal matters and current events.’
‘Current events don’t interest me, Behmor, I have told you this before. I prefer raisins.’
Behmor laid back in the chair and performed a half-smile,
‘Is there anything you want to tell me, father?’
‘If I wanted to tell you something, I would summon you, not the other way around.’
‘Then I shall get to the point, you cannot marry the third Immoless so end it now.’
Nicolas’s eyes glowed red, he lowered his gaze, then breathed out for far longer than necessary,
‘Chives told you, didn’t he?’
Behmor leaned forward,
‘It doesn’t matter who told me or how I found out, this must stop.’
‘No,’ Nicolas replied, ‘you wouldn’t care if it was your uncle, would you?’
‘Theaten is easier to manage and is built very differently to you.’
‘So, it is alright for Robert, but not for me?’
‘You are unpredictable, and unmanageable, and his name is Theaten.’
Nicolas swung on his chair,
‘His name is Robert.’
‘You see, this is what I mean. Unmanageable.’
Nicolas was not getting his own way and the sorrow filled expression arrived of its own accord,
‘You just want your poor fathers to be lonely! You don’t care that our hearts will break.’
Behmor raised an eyebrow,
‘Don’t bother, father.’
Nicolas immediately changed his expression from sadness to an evil smirk,
‘Sulphur rain is such a harsh thing. Terrible when it beats down in Irkalla. Worse if a rock hit Baal.’
‘And don’t threaten me!’
‘I don’t make threats. That was a promise.’
Behmor rubbed his chin,
‘Whatever you are up to, it stops now.’
Nicolas quickly changed the subject,
‘On another matter, find out who Lucien Nerison is.’
Behmor sighed heavily, and pulled a mirror from his jacket pocket,
‘Baal. Baal, I know you are listening!’
‘Yes,’ Baal replied.
‘Look up Lucien Nerison for me, find out anything that may be relevant to my father’s newest obsession, the third Immoless.’
‘Give me two minutes,’ Baal said, then smoke filled the glass.
Nicolas glared at Behmor. Behmor glared at Nicolas,
‘Father, end it. These poor women go through enough, a necessary evil, but I see no benefit in making her life even more miserable, do you? She has whatever you and your good selves plan on putting her through, and then Irkalla to look forward to.’
Nicolas sneered,
‘Don’t get sentimental on me, Behmor. I know what you get up to with your tributes, so don’t play innocent. Hot pokers. Stretching racks. Scarification. I wonder if Baal knows. How would your best friend and mentor feel if he knew your proclivities?’
Behmor rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head,
‘Ridiculous.’
‘Sweetie,’ Baal muttered as the smoke cleared in the mirror, ‘Lucien Nerison asked for Allyra’s hand in marriage in 1532 and her father denied his request on the grounds of it conflicting with her position as Immoless.’
‘See father, nothing to worry about,’ Behmor said. He looked from the mirror to Nicolas who’s eyes were fully white. Drool and blood dripped from his mouth, and he growled in five furious voices continuously. The growl went on for two minutes, then Behmor interrupted,
‘I see you have taken the news that someone I have forbidden you from pursuing opted not to marry a different man four years ago with the maturity and sense I expected of you, father.’
Curtain Fall
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