Born a Monster

I screamed like a wild animal thrown in the bonfire. Those of you paying attention already know, all of my uses per day of Boil, Boil were already expended.

I took all twelve of that fire damage, as the new skin under my scales buckled and blistered and leaked puss. I rolled away, to extinguish the fires in my clothing that hadn’t ignited.

I came up with my shield to block... nothing. She was gone, as though she had never existed.

“How the seven hells?” I asked.

The maido were all screaming and wailing, presumably at each other. I doubt any of us understood them.

Kismet had a new curved shortsword, of the type the Daurians prefer for indoor use. Madonna had a new crossbow, also in evidence. Gamilla had some kind of weird double-bent-blade spear thingie.

Was I the only one without new weapons? How had THAT happened?

“Damn it all!” Madonna cursed. “I wanted to test this on something living.”

.....

“How did she get out without us seeing her?” Kismet asked.

I looked. “The windows up near the roof.”

Kismet squinted. “Maybe if you were attacked by the world’s skinniest man.”

“It was a woman.” I said.

She put her sword into a scabbard, hooked the scabbard onto her belt. “Okay, lift me up.”

I did what I could.

“Hold me steady!” she hissed.

“It’s not easy, I still have an injured midsection.” I said.

“Don’t you DARE turn that around on me! You. Deserved. That. Kick. And this one... AUGH! What was that?”

“That was me dodging rather than holding you.”

“Oh, it’s on now.” She said, just as the guards began barreling into the room.

The maido huddled in a corner away from the rest of us, hiding behind their mako.

The guards had weapons that weren’t new, but were meticulously kept sharp and well-maintained. They made demands in languages I didn’t know, and responded poorly when I attempted to ask them how we could help.

For the most part, we ended up sitting against the back wall, Gamilla and Madonna answering questions and Kismet and I looking stupid.

“This isn’t over.” Kismet told me.

I shrugged. “Other priorities right now.”

By the time the guards left, we were all ready for bed. My uninvited guest had flipped several mats and left the blankets in general disorder.

“No, great sir! What are you doing?” Maido Imiji asked.

“Putting the room back in order so I can sleep?”

“You. Out.” Mako Hajima ordered. The three of them descended on the room, and had it in order in under a minute. She then led the maido in a procession past me, none of them even glancing at me.

“Ambassador, perhaps you shouldn’t go in tomorrow. Your face...”

“Gamilla, I’m tired. It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow will wait until tomorrow.”

“But...” She said some words to the mako, who answered pleasantly.

I woke briefly, while the two maido worked together to get some manner of stinging mustard-like sauce under my scales to treat the burned skin. I won’t say they got every last bit of it, but it was enough to satisfy my System that the wound had been treated.

Then, so sorry, they gently wrapped my head and neck in bandages, so that I couldn’t open my jaws. I ended up getting back to sleep that night, but only after I thrust my claws through the bandages into my nostrils so that I could breathe easier.

I woke with 20/40 health, and the [Lightly Wounded: Burned (treated)] condition, and a hunger that would have made nearby horses nervous. I tried to untie the bandages around my mouth, but Mako Hajima struck my hands with her fan whenever I moved my hands near them.

“She says you are lucky to be alive and, so sorry, will need to see a physician before removing those.”

I made gestures to mouth and stomach, just accepting the blows for the former.

“Ah, yes. We have ordered broth and a straw. So sorry, but until your bandages come off you will be on a strict diet.”

I had some choice words about that, but lacked the linguistic skill to properly translate them. Not that I could pronounce them properly with my mouth held shut like it was.

“Ambassador, perhaps you should put off today’s normal activities? Give yourself an extra day? Just nod your head.”

I asked.

“Bwah!” she said, taking a step back, and raising a handkerchief to her nose, which was starting to bleed. “Please do NOT do that!”

And then she muttered something about gods blessing mutton heads; although I had an idea what she was actually saying, she was right – even when I didn’t intend it, there were sometimes side effects of using my mind-speech on her.

Kismet had a tolerance, and Madonna took to it like an eel to water, but I had to be careful around Gamilla. I had some success when I tried to whisper at her, but sometimes I just forgot.

“So sorry, honored sir, but you MUST see a doctor.” Maido Ijimi insisted.

Well, the guards, once we got to them, had other ideas. They escorted me to a room in the admiral’s basement, where the sorts of people who are better at asking questions with thumbscrews and dental implements asked me questions without either.

They viciously cut my bandages off, and reacted in horror when I tried to explain that I didn’t speak their languages yet. They called in a guard.

“You will cease pretending you have difficulties speaking civilized languages.”

“I’m not pretending. I am a Truthspeaker, and cannot lie to you.”

“Why was one of the shadow slayers investigating your room?”

“I don’t know, but it seemed like she was looking for something.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing physical; your guards have been most thorough in searching our belongings.”

“What non-physical things are you hiding?”

“I am the ambassador from a nation that is smaller than some of your provinces; could you be more specific?”

“So sorry, but he is going to strike you now.” And he did; it continually amazes me how much pain you can take without damage.

He began speaking to me softly, slowly, leaning over me to remind me how much larger than me he was.

I’ve Seen This Before didn’t even activate. I burst out laughing, and gently shoved on his chest.

“So sorry, but he is NOT scary.”

“You do not want me to tell him that; he will BECOME scary.”

I slammed my hand on the table, pulled my skinning knife from my inventory. “Tell him to start at the thumb where the talon breaks the skin. Right here.”

He spoke softly to the thuggish one, who exhaled, and picked my knife up to examine it.

“He says your knife is very dull.”

I shrugged. “I need to sharpen it. But this...” I pulled out my Flavian and set it on the table. “This is part of my secret shame.”

“He has a nephew who can help you re-forge that blade. He says nothing short of that will save it.”

“I would very much appreciate that; I am in his debt.”

“He says you can repay that easily. What might she have been looking for?”

I scratched an itchy patch on my neck. “Might she have been trying to plant evidence?”

It was their turn to laugh. “Had she planned that, you would now be dead. So, what else might she be looking for?”

I pulled the letters from my inventory, bound together with twine. “I would guess she wants to know what I’m doing here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to make a number of unreasonable requests, get laughed at in public, or cursed and belittled, or however else the admiral chooses to dismiss my requests.”

“What requests?”

Whatever, I began with the requests that weren’t secret.

We all had a huge laugh about that, and making up stories about who wanted that information and why. Lunch was plentiful, and there was a small glass of rice wine for each of us.

And only then did they release me to my normal guards, who escorted me to a medical hut.

I call it a hut, but it was massive. The roof was palm leaves, woven with herbs and ivies. It had no walls, and was filled with shelf-desk things.

“This is healing quickly.” She told me. “I will recommend ginseng extract with garlic powder. Twice a day for three days, and your skin should be as clear as a baby’s.”

She handed me the pills. “And, it should help clear up your chi.”

“Wait.” I said. “I can EAT things that improve my chi?”

“Every child knows this. What, are you only two years old?”

.....

I chuckled. “I am a Truthspeaker, and cannot lie to you.”

Yes, those are the words he used. Not Shadow-that-Slays, but Slayer-of-Shadows, the Daurian term for adventurers (well, those who go out and slay monsters for the common good; I’m not sure the position directly translates).