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“You seriously want to go in here?” Dilandau didn’t even bother trying to keep his voice from sounding incredulous as he eyed the rather gaudily coloured tent covered in what he supposed were supposed to be mysterious looking symbols. At least they would be mysterious for anyone who hadn’t spent the majority of their life around the Madoushi. Glancing over his shoulder at Shesta who was eagerly whispering something to Guimel, the two somehow managing to actually communicate despite the impressive amount of sugared floss they’d both stuffed into their mouths. Honestly, it looked like the pair of them were busy savaging psychedelic sheep.
Irritably, he poked a shimmering gold symbol which while looking elegant and ornate actually meant “soup”. As far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t setting the bar overly high, but a promise was a promise. He’d foolishly made the pronouncement this morning during prep that any Dragonslayer who performed flawlessly would be able to spend the day doing whatever they wanted. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, after all, here they were with a free day to explore the Capital during the Fortunam Magnam festival.
Dilandau had of course expected that they’d want to look at the new and experimental guymelef series they’d heard rumours of, or speak to some of the weapon smiths lining the streets and maybe try out their wares. Instead, Dallet and Viole had raced off to the nearest brothel with little more than a hasty call to not wait for them. Thank the Emperor that they hadn’t demanded that the rest of the team join them. The very idea of entering into such an establishment, let alone paying someone to be intimate with him made his skin crawl… speaking of.
“Gatti, remind me to ensure that Dallet and Viole receive full medical checks when we get back to the Vione. The last thing I need is to explain to Folken why members of my team have venereal diseases… again.”
“Of course sir.” The second in command didn’t even twitch so much as an eyebrow at the order which was impressive considering he’d been present for the rather harrowing lecture from the Strategos about proper sexual decorum while on leave. Both had needed a strong drink after that ordeal.
“Are you ready to hear our fortunes sir?” Shesta asked in a voice which was far too chirpy, warning the captain that he’d likely ingested far too much sugar to be healthy.
“This reeks of desperate fraudulence.” Dilandau grumbled, glaring at several other random and inappropriate words painted on the side of the tent. Three, eggs, goat and onion…and those were just the symbols on the front flap. So far the combination didn’t inspire confidence in him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just watch some of the duels in the pits?” He always enjoyed watching those though few of his men cared for such bloody entertainment. It was their loss really. Hmm, maybe he’d compete this year. After all, he was already going to be doing demonstration duels for the Madoushi, at least this way he could have a little fun… and maybe get rid of the foul taste in his mouth that threatened to be left by this charlatan.
“You did promise sir.” Miguel murmured boldly into his ear, earning himself a warning look from the pale captain for his forwardness. Rather than backing off, the tall slayer grinned playfully. “It means the world to the men that you’re indulging us like this. Besides, I’ll make it up to you later with my request.”
“You’d damn well better.” Dilandau found himself grumbling under his breath as he cast a longing look at one of the weapon smiths. Dammit! The man was showing a sword to some captain from Iron Army…Even with the packed streets, he could see the fine quality of the blade from here and his fingers itched to hold it. That loser captain probably didn’t even know how to handle a real weapon. He should be the one the smith was sucking up to! But no, here he was, standing in front of some stupid tent covered in damn recipe instructions while two of his Dragonslayers argued about what to ask the charlatan inside.
“Let’s just go inside before someone see’s us.” He muttered, doing his best to ignore how his skin crawled as he grabbed onto the edge of the violet and gold curtain before stepping boldly inside. Used to following him without question, his men fell automatically in place behind him, quickly fanning out once they crossed the threshold.
It was a good thing that they gave each other space because Guimel and Ryuun immediately began retching as the team was hit hard by a nearly impenetrable wall of incense. The air was so thick with its cloying stench that it could actually be seen, drifting in a smoky haze across a fake velvet draped table. The two candles, which seemed to be the only light source for the tent flickered ominously, the flame struggling to find enough oxygen to remain lit.
“Why are my eyes burning?” Miguel ground out, covering his mouth and nose with his hand, trying to fend off the caustic smoke. “This can’t be safe!”
The handsome slayer was hardly even exaggerating as he struggled not to cough. Dilandau felt his own throat threaten to close up and each breath seared the sensitive lining of his nose, not to mention his lungs. In moments he began to feel almost light headed and mentally noted that there was likely more than one narcotic blended into the mix. Great, now he was going to be stoned as well as spoon fed drivel. Ugh, next time he was going to keep his damn mouth shut. Clearly this was all Gatti’s fault. He’d been the one to suggest bribing the men rather than simply delivering his usual threats should they fail to meet his expectations. Next time he was just going to punch all of them before a mission.
“Brilliant choice there guys.” Dilandau spared a quick glare at Shesta and Guimel, the former was currently slapping the latter’s back in an effort to restart his lungs. It didn’t seem to be working and Dilandau found himself almost hoping that the smallest slayer passed out so he’d have a reason to call this an attack and slaughter whoever was behind this foul tent.
“I kind of like it.” Shesta replied boldly in between backslaps, his large blue eyes flashing momentarily with defiance. “It reminds me of home.” To demonstrate, he drew in a deep breath with little difficulty, an action that not even Dilandau could claim himself being capable of. Rather than falling to the floor choking, the petite blonde smiled fondly at his teammates. “The dragonswort will help relax you and the murkbane opens up your inner eye.”
“Ugh, I’m breathing in a dragon’s warts?” Ryuun moaned. “That’s utterly disgusting. Shesta, you come from a disgusting village.” The tall spectacled slayer waved his hand in front of his face in an attempt to disperse the smoke but his action was doomed to failure.
“Don’t mock my village.” Bright blue eyes narrowed slightly in warning as Shesta glared up at the much taller youth. “We just follow the traditional ways.”
“Mud huts and worshipping rocks. Yeah, I know.” Ryuun shrugged, not looking at all impressed.
Sighing softly in annoyance, the sound muffled somewhat by his own hand in front of his face, Dilandau fixed a glare at both of them.
“Ryuun, stop being an ass. Shesta, your village does worship rocks.” Crimson eyes focussed on the two arguing soldiers, quelling them both instantly. Reaching into the small purse hanging from his belt, the captain pulled out several small coins and placed them solidly on the table. The action seemed more like a defiant challenge than a simple transaction. “Now, where the hell is this damned fortune teller? I want to get out of this tent before we breathe in enough of this smoke to be declared unfit for duty.”
“Ahhh, I’m right here young captain.” A rusty voice croaked from what had previously appeared to be a shadowed yet empty section of the tent. Guimel let out a rather high pitched squeak and there was the soft sound of several swords being drawn in too tight a space.
A stooped and heavily weathered old woman clad head to toe in brightly coloured fabrics stepped forward from the shadows, the many contrasting colours of her garments creating an almost hypnotic effect. Thick and gaudy jewelry glittered from her wrists, hands and face, the candle light winking off of the cheap stones, making her almost strobe with every movement. This lips parted in a wide smile, displaying wooden teeth carved to replace those lost to age. Within several of the fake teeth were small colourful glass beads which kept drawing the eye as she spoke.
Despite her great age, piercing blue eyes watched the young team from beneath drooping lids, sizing them up quickly with a wisdom gained from nearly a century of hard life. Their excitement, nervousness, wariness and annoyance in the case of their pale leader was obvious to her as she beckoned for them to sit themselves on the six thin cushions gathered around the small table.
“Just enough cushions for all of us!” Shesta whispered loudly to Guimel who nodded, eyes wide with awe.
“It’s like she knew we’d be here!” The fluffy haired slayer agreed avidly. Dilandau flashed them both a dark glare before seating himself on the central cushion and fixing the old woman with a look of cold challenge. Miguel and Gatti flanked him in their customary places while the other three arranged themselves as they saw fit.
“I, Momma Fortuna am honoured to be visited by such noble warriors as the famed Dagonslayers.” As the old woman spoke, she knelt down with surprising grace at the only space not occupied by a cushion. If anything, Guimel and Shesta’s eyes grew wider at her recognition.
“How did you know it was us? Did the all-knowing Spirits tell you?”
“You do realize that there’s at least ten recruitment posters on this block alone with our faces on them. She’d have to be blind to not know who we are.” Crimson eyes rolled in exasperation before the captain leaned forward, insolently placing his elbows on the table and grinning at the woman. It was far from a friendly smile and more than one officer had been cowed by it in the past. “I’m sure she’s not trying to treat us like gullible rubes. That would be rather insulting.”
Hardly phased by the implied threat, the old woman merely cackled softly and held her hands out over the table, the billowing sleeves of her robes drifting precariously close to the candles as she deftly scooped up the coins.
“Momma Fortuna does not need to bluff others with her skill. She merely passes on that which the Spirits of the Void share with her.”
“Referring to herself in the third person…” Gatti murmured under his breath. “Yeah, this is going to go over well.” Shesta discreetly elbowed him in the ribs and shot his superior a warning glare.
“Be nice!”
Though everyone at the table had heard the comment, all chose to ignore it as the old woman began to weave hear hands around each other in a complicated pattern. The smoke seemed to shift and move around her fingers, forming strange and exotic shapes which were difficult to follow or even fully recall, yet each of the Dragonslayers couldn’t help but feel somewhat disquieted by the sight.
“Now then, you have come to be with a question in your hearts and your minds have you not?” The beads in her teeth winked colourfully as she grinned at the group, a large deck of ornate cards seeming to appear in her hands out of thin air. Shesta drew in a sharp breath, shocked at their appearance while the rest of the team remained more neutral in their reactions.
At her question, the two blondes shared a glance and identical wide grins.
“Will Lily, the washer girl go out on a date with me? Will we become legends? Will I become a famous general one day? Do you think Lord Dilandau likes me? Why does Strategos Folken have a teardrop tattoo? Does he have any other tattoos? Do catgirls lick themselves all over? Why do dopplegangers smell?” They both spoke over each other as they each blurted out their questions like overeager children.
For a moment the tent was silent as everyone stared at the duo, even the old woman appeared somewhat taken aback by their collective outburst. Experience served her well however and she was the first to recover while the soldiers continued to gape, staring at the two blondes as if they’d suddenly grown extra heads.
“How about, you each ask one question and we shall see if the Spirits choose to answer?” Her smile was indulgent as her long boney fingers began shuffling the cards. Six sets of eyes were drawn by the movement as the thick smoke coiled around her hands, offset by the intermittent winking of the reflected light on the cheap jewels. Whether it was the smoke, the flickering lights, the ornate and intricate designs on the cards or simply a combination of all three, every one of the teenagers began to feel a heaviness gathering about them. The shadows surrounding them seemed to darken and the soft shuffling sound of the cards became an almost ominous breathing to their ears.
“Will we become legends all across Gaea?” Guimel asked, his eyes bright and eager.
“Will we be victorious in our endeavors?” Shesta added, leaning forward and staring at the cards with a near worshipful light in his eyes.
“I want to know if all of our dreams will come true.” Ryuun asked, leaning back slightly, a faint smirk on his face as if he was convinced that he’d somehow managed to stump the old woman.
“Will Zaibach finally know peace?” Gatti found himself asking, unable to resist the lure of the moment.
“Will we be together forever?” Miguel questioned softly, keeping his question somewhat ambiguous despite shifting slightly so that his hand brushed his captain’s as the two of them shared a discreet glance. Cheeks reddening slightly, the slayer allowed himself a smile before fixing his attention back on the cards. His colour deepened when there was an answering brush of Dilandau’s fingers against his own.
“And you Captain Albatou? What question would you ask the Spirits?” Crimson eyes narrowed slightly, almost glowing beneath their pale silvery white lashes.
“I have no questions for you.” Dilandau replied defiantly. “Only one man in Zaibach can see the future clearly and that is Emperor Dornkirk. I see no need to rely on second rate spirits and a deck of cards to learn my destiny. It will be as He foretells.”
“So be it.” She murmured softly and plucked a card from the deck, placing it reverently in the center of the table. Its face was a picture of a rustic village. People wearing old fashioned clothing and archaic tools milled about, tending to their various duties. Though the picture was simple in design, the bitterness and hopelessness was evident on each and every face. A closer look revealed that the houses were crumbling even as the workers try to fix them, and the field in the background was barren.
“The Ancient Village.” She explained, tracing her fingers reverently across the surface of the card. “Pain haunts each and every one of you if you look deeply enough, but still you continue on despite adversity. Fulfilling your duties mean more than the state of the world around you.”
Several of the slayers shifted somewhat uncomfortably at the statement though Shesta raised his hand rather timidly.
“Um… I’ve actually had a pretty good life so far. I mean… sure the training is hard, but it’s worth it right? Really, that’s the only suffering I’ve really had…Did I fail the reading?” He chewed his lower lip nervously as he glanced at the others for encouragement.
“You’re fine Shesta.” Dilandau stated firmly, giving the card a dismissive sneer. “It’s just a safe assumption with anyone as young and successful as we are to say that something dark drives us forward. Besides, everyone has a sad story somewhere.” The slender albino crossed his arms over his chest and met the old woman’s gaze. Another card was drawn and placed on the table.
“The Shining Sun. This means-”
“Let me guess, that we’ve overcome our obstacles and have reached new heights, shining like beacons to those around us and drawing them to our light and warmth?” Dilandau cut in, mimicking her raspy voice with surprising accuracy. At his side, Miguel struggled not to snicker while Shesta and Guimel looked aghast at the open mocking. Gatti and Ryuun exchanged looks of long suffering from across the table.
“Yes, it does imply that.” The woman murmured tersely, her wrinkled lips thinning at the captain’s words. “However it also warns of the risks of the illusions behind great power. The closer you move towards the sun, the colder it gets, does it not? The more power you gain, the less you will find you in fact have. Do not be lured by its brilliance young ones. Hubris has led to the fall of many gods. After all, even the sun is not omnipotent.” The third card was drawn and placed overtop the fiery orb. This time, it was a painting of the Mystic Moon, looming large and blue as it practically shone on the card.
“The Mystic Moon often eclipses the sun remember. Never discount its power.”
“It’s little more than a pretty rock floating beyond our world.” Dilandau scoffed, earning himself a narrow eyes glare from the woman.
“And yet our beloved Emperor hails from that world does he not?” The pale captain jerked back slightly as if slapped and biting back his next acerbic comment, properly chastened. “It is a world of great power, mystery and change. Our world cannot exist without the Mystic Moon, nor can it exist without ours. There is power linking the two worlds and it shines brightly upon your destiny, obscuring your sun.” She tapped the card sharply with a bony fingertip and smiled slightly as several of the Dragonslayers winced.
“Calamity.” She stated as she drew the next one, placing it beside the Mystic Moon’s card. On it was a great fire burning across the land. Tiny men and women raced in front of the blaze but seemed unaware that they were heading towards a cliff.
“Fire is always fun!” Dilandau seemed to brighten at seeing the image, a wide smile gracing his lips. Gatti coughed lightly, trying to cover up the sound and make it seem like a natural reaction to the smoke rather than his leader’s pyromania.
“None of your cards seem very happy.” Shesta murmured, eyeing the stack warily as they continued to be quickly shuffled by the old woman’s hands. “Are we all in trouble or something?”
“Of course not!” The captain replied confidently. “It’s all about interpretation. She’s just trying to scare us and make you doubt yourselves. Did those Silver Army assholes put you up to this? They did didn’t they?”
The old woman sighed softly and shook her head, not pausing in her continuous shuffling.
“The Spirits choose the cards and I merely tell you what I see in their depths. How you choose to interpret my words is your choice.” She glanced down at the towering wall of fire, her eyes growing distant. “Great changes loom in your future. Terrible and great. You will be forever altered by your choices and the destiny they bring about. Do not become trapped by what you perceive to be the threat, the true danger often lies beyond your sight.”
“Ugh, it’s like talking to Folken…” Dilandau huffed loudly, leaning back away from the table insolently. “All riddles and half truths. Really it’s all just a show so you can look like you know far more than you do. I know the trick and it’s boooring.”
“Sir… maybe she’s right, maybe we should be more careful…” Shesta hedged cautiously, thinking of all the dangerous risks they’d taken in their rapid rise to fame. More than one powerful figure counted themselves as an enemy of the Dragonslayer despite the team being public heroes. There were far too many people who wanted nothing more than to see the prized team fall hard.
“Careful is for old men and cowards Shesta.” Dilandau growled softly in warning. “I have no use for either.”
“Understood sir.”
“What’s the next card?” Gatti asked, choosing to proceed rather than risking the headstrong dragonslayer saying something to further annoy the captain. Dilandau had been remarkably tolerant so far, he really didn’t want to push their luck any further than they had to. Besides, it was clear that something was upsetting their leader despite his efforts to disguise it with snark. Gatti knew the albino well enough by now to recognize all of the little nuances of his moods and the captain’s had gone rapidly downhill the instant seeing a fortune teller was mentioned.
“The Golden Chalice. This represents worldly fortune. Much like a chalice itself, you fortune can be full, or empty depending on the will of the fates. Shall we see what the Spirits say of your future wealth?” Shesta, Guimel and Ryuun nod their heads, unable to quite hide their avarice as the next card was drawn and placed atop it.
“Ah, the Throned King.” The old woman murmured, sounding utterly delighted as she revealed the next card with a flourish which belied her age. “When he looks upon the Golden Chalice, it speaks of great fortune ready to befall you.” Unable to help themselves, the three teens leaned forward eagerly, their youthful eyes bright with delight as they drank in her every word.
“I knew it!” Guimel punched his fist into the air, his high voice filled with delight as he envisioned the riches and fame which were soon to be his. “Didn’t I tell you that our luck was impeccable?”
“It’s not luck.” Gatti murmured softly in a deadpan voice, giving the cards a cold glare of suspicion. “It’s training for twelve hours a day. Do you honestly think that luck holds a candle to Lord Dilandau’s training regime?”
“Luck doesn’t stop your weapon from breaking, or a stray rock from turning our ankles.” The fluffy haired Dragonslayer countered boldly, earning himself a raised silvery white eyebrow from the captain himself.
“Really?” He asked, his voice dropping to that warning purr which always seemed to precede some act of horrific violence. “Is that what you’re going to tell me when I inspect your equipment tonight? That you’re relying on luck to keep your weapon sound?”
Guimel seemed to turn nearly as white as the albino and he shook his head violently enough that his curls bobbed with a life of their own.
“No sir! Of course not sir! My weapons are all in prime condition sir!”
Realizing that she was beginning to lose the attention of her audience, the old woman placed another card down into the pattern with an audible snap and a chortle of glee, drawing the attention back to her.
“Ah! The Sword Queen! A great battle looms on the horizon for you all, when paired with the Throned King, it speaks of a glorious victory as well!” She leaned forward and grinned at Dilandau widely, the beads glittering in her mouth as she stared at him with rheumy eyes. “You should not doubt the power of my cards young one. The fates are mine to read and such a power should be respected.”
It took every ounce of self-control for Dilandau to keep from punching her in the face for daring to challenge him in front of his men. Instead, he offered her an utterly false lazy smile in response.
“I’m sure your cards are most impressive, but a child would be able to make these predictions. We’re the Dragonslayers, the most elite unit in Copper Army and one of the prime squads in all of the Four Demon Armies. Of course we’re going to win an upcoming battle. We’ve never been defeated and we never will be. It’s what we do and I would accept nothing less from my men.” Pride coloured his voice as he spoke of his men and each of them squared their shoulders and raised their chins, buoyed by the rare words of open praise from their idol.
“Let’s go, this fortune teller is a mockery of our Esteemed Emperor. I see no reason to further indulge in this travesty… and the markings on your tent are a damn soup recipe woman! Show some ambition when you’re stealing from a mystical language!” With that, Dilandau rose gracefully to his feet, sneering down at the still seated woman and her tawdry cards.
“But… I want to see if I ever find a girlfriend!” Guimel protested, unable to keep a plaintive whine from his voice.
“Try growing a little.” Ryuun suggested helpfully, reaching over and ruffling the small slayers fluffy curls. “Right now you’ll likely only attract ewes.”
“Was that a sheep joke? That was a sheep joke wasn’t it!? We’ve been over this! I can’t do a thing about my hair!”
“We should probably get Dallet and Viole before they start another brothel fight or catch something the medics can’t cure.” Miguel muttered softly to the captain, favouring the woman with a dark look of his own, bitter at not having his own question answered. Of course, he already knew the answer in his heart and in the end that was all that truly mattered to him.
“Thank you for the fortunes!” Shesta whispered softly to the woman, dropping an additional coin on her table before hurrying off to follow his team which had already exited through the curtains. “It was really interesting!” He flashed her a wide grin as he ducked out, leaving the old woman alone with the flickering candles and cards.
Her hands continued to absently shuffle the deck for another few moments before she drew two more cards, placing them next to each other. For the first time, her eyes grew wide with shock and she sucked in breath loudly through her teeth.
“The Rampant Dragon and the Draconian Rising…Such dark cards… such a cruel destiny.” Sighing softly, she gently traced over the edge of the draconians wing, feeling a shudder of dread at the sight of the unluckiest combination she’d ever seen. It was a shame that such a fate would befall that sweet blond boy with the shining eyes. However, as for the rest of the little murderers… Her face hardened as she stared down at the cursed denizen of Atlantis. “They will rush headlong into calamity, dragging all they know and love with them into death… hmph. Foolish arrogant boys. That’s what they get for mocking Momma Fortuna.”