the Leathermines

Back to Chapter 55 .

 

The dreams were so fantastic, so horrifying, so pleasant that Laun knew that they had to be fever dreams.

Flying over the kingdom, she saw flecks of light and flecks of dark below her.  There were red flashes as the darkness spread.  It wasn’t just random, it was following her.  Her path through the night sky led the fire that was consuming the light.

And then she was landing, her feet on the old volcano touching it’s inner heat off below her.  She was as large as the volcano.  She could see into it’s crumbling bowl and the streams that fed from it turned from grey and clear to red and dark.  There were bodies floating in the red water...no, not water.  Blood.

The blood flowed out from her to poison the land.  From her feet and hands and cunt and eyes and mouth.  It ran from her, turning rancid and putrefying everything it touched...

She felt like she should be screaming.  She felt as though she should be trying to clean it up.  She felt like she should be trying to make things right.

But...

She also felt a rage building in her.  A power from the blood, from the death.  She heard screams and she reveled in the sound for she knew that she had caused pain and suffering and wanted to cause, create, more.

Faces of men who had wronged her were before her.  They were kneeling before her, char on their bodies from the heat from hers.  And the sword in her hand was made of fire and guilt and stars and retribution.  It pointed at the bandit leader and he tried to crawl away but it cleaved him apart, his innards spilling onto the ground turning to the spring grass.  

She swept to Falmir, her skirts of metal and skin and love and clouds brushing the new grass at it’s hem.  Falmir was cold, dark. His eyes looked into hers and did not flinch.  They were her eyes.  They were the eyes of Dreng.  They were the eyes of a raven, black and unblinking.  And then, as she swung at his head, he changed to a bird, just the tips of his wings being clipped by her weapon.

Those feather tips fell into the grass and bloomed to the spring flowers.  The colors were bright and the wind caressed her skin.  The cool moon looked down at her as she waded through the Grey Waters, picking up green apples of crystal to put into her basket.  She bit into one, the bitterness fresh and tangy as it changed into a wine goblet full of golden yellow sunlight.

The sun flowed over the edge of the goblet and she couldn’t swallow all of it.  It flowed down her chin and over her chest and down her body, warming her as if she had been cold for a thousand years but had not known it.  And she offered it to the person next to her who drank and passed it on to the next person who drank who passed it on...

For the great Hall was filled with her family and they all needed a taste.  They all needed to be sustained.  And she stood, the song of the harvest lifting her feet to the bench so she could see everyone, and be seen.  She lifted her hands and colors ran from her fingertips, splashing on those around her.  She spoke, but she did not know what she was saying for it sounded as if it were Lady Hellon, her calm tones and mellow continence the focus of all around her.  And as Lady Hellon spoke, she turned to Laun and pointed at the wall in the Tower room.  It opened up and then opened up again.  And then They were under the arbor, eating the rose petal jam spread on shockingly white sugar mice.  And her Lady took her hand and pressed on the vine covered wall and it was her hand moving the bricks that had fixed the hole that had appeared that summer.

And the chest that was behind it was filled with more oranges and rose petal jam than she could eat, ever.  And the woods were behind the wall and she was walking through the apple orchard.  There was a wind talking to her and she stopped to listen.  It was calling her name.  It was several voices and she knew each one of them in her heart and she smiled.

“Yes, she is coming around.”  Pillars voice filled her with joy.

Laun opened her eyes to a room lit with bright yellow afternoon light streaming through the windows.  She seemed to wake to many people around her most mornings.  This day, they were all casually talking and looking at her and making her feel that there were few things wrong with the world.

Or was that there were a few things wrong with the world?  Her eyes came fully open and she tried to sit up.

Pillar held her shoulders down and she felt the wound pain on her side as she moved.  “Settle down, Lady.  You have been asleep since last night and it is mid-afternoon.”

Laun tried to speak but her throat was dry.  She was allowed to sit up with pillows behind her and cool water was in a tankard in her hand.  It felt and tasted wonderful in her mouth, though there was a little catch as she swallowed.

She looked around again and saw that people seemed generally happy around her.  The door to the hall was open and she saw people outside talking and playing Sticks as well as the people filling the tower room.  Her room.

Laun stretched slightly and took an assessment of her body.  She would be able to walk, but her side did want to catch her if she moved wrong.  She was not feeling refreshed, in fact, she felt like she needed to dunk herself in the tub for a while.  But her energy was good and none of her usual pains had started to call at her, yet.

“How was morning meeting?”

Laun caught a look that the tired looking Lucaris shot at Edgar.  Her man stepped out of a group near the door and sat next to her legs on the bed.  He faced her and took one of the hands from around the tankard.

“There are snow clouds on the horizon and the clouds covering the old volcano have turned dark.”  Laun nodded, remembering several autumns that suddenly ended with the snows from those dark clouds dumping enough snow to cover up to her knees in one night.

“So, Winterberry just in time for First Feast.”

Edgar narrowed his eyes.  “Do you think First Feast will be appropriate?”

Laun shrugged.  She felt the bandage on her midsection move slightly and the stitches catch a little.  “Until we are actively at war, distractions for the household keep morale up.  A winter without First Feast would be dull and bland.”  Laun looked stubborn and said, “I will not let the bastard take it away from us.”  Her eyes flicked to the side and continued with, “No offense, Grandfather.”

Dreng bowed slightly and said, “None taken, Granddaughter.”

“Are they back from the river?”

Dreng nodded.  “As far as they could tell, no one else with the Dark colors have been around.  It is standard to have a scout like him be several days out from the main group so they can sit and then go back with news.”

Geralk came forward with a paper for Laun to look at.  “I translated the code we found and it looks like we know the name of our prisoner.”  Geralk pointed at a name with just ‘assassin’ next to it.

She smiled and said, “In a few hours, I may need to make a visit.  It was one of the only things he did not tell me.”  She looked down the list and saw that there were other contacts the scout was supposed to look up in the area.  She did not recognize any of the names.

“The general preparations for defense?”

“More crap pits along the main road and we have added some thorn branches to some of the underbrush to keep people from pushing through.  The barricades we have up along the main ways are being disguised with fall branches.”

Laun smiled.  “Make them think nothing has been going on until they can’t get in?”  She squeezed his hand.  “Thank you for taking charge.”

Edgar glanced down and then to his Lady again.  “Following your lead, Lady.”

“It’s not just him, you know.”  Dougal puffed up slightly and then seemed to loose size as he walked over the slightly unsteady mattress on the floor next to the bed.  “We all are trying to make it safer here.”  He motioned with is head to Dreng and said, “The old stadge beat it into me about this being home for us and you defend your home. I hadn’t actually thought of Salam-Dir being more than a hiding place before then.”

Laun made another squeeze on Edgar’s hand and offered it to Dougal.  He raised it to his lips and made the driest kiss on her knuckles she had felt in months.  “Taking that cousin thing seriously, aren’t you.”

Dougal bowed slightly over her hand and said, “Lady Laun, I have to.  As far as we know...,”  he looked into Laun’s eyes, “We are the next in line.”

“In line for wh-  Oh.”  Laun held onto Dougal’s hand and then turned it for a warrior’s grip.  “We are still at his back and he is still our Sire.  If it comes to it, it will work out.”

The cousins grimly looked at each other until Laun smiled.  “Are your men well?

Dougal grimaced.  “I have no idea what came over him, but Silar made the damndest confession to me the other night.  I knew he had come from another kingdom to ward here, but...”

Laun released her side of the warriors grip and leaned back into the pillows.  “The prince’s past is dark.  He still has shadows, but he has chosen his side.”

Laun glanced up into Edgar’s face and saw that he had been looking at Ali standing along one wall.  It was not a bland look, it was not a hateful look.  Ali may have been looking at him, too.  Laun was not sure what was between them, but there wasn’t any bad tension to be seen.

There was a little motion at the door and Fount came in.  He held a platter that he took over to the sideboard, defending it until he was able to set it down.  A smaller plate and mug were in his hand as he approached the bedside.

Dougal made a small bow and made space leaving to talk with the King at the end of the bed.  Laun had the tankard of water taken from her hand and the warm mug of tea in place of it.  It smelled of mint and orange rind and tasted of honey.  The plate had a small circle of toasted smallbread with butter cut into the tops and it smelled very appealing.

Fount sat on the bed next to Laun’s arm, his leg touching Edgars in the closeness.  He reached for her hand and she felt his welcome touch on her palm.  Edgar placed his on top of theirs and wrapped his fingers loosely around them.

There was a different energy that Laun felt.  It was strong and calm.  From both of them.  It made her happy.

The others in the room faded, became background motion and noise.  It took several minutes of them just touching, existing together, before the three of them started talking again.

“Love, what would you like to do?”  Edgar gripped their hands and pulled back, but kept contact with them.

Laun smiled and looked around the room.  Her people were talking, planning, communicating as they went from group to group, sharing tankards and touches.  It was slightly odd to her as everyone was dressed, but that made her smile even wider.  Then she focused on her men.  Yes, her favorites, her chosen companions.  They all were close to her heart, but these two were her heart.

“Well, I think that the world would be a kinder place if I were allowed to wander to the privy, and possibly take a bath...”  Laun had a half-hearted pull on her robe to close it, not for modesty’s sake, but for the scent that she found emanating from herself.  “Though, these breads smell so good...  Food first, then cleanliness.”

It might have taken her just a few minutes to eat with how hungry she was, but people were insistent on coming to her and talking with her as she sat up in bed.  Not all of them were greetings and pleasantries.  Some were conversations that were tough to have, no matter when and where.  The worst for Laun was having to talk about and decide on the livestock that could not be brought into the courtyard.

If there was a battle and siege of the keep, most of the cows and pigs, even the geese, would have to be left outside.  It hurt Laun to have to discuss that, knowing what happened to the animals in the raid.  She offered that if they knew in time, perhaps just letting the animals go would be the best option.  There were quiet nods and hand touches as the people who had become in charge of the livestock went on their way.

“You know, I hadn’t thought of the animals as part of the household.  They are.  They sustain us as we keep them.”  Laun finished one of the smallbreads and found she was full.

She was escorted to the privy by people talking around her.  She was then escorted to the bathing chamber by most of the same people.  Orgia stood just inside the door and would not allow the crowd past.  A few people were able to slip past the guard, but the rest were turned by her presence alone.

Lucaris was there to make sure that the wound was kept dry after the bath.  She was pleased with the coolness of the wound, though was concerned that there was a little oozing from part.  She declared it well enough to go under the water.

Laun regretted that, though, as the hot water made her side flare with pain as she went under.  Being lathered up, massaged and rinsed was fine.  The actual emersion was hard.  She did not call out more than she would have if she had been orgasming, but she felt embarrassed for making any noise at all.

She felt the little bruises from the fight, the cuts that had been given but ignored for the major wound.  She lay back in the copper tub and looked at the stone ceiling above her as the hot water triumphed over all of them.  The thick beams holding the large, flat stones up were massive.  She could see the old hew marks on the aged wood, and some of the carvings made by people since.  The light reflected up to the stone and wood from the tub made it seem like it was under water to Laun.

“How long until evening meal?”

Orgia looked up from her sewing and said, “At least an hour.  Are you hungry?”

Laun shook her head.  “No, I have been ignoring our prisoner.  I am thinking of making a visit, see if I can get any more out of him.”  Laun smiled, Fount seeing a glint in her eye he did not like.  “Though, I think I almost drained him dry last time.”

Edgar saw the look in Laun’s eye, too.  “No matter what they say, prisoners always have more in them.  It is the way of things.  Just-”  He paused until she turned slightly in the tub to see him.  “Just let me be with you for it?”

Laun tilted her head to the side briefly and then nodded.  She laid back in the water again and thought of how she was going to approach this session with the prisoner.  She had him on his knees, literally, but he would have had time to recover some.  He had been kept away from people, but had food and cleanliness.  He had been kept cold, but had a blanket.

What did she want from him?  Information, yes, but she felt a...need to make him suffer, to break him even more than she had.  He had his own life to give up, as she had put that into his hands.  Laun was not sure if she was going to be able to take his life if he ever chose to have her end it.  But she felt it was a promise.  She would try.

Fount and Edgar were next to each other, the younger man sitting on the bench and the head wardsman standing next to him.  Fount watched Laun’s fingers on the side of the tub, lightly tapping out a rhythm and then changing it as her expression changed.  They both waited for their Lady to come out of her thoughts as they were having thoughts of their own.

Fount was still confused about the night before.  He felt that somehow he had gone past boundaries he was not supposed to.  That Laun would feel betrayed.  He looked at the back of his superior and felt...something that was like what he felt when he had first been allowed to sleep next to Laun, and then again when the possibilities of all the women who had started to approach him came out.  He knew that the other wardsmen should not know.  They would not understand.

Edgar was watching her form under the light layer of bubbles in the tub.  She moved slightly, showing all the pains her body had, but also the pleasure that she was being given in the cleanliness.  His need to distance himself had been torn from him the night before as he had shared himself with Fount, and now he was wondering how he could have pulled himself away from her before.  He turned and glanced back and nodded at Fount as they locked eyes.

“Could I have help out of the tub, please?”  Laun was holding a hand out of the water and her head was leaning against the tub as she looked at the men.  Orgia stood and went to her side, a stern look towards the two before they could go to Laun.

Lucaris made sure the wound was dry and wrapped before the layers that Orgia insisted be put on her were draped on her Lady.  Laun’s hair was put up with a few polished sticks and Orgia wrapped a grey ribbon with a clapperless bell around the knot of hair.

Laun smiled and felt the little metal charm there and said, “Word has been getting out about the sessions with the prisoner, huh?”

Edgar nodded and said, “Geralk especially is impressed.  Do you want him there this time?”

Laun nodded.  “If he is available.”

“I will make him available.”  Orgia had a stern look on her face.

Laun thought for a moment and said, “We haven’t been able to go through with Bett and Dreng’s ceremony - is there another one we should be adding?”

Orgia looked up to Laun’s raised eyebrow.  “Not that he has asked...”

Laun made another mental note on her flowing lists.  “Well, now is perhaps not the time.”  She turned and asked, “Is this good?”

Edgar heard the uncertainty in her voice.  Fount heard the need for acceptance.  They both nodded, though they both would have liked to have seen her with about four less layers.

There was another group that escorted Laun through to the Great Hall as they talked amongst themselves and with her.  There was a slight personnel change as Laun went through and asked certain people to follow her.  The mood dropped in the group from light to serious as they realized it was not a pleasure meeting they were going to.

Before the door of the Chamber of Death, Laun spoke quietly to those around her.  “Thank you for being at my back as I am with the prisoner.  I am hoping for more information or at least confirmation on some.  I do not know what I will say or do.”

Laun turned to Silar, Edgar and Jake.  She had asked them to be at her back because of their experience, but also because of how they looked.  It occurred to her that this was all a performance.  She needed a different backdrop.  She could not ask Dougal, as the assassin would know he was part of the royal line.  That would be stacking the Sticks too high and she did not want to tip the situation too far.  She had also asked Ali and Geralk to be at her back, for their uses.

“If you three could just stand.  I know...  I have very little experience with this, but I am feeling that with the time he has had, it is now time for a show of force.”

Silar’s brow went up and he said, “Clothed...?”

Laun smiled.  “Yes.  For one thing, I’m trying to get the prisoner intimidated, not the other men.”  The nod to Jake and Edgar had a wicked playfulness behind it.  Edgar had a smirk on his face and Jake looked slightly hurt.  “Though...  If I may ask now of you, if I call on you, would you strip at my command?”

He smiled broadly.  “I have before.”

Laun put a hand on his chest and said, “Ah, my prince, but this is different.”  Her eyes turned cold and he almost stepped back.  “This is a performance that the audience is not supposed to like.”

The three nodded and Laun turned.  She saw that the things she had asked for were present.  She took a big breath and asked for entry into the room.

The door opened and people went in.  A chair was placed a few paces from the prisoner, Ali stepping back into the shadow.  Laun walked slowly forward into the light of the one low candle on the wall.  The door closed behind them and there was silence. She looked at the one kneeling on the blanket.  His eyes were open, watching her.  She was pleased that he was clean, though it looked like she had missed most of the color that had happened on the bruise on his forehead.

“Stand.”

He was stiff in the joints, but he did stand, the blanket still under his feet.  She could see that he had been fed, and that he was chilled.  His nipples were hard and the nether regions she could plainly see had retreated as far as they could into himself.  She looked at him, tilting her head.

She stood for as long as she could before she had to sit.  Not showing pain was part of this dance, and it was going to be hard that day.  She mentally ran over her notes and thought she was ready.

Laun sat on the chair, looking at him.  “I cannot keep calling you quail.  You were what we caught on our quail hunt, but you certainly were not named that.”

His mind flashed and he felt a sense of duty to himself and to the guild, the first flash of that since he had been on his knees in front of the Lady.  “You may call me whatever you wish, Lady.”

Laun heard the returning inner strength in that statement.  The tone of his voice was steadier than it had been.  She had to push him off balance, but how?

“True.  This is my house.  You are on my floor.  I caught you, so I can call you anything I wish.”  Laun leaned back carefully to look like she was thinking.  Her eyes stayed on him and she tilted her head.  Her fingers caught on the bell in her hair and fingered it as the swirls of her mind worked.

Having been fed and allowed to rest for many days, he had regained some of his inner training.  He was still cold and naked, standing in front of an elite interrogator, the one who had looked sideways at him and he had fallen to her feet.  She seemed to be able to reach into him and see what he did not wish to have seen.  Just like-

“You have had so many names, with your first life outside the guild and then I know you were renamed within.  We all have a journey like that until the name we have is what we are.”  She leaned forward a little and a flash of perhaps pain went through her smile.  She motioned and one of her shadows brought forth a tankard for her to sip on.  He stepped back, though perhaps not as far back as he had been.

“I wish we could ask Kay what to call you.”  Laun looked sadly into her tankard.

He jumped slightly.  Did he say her name at some point?  He had been so despondent he could have, laying out information he did not know he had within him.  He did not remember.  He looked at the Lady and tried to be blank, an empty vessel.

“We found the house, but...”  Laun paused and swirled her tankard for a moment before taking another swig of the water.  She swallowed and looked up at him.  “It hadn’t been too long, either.”

Her eyes were almost the same as Kays.  He remembered the pleading as she was manhandled around the corner...  “Is she dead?” he found himself asking.

Laun held out her hand and the tankard was taken from her.  She looked at him and saw a twitch here and a flick to his eye there.  “You are the one who sent her to her death.”  She was right and his whole body twitched as she said it.

She watched as he calmed himself, his eyes going forward, trying to un-focus.  “It is part of the entry into the greyworld, losing your old life.  We never have warning, even if it is plain in front of us.”

He had a flash of guilt and then a thought occurred to him.  She had gone through the same?  Had lost her old life for the new?  The Lady, having raised to her level, had started out as he, torn from what she had known.  His heart thumped a little louder in his chest.

“You knew what you were doing.”  It was a hard statement, but said softly.  “Unless...  No, you don’t seem the type.”  She leaned back and stretched out her back slightly and he could see the slow, undulating movements in her hips as she settled.

“I know of many who have had to lose their past lives.  It is the choice we have at every step.  If we are shown something we want, sometimes those choices seem so clear, before they are made.”  Laun could see a twitch at the corner of his eye.  “It is a shame that choice was made.”  She leaned forward slightly.  “I am sure she forgave you, at the end.”

He could not stop the shiver.  It was not against the cold.  It was from within him and it made his stomach tense and his jaw tremble.  He tried to stop it, but the cold started to work on the momentary lapse and his body would not stop.  He looked down at his feet and tried to force his body to stop trembling.

“Well, that is beside the point.  What shall I call you?”  She leaned back again, dismissing the ghost of his sister with a minor wave of a few fingers.

He looked back up and tried to empty his mind.  Kay was there, though, and he wondered how she had died.  It was his fault.  No, he had chosen.  Just like the Lady said, he had cut off his old life and gone into his new after...  She was taken away.

“As you have not told me what you would prefer, I will just call you Hazalam.”

He almost stumbled forward.  “How...?”

She tilted her head and smiled.  Not a nice smile.  “As if I would not know?”

He felt his stomach drop again.  He had thought she was playing with him with the name of his sister.  But with his Guild name on her lips, his mind lost some of the balance he had regained.  He knew he had not said his name.  He knew he did not have any thing with his name on it when he was captured.  Perhaps she had actually searched the red scarf street for Kay?  She was really gone?

The Lady turned and raised her hand.  A tankard was in it and she took a sip.  “I do have to admit that I had a missive from my Father.  Your name was mentioned.  Implicitly.”  Another sip and she handed the tankard off again.

His mind was working slowly.  Her father.  He did not know who she was.  Who could her father be?  A noble of the old King?  A greyworld Master?  He tried to put a name to who she might look like, but the assassin’s mind would not work.

He watched as she turned to the other side slightly and motioned to the floor beside her.  She said quietly, “My prince,” and a dark man fell to his knees beside her from the shadows.

The Lady looked at Hazalam as she started to stroke the man’s short, black hair.  The assassin could not but look at the delicate hand that was petting the large man’s head.  The hand had looked dark, tanned until it was put into the black hair.  The kneeling man’s eyes had been looking down respectfully, but then a light bite on his lip and his eyes closed.  The assassin had a flash of jealousy go through him.

The Lady steadily looked at him.  He tried to look away, but he couldn’t.  Her face had softened, a look that was wonderful to see, warm and subtle in it’s pleasure.  She slowly blinked and smiled.

“I am sent so many playthings.  I am happy that you, Hazalam, have lasted this long.  Not all do.”

Her hand grasped the back of the man’s head and pulled back.  There was a low gasp that turned into a growl.  The Lady put her hand on the large man’s exposed throat, no attempt from him to move or defend himself.

“This one, for example...  It took him several weeks before he came around.  He was particularly difficult.”

He watched as her fingernails drew in across the throat, light trails pointing to the man’s adam’s apple.  The little jump that the man gave when she released his vulnerable skin was tinged with both fear and something else.  She also released his hair and he went back to sitting next to her, eyes on the floor.

And then it came to him.  The man before him at the Lady’s side.  She had called him prince.  He was dark, with the almond eyes and the-

“He chose a side that my Father was not...pleased with.  He had to be shown the error of his ways.”  She lightly traced a finger along his broad shoulder and then placed her hand on it.  “Just like you, I was given him to let me...persuade him to change his thinking.”

Hazalam thought furiously.  The prince that had come over from the other continent, brought into the greyworld to accomplish a task.  Had been seen to be with the loyalists, but had disappeared...

She had flexed her hand and the dark man was on the floor, writhing at her touch.  “He still needs to be reminded that my Father does not think well of those who go against him.”  She released her hand, seemingly a light touch, and he was panting.  He was on all fours, obviously strong enough to fight back, but just stayed there at her whim.

She started to pet him again.  He sat back on his knees and stayed, the look on his face more pleasure than pain.  The power she had in that light touch was frightening.  It was also exciting.

She looked right at the assassin and said, “You have done well so far.  You have gone through the gauntlet I set before you better than Father thought you would.  I hope that we will be able to finish this soon, as I am getting weary of seeing you in this...cold place.”

She tapped the man beside her on the shoulder and he raised himself and stepped back into the shadows.  She held out a hand and another large man came forward to help her out of the chair.  He stepped back, not a glance from her towards him.  The Lady’s eyes were on the assassin.  She stood, looking at him.

She stepped towards him.  She stayed on the other side of the bowl, though he wished she would come closer.  She tilted her head and smiled.  His legs felt slightly weak at the smile, the one that said that she was actually happy.

“I see what he saw in you.  You have the potential, but you needed to be stripped further.  Your next mission will be well suited to you...”

She stepped closer, around the bowl.  Her hand went out and brushed against his arm.  His body felt her heat, his mind craved the touch.  And his body reacted the only way he could not control.  Her hand created ripples of shivers through his body as he felt every pressure, every lingering touch as she walked around him, her hand leaving a trail on his skin as she went around him.

Her hand went to his throat and his knees gave out.  He could feel her fingernails dig in and it thrilled him.  Her mouth was close to his ear and he trembled and grew as her warm breath brushed his face.

“That is, if you wish to live today.”

He nodded as his voice was taken by the thrill of her touch, the intenseness of the points of pain.  She released him and he felt her hand on his head, the delicate swirls of her fingertips through his hair.  He drew in a breath and it came out in bursts as she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and drew his head back.  She looked steadily into his eyes and he wished she would kiss him with those bright red lips.

“I will be back.  Think about why my Father may have sent you to me.”

And she was gone.  The chair and shadows that had been at her back were gone.  The door closed, the heavy sound echoing in the dim room around him.

She had reached through him again and jumbled his world.  His hand went to his manhood, his own cold touch enough to make it go down again.  She said he had been sent to her.  This was all a test.  It had been a trap of a mission.  To see if he was worthy.  He wanted to be worthy of her.  He wanted to be the one under her mercy.  He needed to have her touch him again, however she wished to do so.

 

Next up, Chapter 57 .