Published at 3rd of October 2023 12:00 pm

Chapter 2.39 In Which the Dark Lord Gets Some Help

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

It ended up being for the best that I had that aside in the pantry. Part of the reason for coming back to base right now was to make my reassuring presence known to the troops, especially the newbies; if I’d sat down in the dining hall in the mood I’d been in after learning about Lady Gray’s ongoing bullshit I probably would’ve just scared people. At least now I was more relaxed.

Doubtless the newer hands still thought it odd that I sat down with my stew and wyddh at the children’s table, but the sooner they got used to my peculiar ways, the better. This ain’t your daddy’s Dark Lord.

So there I was at one corner seat, with Junko chomping from her bowl on the floor beside me, Benit settled in on my other side, and Gilder and Aenit all but physically scuffling over who was going to sit across from me, when they were upstaged by none other than Nazralind.

“You snooze, you lose, kids,” she said, completely unrepentant as she slid onto the bench with her tray and grinned at Gilder’s protest. Aenit, looking grudgingly impressed, seized the opportunity to plonk down next to the elf, leaving him to shuffle down the row another space in defeat. Naz herself, meanwhile, grabbed the pair of chopsticks she’d brought, one held upright in each fist, and beamed expectantly at me. “All right! Show me how to use these.”

“Where the hell did you get those?” I demanded.

“Same place you did. Kasser’s got lots of scrap akorshil lying around from all the stuff he has to make; polishing up a pair of little sticks hardly takes any time at all, apparently. It’s funny, I was always told akorshil wasn’t suitable for tableware because of how it splinters, but apparently it all depends on the type and how you treat it.”

“Rookie mistake,” Benit murmured. “Never ask Kasser about akorshil. You’ll be trapped for hours.”

“It wasn’t hours,” Nazralind said, then winced. “Technically. Not quite, I don’t think.”

“Easy mistake, though,” Gilder added. “That guy won’t talk all unless it’s about shilworking. I never knew he could talk until I broke that lamp stand.”

I placed a bite of chewy crawn meat in my mouth with my own chopsticks and gave him the eye. “That was you?”

Gilder was suddenly very busy with his stew. Joke was on him, this was the first I’d heard about any lamp stand.

“Anyway,” Naz prompted, gently thumping her chopstick-filled fists on the table.

“First of all, don’t ever do that,” I winced. “Why the sudden interest, anyway?”

“You probably haven’t had a reason to ask him, but Kasser’s had so many requests for these he actually just keeps them lying around now. It was actually annoying,” she added, frowning. “Would’ve been one thing if I got to listen about akorshil polishing while he was actually demonstrating it, but he just handed them to me and went off on this rant…”

“What?” I looked around the mess hall. “Who’s been…”

Benit, Gilder, and Aenit all pulled chopsticks out of their sleeves.

“We’ve tried,” Gilder admitted. “I figured it can’t be any harder’n picking pockets. But damn, Lord Seiji, it’s hard to even get a proper look at what you’re doing with your fingers…”

“I stabbed myself right up the nose,” Benit mumbled.

I couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly fuck up chopsticks that badly, but it was Benit so of course I didn’t say that out loud. With Gilder I’d’ve gone for the throat, but she responded better to encouragement.

“It’s not just the kids, people want to imitate you,” Nazralind said, shrugging. “That’s what it’s like to be in charge. I’m sure Miss Minifrit has mentioned this, but it’s probably a good thing to let folks pick up little customs that help differentiate them from Fflyr society. Soooo…?”

They all stared at me, bright-eyed and waiting. I could see others at nearby tables watching with varying degrees of surreptitiousness.

And I found myself instinctively wanting to shut this down, which was pretty silly. Hadn’t I been leaning into Minifrit’s idea previously? And hell, even before that I’d started deliberately introducing little mannerisms from home. Sure, the bath was just because I’d really wanted to take one, but…

I recognized where the reluctance came from, of course, and it wasn’t fair to anyone involved. All of that had been before my conversation with Head Start, and its revelation about the goddesses. Projecting that stuff onto my followers was irrational; none of them were weebs, and certainly not responsible for any of what the goddesses had done. They were the victims here, as much as I was. More, even.

Worse than irrational, it was hypocritical. Who the hell was I to suddenly be protective of the purity of Japanese culture? I’d spent my entire life stubbornly refusing to fit in and get along like a normal person. I was so bad at being Japanese I’d been saving up for years to move out of the country and not one person had tried to talk me out of it, even in my own family. That was what decided me; I’m a lot of things, and not all of them positive, but I do try not to be any more hypocritical than I can help. There’s nothing more contemptible than a hypocrite.

What could it hurt?

With a sigh, I held up my right hand. “Okay, start by bracing one stick this way, across the base of your thumb and your third finger…”

Turned out using chopsticks was easier than explaining how; the motions were so second nature I had a little trouble consciously thinking about it. But I got them all holding them the right way, at least. More or less.

“Bloody hell,” Nazralind growled, losing a whole bite of meat from her stew as one stick skittered out of her grip. She hadn’t yet managed to lift one all the way to her mouth.

“Excuse me, young lady, you need to watch your mouth at the dinner table,” Gilder said severely. “There are children here, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fuck off, Gilder, you know more swears than I do.”

“In at least four languages,” he agreed, grinning. “Perk of growing up in a trade city near the border! Aw, bugger.” At least he didn’t lose his chopsticks along with the chunk of potato that tumbled sadly onto the table.

“I think we picked the worst possible meal to test this,” Nazralind grumbled. “Shoulda tried on something solid…”

I shrugged, placidly eating another bite. “It’s a thick stew, shouldn’t be that bad. Back home we usually have a light soup with breakfast.”

“And you eat that with sticks?” Aenit demanded. “How?”

“You pick out the solid parts with chopsticks and sip the broth from the bowl,” I said, demonstrating with the much thicker stew gravy and immediately regretting it. Blech, gravy is not for sipping. Truthfully, spoons are also common in Japan but I was having way too much fun now to tell them that.

“In Dlemathlys, that would be absolutely execrable table manners,” Nazralind commented.

“Wow,” I said, “it’s almost as if different cultures have different customs. That’s a brilliant flash of insight, Naz, I wonder if anyone’s ever put that together before? You should write a book.”

“You’re such an arse,” she said fondly. “All right, here we go. I swear I am gonna get one piece of meat into my face tonight…”

“Hah!” Gilder leered insanely. “That’s what she hmmfffgm!”

Aenit shoved a chunk of wyddh into his mouth and I’m pretty sure Benit kicked him under the table.

“We have fun, don’t we?” I said cheerfully. “Junko, sit back down. You just finished yours, I sat here and watched you. Little scam artist.”

She whined piteously. And then so did Nazralind, though for different reasons.

I made it a habit to play my guitar a bit before bed; it was a little ritual I had missed while out on maneuvers in the forest and the city, but now that I was back in the fortress… Well, it was strange how much like home North Watch had started to feel. Sitting on the end of my bed, strumming softly with Junko already half-asleep next to me, everything felt more comfortable than camping out with the bandits. I was going to have trouble sleeping regardless of anything I did, but this made it a little better.

Or would have, except that Biribo suddenly buzzed upward from where he’d been hanging out on the “nest” I’d built for him, a pile of cloth scraps and pillow stuffing on a shelf.

“Oh, this should be good,” he muttered. “Hey, boss, no worries. I can take the dog for a walk.”

Junko raised her head and I blinked. “Excuse me?”

There came a knock at the door.

I looked over at Biribo, who just hovered aimlessly. He didn’t seem alarmed, and neither was Junko, so…

With a sigh, I stood up, setting my guitar on the chair that was serving as its stand because I figured Kasser was too busy with important things to make me a frivolity like that. What time was it? Well after dark, at least. Everybody not on night watch was either in bed or heading there…this had better be important.

I opened the door to behold Minifrit standing in the darkened hallway outside. I could just make out her face and not her expression thanks to the shadows; my body blocked the light coming from the bottled light slime I had in one corner of the room. Her eyes glinted subtly in the dimness as they flicked over my face.

“Well?” I said irritably.

And suddenly she had flowed across the space between us. I caught her by reflex and froze in surprise as warm lips pressed against my own. A soft sound of appreciation rose from deep in her throat, her chest was pressed against me—by God, she was soft, I’d never held a woman quite so—

Panic jolted through me like a physical force. No hallucinations this time, at least, just the overwhelming fear, the certainty that someone was dying while I wasn’t there, I had to move, had to find them, I was letting everyone down and people would die because I wasn’t…

I jerked my head up, gasping for air, and half-stumbled backward a step before catching myself. Minifrit moved right along with me, but I managed to put a few centimeters between us. And then a few more, because she was really abundant in the front; I had to push her away a surprising distance before I didn’t have her bosom brushing my chest.

“Woman, you taste like a chimney,” I said hoarsely. “How many times have I told you about that smoking?”

Minifrit tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow. “Ow.”

I only belatedly realized I had a death grip on her upper arms, my fingers sinking into her biceps hard enough to bruise. With another gasp I released her, half-stumbling backward again.

Once more she followed, this time stopping just inside the doorway as I continued to retreat—but deftly kicked the door closed with her heel, shutting us in my bedroom.

“And that’s how easy it was,” Minifrit said sharply, pointing one finger at my face and cutting off the angry tirade I was already swelling up to deliver. “Lord Seiji, people are noticing. Take it from a professional, women have been using sex to distract and disarm men since time immemorial. There’s an art to it—a science, even. And even so, it is often unreliable in effect if the man in question is prepared, or not interested. You, though, are a tragically easy target. All it takes is one good display and you are shut down for several entire seconds. Do you really imagine you have no enemies who will take advantage of this? If you hadn’t already recruited most of Cat Alley, someone would have flashed some cleavage and then put a knife through your eye already. Once the highborn realize you’re coming for them, they will deploy those well-trained middle ring courtesans. And with the right trick, they will end you. When, Lord Seiji, not if.”

I drew in a breath, hating the way it shuddered.

“Yeah…well… It’s not like you can fix it, so…”

“Tell me you haven’t already forgotten,” she said, exasperated. “I said I could help with this. I also warned you how important it was at the time. In fact, I seem to recall demonstrating my point with a less…aggressive example. Just how brazenly do I need to emphasize this, Lord Seiji? Do you think I’ll stop short of flashing you in the dining hall and then licking your face while you have a seizure? I promise you, boy, your imagination is not sufficient to conjure anything that would shock or embarrass me. This is not a pissing contest you will win.”

“Wow,” Biribo muttered. “That was…vivid. Look, boss, you really should listen to her, okay? You got a legit problem here, and you also got an actual professional who can help with it. Not letting her work is just sheer straight up bonkers.”

“Well, what can you possibly do?” I burst out. “It’s not like there are any psychiatrists here!”

“Yes, yes, I know, we’re all mud-splattered primitives next to the wonders of glorious Japan,” Minifrit said, disdainfully flicking her fingers off to the side. “I can’t say I appreciate that attitude, but if even a fraction of your anecdotes are true, I’m not willing to argue with it. I have no idea what your old life was like or what expectations you might have. What I know is this world, my life, and what I am capable of. Lord Seiji, I would not have offered you my help if I did not fully believe I could help! Have I impressed you as a woman willing to waste her time?”

I backed up from her, not tearing my gaze away from her relentless eyes until my knees bumped into the foot of the bed. Then, an unbidden sigh dragging itself from me, I sat down, finally turning my head to stare at the guitar.

“I don’t… I mean… How? Exactly what are you suggesting? Specifically. Tell me that.”

Minifrit glided forward, not coming back within arm’s reach of me but regaining some proximity. Not enough to spook me, I noted with muted annoyance. I was being handled. Not exactly flattering, but if nothing else it was a hint that maybe she did know what she was talking about.

“I have dealt with things very like this, countless times. I will tell you up front that there are no certainties. It is possible that my best efforts will accomplish nothing—even distantly possible I might make it worse, though I consider that risk too small to be worth caring about. The brain is unfathomably complicated, Lord Seiji, and fixing it is never a certainty. Even so, the symptoms you are showing are part of a consistent pattern I have seen and helped girls work through many times. There are methods that very often can help. It just takes time, and patience, and a willingness to do the work.”

“Girls?” I said sardonically.

She smirked. “The great secret is that the minds of men and women are not so fundamentally different as most of us would like to think. I have mostly worked with girls because…I have mostly worked with girls. Come, you know what my profession was. The most common cause of their trauma was having been brutalized by men. Well, I couldn’t justify providing room and board to a girl who would panic or have flashbacks when a man touched her, so I had to learn how to deal with it. The root problem of trauma is your brain mistakenly learning that something quite banal is incredibly dangerous, and throwing up extreme but false signals to warn you away whenever a reminder of the trauma occurs. With my girls, I used my bouncers. They’re all good lads—I do not employ less than the best. Stable and safe, without a mean bone in their bodies. Bit by bit, I’d have them get the girls used to being around a man again.”

“That’s—you’re talking about…hang on, there’s an actual term for this.” I thought there was, anyway. I’d read it somewhere, probably online. “…exposure therapy?”

Minifrit shrugged, causing me to avert my eyes. Her robe was…noticeably looser than usual.

“As good a term as any. It does seem to describe the process well enough.”

I barked a short, harsh laugh. “So…what? You’re planning to bang me straight? One good screw and I’m cured?”

She did not reciprocate the bitter humor. Minifrit moved slowly forward, and sank down on the foot of the bed—next to me, but not too close, eyes serious.

“It will not be that simple, or that fast, or that easy. To be frank, Lord Seiji, the way you tend to seize up at any reminder makes me suspect it will take a good bit of time and several sessions at least before you’re even able to fuck me. And that, when we get there, will be a landmark achievement—probably the most significant one in your progress toward rehabilitation. But even so, it’s not likely to be enough. These things can linger for years. You should expect that there will be ongoing pangs for a long time, regardless of my best efforts. What we should aim for is to soothe the effects of trauma, not banish them. It’s about re-training your brain not to associate sex with terror and pain. Success will be…relative. A process that may never entirely end. On the other hand, a complete cure isn’t impossible. We simply won’t know until we have put in the work.”

This was just surreal. I couldn’t believe I was even having this conversation. The weirdest part was that her logic actually made a lot of sense.

“You know, if you just wanted to be the Dark Lord’s mistress, you could just ask,” I said, managing a strained approximation of a light tone. “It’s not like you aren’t qualified.”

She raised a supercilious eyebrow. “Surely you don’t imagine that I would hesitate to do so, if that’s all I wanted. Lord Seiji… I’m accustomed to men refusing help out of simple stubbornness and machismo. Odd as it seems to say, that really doesn’t feel like your problem. You have always been admirably willing to listen to advice and accept help—it’s one of the reasons I find myself so willing to tolerate your…charming personality quirks.” Her voice dropped slightly in pitch and volume, becoming gentle without dipping into condescension. It was really impressive vocal control. “What is this about? Is there something else you’re afraid of?”

I couldn’t look at her. I stared at the guitar, at the shuttered window… At my own hands, which I didn’t remember clasping so hard, but there they were.

“It’s…I can’t…” I shrugged, the motion awkward and jerky. “Look, I know what a hothouse orchid you must think I am already, right? Look at Seiji, he’s always mad about indoor plumbing and how hard the chores are. Seiji comes from a glittering palace in the future and can’t handle medieval life. I was never…” I had to swallow hard against the growing tension in my throat. “All I had to do was see it. All those women I healed… They just got back up and went back to work. Where the fuck do I get off being traumatized? Fucking bullshit. I just dealt with it one night a week, did my incredible magic and fucked off back into the forest. They all—you all had to go right back to it. It’s…stupid. I can only imagine how contemptuous you must be.”

There was quiet for enough seconds that I eventually, out of sheer dreadful anticipation, had to raise my eyes and find her gaze again. Minifrit wasn’t looking at me with any of the contempt I expected. Also not with mercy or compassion, which was for the better; I don’t think I could’ve stomached that. She just studied my face, her expression calm and interested.

“I do see your point,” she mused after considering for another long moment. “The way you describe your country sounds downright utopian compared to anything in my frame of reference.”

“I assure you, Japan is not a utopia.”

“Well, obviously, it’s full of people.”

“Hah! And people are—”

“Yes, yes, I don’t think one of your misanthropic tangents is going to be useful right now. Anything full of people is going to be imperfect. But you definitely describe a manner of life which is easier, in almost every respect, than the one I know. And I can relate that to something in my experience, if imprecisely. We used to get curious young highborn in Cat Alley, from time to time. And of those visits, there would occasionally be one who saw something…some fraction of what you kept coming there specifically to see.” Her smile was mischievous, bitter, and faintly malicious. “The poor dears. They were so terrorized.”

“See, that’s exactly what I worried about,” I exclaimed. “You looking at me like that!”

“I would never look at you like that,” she replied, and in truth her smile did change. It was subtle, but there; just warm, maybe a little teasing, but without that cruel edge. I was constantly impressed by how Minifrit could manipulate the fine details of her face the way I handled a guitar’s strings. “Lord Seiji, you were yanked out of your whole life, dumped into a world where everything is harder and dirtier and more dangerous than anything you knew. You came to our little corner of hell and immersed yourself in the worst it had to offer, the darkest parts we worked so hard to conceal from our clients. And you kept coming back.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t say—”

“You had ulterior motives, I know. That doesn’t change the basic fact that you faced what you saw and never once fled from it. Seiji.” She leaned closer, still smiling, and shook her head. “I never once blamed you for being shocked or horrified by what you’ve seen. The idea is absurd to me. What stands out to me is that you—sour, snide, spiteful little shit that you are—have shown more spine and more heart than any aristocrat in this blighted country.”

“Not that that’s saying a lot…”

Minifrit chuckled ruefully. “And so quick to deflect. Well, look at it this way: whether or not you’re justified in being traumatized is beside the point. If you fell down the stairs and broke your collarbone because you were trying to balance on a ball at their top, the injury wouldn’t be any less in need of healing because you got it by being stupid. You require treatment. But I will, as the person proposing to administer this treatment, insist on one point for you to remember.”

She scooted a bit closer to me, her smile widening as her voice dropped another register, taking on a huskier undertone.

“I am offering to help you mend an injury, because this organization of which I am a part depends on your leadership. But I am also offering to go to bed with you. Because…I would like to.”

My breath caught, and not because I was so very moved. I had to squeeze my eyes shut and fight back a tremor of remembered panic that didn’t belong in this situation.

Minifrit, consummate professional that she was, gave me a moment to recover my poise before continuing in a more casual and therefore less dangerous tone. “And also because I believe I can trust you not to do something wildly asinine like fall in love with me.”

“Ah…heh.” I shook my head. “Well. I’m definitely flattered, and interested. But, ah, no offense, Minifrit—”

“Here’s some excellent advice which you will ignore: if you find yourself about to say something that needs to be prefaced with that, close your mouth. Seriously, this may just be the prejudices of my own life experience talking, but I’m firmly of the opinion that a powerful man suffers stresses and pressures which he can only properly relieve in a woman’s body. Or another man’s, I suppose, if that’s what he prefers,” she added with another mischievous little smirk. “I’m the last person who’d judge, for all that I’m not accustomed to thinking in those terms. The point is, it needn’t be anything more intimate than that—and between you and I, to be honest, I’ll be more comfortable with the assurance up front that it will not be.”

Now it was I who raised an eyebrow and smirked. “No offense meant?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if you were the type to take it personally,” she retorted, grinning back. “Truly, Dark Lord is a little rich for my blood. It will be interesting to serve as your outlet for a while, as you establish yourself—quite the notch on my own already well-traveled belt. But we both have different destinies, you especially. A figure like you… Well, somewhere out there is a legendary romance—some Viryan witch or dark elven princess or who knows what, just blithely trotting around without even suspecting your signature is on the ribbon of her fate. And when that destined beauty finally deigns to turn up, I intend to hand you over to her in a much better condition than I found you.”

She paused, leaned back a bit, and cast her eyes rapidly up and down my form with a critical expression.

“Which is, simultaneously, not saying much and yet will be quite an undertaking. You, young man, are a wreck.”

“Okay, I take a little offense at that one.”

Minifrit grinned pure mischief at me, then her eyes cut past me and she cleared her throat.

“Ahem! Biribo, are you able to handle door latches or do you require help?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he groused. “Dunno why you big shaved apes are so convinced anybody wants to watch that anyway. C’mon, Junko, let’s go for a walk. Trust me, girl, you don’t wanna be in here.”

He actually could handle the door latch, somewhat to my surprise; the only hurdle was that Junko required a firm order from me to follow the familiar out into the hall. I suspected neither of them would go far. Biribo seemed to be uncomfortable being separated me by too much distance or time, and Junko…well, she was a dog.

“So, uh.” I hated myself for the uncertainty that suddenly fell. For god’s sake, it wasn’t like I was some virgin. “How, erm… Ugh, you must think I’m being—”

“Shush.” Minifrit placed one finger on my lips, smiling. “This is specifically unlike any of your previous experiences, in both purpose and execution. And trust me, Seiji, I’ve seen boys far more self-conscious than you, with much more reason, and not judged them for it either. We will go slowly. I’ll try things…gently, a bit at a time…”

She eased closer, till she was almost pressing against me. I could feel her warm breath on my cheek as she murmured.

“…and you’ll try things. Whatever you feel comfortable with. Don’t worry about me; I’m impossible to shock and I don’t mind being handled roughly. Still, go slow. A bit at a time, as we see how far we can push before you’re triggered. Then we will stop, and make sure you’re calm again before we try once more. All right?”

I nodded silently, not trusting my voice for a whole variety of reasons.

“There is no hurry,” she whispered. Her forehead came to rest gently on my temple; her body eased forward until my arm was nestled between her breasts. Her bare— When had she opened her robe? “No farther or faster than you can bear. There is no timetable and no rush. We’ll stop for tonight before too much longer; you need some proper rest and this needn’t be solved in one day. But one…bit…at a time…”

I turned my head, caught her lips in my own as she tilted her face to accommodate. The taste of smoke, I decided, wasn’t that terrible. Especially with that spicy-sweet smell about her.

She gently kissed my lips, slowly, repeating soft motions in no hurry. Gradually, I felt some of the expectant tension ease from my shoulders as an episode failed to occur. With a soft murmur of satisfaction, she pressed a little forward, offering her tongue, accepting mine.

So far so good.

I slipped an arm around her waist to hold her; hers wrapped around my neck. A bit further, and I was still okay. I leaned into her, moved my other hand. She made a soft noise of approval into my mouth as I lightly squeezed her breast, lifting its weight—

It was as if all the suspended trauma that should’ve triggered for the last few minutes hit at once, in one of the worst flashbacks yet. I was drowning, surrounded by blood and the sickly stink of rot. Couldn’t breathe, people were dying, women screamed on all sides—

It only gradually receded, and Minifrit was holding me, her grip firm and comforting without a hint of the erotic questing from just moments ago, her quiet voice devoid of that huskiness. Just soothing, like she was talking to a high-strung animal.

“It’s okay, you’re all right. You’re safe, it’s fine. That was a good start. It’s okay. Just breathe, Seiji. A breath at a time. In…out… That’s the way. There’s no hurry.”

I realized I was gripping her hard enough to bruise again and winced.

“Uh…sorry. Heal.”

Minifrit smiled through the flash of pink light. “You can probably save that for the end of the night. You’re very unlikely to do any real harm in panicked flailing—and I told you, I’ve no objections to picking up a few little scrapes and bruises. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Ready to try again?”

“I, uh…”

“Don’t force it. We’re here to help you, not just playing around.”

I nodded. “Just…lemme settle my breathing.”

“Of course. Take whatever time you need.”

“That was a really frustrating place to break,” I said, trying for a little levity. “Like, terrible timing. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on those things?”

She grinned. “You and everyone else. Don’t worry, we’ll get there, and I assure you they’re worth it.”

“If you do say so yourself.”

“It’s a professional guarantee.”

I needed a bit more time to feel calm enough to try again. She didn’t push. For the first time, though I was almost afraid to, I began to feel like this might eventually be okay.

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