A Power Game

The next morning was peaceful for Mhykol. He woke slowly, barely registering the quiet knock of a hand against his room door frame. Turning his head against the silk pillow, he saw Avery standing, face inclined, in the doorway.

"G'morning Avery." His voice was still raspy from sleep, and he dragged one half numb hand across his eyelids. Giving the shy girl a smile, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Breakfast's ready." Her quiet breathy voice sounded almost on the edge of constant panic. Glancing at him quickly with her caramel eyes, she turned on one heel and nearly fled down the hallway. Sighing deeply, Mhykol rose from the bed.

His room was small, but cozy. The walls were painted in a deep, rich blue, and lit by early-morning light that shone through a rectangular window in the far wall. The only decorations were an exquisitely carved bedstand, a cabinet of dark oak wood, and the bed. Slipping his soft black shoes onto his stumbling feet, Mhykol picked up his swords from beside the bedstand. Glancing around the neat room quickly to make sure he was not forgetting anything, Mhykol made his way downstairs. He met Rain halfway down the hallway.

"Good morning, Mhykol." The slim girl seemed to already be fully awake. She was dressed in tight black pants and a silver shirt, which was bound at the waist with a wide belt. Her long black hair was held back by two jeweled pins in the shape of birds.

"You're awfully peppy this morning." Mhykol glanced at the girl, who beamed happily.

"Awful's the right word for it." The voice was Jasmine's. The older woman, though the word older is used loosely, appeared out of a doorway to their right. She was wearing the same clothes as she had the other day, but her hair was wet, and she smelled lightly of mint and roses. Running one hand through her curly hair, the woman gave Mhykol an irritable look.
"I hate mornings."

"I'm only here because I heard something about eggs and bacon."

The woman smiled vaguely at Mhykol's answer, pushing him lightly towards the stairs with one tough hand. "Get moving, or there'll be none left."

Saluting smartly - and receiving a hefty smack across the back of the head for it - Mhykol took the steps three at a time. Upon reaching the bottom, Mhykol stumbled out into the long hallway that separated the two halves of the house. Jasmine and Rain followed quickly. As soon as Mhykol entered hallway the smell of cooking bacon filled his nose, and he breathed in heavily. There really was nothing better. Walking through the door to the kitchen, Mhykol heard the sizzling pop of Walker's cooking.

As they three entered the room, everyone present turned to face them. Walker was standing in front of the stove, an aluminum spatula in one hand and a glass of light honey-like liquid in the other. Whiskey? - Mhykol thought. Really? Whiskey? At eight in the morning?

Each to their own, he supposed.

Everyone else was gathered around the table, eating and chatting quietly. To Mhykol's surprise, there was someone he didn't recognize. The newcomer was short, though it was hard to tell while he was sitting down, and dressed entirely in black. Two silver daggers, each shaped like gammas*, lay on the table beside his plate. His eyes were a light brown, and his shaggy black hair was tied in a short ponytail down his neck. As they walked into the kitchen, the boy rose to greet them.

Placing his right hand over his heart, he bowed formally.

"Greetings. I am Octavian Herschel." He turned to Mhykol, inclining his sharp face slightly. "You must be Mhykol." He glanced at Walker, who had turned back to his bacon. "Father Bear has told me much about your fighting prowess. I would very much like to see it for myself." The words sounded like a challenge, but the boy's voice stayed decidedly polite. Turning away from Mhykol he smiled at Jasmine and Rain, meeting both of their eyes.

"My goodness." The boy walked over to Rain on light feet, taking one of her hands and raising it to his lips. "I wasn't aware there was a Goddess in the house."

Jasmine made a sound that was suspiciously like a growl, grabbing the boy forcefully by one thick arm. As she dragged him towards the table, he shot a look at Mhykol that said something like 'dude, she's psycho, help a brother out', and winked roguishly at Rain.

Jasmine looked back over her shoulder, flinging the boy forcefully back into his chair. "Sorry about that, you two. This cub's tongue is longer than his teeth. I hope he didn't offend."

Rain laughed lightly, eyes curving in a smile. "Oh no, it's fine Jasmine. It was very sweet."

"Oh Goddess, shall I prove her comment about my tongue later?" Octavian's voice ended in a gasp as Jasmine's closed hand struck him sharply in the stomach.

"Quiet fool, and eat your eggs." Jasmine's voice tried to sound menacing, but it was obvious she was struggling not to laugh.

Shaking his head, Rain joined everyone at the round table. Almost immediately, Walker threw down a plate of food in front of him. The breakfast was simple, but delicious. Eggs, with some kind of chopped green plant in it, bacon, and toast. Walker also offered Mhykol whiskey, but Mhykol waved the offer away quickly.

"I don't drink, thank-you."

The big man shrugged, downing most of his glass in a single draw. "Your choice," The man growled, "personally, I drink it with everything. It's got a sweet, heady taste to it."

"I'm pretty sure that's just alcohol -" Octavian began, gasping once more as Jasmine's hand struck his stomach hard enough to crack bone. "- but I could be wrong" He finished in a voice that was a few octaves higher than it was before. "What the hell was that for?" The boy lowered his face to the table, both arms wrapped around his stomach. "You're going to hurt my poor, unborn child."

Mhykol's eyes widened quickly, before realizing that the boy was just playing around.

They ate leisurely, and an air of calm companionship fell upon the household. Surprisingly, by the end of the meal, Jasmine still hadn't killed Octavian. As Walker placed the final bite of egg and bacon in his mouth, washing it down with a long drag of Whiskey, he stood.

"Right, game plan." He big man coughed once to get everybody's attention. He needn't have, as everyone was instantly drawn in by his howitzer voice. "Octavian's going to take you all hunting today. Show you around." He turned to Octavian, glaring at the boy fiercely. "You're to show them all the basic training grounds around here, Cub." He hooked one giant finger under the boys' chin, tilting his head to look him in the eyes. "You are- under no circumstances - ever - to take them near the World Bosses."

The boy nodded vigorously. His thin eyes curved and truthful. "Yes, boss. Er, no bosses." He waved one hand in front of his face quickly. "I've gotcha Poppa."

The big man released his chin, stepping back with a nod.

"Good, then I'm off to take a nap." His broad nod seemed to take in everyone seated. Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. A light sprang into his eyes, and he trundled quickly - because the man never seemed to run - out of the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying two long, leather tubes. He tossed them to Mhykol, who caught them clumsily.

"Sword cases." Were all the man said, before turning and disappearing out of the door.

"Uhm ..." Mhykol began before raising his voice to call after the man. "Thank-you Walker!"

Rolling the cases between his fingers, Mhykol was both grateful and impressed. Both cases were about two feet long, perfect length to keep his twin short-swords in. They were made of dark-brown leather, tanned until it was almost black, and soft as butter. Two silver dragons curled down each from the open top, mouths open and snarling.

"My husband worked on those for hours last night." Jasmine said with a smile. "They're made of Dragon Leather. Fireproof, very tough. Even a bullet wouldn't pierce one of those things."

Mhykol breathed out in wonder. "That's ... amazing. Thank-you both."

Jasmine waved away his thanks. "It was nothing, really. You couldn't carry around the swords in your hands." She paused, glancing at the twin blades in thought. "Mhykol, what are you going to name them?"

"The sheaths?"

She gave him an exasperated look, and Mhykol realized she was talking about the swords. A slight blush crept up his neck. Stuuuuupid.

"The swords." Jasmine annunciated every syllable very carefully.

"I hadn't thought about it." Mhykol hefted one of the swords a few inches off the table, studying the way the light played across the silver blade. Every so often, the light turned red as it glinted off a piece of nearly invisible Dragon's Fang. He thought very carefully. He wanted the name to be something special to him, something ... deep.

"Choose wisely, Pup. Swords know what you think of them." She met everyone's stares levelly. "It's true. Weapons react to their owners. It's very subtle, but you can notice it. When a sword doesn't like someone, or when someone doesn't like their sword. It can be the different between life and death. Make your weapons love you, and they will practically fight your enemies for you."

Octavian whistled softly, twirling one finger around his head. Jasmine's uppercut knocked the boy out of his chair, and he moaned softly against the warm marble floor.

"You're a real cunt, know that?"

Jasmine placed one boot softly against the boy's cheek, her eyes radiating fire. "What was that, Cub?"

"Nothing, oh sweet Goddess of love and beauty."

Jasmine smiled, exhaling through nose softly. "Thought so. Now show these kids around the woods."

Octavian jumped up with a smart salute. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am! Troops, move out!" The boy marched from the room swiftly. Exchanging amused glances, the rest of the children followed him. As the group walked from the house, Mhykol caught up to Octavian.

The boy really was interesting, Mhykol thought. Just being around him made Mhykol feel somewhat ... protected. The boy didn't stand as tall as he did, his head only coming up to about Mhykol's nose, but he somehow seemed larger than life. His carefree attitude made him easy to like, but there was something deeper about him. His walk was almost a swagger, like a prince walking through his castle. Poised; in control. Mhykol noticed that his double daggers were tucked into sheathes beside his hands. Out of the way, but easily retrievable. Mhykol wished he could wear his swords like that, but alas, it was impossible.

Suddenly, Mhykol had an idea. He had read a comic once- Science Online or something -about a boy with two swords. He had worn them crossed over his back. Shrugging, Mhykol decided it would be worth a shot. Then, he realized he had no idea how to actually keep them there. Nearly slapping himself in the face, Mhykol simply tucked the two sheathed swords into his belt, one on either side of his body. They hung there easily. Shrugging, Mhykol kept walking. It would do for now.

"So where are we going?" He directed the question at Octavian, and the smaller boy regarded him with one roguish brown eye. He looked like of like a pirate, Mhykol decided.

"You wanna hear my thoughts?"

The question confused Mhykol, but he shrugged. "Sure, I guess?"

The other boy cocked his head, as if listening to some silent, divine force. "Well, alright then. Here's what I'm thinking." He paused, taking a slight step away from Mhykol, which made Mhykol frown. What was the boy doing?
"I have orders from Amen Haein to kill you. Something about a bar ... or something. I don't really know. I only listen to half of what that man orders me to do. He was very specific about your death, though." The smaller boy spun on one heel, turning to Reese, who was looking very stunned. "You, especially."

The sound of metal hissing against leather sounded as Mhykol, Reese and Rain all drew their swords simultaneously. The smaller boy kept walking, not even glancing back at them.

"Oh put away your weapons. If I wanted you all dead, you'd be dead already." He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. Suddenly, he voice was very malignant, the very definition of menacing. "Or don't you believe me?"

Rain was the first to sheath her weapon, studying the compact boy in front of her carefully. He smiled.

"You're even cuter when you're nervous, know that Goddess?" Finally he turned to face them, hands still empty of weapons. "Here's the deal: I'm not going to hurt any of you. In fact, I rather like you all." He held up his hands in a consolatory gesture. "I think I'll show you around the forest, maybe we'll check out the World Boss, and then I'll take you home. Sound good?"

This time, it was Avery who spoke. The question was not the one Mhykol would have asked.

"You're working for the Dead Syndicate?" Her voice was ... sad, and a little bit confused. Octavian shrugged.

"Not really. It's more like I'm uninterested in politics, and surrounded by either Communists, Buddhists, or Nazis. I really couldn't care who rules one way or the other. The Dead Syndicate are simply the most interesting." His voice was slightly bored. "Can we get to hunting?"

Mhykol stepped forwards, still not releasing his swords. "A few things first. Number one, how do we not know that you're going to turn us over to Amen in the forest? That you're not just waiting for the right time to strike? No matter how good you are, you couldn't beat all of us. Besides that, why does Amen want us dead if he's been healed? And finally, just who are you?"

Octavian's grin became wolf-like. "So you don't think I'm strong enough to beat you, with your special swords and cheated-in Godspeed?" He measured Mhykol levelly with his eyes, taunting slightly. "Challenge me then."

"I think I just did."

Mhykol would like to think it was a trick of the mind, or that he put up a fight, but the truth was that Octavian was simply in a whole other level. The boy literally flashed, like he was teleporting, and appeared behind Mhykol. Before Mhykol had time to even part his lips to cry out, his face was pressed against the grass. His twin swords left his hands as the smaller boy kicked them through the grass. Octavian stood above him, one curved knife pressed against the back of his neck.

"Believe me now, Pup?" The metal was cold against his skin, like polished ice. "But that wasn't fair, was it?" The boy stood, removing the knife from Mhykol's neck. He looked around at the other children, who stood stunned. "I'm on your side, I promise. Don't make me prove it again." The boy lifted his foot, bringing it down on the blade of Mhykol's sword. They spun upwards through the air in an ark, and the boy grabbed their handles easily, his twin knives disappearing into his sleeves in the blink of an eye.

How was it even possible to be that fast?

"As for why Amen wants you dead, I would say it's just a vengeance thing. I wouldn't worry about it. He's a mean son of a bitch, but he's not very powerful. He may be the leader the Dead Syndicate, but I lead them. As for who I am," The boy grinned down at Mhykol lazily, his brown eyes flashing cockily.
"Octavian Herschel, Commanding Officer of the Dead Syndicate, the God of Speed, and Slayer of Ladies, at your service."