The Entertainment Tonight

20th day of the 7th moon, 1162 HC

Zudaeshi deems Hanna broken and ruined enough to present her to Garrick. She sent High Commander Rhydros in with his forces, sacked the Mountain Sanctum, and detained Garrick. He's now here, and she has everyone gathered to celebrate his arrival.

Mulsae's pulse ticks steady at his throat, but his grip on the leash never tightens. Hanna's fingers are curled loosely around her skirt, her back straight, her chin held level. She knows what this is. The danger it could become.

Damion stands beside them, tall and composed, his expression calm in that unnerving way he's mastered. One step behind, just like always. A quiet shadow that would bleed the world dry if Mulsae gave the word.

They stand at the far edge of the audience chamber, tucked among the gathered people and foreign guests. It's the safest place to see without being seen. Not that it matters. Zudaeshi's attention tonight is reserved for one man only.

The white marble walls glisten, polished to a mirror-like shine. The light dances off them. Streamers of brown and gold hang from the ceiling, trailing down in long, curling ribbons. The air smells faintly of spring petals and wine.

The crowd is unusually dense. She has hundreds crammed into the space. Their clothing is freshly pressed, their jewels refracting the magical glow. Zudaeshi's order was clear: present yourselves well. Smile.

At the head of it all, sprawled across her throne, Zudaeshi is positively vibrating. Her smile is a coil of anticipation. She's dressed in something sheer and gold, each movement catching the light like flickers of flame. Her fingers tap restlessly against the carved wooden armrest. Her eyes, sharp and glinting, scan the room like a child waiting for the applause before a magic trick.

Zudaeshi rises to her feet in a single fluid motion, arms outstretched. Her voice cuts across the room. "Rejoice, my lovelies! Mountain Sanctum is joining the fold." Scattered applause. Uneasy laughter.

She beams. "Tonight, your Harmonarch welcomes her consort-to-be," she smiles conspiratorially to the room, "A long-awaited homecoming, don't you think?" The room murmurs again, louder now, some voices more genuine than others.

"But before our honored guest arrives," she says, "I want something clear. When he walks through that door, you will cheer for him. Loudly. Happily. With all the adoration you would give a savior." She raises her eyebrows. "And if you don't. Well. You've seen what I do to party poopers." The room stills into silence.

Zudaeshi sits again, but barely. Her spine is straight, her hands clenched in her lap like she's holding herself back from running laps around the room. Her feet bounce lightly.

"Now then," she calls out, the grin blooming again. "Are we ready?" A long beat. She raises her eyebrows. "That wasn't rhetorical." A wave of hasty shouts rises: Yes, Your Radiance! Ready! Yes! Her smile goes feral. "Then bring him in."

Trumpets blare in announcement. The grand lattice-panel doors swing open. And there he is: Garrick of the Mountain Sanctum. He's been washed, polished, and clothed in his Sanctum's finest brown and gold. His hair gleams like new-spun wheat beneath the enchanted lights. And next to all that finery is a set of shackles on his wrists connected together by a long chain. He's trussed up, but he's just another prisoner of this gilded cage like the rest of them.

The crowd erupts. Applause thunders across the room crashing like a wave. Shouts ring out from every corner. "Garrick!" and "Mountain Master Garrick!" The walls echo with artificial joy. Silk petals and golden slips of paper fall from the ceiling like blessings from above.

Zudaeshi stands, beaming like the sun itself. She lifts her arms and declares, "Welcome home, Mountain Master! Your place at my side awaits you!"

She extends one graceful hand toward the empty stool to her right just outside the throne canopy. Brown and gold silk trails from her wrist like a banner. "Right here, beside your Harmonarch!"

Garrick steps forward. He walks the length of the audience chamber with slow, even strides. His face is unreadable. His shoulders are squared, spine straight, hands loose at his sides. No tension. No nerves. No joy. He doesn't look at the crowd as he walks. Doesn't acknowledge the faces watching him. His eyes stay forward, as if the entire world behind him no longer matters.

The cheers do not falter, though they begin to thin as he passes through. One by one, those closest to him catch a glimpse of the hollowness in his eyes and fall quiet.

Still, he walks on. He mounts the dais. He looks at Zudaeshi once, a flick of the eyes. Then he turns and lowers himself into the ornately carved stool beside her.

He doesn't speak. Doesn't smile. Just sits. As if this is any other day. As if he's no more impressed than when attending yet another dull council session.

The silence begins to spread like a crack through the crowd.

This is who She thinks fell in love with me? Hanna's voice brushes into Mulsae's mind, wry and quiet.

Yes, he answers. Because he did fall for a human. But I hid her name to protect her, and let Her believe her name is yours.

A long pause. Then Hanna again, softer now, So... he doesn't even know I exist?

Mulsae doesn't respond right away.

No, Damion says, his mental tone heavy. He's never met you.

Hanna doesn't speak again, but Mulsae can feel her heartbeat is uneven and fast. Her leash is still wrapped loosely around his hand. His thumb presses into the leather.

Zudaeshi's smile stretches wide, practically glowing. She stands from her throne, arms outstretched as if the entire Sanctum is her stage. "Oh, Garrick," she purrs, "how long I have waited for this moment." Her gaze drips with satisfaction. "I know you're not one for grand speeches, but I do hope you appreciate a grand gesture."

She steps forward, her voice rising to reach every corner of the hall. "You see, I've been planning a surprise. A gift for you. A symbol of what our future could look like. Partnership. Unity. Delight."

Zudaeshi's lips curve as she turns in a slow arc, her sleeves rippling like banners in the wind. Every eye in the chamber stays locked on her. Her voice is sugarcoated silk, all shine and venom.

"Mountain Master Garrick," she purrs, "you really should have been more careful where you laid your devotion."

She lets the words hang, delicious and cruel. Then, with a mock sigh, she adds, "But no matter. I understand. Even the strongest will stumble when love calls." Garrick's eyes widen ever so slightly. She smiles wider, gaze sharp enough to draw blood.

Her voice cools. "I know about the girl. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" His breathing stops. A hush spreads like ink in water.

Then, brightly, almost cheerfully, she lifts her hand. "But don't worry," she says. "I've brought her here. I thought it only fair. If you loved her so much, why shouldn't you be together?" Garrick's hands clench into fists.

"After all," she finishes, "I've always admired your tender heart. Even if you do try so very hard to pretend you don't have one."

She beams, then flicks her fingers toward the side of the chamber. "Mulsae," Zudaeshi calls, her voice syrup-sweet, "bring forward your pet: Hanna Linwood." Garrick sucks in a breath and holds it.

Mulsae moves the moment she speaks, already lifting the leash in one hand with a steady calm. Hanna straightens beside him. They've prepared for this. Talked through every detail. Rehearsed it in whispers and looks. They're ready.

The crowd parts around them without resistance, as if unwilling to brush against whatever theater this is meant to become. Mulsae walks forward, Hanna at his side, leash loose in his hand. Her posture is careful, her expression composed, being neither too blank nor too defiant. The perfect balance they practiced.

Damion follows behind, two paces back. His steps are slow, watchful, shadowing Hanna's every move. When Mulsae and Hanna reach the open space before the dais, Damion stops at the crowd's edge. That, too, was part of the plan. Let Mulsae present her. Let Damion watch. Let Hanna be centered.

They stand in silence beneath the dais, the room's noise tapering to a hush. Garrick's gaze settles on Hanna. He expels the held air, his fists unclench and he visibly relaxes. He schools a bored expression.

Zudaeshi waits. And waits. Then she laughs, bright and delighted. "Still playing the stoic man, are we? Gods, Garrick, you don't even flinch. You see your little human pet dragged in on a leash and act like you don't even recognize her."

She leans towards him, practically glowing with triumph. "I found her. Since your heart couldn't stay faithful, I thought I'd at least make sure it stayed close."

Garrick's jaw tightens. His golden hair has been brushed and set like he's some wax figure, but there's nothing dulled in the way he studies Hanna. He doesn't even glance at the leash. Just looks at her face. For a long, silent beat. Then, quietly, "I don't know this girl."

The room goes very still. Hanna doesn't move. Damion doesn't breathe. Mulsae worries the leather of the leash with his thumb. Zudaeshi leans back, smile still stretched wide, but a sliver too sharp. "How loyal. How touching. You'd pretend not to know her just to protect her, even now."

"I'm not pretending," Garrick says, his voice steady. "I've never seen her before."

Zudaeshi's fingers curl against the arm of her throne. Her eyes flick to Hanna, then back to Garrick. "Strange. She seems your type. Young. Soft. Submissive." Garrick doesn't respond.

Mulsae, Damion's voice enters his mind, she's not going to accept this. We're in dangerous territory. Mulsae stays quiet.

Zudaeshi rises from her throne in a slow, prowling glide. Her grin doesn't falter, but it does shift. It tightens, brightens, becomes a predator's delight.

"You always were difficult," she says, each step echoing through the silent hall. "Hard to impress. Harder to please." She reaches the floor and walks, unhurried, to where Mulsae stands with Hanna. Her dress whispers around her legs like smoke.

"You want to be difficult now, Garrick? Play shy in front of all these lovely people? Fine. Let's make this easy for you." Without asking, without looking, she takes the leash from Mulsae's hand. Then she yanks. Hanna stumbles forward with a strangled gasp, catching herself just short of the dais stairs. Her hands fly up, grabbing instinctively at the collar.

Zudaeshi doesn't slow. She ascends the steps, dragging Hanna up behind her, each tug harsh and jerking. Gasps ripple through the crowd. She grabs Hanna by the collar and shoves her head in front of Garrick. "Go on," Zudaeshi says brightly, breathless with joy. "Tell her, Garrick. Tell her to her face that you never loved her. That you feel nothing. That you're not here to rescue her. Say it."

Garrick stares down at Hanna, and his voice is low, emotionless. "I don't know you."

Zudaeshi releases her collar and Hanna falls to her knees in front of Garrick. Zudaeshi puts a gentle finger under Hanna's chin and guides her face to look up at her. Her hand trails lightly down Hanna's cheek, then slaps her. Hard. The sound cracks through the throne room like a whip. Hanna sways but catches herself before she hits the floor.

The crowd goes silent. Mulsae stiffens. Damion twitches at the edge of the crowd. Garrick's fist clenches. His white-knuckled fingers are wrapped tight.

Zudaeshi smiles. "There it is." She purrs, circling Garrick slowly. "Not for me, of course. No. You never react for me. But for this little thing on the floor, suddenly you care." He says nothing. His jaw is stone.

She gestures to Hanna. "You feel it, don't you? Even now. I can see it in your grip. In the way you're breathing." Her eyes gleam. "You're always so difficult, Garrick. But I knew you were soft somewhere. And I found it."

She crouches by Hanna again, grabs a fistful of her hair, and jerks her head back. Hanna gasps but doesn't scream.

Garrick's staring at Hanna now. At the collar. At the leash. At the fingermarks forming on her cheek. His mouth parts, then closes. Something dark coils behind his eyes.

It's plain as day to Mulsae: The look on Garrick's face is compassion, rage, disgust about the unjust treatment of a fellow living being. But Zudaeshi sees that look and decides it means he loves her. "There it is," she whispers to herself. "There's my proof."

Zudaeshi pulls a jeweled dagger from her thigh sheath. "If she's no one to you," Zudaeshi announces, "then she's disposable." She presses the blade to Hanna's throat, hard enough to draw a fine red line. Hanna flinches but doesn't cry out. The crowd inhales as one.

Garrick reaches out a ginger hand. "Please don't," he says. Not loud. But audible. Firm. Zudaeshi pauses. Her eyes narrow. Mulsae goes still. Damion's heart stops.

Zudaeshi straightens slowly. "Please don't, you say?" Her voice is sweet, mocking. "Don't hurt this stranger? This girl you've never met?"

She stalks a slow circle around him. "You deny her. You claim not to know her. But now you ask me not to kill her?" She stops in front of him, chin high. "Are you lying to me, Garrick?"

"I'm not."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I did... this?" She turns and slams her boot into Hanna's ribs.

Hanna flies back with a sharp wheeze. The leash pulls taut in Zudaeshi's hand, and she yanks it hard to pull Hanna forward again.

Garrick's voice rises. "Zudaeshi, that is enough."

Zudaeshi smiles. "Enough of what? Of hurting your lover?"

"She's not my—"

"Then say it! Tell me to kill her, Garrick. Say it." Silence. He doesn't say it. He doesn't look away. "You are lying," she hisses, advancing again. "I know what I saw. I know what you feel. And I will make you admit it."

She grabs Hanna's jaw and slices her cheek with the same dagger, deliberate and shallow. "How about now?" No response. Another slice, this time across the collarbone. Hanna grits her teeth, blood soaking into the front of her clothes. Rage shakes through Garrick's arms.

"Are you ready to confess, Garrick?" Zudaeshi sings. "Or shall I cut her open and see how deeply your lies run?"

Garrick's voice cuts through the tension. "Please," he says, steady now. "Don't keep hurting her."

Zudaeshi tilts her head, eyes glittering with amusement. "So tender for a girl you supposedly don't know." She steps closer again, her smile razor-sharp. "Are you ready to admit it? Ready to tell the truth?"

"I'm not lying," Garrick says. "I don't know her."

Zudaeshi exhales sharply through her nose, lips curling. "Fine," she says, spinning on her heel. "If she means nothing to you, then she'll serve her next purpose." She raises her voice to the hall. "Tonight's entertainment will be provided by this lovely human!"

Her voice rings bright with false joy. "Put her on the spit."

The crowd gasps. Damion takes a half step forward before catching himself. Mulsae grinds his teeth. Zudaeshi doesn't even give a glance to Hanna as she slides her dagger back into its sheath and walks back to her throne. She sits. "She'll roast while we dine," she says cheerfully. "And perhaps then Garrick will admit the truth."

Zudaeshi lazily waves her hand towards Mulsae, "Collect and hold your pet while the spit is assembled." Mulsae walks up the dais and picks up the end of the leash from the floor in front Garrick. He feels untethered, like he could float away at any moment. Hanna rises with him and follows.

"Your Radiance," Mulsae says with quiet reverence, "May I have a word with you?"

"Oh, Mulsae," she pouts and holds out a hand for him to approach closer. He steps near her and she leans forward running a hand down his arm. "I know, she's been your pet, and I know how controlling you get over your pets," she glances at Damion then back up at him, "But she was never yours. She's mine. I will do with her as I see fit."

"This will cause significant disruption to my training," Mulsae tries to press gently, "I can't guarantee her obedience if we don't stick to my process."

"Your concerns are duly noted, Mulsae. I won't hold it against you if she's no longer obedient."

"Your Radiance..."

"Enough, Mulsae," her voice cracks like a whip through his mind. "You made your concerns clear. I absolve you of responsibilities for any disruptions she causes," she narrows her eyes at him, "Now go," she leans back in her throne, "You're disrupting the fun."

Mulsae lightly bows and leads Hanna off the dais to regroup with Damion. Mulsae starts to flood their mental connection. We could, no, Damion dies. If I, no, I die. If we, no we all die. He's thinking faster than he can communicate. If Damion, no, fuck, then both Damion and Hanna die. Nori could, no, all of Harmura dies. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. And I can't die without risking... his eyes flick up to Damion, you know. The city of Lirae.

Damion cuts in, Mulsae, you're thinking faster than we can follow. But what about that first idea? You said only I died in that one.

No, Hanna's voice clears all other thought, Remember The Agreement. No martyrs. She looks at both of them in turn. We signed it. We all signed it.

Damion's fists clench. Hanna...

Don't break it now. Not for me. You've had the agreement for forty-nine years. Don't break it for me.

Mulsae's breath hitches. His thoughts spiral, calculating again. Looking for a loophole. Anything.

A loud, grinding reverberation billows throughout the throne room. Everyone quiets and turns to watch servants dragging in the spit. It's a grotesque piece of iron art, ornate and ancient. Chains clink against its crescent bar. The base is dragged directly in front of the dais. Right in the middle of the floor. A performance space.

Hanna's lips part. A breath. That's the spit?

Mulsae doesn't look at her. He stares at the iron. Yes.

How does it work? Her voice is quiet but firm. What will happen to me?

He swallows. His voice is calm. Measured. Detached. They're going to burn you. They'll bind you by the ankles and wrists. Suspend you over the fire. The spit rotates. Slowly. That's the show. To watch you squirm.

Cocktail servers begin to drift through the crowd, trays stacked with glittering drinks and delicate appetizers. Plates of singed meat skewered on obsidian picks. Some in the crowd laugh. Someone claps. The music begins. A low, syrupy melody played on pipes and strings, something too gentle for what's coming.

Hanna's gaze examines the huge contraption. How long will I be on it?

Mulsae places a trembling hand into his pocket. It depends upon the heat. The highest will kill you in minutes. The lowest setting could take a day or two before death. His jaw tightens. She says you're tonight's entertainment. She'll expect you to entertain for hours at least.

She blinks. Will it hurt?

He looks at her sternly, No, then turns back to maintain his bored positioning. I won't let you feel any pain. My power allows me to mute your pain.

She nods once. Mute it. Please. I don't want to scream.

Suddenly Garrick's voice rings across the room, "I'm not lying! I simply don't want you to torture an innocent little girl! Why can't you understand that?!"

All eyes turn to the dais as Zudaeshi slaps Garrick across the face. "That is my first and only warning. Don't you dare raise your voice to me again. And if you don't drop it, I'll march right over there and slit her throat." Zudaeshi turns and glares at the crowd. Everyone instantly finds something else to look at.

Screaming would be better for you, Mulsae adds.

How?

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Think of it from Her perspective. She wants you to entertain her. She's a sadistic bitch. She is entertained by watching people in pain. He sneaks a glance at Her. Put on a good show and she'll be less likely to maim you. To cause harm that can't be healed.

Damion still hasn't moved. But his breathing has gone uneven. His eyes are locked on the fire pit now being filled with logs soaked in oil. He takes a step forward. Mulsae glances back, barely, subtly. That's all it takes. Damion stills again.

So I should squirm?

Yes. Entertain Her.

The servants finish building the pile and set the iron bar in place. The chains dangle, ready. Flames crackle beneath it now, hungry and rising. Shadows dance along the floor, flickering across the hem of Zudaeshi's dress as she lounges in her throne with a delighted sigh.

Dungeon Master Malric approaches Hanna and Mulsae. "Remove her garments." Mulsae pulls the tie and collects the fabric as it falls off her body, then unbuckles the collar around her neck. He loops the collar and leash together and grips it tightly.

"Wrists." She lifts her arms and offers her wrists with only a slight tremble. He fastens her wrists and winks at Mulsae, "It's just a toasting. You'll get her back."

It won't hurt, Mulsae promises.

I believe you, Hanna replies.

She moves with Malric like a dancer stepping onto a stage. He lays her down on the crescent bar. Chains click. Shackles snap. Malric binds her gently, almost reverently. The audience watches in fascination, as though she's a sculpture being finished before their eyes.

Mulsae remains clutching the leash, the leather digging into his palms. Damion's breath catches. He looks like he might shout, but doesn't.

They hoist her slowly, carefully, turning the crank with a creak and the chains lift her body from the floor. They gently guide the bar she hangs from into position above the flames.

Mulsae reaches out. He reaches out to her mind and numbs everything. Shuts off the receptors. Pulls her pain into himself instead.

He sees a bubble form on her skin. Urgently he presses, Scream! Scream extremely loud! A cold sweat drips down his spine. Hanna squirms and screams with all her might.

Malric jumps to the controls and lowers the heat. "Sorry, Your Radiance! I hadn't calibrated it for a human's flesh."

Whimper and cry, Mulsae orders. Hanna shifts her acting.

Mulsae marches over to Malric and gets in his face, "If you maim her, not even the Heavens will save you from my wrath!"

"Mulsae, calm down!" Zudaeshi calls out, "She's not dead," she shifts her gaze to Malric, "But if you mistakenly kill her before dinner is finished, there will be consequences."

"Sorry, Your Radiance, I'll keep a very close eye on her."

Mulsae growls lowly, "If she dies at all there will be grave consequences from me!" Malric eyes him and nods.

Keep squirming, Mulsae says as he angrily marches back to Damion's side. He clenches his teeth. I'll keep a close eye on you and make sure he doesn't cause irreparable damage.

Hanna's eyes close and she squirms and gasps at random intervals. The shadows on her skin shimmer with the light of the flames below.

The scent begins to rise. The crowd quiets. Bile threatens the back of Mulsae's throat. Damion lowers his head. Zudaeshi watches. Her lips parted slightly, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

Mulsae holds the collar in one hand with Hanna's dress draped across the same arm, hiding his clenching and unclenching fingers. He cannot stop the tremble in his fingers. He cannot stop the ache in his chest.

She trusted him to keep her safe. She isn't safe. But she's still alive. Hopefully she will heal. Hopefully she'll have her laughter and dance once again.

His gaze rests unflinchingly upon her.