With calm deliberate strides of someone who knew exactly where they were going, Helene found herself in downtown of the capital city. It has been a very long couple of days and it hasn't even ended yet. There are things now making sense even though they still don't make sense at all.
With sexual intercourse he gets the ability of the partner? That's unheard of, but that would explain why he slept with his own mother, and also a woman almost three times the age of his mother. He waited, painfully, for two days for the princess of Mittelreich, a paladin, while been heavily poisoned, just to fuck? Makes no sense, unless if fucking her would save his life.
But then, why is she here?
The narrow street was littered with refuse and muck, and the pungent stench of decay hung in the air. She turned her gaze to the right, where a crippled beggar's plea echoed through the gloom, but she resolutely fixed her eyes ahead, pressing on.
When her horse's hooves finally reached the decrepit, moss-covered house, she gracefully dismounted, her elegant gown brushing the filthy cobblestones lightly. The wooden door of the next building loomed before her, its surface marred with age and neglect.
She tapped the timeworn door twice, her touch gentle as a drifting petal, as if any much force would bring it down. After a brief pause, it squeaked open, revealing a shorter, red-haired man with a disheveled beard and tattered attire. The inside remained concealed by his body.
"...yes?"
She looked at him for a moment, she doesn't recognize him, but then again he could be just random.
"I'm here for Rowena" she said calmly.
"Who?" the man asked, face contorted in confusion. Good efforts. "Sorry I don't know who that is" he added.
"I don't have time for games" Helene replied, tone still patient.
"I mean it I don'--"
"It's okay, Richard," Rowena's voice, sultry and soft, interrupted from behind. Her slender hand rested on his left shoulder, and he shifted aside nervously, allowing Rowena to step into view. She still wore the same dress, her presence a paradox in the decaying surroundings.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"The King accepts your proposal" she announced, ignoring her inquiry. She extended her hand, palm up. "The antidote?"
Rowena's gaze held Helene's for a fleeting moment before she retreated into the dimly lit room, leaving Helene alone with the man once more.
Leaning in, the man's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "I have nothing to do with any of this, believe me," he pleaded, fear etched in the lines of his face.
Rowena came back before Helene could say anything. Not that she would have.
She handed her a fine glass vial. It has a delicate shade of pink.
So it was Nerium oleander after all, Helene thought, then secured the vial in a clutch.
"If it works, the king will send for you this evening" she said, and Rowena replied with a nod.
And with that Helene climbed back unto her horse and left. She returned to the King's castle, to his room, where his mother, the priestess and the princess of Mittelreich were waiting with him.
"Did you get it?" the mother asked.
"Yes," Helene replied, walking towards the king, who sat propped up at the head of the bed.
She walked up to his right side and showed him the antidote vial.
He collected it, looked at it for a moment then uncorked it.
The moment the sound of the vial opening sounded, a shadow mage began to emerge from the shadows of Helene. Fast as always, all in a second. It took everyone by surprise, except the princess, who just arched an eyebrow with arms still folded on her chest. The Queen mother and Helene instantly became armed with mana forged weapons, but then Helene recognized him instantly. Jakob AlKurd. His rough beards have gotten more grey strands since the last time she saw him, but his distinctive attire gave him away—a shadow dark tunic with intricate dull silver far eastern patterns, a worn leather jerkin, brown wool trousers, and sturdy leather boots.
"Rowena said this is the real antidote" he said, a similar vial in hand, the content of a purplish color.
He dipped his hand in his shirt's pocket and brought out Rowena's family's black sapphire ring. "She said you would understand" he said to Helene.
The king looked at Helene and she affirmed with a nod. He corked back the vial he had opened, tossed it on the bed and opened his palm for the one now been passed to Helene.
"Everyone but the priestess leave" the King said when the antidote reached him.
The Queen mother and Helene turned to leave but the princess stood rooted.
"You too" the king said.
She hesitated a bit then turned and left. She was the first to reach door, followed by Jakob, the Queen mother then Helene. Helene turned her head to take another look at the king when she was passing through the door, and saw him directing the priestess to get a cloth, probably for stuffing into his mouth, then the doors closed.
The king was left with just the priestess now, and he uncorked the new vial.
"I think we should get on the floor, Your Majesty" the teen priestess suggested.
"It's fine, the king replied, then carefully shifting to lie down. "You ready?" he asked the priestess when he had his back on the bed, and she nodded, with the shirt ready to be forced into the King's mouth.
The king took a deep breath in and out, then poured the contents of the vial down his throat, and when the last drop fell in, the priestess began clumsily stuffing the King's mouth with the cloth.
For a few seconds nothing happen. The king, with his mouth stuffed, looked at the priestess, eyes squinted in confusion but at that same moment his face twitched. And did so again but more violently.
Suddenly, veins on his face began to surface with alarming visibility, causing his features to contort in agony. His grunts of pain were muffled, and he clutched the bedsheets tightly, torn between the desire to let go and the unwillingness to do so.
The veins bursted! Multiple lacerations all over his body, including his face. Darkened blood gushed from these wounds as the King stretched out in excruciating pain, his screams still stifled by the cloth. He held onto the bed sheets desperately, and then, with a final shudder, he fell back onto the bed, motionless but for his labored breathing.
The priestess quickly began cleaning off the corrupted blood, then placing both hands on his chest she began healing him.
"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" the priestess asked, after she was done healing him. He was staring out into space, his expressions unreadable, though the lingering pain remained evident in his eyes.
"I'm fine," he finally replied, slowly sitting up. "You can go now."
She bowed and as she was leaving, she felt the king's gaze on her. It terrified her.
He knows, doesn't he? She thought, then stopped in her tracks.
"Is there a problem?" she heard him ask.
She turned to him. The pain was very much still in his eyes. He would have her beheaded immediately, she thought.
"Nothing, Your Majesty" she said, with the most charming forced smile she could afford. "Rest well"
She turned and continued walking.
Even if he doesn't, Rowena would do far worse.