The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 7 Mao Dreams No More

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#Wss366 Boring #MastoPrompt Visitor

By the time Chue stirred, the simple millet congee prepared with ample, if common, vegetables had grown cold. It wasn’t prison slop. They evidently were going to treat their prisoners humanely.

She attempted to rouse Mao, who only groaned in response. To Chue’s relief, Mao’s eyes now reacted normally to light, and she drank a trickle of water poured into her mouth.

Having done everything she could to help the woman, Chue sat down and inventoried the items hidden in her robes: her flags, some candy, and a few coins. She unfurled the string of pennants and began playing with them to keep herself entertained, while thinking about how to use what she had found the next time she had #visitors.

When that grew #boring, she took a nap.

A groan from the bed woke her, and she was at Mao’s bedside in an instant.

Mao stared up in a daze, then asked, “What happened?”

“Chue thinks The Mad Frank kidnapped us. He’s been seen with Shaoh agents. The Shining Prince thought I should keep an eye on you. Chue has failed.”

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Least Kan Lakan be Forgotten: April Fools Edition 3 of 3

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#Wss366 Fool / #AprilFools #MastoPrompt Cruel #WordWeavers April Fools.

Mao took a sip under Lakan's watchful gaze.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Clack!

“Is it good?”

Mao shot En'en a piercing look. “Come on, woman,” she thought. “Tell him.”

Clack!

Onsou leaned down and whispered, “It’s a scholar’s elixir.”

The relief Mao felt didn’t reach her face. Her ally had failed her, but the enemy had come to her rescue.

Lakan watched as she took another drink. “Can I try some?” he asked.

Mao hesitated, then pushed the juice toward her father, and finally beckoned to En’en.

When En’en leaned down, Mao said in a stage whisper, "Tell him he shouldn't drink that."

“That should placate Grams,” she thought. “I tried to warn him, as if the Freak would ever listen.”

En’en repeated, “She says not to drink that.”

“Anything my daughter can drink, I can,” Lakan said, taking a swallow. “Ahg! What’s in there?”

“Sweet flag, polygala, and ginseng,” Onsou said.

Lord Kan took another sip and made a sour face. “One more,” he said, taking a gulp, then stuffed a large handful of sugared walnuts into his mouth.

Clack… Clack… Clack…

“Lord?” Onsou said, frowning at his lord’s last move.

Clack!. Mao captured Lakan’s pieces, breaking his formation.

Lord Kan blinked, picked up a piece, and then set it down again. “I need to take a nap,” he said, his head sinking to the table.

“Then I am no longer needed,” Mao announced, rising.

Once they were out of the room, Yoa asked, “What happened?”

Mao smiled. “Onsou forgot to mention the alcohol from the ginseng tincture.”

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Least Kan Lakan be Forgotten: April Fools Edition 2 of 3

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#Wss366 Fool / #AprilFools #MastoPrompt Cruel #WordWeavers April Fools.

The room looked much as it had in her recent dream. Courtesans lounged on pillows while Joka played the erhu, looking bored. The air was thick with the scent of high-quality incense. While not as expensive as the frankincense and myrrh in her dream, it was still too costly to waste on this guest. He probably didn't even notice it. There was no wine present either. At Verdigris House, it was well known that Lord Kan was allergic to alcohol; the slightest amount would render him comatose.

Mao wordlessly sat down at the Go board across from Lord Kan. Her father had already placed nine black stones on the board. Mao studied them as if they would reveal her opponent’s strategy rather than merely representing the handicap he had given her.

“Evening, daughter. I'm pleased you joined me,” Kan began.

.…

"As you can see, I have given you a full handicap. If you want more, you can rearrange them.”

With a sharp clack, Mao placed a black stone on the board.

Kan nibbled on a lotus seed cake, crumbs dropping onto the Go board. He silently placed a white piece on the board.

"The cakes are excellent. Would you like one?" Lakan offered.

Clack!

“Or some sugared walnuts?”

Clack!

This went on for minutes on end, with Lakan placing his stones and chattering at Mao. The only response he received was the irritable sound of Mao placing her pieces.

This went on until the lord captured his first group of Mao’s pieces.

“This won’t do,” Mao muttered. She looked at En’en. “My drink.”

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Least Kan Lakan be Forgotten: April Fools Edition 1 of 3

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#Wss366 Fool / #AprilFools #MastoPrompt Cruel #WordWeavers April Fools.

As soon as Mao and her party were out of the madam's earshot, Mao said, "I need to stop by the apothecary for a moment. There's something I need."

Onsou raised an eyebrow, so Mao hurried on. "If I am to play Go with that goblin, I need every advantage. I wish to fetch a 'Scholar's Tonic.'”

Onsou nodded.

“And I need fruit juice, not wine. We’ll need to stop by the kitchen.”

“I’ll see to it,” Onsou said, summoning a girl to fetch it.

Once in the apothecary, Mao announced what she was getting, making sure Onsou heard.

“Scholar’s tonic: sweet flag to clear the mind and polygala to open it. And a vial of ginseng tincture for clarity.”

“And juice,” Mao said as a girl entered with it. “Not wine, which would cloud the mind.”

She took the bottle, added the Scholar’s Tonic and the ginseng tincture, then said to En’en. “Give this to me when I ask for it.”

En’en glared but took it. Ignoring the look, Mao said, “It’s a mental stimulant. If the Freak complains, just tell him that.”

She turned to Onsou. “Since I'm forced to, I’ll play Go with the Freak, but I won’t talk to him.”

He nodded, looking troubled, but turned and led the way to the main guest room where Kan Lakan waited. No one heard him mutter, “#Cruel, cruel woman.”

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The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 6 Chue’s Con 2 of 2 parts

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#Wss366 Rack #MastoPrompt Volume

“How much do they pay you?” Chue asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but her words were clear, the #volume steady.

“What’s it to ya?” the elder said.

“Because whatever it is, it’s not enough,” Chue said. “Take us out of here, and you can claim a reward for the lady over there. Then take your money, go to another city, and live like nobles for the rest of your life.”

“Ya turn us in and get the whole reward. Hah! Serpents, that’s what Prophet calls ya jeses,” Cudgel said.

“You can collect it all. Once we get out of here, I’ll vanish if you want. The Moon Prince will pay you a fortune to get her back. Why settle for a few spilled grains when you can have the whole harvest?”

“Juda Prince,” the first man laughed. “He’ll pay, oh, he’ll pay—pay in lamb’s blood, that’s what the pilgrim said. Fire and brimstone, aye, he’ll bring it down. Burn out the serpents, the dogs, all of ’em. Prophet says so—us clean ones take what’s left.”

He pulled a wooden crucifix with a crude iron nail hammered into it from under his robes. The tip was bloody where it had gouged its bearer. His brother produced a similar one.

Since she couldn’t convince these two zealots to help, she decided to gather what information she could. “This prophet, he wouldn’t be The Frank?” She omitted the word “mad.” It wouldn’t do to antagonize them.

“God speaks to that one. Promised to bring down fire on the land,” Cudgel said while the elder nodded.

“Been here too long,” said the one with the tray, putting it down on the floor. “Ya be feeding the jese princess when she awakes.”

With that, the two departed, while Chue slumped against the wall.

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The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 6 Chue’s Con 1 of 2 parts

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#Wss366 Rack #MastoPrompt Volume

Since it was pointless #racking her brains for an escape plan, Chue went to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of the door scraping open. Her head still hurt, but when she opened her eyes a slit, the room didn’t spin. In the doorway stood two burly men, brothers by the look of them. The elder held a tray in his hands, two steaming bowls balanced on it. Bile rose in her throat as the sour smell of boiled millet reached her.

The other man had a cudgel by his side, but Chue didn’t think she could wrestle it away from him in time to use it. She might take one down, but the other would easily defeat her in the process. So she would have to out-talk them.

The first man spoke, “Told ya you hit the yese too hard. Prophet wants her alive.” He nodded toward the bed. Chue didn’t recognize the term “yese,” but it sounded like a foreign slur.

Her thoughts were still slow, but she worked on understanding, knowing that any clue might be important. The Mad Frank sometimes called the courtesans “yesebel” when he was in a foul mood. But even if they were the same, that didn’t help her.

The second man toed her. “Wake up, honey child. The prophet says, to eat.”

She opened her eyes fully. “Water.” The words came out as a raspy whisper. Food sounded revolting, but she thought she could manage a drink.

The water from a gourd she had been given tasted wonderful. She sipped it while examining the two men. Their worn clothes marked them as poor. Hard muscles indicated individuals who did manual labor. Scars made by fists, not edged weapons, marred their faces, so they weren’t mercenaries. Ears in good shape meant they weren’t professional brawlers either. However, they held themselves with the assurance of men accustomed to getting their way through brute force: enforcers, perhaps, mercenaries of a different type, hired from the underworld.

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Maomao, Apothecary Diaries

She's smart, clever, kind, weird (I mean, who doesn't love a little poison?), and sooo cute!  

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Least Kan Lakan be Forgotten: Father’s Day Edition (2 of 2)

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#Wss366 Father #FathersDay #MastoPrompt #Rocky

[Continued from previous post]

Mao’s eyes narrowed when her former bodyguard Steele met her, En’en, and Yao at the medical room’s door.

The mercenary addressing Mao said, “I have orders to guard you.”

Mao assessed her: “Brigandine, recently cleaned; no bow, but she still carries a short, curved scimitar; and new boots. She’s doing well for herself.”

The skirmisher still had the tan and tousled look of someone more accustomed to riding a horse than being a bodyguard, though.

Mao grimaced; "healthy too." She would have loved to dose the woman, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of ill-health.

“This way, Lady Maomao. Dr. Liu’s orders are that you are not to bother him.” The gleam in Steele’s eye did nothing to diminish Mao’s resentment toward her.

“These are for you,” her guard said, handing Mao a bundle of sky-blue clothes. At least she attempted to hand them to her.

“Are these from ‘him?’” Mao asked, refusing them.

“They are from Lord Kan.”

“Then you may have them. Sell them if you can’t wear them.”

“And if they say I stole them?” the mercenary said.

“Then burn them! I don’t care.”

“Very well. I'll tell them to talk to you if there are any concerns.”

Mao's brows puckered with annoyance, but she said nothing, while the other two women watched with both sympathy and amusement.

[Continued on #AprilFools]

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