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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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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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 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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The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 8 The Robe of Wonder

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#Wss366 Spat

Mao scanned the small room, taking in the boarded window, the heavy door, and the image of the Crucifixion on the wall. Her gaze lingered on the latter for a moment, then she refocused on Chue.

“What do they want?” she asked.

“The Shaoh wish to make trouble, while The Mad Frank dreams he can use you to bring down fire and destruction upon Li.”

Mao lay back down, muttering. Chue couldn’t make out most of what she said, but picked out “wind in his head,” “apocalypse,” and “mushroom princess.” Then, with a sigh, Mao began breathing evenly, asleep.

When she awoke, she looked at Chue and said, “I’m glad you’re here. What are we going to do?” Her voice was uncharacteristically feeble, and Chue reproached herself once again for failing to protect the Prince’s favorite.

“First, eat and drink. You’ll need energy,” she said.

Mao looked at the cold, congealed millet and turned green. She pushed the bowl away but took a swig from the gourd, #spat, and then took another swallow. “Maybe I could eat something salty.” Nodding at the congee she said, “That would just make me sick.”

Reaching into her robes, Chue pulled out a golden crystal. "Honey candy. I was saving it for you." Her eyes fixed hungrily on it, but she handed it to Mao.

Mao put it in her mouth and then, speaking around it, said, “What else do you have?”

"They took most of my things, but they missed this." She pulled out her flags with a flourish, grabbed the far end of the braided silk cord, and snapped it as if wrapping it around something. It was a remarkable feat done with only one hand.

“Miss Chue has been practicing.”

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