The Work of a Janitor Never Ends!

They did what the elder asked after a while—to purge the Deltaways of its miscreants. First to page Macel and his gang to come help, then to wait. Things went remarkably fast when you had a fleet of griffons standing at your beck and call.

The reason why none of the villagers acted yet was because so many of their own made up their ranks. Imagine having to accost your cousin and put him under house arrest. Family dinners would be ruined forever.

Thus explains their current situation.

The exchange started nicely enough. The rebel leaders pointed out where the mercenaries and bandits were, and both Kael, Elisa, and Macel and his men dealt with them—as the village elder so helpfully phrased it—“with extreme prejudice.”

Of course, it didn’t take long for things to go sideways.

Apparently, the rebels were only in a cooperative mood for as long as it suited them, because not long after, a veritable army of them—close to a hundred—descended on them like a bad idea given legs.

Kael took great pains to tune his magic just enough to avoid life-destroying injuries—a feat that required far more restraint than he liked to admit.

He could have turned the whole field into a crater, but alas—diplomatic optics.

Then came the shouting.

When the rebels turned their venom on Elisa—names spat with the creative flair only cowards in a mob could conjure—the final straw almost snapped.

Almost.

But Elisa wasn’t made of straw.

She showed them that fire could fight fire just fine.

A few well-placed kicks, sharp jabs to temples, a handful of rebels crumpling to the ground in increasingly undignified positions.

Turns out, they weren’t particularly well-trained. The footwork was sloppy, the coordination worse. They just didn’t have the facilities for training. Just one of the satellite branches, likely cobbled together from frustration and vague ideology.

Still, they hit the ground like everyone else. Magic that kept them healthily in one place certainly helped as well.

A few of the rebels who hadn’t joined the sudden treachery stood to the side, wide-eyed, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

One of them, younger than the rest, finally muttered, “We only joined recently. We don’t even know where the headquarters are. They just told us to gather material—food, medicinal herbs, construction facilities—for when they do arrive. All they gave us was money.”

Money I probably helped obtain, Elisa thought unhelpfully.

“Ugh, the lack of catharsis is killing me.” Kael dusted off his coat, looking entirely unimpressed. “Well, then—I strongly suggest you lot reconsider your hobbies if you don’t want to end up in this sorry position again. We may not be so kind next time.”

Elisa stepped over another rebel, brushing dirt from her sleeves.

“Ignore him. What he means to say is—we understand there’s been wrong on both sides. And maybe you joined this fight thinking you'd change something, reclaim something. I get that. I respect it.” She turned to the scattered rebels, eyes narrowing. “You think this place is broken now? Try creating a power vacuum. Try pushing us out and see what comes next. Because if the Blac’hils fall, the other demonkin Houses won’t wait to swoop in.”

Her voice turned colder.

“And let me be blunt—they won’t treat you like potential citizens. They’ll treat Highcliff as an extension of their will. An outpost. A convenient plot of land to strip, tax, and parade their soldiers through.” A breath. “Say what you will about the Blac’hils—we’re bloody generous by comparison.” A few rebels exchanged uncertain glances. The tension had shifted. “You want to protect Highcliff? Keep it intact. Keep yourselves alive to fight for a future that actually has space for you in it. You’re not cowards for walking away. You’re practical. You’re smart.” She softened, just slightly. “I am asking you, as your Lady: go home.”

When you meet aggression with kindness, they didn’t have many grounds to attack you with. Not when you showed mercy. It makes them look like assholes in comparison. 

When you see your friends fleeing and abandoning their post, you would be sorely forgiven for being tempted yourself. So, most of them did. 

But for those who had a hill to die on… the dungeons were feeling vacant as of late.

\\

Lieutenant Sanza arrived on the scene, eyes scanning the aftermath with practiced detachment.

"We’ll take care of the prisoners, sir. No problem. But why handle this personally? It is such an unnecessary risk."

Kael didn’t look away. "Because the rebels need to see I have a stake in this land too. I’m not the cold, callous tyrant they make me out to be."

Sanza snorted, arms crossed. "Hell of a backwards way to prove it."

\\

Kael tore through the base, rifling through drawers, kicking open crates, flipping documents over with growing frustration.

"Nothing," he snapped. "Nothing at all. Just resource reports and supply logs. You’d think a rebellion would have outposts with actual infrastructure."

"Or they burned everything before we got here," Elisa said flatly.

"That too."

He tossed a folder onto the floor, jaw clenched.

“Why are people still joining in droves? Pauline said something about a new leader. A new vision. Though our actions earlier should help quite a bit.”

“We got lucky,” Elisa said, scanning the room. “This place wasn’t important enough.”

Kael nodded grimly. “Still, if word gets out that we were here, someone could tip them off.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad move,” Elisa muttered. “Would make them look righteous. Even more reason for people to rally behind them.”

“We really can’t do anything more except what we are currently doing, can we?”

“Nope…”

“Shit. Splitting apart my attention for something like this makes the manor vulnerable—political intrigue or otherwise.”

“They’d understand.”

“But they won’t, though! Now I have to delay the Lycans’ visit, which is really bad for our optics. Then there’s all manner of subterfuge to worry about. The people I’ve screened make up a good chunk of the manor, but they’re not everyone. I—fuck, Elisa, there’s too much to do.”

“Kneel.”

He shook his head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Kneel down,” Elisa repeated. “I can’t reach you from down here.”

“I… fine.”

He did as told.

Honestly, she could get used to this. But never mind her ulterior motives—her husband was in need. And she suspected he’d never had the chance to do this before.

“Now lean your head on my belly.”

“Lean my what?”

“I thought you trusted your wife. Implicitly.”

“Word for word quotes are so underhanded…”

When the tendrils of his perfect hair pressed against her, she could feel his frame begin to unwind. And when Elisa ran her fingers through his hair, slow and steady, she felt the rest of him begin to ease.

“Feels… nice, admittedly. You're so soft... But I shouldn’t… I should be stronger than to need—”

“Kael. Admitting you’re not okay is strength. Nobody’s here to judge you but me. And I think it’s kind of sad you feel like you can’t.”

“Of course not, I just... I thought…”

“I guess you never really wanted for much when you were younger.”

Kael… sniffled? “Wanting for more makes you spoiled.”

“Did that apply to emotional needs too?”

“…Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. You are starting to sound like my nuncle. But maybe. Something like that.”

She stared out the door to the world beyond.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He practically glowed. “Yes ma’am.”