Kazuo frowned. “Make it sound like I oughtta take that thing up to Mount Doom.”
Aurelia’s devilish grin softened. “That’s one way to look at it. It is the same old story, isn’t it? Another story, for your consideration: he once partnered with a nobleman, during a civil war. That nobleman had rebelled against his lord father. Turned traitor. His mission . . . was to make it out of his own country alive. A bargain was struck. And that nobleman did make it out.”
“Guessin’ he didn’t last long after that, did he?” Kazuo guessed.
Aurelia winked. “No. He did not.” She waited a moment; Kazuo didn’t speak again. “A second story: he was given as a gift to a young lady who was fascinated by the articles of war. Her most fervent wish was to be a hero. Her homeland crumbled at her feet. She became a legend . . . as the last living remnant of a forgotten empire. Bereft, and alone, she used Woodsbane to slice open her own guts.”
“So as soon as the mission’s done . . . Woodsbane here takes his payment.”
“Yes.”
“When are these . . . bargains struck?”
Aurelia’s eyes were twinkling. “As soon as you touch him.”
Kazuo grunted. “And you? You exempt or something?”
“. . . Or something.”
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