BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 201's

Aspen trees grew tenuous around them, the edges swaying gently following the night breeze. Rolan did not recognize this route, but Jose led the way confidently as if he had night vision. His black leather bag was still hanging on his shoulder, now deflating as most of its contents had already been removed. Just a few clothes in there.

In their hands were torches of old branches wrapped around a rough rope. The rope fiber is smeared with olive oil so that the fire lasts longer. The one that lit up was only the torch that Jose was holding. They would wait for the lighting to die completely before turning on the torch that was held by Rolan.

It did not take long for them to arrive at the open grassland that became the front yard of the forest. Rolan didn't even need to light his torch.

"We'll be home soon" he said tiredly. The word home sounded so sweet in his ears. He misses his warm room in Argent's house, George's hot sweet tea, his pillow, his blanket. How he longed for the little things that seemed so trivial and ordinary. Even sleep is a luxury that can not be enjoyed with a total lately.

The moon hung pale in the black sky of Bjork, giving a dim light to two men who walked across the grass field in a noise. Far away from them were the settlements of the South, with doors and windows tightly shut and without lights. Rolan was tempted to stop by one of the houses asking for hot water, if only they were not chased for time.

A cold wind blew from the direction of the forest, pushing their backs gently, as if giving a warning. But what warning? Rolan felt that coldness slumped all the way to the bone, making him linu. He even raised his hand to check if there were ice chips coming down. The night feels colder than October which is commonly called the Frozen Moon.

Still about a hundred meters more before arriving at the pedestrian bridge that connects the two parts of Bjork. The closer to the bridge, the more strange smell thickened in the air. Rolan sniffed and frowned, feeling that he recognized the smell somewhere. They were walking down the riverbank, so at first he thought it was the smell of wet garbage stuck in water plants. But the smell was more pungent so that Rolan needed to press his palm firmly into the nose so as not to be disturbed.

At his side, Jose threw away a dead torch stick and stopped walking to open the bag. Rolan foolishly thought maybe his nephew was hungry and wanted to eat. He remembered there were still some breadcrumbs and a layer of ham wrapped in paper in the bag. But instead of food, Jose took out four daggers and handed two blades to Rolan. The dagger's handle felt cold in his hand, sending an amused danyar to his heart, making the organ beat even faster.

Even then, Rolan was still unconscious. "What is this for?"

"Uncle doesn't smell it?" Jose whispered hoarsely. The wind blew fiercely past them, ruffling his tangled black hair. "The scent of carrion runs."

***

It's been a few hours since midnight. Lady Chantall is not yet asleep. He lay on his side of the bed, on Marco's side, one hand clenched against the temple while the other was busy stroking his silvery-white-haired head beside him. Sometimes he landed a kiss, trying to do it as gently as possible so as not to disturb the man's sleep.

No one ever told him that looking at someone who was sleeping could be this much fun. Lady Chantall is sure she will never get bored despite doing it every day.

Had you never disappeared, would I have realized I was in love? Lady Chantall smiled to herself in light of the events of the day. Thank goodness I urged you.

He was about to drop the kiss once again on the forehead when the door was knocked from the outside.

Marco opened his eyes automatically as if he had not fallen asleep before.

"You're here alone" Lady Chantall whispered, somewhat irritated by the disturbance coming. "Let me open the door." He inched down from the bed, put on the sleeping coat available on the hanger, and went to the door without tidying himself up. He let his curly hair down as a sign of his victory, a sign that he had succeeded in conquering the owner of this room and house.

When she opened the door, the one behind her was the hostess. Renata Argent's. Behind the woman lined up her four maids and two hard-faced bouncers.

"My brother is awake?" Renata passed by, stepping in without waiting welcome. Two of his workers stayed behind, but four of his maids came in. "Marco, sorry to interrupt your break."

Marco had already gotten out of bed, wrapping himself in a thin sleeping coat. His hands were crossed in front of his chest. "If you're being disrespectful means something interesting?"

Renata nodded. He walked a few steps closer. "There's a call from Stuart. He said he saw a lot of people walking south." He looked back and raised his head slightly. One of the ladies saw that and closed the door.

"Jorm's people?" guess Marco. "Or members of Scholomance?"

"The missing people, brother," said Renata calmly, but unsuccessfully to hide the tension in the look in his eyes. The woman took a slow breath before continuing, "They who were missing reappeared. A bunch. It's just .. it's dead."

Silence filled the room in the most stifling manner. It felt as if there was a Southern mist creeping up the rooms, making them freeze in the cold.

"You mean maybe a golem?" Lady Chantall spoke up. He rubbed his arms slowly, his back was just drenched in a disturbing coldness.

"No, milady." Renata did not turn his head, his eyes still staring straight at Marco, giving a mark in every eye and breath. "I know what golems you mean. It's not a golem. People call it Kunarpa. This creature is dead, but it walks on two legs. Some people saw their families from among the dead and tried to bring them in, but were instead viciously attacked by the corpses." He stopped to catch his breath. Anxiety loomed clearly on his face, under his eyes. "Outside the noise. No Kunarpa walked here, all of them were far away in the South. But just in case, I've alerted the workers. Gerald and Hans took care of everything outside, they will report immediately after confirming the situation."

"How many bodies are there?" Marco shifted his weight to another leg, and his waist started to ache again. The effects of his painkillers began to fade. "There's an example of a body? I want to see one. Tell worker—" He shut up for a moment, only to realize that Rolan is not there to be ruled. He walked to the side of the mirror and pulled the bell rope, asking George to come. "What else did Stuart say? And why did he call you?"

"Sorry Brother, I asked for it," Renata replied in cold courtesy. "Rolan wasn't around and you were sick, so I asked him to call me if there was anything suspicious out there. Shouldn't I do it?"

Marco smiled faintly. "You can do whatever you want, brother." Even so, inwardly he took note to warn Mr. Stuart not to involve Renata anymore. "Is there anything else you want to say?" he asked, feeling that it was impossible for Renata to come with a full-fledged ladyboy and a worker if there was nothing precarious. His brows furrowed deeply when he saw Renata step forward, mediating between him and Lady Chantall, who was still standing quietly by the door.

"I told you there's a traitor in this house, right?" Renata grinned. "I've done an investigation and managed to get the tail. The snake is here. He's with us now."

Lady Chantall did not like this development. I don't know why she doesn't feel good. The way Renata looked at her since earlier was awkward, and the tone of the woman's voice was piercing in a way that hurt her heart. He was about to move to Marco's side, but was obstructed by the ladies. "Surge! Who're you?" his hisses in a haughty rage. Next to his thin eyebrows rose sharply. Cheeks heating. He began to be able to feel where all this was going, but desperately hoped that this would not happen. "Renata, didn't you teach your servant manners?"

Renata turned to him over the shoulder. The woman's lips lifted in a thin, slightly slanted arch. Lady Chantall swore she really wanted to tear that mouth out. Watering eyes. He looked at Marco and shook his head softly with a clear face, chanting a silent plea.

"What do you mean, brother?" Marco tightened his jaw, staring at the two women in turn.

"You slept with a snake, Brother," Renata's voice softened and cold, without mercy. "The Traitor of Lady Chantall."

***