BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 209's

Charles Hastings felt something was wrong when his servant said there was a large vessel at the waist of an adult decorated with gift tape on the doorstep. He had just returned from a meeting with the Venetian trade chief, who still refused to give any certainty about their position. The Venetian foxes always put off deciding things until things are clear to them. Talking with the cunning fox had made Charles tired and wanted to sleep immediately, but the gift of the vessel that greeted him obviously could not be ignored.

"You've seen what it is?" Charles turned to Walter, his butler.

Walter shakes. "I haven't opened it yet, sir. But it smells like quality honey."

Charles raised his metal wand, using it to tap the side of the vessel. The sound produced indicates that the contents of the vessel are full. "Who sent you?" tanyakanya.

"I'm sorry, sir, there's no card. Looks like it's laid out just tonight, 'cause this afternoon there's nothing at the door."

"That's suspicious" Charles said. He watched the vessel closely. The material is of terracotta, without any carvings or decorations. Just look at it already seems that it is expert-made, not cheap stuff. The lid has a small handle that is round in shape, decorated with grape-red organza ribbon. He used the tip of his cane to push the lid of the vessel until it slammed, split on the floor, then peeked at the contents of the vessel. Indeed honey.

Walter pokes the liquid and sniffs. "Pure honey, sir," he said, "without any syrup or mixture. It's definitely an expensive gift."

A bounty? Charles considered the possibility. He got many gifts, both from the people of Scholomance and his new trading partners. Many do not give out business cards as well. But this gift felt too awkward, too luxurious. He circled the vessel vigilantly, as if afraid that sharp thorns would emerge from the surface of the container to attack it.

“How many bouncers are there?”

“Fifty, Mr.” Walter was suspicious of hearing his employer's tone of voice. “Everything is preparing in the back house, as you ordered.”

“Call everything.”

"Master?"

"This honey is from Argent!" charles said fiercely, can guess the meaning of the prize. Dead bees do not produce honey, there is a saying in Bjork that literally means dead workers will not produce anything. .

Charles raised his staff high and swung it with all his might towards the vessel. It didn't crack in the least, so Charles kicked it until it fell over. Along with the sea of honey, two heads were dragged out. Their faces were covered in thick yellow honey, but Charles could guess that the heads belonged to his emissaries in Jorm. The gift was a mockery of Marco.

Walter gulped, took out a handkerchief to wipe the tip of his honey-soaked finger. Fortunately, he was not tempted.

"Wake up all the servants!" snapped Charles the beaver. "Wake everything!"

Before Walter could make his move, the main door was already slammed open and sharp gunmen poured into the estate. Charles drew the iron sword from his walking stick. The sword looked like a toy in front of the rapier as well as a kilij drawn towards it. Rapier belonged to Greyland while Kilij belonged to Argent, Charles knew him.

Walter moved back, then ran off in a hurry toward the opening of the passageway leading to the servant's room while exclaiming to call the bouncers. Greyland, who had already burst in past his soldiers, immediately swung his hand swiftly. No one could see clearly what Greyland had just done. Walter had collapsed with a short knife stuck deep in his neck. The man didn't even get to the foyer's limit.

Charles glanced at Walter's body, then returned a glance forward. In two short seconds he had already counted the number of the opposing soldiers. There are twenty heads. The ten in front who carried the rapier belonged to Greyland—they wore clothes with embroidered Greyland emblems on the chest. The ten heads in the second layer that carried the kilij were Argent's.

"What is this Argent?" snarl. "You know it's too late to see you now."

"Just want to know if you like the crossword from my sister." Edgar was beside Greyland, between two layers of troops. He nodded his head towards the honey vessel with two pieces of head on the floor. "I tied the ribbon myself.”

"If you spill blood here, not even the name Argent will be able to help you escape. You too, Greyland.” Charles said with a hunting breath, looking at the eyes of the two men in turn.

Is Argent going to act recklessly thinking they're going to be destroyed? Charles swallowed. Do they intend to risk it all thinking Bjork will no longer exist?

Edgar grimacing. “What will Her Majesty the Queen forgive you if you know what you are distributing through Spencer's hands?”

Uh. Charles understands now. He sighed. “You don't understand, Argent,” he said slowly while shaking his head. “Do you know about the cursed medallion Arabella?”

Greyland held up one hand, restraining the movements of his soldiers. He looked at Edgar meaningfully, delivering a wordless request. Despite knowing that Charles was only stalling for time, Edgar nodded faintly.

“Tell me what you know,” command Greyland.

Charles's eyes moved on Greyland, looking at him with a piercing look. “You know that the necklace is necessary for a ritual? Blood rituals. The people missing in Bjork are people who have one thing in common: never touching alcohol, not smoking. You know why? Because their pure blood is needed in rituals, to make a barrier. Making giant sigil.”

"That's why you're distributing drugs?"

Charles nodded firmly. “The cocaine we spread is set in low doses. It won't be addictive, it'll just stain their blood. My mission is to save Bjork! I'm trying to prevent more casualties!” He raised his index finger forward. “I brought the necklace to Bjork to hide! So that the demon can no longer use its evil magic to kill humans! I may have different interests than Marco, but I also fought for Bjork. By Albion. Everything I do is not for my own sake. You know why I'm against the south? Once the place is touched by man, its sacredness diminishes. No more protection!”

That explanation sounds convincing. Edgar had heard what really happened in Bjork by phone from Marco. Charles's description does fit in and sounds reasonable. He glanced, seeing Greyland put up a face full of consideration. Perhaps the man thought of capturing Charles alive and handing him over to Marco for his own interrogation, but Edgar would not allow it.

“Then why did you make Scholomance?” tanyakanya. Before the man could reply, Edgar continued again, “What did you make a golem and send it to my house?”

“The necklace is gone,” Charles growled. “I don't know how, but the necklace fell off. Our enemy is the same, Argent. What we're dealing with is demons, not humans! And that necklace can help us turn things around. I made a golem and ordered to find the medallion. If my golems come to your house, it's just a coincidence that the necklace is there! Where'd you get that necklace, Argent?”

Edgar did not answer. He asked again, “What are you holding Marco in Ashington Castle for? Want to say that you want to protect him so that Sir William doesn't use it as a tumbar?” he continued calmly, “you gave an excuse as if everything you did was for the benefit of the people a lot, then why did you attack my house when we weren't there?"

Charles opened his mouth to launch an excuse, but he caught Edgar's sight. It was not the eyes of a person who wanted an explanation. It was the look of a man who wanted to kill. He walked backwards, shouting for the guards without taking his eyes off the approaching weapons. Each step of his retreat was countered by three steps forward of the armed forces.

Charles shouted louder and louder, calling for his bodyguards, but no one came. He faintly smelled the scent of blood and heard the clanging of swords and the salting of firearms. Without him noticing, another fight had already started in the back house where his bodyguards were. There were fifty bodyguards behind, if all of them could survive then he would win an amount. He should have won the amount. Should have. I don't know why he's not so sure anymore. No waiter or worker came to hear his cry, it meant that the maids in the whole house had been slaughtered in silence.

This shouldn't have happened. Charles circled his gaze around to look for a gap, thinking where he had misstepped. When Marco disappears and Edgar goes to Aston, Argent's mansion is empty and his men can stir up the fury of the entire North Bjork to destroy Argent's house. The destruction of the Argentian manor will do everything. Edgar had nowhere to go, even if there were survivors, they would be busy recovering and not have time to take care of anything else. That's when he and Spencer will take over everything. Everything should go well as planned.

Charles took a deep breath, put away his regrets and tried to focus on the problem he was facing right now. He couldn't run because Greyland would definitely attack him from behind like he did with Walter. He lost, Charles realized. But at least he had to do the same amount of damage to Argent. To defeat one army, all he had to do was take the captain's head. But whose head should he go to? Argent's? Greyland's?

Thinking too long will make him doubt, and doubt will break the courage. Charles called out loudly, roaring forward while raising his sword straight.

Knowing that he was being targeted, Edgar instead stepped forward past the Greylanders, welcoming the challenge. Kilij on his left hand was swung from above to cut the neck. Charles held back the slash using the part of his staff that became the scabbard of the sword, then quickly moved a stab. His weapon has a longer range. He's gonna stab Edgar in the heart. He should do it. But he relied too much on puncture and did not prepare a backup plan. When Greyland pulls Edgar's shoulder to the point of evading, Charles soon finds out that things are not going to end well. He pierced the empty air and slammed to the floor, his body rolled hard, stopping at the end of the Greylanders' shoes. He heard the sound of a sword ringing. The ends of the rapier surrounded his face, besieging.

Charles panting. His gaze shifted from the tip of the sword to the face of Edgar who stepped closer as leisurely as the morning breeze. He hated those black eyes and hair. He hates all Argent and his roaches. Yet even all his hatred when he was made one still could not match his current fear. “You can't kill me with your own hands,” he denounced, tried to provoke. His chest rose and fell in nervous breaths. Face red. “If there were no Greyland, you wouldn't be able to get here! Do you dare to face me alone, Argent? One on one?”

“You want to make me feel embarrassed for Greyland's help?” Edgar laughed, but his eyes remained as flat as ever. Such provocation no longer works for him, who has acknowledged and accepted his weakness long ago. He was not as strong as his brother and did not have the agility of his four sons, knowing that he needed Greyland. “Do cacti need to feel embarrassed for having sharp spines protecting them?”

Charles did not get a chance to respond. He only had a glimpse of how the kilij in Edgar's hand swung, reflecting the light of the lamp.

“Don't ...,” the whisper is floating empty. That was all he could do. That was all he could think of.

***