It was the early hours of the day when Allen managed to shake off the elders and foreign lords, sending them back to their quarters after they had one too many. Entertaining these kids had tested his patience more than he'd want to admit, especially when they probed into Nyell's improper behavior of not attending the private banquet, as if enjoying the festivities with the common folk was some sort of terrible affront. If anything, Allen would rather go down the platform and drink with his people, too, than deal with these arrogant, ignorant brats.
These men and women talked high and mighty, yet couldn't do anything on their own. All they had was this thing called money. Without it, most of them would not be worth anything. They had no valuable skills to speak of.
'Back in my days,' Allen snorted as he removed his heavily decorated outer robes to throw them on the couch, 'They would be the ones considered the drudge of society, being nothing more than dead weights the tribe has to carry. It's remarkable how things change over time, and how priorities shift. To think that I'm now missing the time we were too busy trying to survive to care about petty politics… Maybe I should consider retiring and disappearing in the jungle for the next few reincarnations. It'd do me good.'
It was a tempting idea, but Allen knew he wouldn't proceed with it. At the end of the day, this tribe had been too precious to his mother for him to let it fall into disarray. He couldn't watch as it fell to ruin, although he had almost wiped it out with his own two hands at one point. For his defense, he had been angered beyond belief and couldn't care less at the time.
His relationship with his people wasn't all white and black, and there were days when he wouldn't mind watching the White Moon land burn down to the ground and turn into a pile of ashes. However, innocent people shouldn't have to pay the price for a few greedy dimwits who couldn't remember what duties their positions entailed. In their twisted minds, only their own points of view mattered, and others couldn't know better than themselves, for they were older, wiser, and more powerful. What they thought was good for the tribe had to be good, regardless of what the people said. They were right, and they were wrong.
It was a vicious circle that repeated itself every few generations, when the people from a peculiar era forgot how to fear the divine and started to dismiss the warnings left behind by their predecessors. They hadn't experienced it themselves and couldn't understand how terrible it was to be the target of a divine being's wrath. It was all exaggeration, and some even glorified those times, endocrinated by false legends.
Obviously, this generation had reached that low point, becoming so corrupt and impudent that devils looked like saints in comparison. How foolish.
"Alright, stop thinking about it," Allen admonished himself as he undid his hair, which had been braided in a complex yet delicate hairstyle. Unlike Nyell, he still had to look the part. "Let's keep the worrying for tomorrow. For now, I need sleep."
A sigh escaped Allen as he made way to the bedroom, aware that he would most likely not get a good night's rest despite being exhausted. He was supposed to sleep on the floor tonight. Nyell did say that he was definitely going to, and his mate wasn't the kind to come back on his words. It was already a miracle he hadn't punched him earlier when his hands ventured on his backside, and even allowed him to go further.
Well, if Allen needed to sleep on the floor to get the right to touch his partner's buttock however he wanted, he'd gladly lie on the cold stone floor every night. It couldn't be worse than sleeping in the slums or the jungle, anyway.
But to Allen's surprise, Nyell had rolled over on the left side of the bed, leaving him more than enough space to slip in, too. If he were honest, he had expected him to be lying on his back in a starfish position, making it clear that he wasn't welcome. Nyell could be quite petty at times.
"What are you standing there for?" Nyell eventually grunted, peering over his shoulder at the shaman. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't asleep yet. "Get in already."
"Oh, I'm allowed to sleep on the bed with you?" Allen chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get inside. Nyell wouldn't need to tell him twice. "I thought I was supposed to sleep on the floor tonight."
"Shut up," Nyell grumped, turning around to nestle against Allen. He plastered his cheek against the man's chest, listening to his heartbeat as he wrapped an arm around his slender waist. Good. His heart was beating strong and steady. "I'm cold tonight, and you're warm."
"Have I been relegated to a source of warmth? Like a bonfire?"
"Got a problem with that?"
"No, of course not," Allen shook his head as his eyes landed on the top of Nyell's head, the silky black hair falling on the mattress like a veil. He'd need to be blind and deaf not to notice something was off about his mate. Although Nyell was clingy in his sleep, he would always snuggle with him after falling asleep. He did it unconsciously, never consciously. "Is something the matter?"
"Not really."
"Is that so?"Allen kissed the top of his head. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't probe further."
That said, he pulled the blanket over their shoulders and twisted his torso around a little to adjust the pillows, pretending not to have noticed the grip on his waist tightening. He didn't know what was bothering his mate, but if snuggling made him feel better, he'd gladly oblige.
"…How was your night?"
The question struck Allen as odd, as Nyell usually avoided engaging in small talk, especially when they were about to go to sleep. Still, he humoured him and complained for the sake of it, "How do you think it went? It was the usual. I listened to fools flattering my little ego and giving backhanded compliments, thinking I couldn't see the underlying meanings behind their words. Otherwise, it was relatively boring. A few talks about business and trade routes, and that was pretty much it."
"No one brought up the missing foreign merchants, lords, and werewolves? A bunch of them suddenly vanished last night, and no one thought of inquiring about it? Isn't it a little odd?"
"Is it now?" Allen shrugged as he caressed his mate's back with his fingertips. For once, he wasn't being told off, so he continued with the little show of affection. "Most people should have had an inkling that these guys were up to no good and saw fit not to meddle, lest they wanted to be blacklisted, too. Of course, some less bright souls still discussed it in hushed words, unaware that walls have ears. Don't worry, I'll make an announcement about the matter soon enough. I want to round up the ringleader first."
"Do you have an inkling of who it might be? The bastard hasn't opened his mouth yet… Are your guys really that bad at interrogating others? Want me to give them a hand?"
"An inkling, huh?" Allen chuckled, his gaze darkening. "Thanks to your uncle's circumstances, I had already reduced the number of suspects to a few potential candidates, and the recent events reduced the list even more. I'm pretty sure of who among the elders has enough knowledge to be involved in all of these cases, and whose presence matches the timeline, but I have no proof. That's the biggest problem."
"How's that a problem?" Nyell mumbled.
"Because of the law and rules in my tribe. We function with the principle that you're innocent until proven guilty. It's nothing like the past, where I could decide to behead someone just because they displeased me. But I like that principle, as it helps protect my people against abuse of power, even if only slightly. On the other hand, if I don't abide by it, what message would that send? Especially to the elders. With me as an example, they would find excuses not to follow it. If the chief can, why can't they?"
"Can't we just murder them, then? Like, discreetly?"
"Oh, I'd love to, but it'd be a little hard with that one."
"How so?"
"Because she's loved by the people. A sudden assassination would spark unrest among the tribe and backlash. We'd need to stage a believable accident, but she's always on her toes and surrounded by people. Ambushing her would be nearly impossible, and she's also a powerful shaman, perhaps the most powerful after me."
"She?"
"Yes, she."
A frown creased Nyell's brow as he lifted his eyes to peek at his mate. Among the faction that opposed Allen, most were men, and only a few were women. None was beloved by the people. On the contrary, from what he had heard during his outings in the markets with Miell and tonight, they were despised. There was, however, one elder who often came up during conversations, being the most respected member of the council. People would shower her with praise and marvel at her moral integrity, going so far as to call her a saint at times.
"…Abby?"
To Nyell's uncertain question, Allen responded with a smile. It threw his thoughts into disarray, leaving him speechless. He needed time to digest the implications. Was she truly the ringleader? But wasn't she on the loyal team? Wait. Why did he believe so firmly that Abby was among the favorable faction, faithful to the bones to Allen? Because she presented herself as such? Right. How stupid. Shouldn't he know better now not to fall for people's masks and stay wary at all times? He had already paid a dire price for his naivety, yet it seemed like it hadn't been enough, and he hadn't learned his lesson.
Still, it was hard to accept.
"But how could that be?!" Nyell finally exclaimed, somehow hoping he had misinterpreted Allen's smile. "She seemed genuinely happy when we found the survivors and rescued them. That day, she worked tirelessly to bring them back to safety!"
"I know," Allen nodded, a hand sliding on Nyell's lower back to bring him even closer, as if to give him a comforting hug. "Now, tell me, how much do you think her reputation improved after that incident?"
Nyell opened his mouth, only to close it. The sailors had been singing his praises, but not only his. Abby was often mentioned alongside him.
Her reputation was spotless, and the way she behaved, too, was impeccable. If Allen were to accuse Abby of all sorts of misdeeds out of the blue, no one would believe him. Heck, they would think he had lost a few screws or was power-hungry. Nyell wouldn't be surprised if rumors started to circulate, suggesting that Allen wasn't fit to lead the tribe and that a change in tradition was long overdue. Abby was better in all aspects to lead them: generous, wise, and gentle. If that were to happen, this life and his subsequent reincarnations might be challenging to live in peace, if only because of his eyes.
Swaying people's hearts was easy, as long as the right words were said and used at the right time. Opinions weren't static; they evolved in response to new information and changing needs.
Hence, all Allen could do was wait for Abby to make a blunder, one that would bring her down and put her at his mercy. Although Nyell supposed that if it honestly couldn't be helped, Allen would turn toward brute force. He knew better than anyone how the Lord of the White Moon land didn't mind getting his hands dirty when necessary.
"But what does she have to do with my uncle?" Nyell heard himself say after a moment. It was a point he couldn't quite understand. The one who sealed off Dangu and sold him to another tribe was the elders of the Black Moon tribe. What did an elder from the White Moon land have to do with that…?
"Oh, that…"
Allen's gaze darkened, and the red strikes of his eyes seemed to glint eerily, making Nyell's heart skip a beat. Maybe he shouldn't have asked.
"You'll need to ask your uncle directly," Allen whispered. "The oath forbids me from revealing anything about it."
Right. That goddamn oath. Nyell had forgotten about it.