Random Insanity

---

Part 16

Gil stared up at Anevka from where Tarvek had tossed him, his lips still tingling from the surprise kiss. "What was that for?"

Anevka laughed at her brother's retreating form. "Serves him right for spying."

"Spying?" Gil frowned then touched his lips. "Wait, you kissed me because you knew Tarvek was watching?" Anger bubbled up as she continued to laugh.

"Oh, Gil, you're so innocent; it's just adorable."

Gil got up, stepping out of her reach. "You used me to humiliate your own brother." He couldn't hide the hurt in his voice. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.

Anevka's smile fell away. "Come on, Gil, it was just a joke--don't be like that."

Gil just shook his head as he continued to back away from her towards the gate then he turned and ran. He was only a few seconds behind Tarvek, but the tunnel and staircase were both empty already.

Gil took the stairs three at a time, throwing open the gate at the top with a clank. Which way? He was about to head back the way he'd come with Theo earlier--towards the burning atrium--when he heard a door slam in the opposite direction.

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 14

"Not taking the bait, huh?" he continued, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Aren't you just a dedicated little thing? I wonder how dedicated, though." He stood, rifling in his coat while his companions--probably the same idiots from yesterday--snickered at his side.

There was a swish of metal on metal that made all of the hairs on Violetta's arms stand up and then a dagger landed ten centimeters from her left pinky. She didn't flinch--just glared at the knife. More feet entered her field of view while interest grew in the confrontation. She was sure some people were taking bets, and she didn't like her odds at the moment.

Another knife landed with a thunk between her hands, setting off additional rounds of betting. She never hated anyone more than she hated Martellus at this moment--him and his stupid games and always trying to make Violetta look bad.

What is his problem? She very nearly gave in to the urge to blurt the question but bit her tongue instead to keep quiet.

A moment, later, a third knife dropped past her face, wedging in the ground between her thumb and forefinger on her right hand, getting the tiniest twitch in her fingers. Sweat coated her skin and dripped into her eyes, forcing her to blink to clear them. She wet her chapped lips, tasting the salt then swallowed hard.

( Read more... )

---

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part).

He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.

[ Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 ]

---

Part 12

He was saved from the internal struggle by the rear door opening, attracting the Baron's attention.

"Ah, Aaronev," he said, getting up, "I trust you had a peaceful rest."

The Prince huffed and headed straight for his seat. "Tarvek, get me a coffee," he grumbled then started going through his papers giving the Baron a belated, "good morning, Klaus."

His father sat back next to him, raising an amused eyebrow as he sipped his own coffee. Gil bit back a smile because he was sure they were both thinking the same thing--the Prince was obviously not a morning person.

He watched as the servants settled pastries around the man but otherwise gave him a wide berth as others nervously gave morning reports on castle-affairs. Tarvek returned with the coffee and waited for further instructions while being mostly ignored until the man spit the coffee back into the cup.

"This is cold!"

Everyone in the room froze as the man's face grew redder.

"I'll get you another cup," Tarvek mumbled, but his father snatched the cup away from him and marched over to the coffee engine where Arabeth began fiddling with the machine.

"Is this not working?" he demanded the terrified girl.

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 10

Everyone at the table turned to him nervously. Damn, I said that out loud again. He tilted his head, waiting for someone to say something before he realized that he didn't say that out loud this time.

The Smoke Knight--that's what he'd been trying to remember.

He found Tarvek amid the blobs of color which was considerably difficult when 90% of them had the same bright red hair. "You have really strong genetics," he told the red blob across from him.

"What?"

Gil shook his head, not helping clear it in the least, but it did manage to jumble some words into a coherent sentence. "This is your fault."

"My fault that you're drunk," he said with more than a little hint of smugness.

"Not drunk; drugged," Gil slurred pointing his finger at Tarvek except it wasn't his finger; it was a sprig of mint from dessert, and he was actually pointing it at the small girl sitting next to Tarvek who seemed unfazed by Gil's absurd behavior.

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 8

“He should probably loosen up.”

Anevka removed the glass of disputed wine, handing it to the waiter pouring new glasses of red wine. “Tarvek has been loose enough today, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure he could be looser; he used to be a lot of fun when we were kids,” Gil said without thinking.

“Wait,” said Seffie, “Tarvek was fun? I find that hard to believe–old stuffy-pants wouldn’t know fun if it smacked that annoying, smug look he always has off his boring face.”

Gil nodded, taking a sip of his new glass of wine. “Oh, yeah, we used to have tons of fun.” He scratched his head with a frown into the red liquid. "I wonder what happened?”

Tarvek growled; his grip on his fork turning white while his face flushed darker than his hair. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, jaw clenched tight. “Might have something to do with being betrayed and sent home in disgrace after just nine months.”

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 6

The soldiers filed out after them, most setting off in different directions while two took up guard positions on either side of the office door. Gil turned towards the summit room where he could hear the curious voices of the other attendants but his father’s grip nearly stole his breath, forcing him in another direction.

“But the meeting,” Gil protested as he was guided down another hall with guards now stationed every ten meters.

“Barkley will be assisting for the rest of the day.”

“But-”

They turned the corner to the guest wing, one of their attendants seeing them coming and opening the door. The Baron shoved Gil into the room; Gil nearly tripping over his feet. He stumbled into a settee then spun just as his father released his pent up disgust.

“What were you thinking?” His voice hit octaves Gil had never heard before.

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You said-”

His father grabbed his hands roughly, pulling them up to his face. “This says otherwise.”

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 4

About half a dozen emotions flitted across Tweedle’s face at that news before he settled back to his barely contained rage.

Gil refused to back down for the obvious intimidation tactic he knew well from his childhood. He brought himself up to his full height which was still nearly a head shorter than Tweedle, chin held high and a practiced, indifferent expression plastered on his face.

Finally, Tweedle stepped out of Gil’s personal space and dusted the front of Gil’s jacket like he was straightening out the wrinkles Gil had already fixed. “The Baron, you say? I heard a rumor about you.”

Gil cocked one eyebrow under his fringe of bangs and crossed his arms over his chest. “Which one?”

“That you’re the orphaned son of homicidal Sparks that went on a rampage, and the only reason you’re an apprentice is the Baron feels sorry for you.”

Gil wanted to laugh–as if his father would give such an important job to someone out of pity. Instead, he shrugged as if the words didn’t bring back loathsome memories. “Close enough.”

( Read more... )

---

---

Part 2

Ten-year-old Violetta Mondarev prowled around the edges of the central courtyard of Sturmhalten Castle, keeping to the shadows, watching the parade of dignitaries from all over the Empire, and catching snippets of conversation as Tarvek had ordered. She bit back a curse she’d heard some of the older Smoke Knights using when talking about the self-serving, conceited Madboys they worked for and what they thought of their orders.

She shook her head–Tarvek wasn’t really like that, she reminded herself. Sure, they disagreed and he reprimanded her when she mouthed off, but of all their family, only he ever showed an ounce of respect towards her, and that was what ensured her loyalty above the solemn oaths she was forced to take–he was a prat, but he was a reasonable prat.

Violetta scurried up a tree in the corner and hid among its branches to get a better view. Spring had barely arrived, and although buds had begun to sprout, a bitter wind whipped down from the mountains, fluttering her bangs into her eyes. She could easily tell those raised in the lower elevations–they were the ones bundled in furs and multiple wool overcoats, hats with ear-flaps and lined, leather gloves. They were soft compared to the natives of Balan’s Gap and the surrounding mountains, two of which suddenly appeared at the open window next to her perch.

( Read more... )

---