Deadman - Book 3 Chapter 21: Royalty

After I dumped the Undertaker in the dungeon, uncovering their mouth, and placing a bowl of water and a pile of Ursan meat near them in case he was able to cease his cursing of my name long enough to eat or drink something.

“Take me back you bastard son of a bitch and an ape!”

I nodded at him as I closed his cell. “Not the worst description of my parents.” I turned and walked out. His insults were getting more coherent as time went on. I took that as a sign that he was recovering. I moved through the castle courtyard, receiving an odd mix of respectful nods and harsh stares. Those who clearly originated with the Horde tended toward the former, and those still wearing more traditional Ren garb the latter. Made sense. They were doing better for the Horde’s involvement, but they were still vassals, and that was as a direct result of my actions.

I made it to the main castle, and received a nod from two of the Khan’s honor guard, men covered in both bolt and gear jewelry as well as warrior tattoos. The Khan’s personal guard were mechanics and fighters, and helped to maintain his fleet of vehicles. I walked through the main hall and into the throne room. It had changed a lot since I’d last seen it. The old world tapestries, rugs, and torches were now mixed with trophies of Ursan heads, the runic symbols of the horde, and a half-dozen guards heavily armed and armored. On the dais sat Leroy, the former king of the Ren’s and now the Khan’s vassal. Behind him, standing at a table on which I saw a small motorcycle motor, a scattering of tools, and a small child, was the Khan.

Leroy looked as I remembered from our last encounter in Fette. His hair was no longer wild though, but tied neatly in a braid behind his head. His Ursan fur cape was draped across the back of the throne, and his large sword leaned casually against its arm. I thought back to when I’d first met him, he looked like a fool in a crown. Now, he wore no crown, but was more of a ruler than he’d ever been before.

The Khan was fully armed and armored. I had grown used to seeing him wearing only a fur cape, or light armament as I saw him in his own throne room. Here he was wearing black leather armor, his boots and cape covered in thick Ursan fur, a sawed off shotgun at his hip, and a massive barbed club at the other side. His eyes were focused on the motor in front of him. He would name a tool, and the child would grab something from the table and hand it to him. He would make a few adjustments, then repeat the process, gently praising or correcting the child when it picked the right or wrong tool.

The child was wearing a simple tunic. It had sharp features similar to the Khan, but shared the green eyes and brown hair of Leroy. The child smelled like gasoline and the deepest part of the black woods all at once. I recognized it immediately as Atlan and Leroy’s child.

Leroy nodded at me once I was a respectable distance away. “Donovan… welcome back to my court.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

He looked me over, his eyes lingering a moment at the two Ursan heads at my waist. “Two just since you’ve gotten here? I and my people have said much at your expense since last you were here, but let it be said we’ve never doubted your ability as a warrior.”

“There was a third. Skull was ruined though.” I said, thinking of the first one I’d slain by jabbing a shotgun in its ear.

He shook his head, a small smile forming almost involuntarily at the edge of his lips. He’d been hardened the last time I’d seen him, but he seemed to have softened again since then. Something must’ve changed for him.

“You’re perhaps the only person I’d believe that statement from.” He stood from his throne and went over to the table where the Khan was focused on the motor and child. He picked up the child who accepted his grip without complaint. It fixed me with a stare, its gaze unbreaking as it regarded me. That was common. I’d found babies and children in general more curious about my appearance than afraid. At least until they were taught to be.

“Come now little prince. Let us take in the ramparts.” He carried the child, a boy I now realized, and left the room leaving me with the Khan. The Child’s green eyes followed me until they no longer could.

The Khan didn’t move from the table, and instead gestured for me to approach him on the dais. I did so, arranging myself at the other end of it as he continued his work. I realized then that the motor was familiar. “This is Betty,” I said.

The Khan nodded. “Good name. My bike’s is Cassandra.”

“Good name.”

He nodded again. “Much has changed since we last spoke.”

“Yes.”

“You have crossed the Cut, introduced a new and dangerous potential into the waste, and brought your people into a war.” He smiled a grim smile. “I told you once that you would find that your own will and your people’s would become one in the same.”

“You did.”

He grunted, tightening a bolt. “This advanced R.A.S. this presidency. This was what the Remnants sought?”

“It was.”

“Hmm. The system is a source of power, it’s true, but they place too much importance on it. Men and women with weapons that can cut through steel and armor that turns them to walking tanks should perhaps have the wisdom to focus their efforts in obtaining more of those capabilities rather than power over words that float before men’s faces.” He shrugged. “Still, I would much prefer to deny it to them.”

I stayed silent. I figured he’d do as much. That worked into the plans the Honored Dead had been laying foundations for in Pott’s anyway. “You wanted to speak with me?”

He nodded. “I’d been awaiting your return. Though I had intended to summon you to Fette, I happened to be here to visit my grandson Kublai when I heard that you’d been in the area. A good coincidence.”

I nodded. It saved me a lot of time too.

“I have a mission for you, as my representative.”

I shook my head. “I need to return to the front. Not to mention I have to take the undertaker I’ve just rescued back to Pott’s.”

The Khan stopped what he was doing, turning his full attention from the engine to me. “This is not a request.”

“That’s a shame.”

The Khan leaned forward on the table.“You think yourself strong enough to go against my will? That of the Horde?”

I placed a single hand on the large table between us, lifted it without moving a single bolt, and placed it out of the way, then I took a step toward the Khan and looked him in the eyes. He was one of the only men that could look me directly in them without needing to look up at me. “I work with you. I work for Pott’s and its people.”

The Khan met my gaze unflinchingly. “Who was your mother?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked, thrown off by the question. “What?”

“How old are you?” he asked, taking a step toward me.

“I don’t know,” I didn’t, though I’d guess somewhere in my thirties based on Nico’s age.

“I have given many of my sons and daughters to be raised by Pott’s. You…share my height, my strength. It has disturbed me since we first met. Do you know of your parentage?”

I went to answer, but hesitated. The Khan had treated me differently than others, trusted me in unexpected circumstances. Had this been the reason? Was it smart to throw that advantage away? Or would he respect the truth more?

I nodded. “My father was a bastard who used me as a slave, and my mother left me to rot. You could not be my father.”

The Khan nodded. “A shame.” He moved to the table that I’d shifted and started back on the engine. “I do not ask you this favor I need lightly. It will help the war with STAR. With the Remnants.”

I moved back to where I had been standing across from him. “What is it?”

“Many of the Kaijin tribes to the East of Horde territory. They have refused my calls to support my war effort. A new leader has emerged among them. He has united all the tribes not under my ex-wife and even taken many of her people under his banner. I need you to parley with him and earn his support.”

“I’m no diplomat.”

The Khan nodded. “Neither is he. He’s a warrior… and a deadman from what I’ve heard. He refuses to send warriors as he believes me unworthy of following, depriving me of men I was expecting to fall in line behind my former wife. He finds my strength lacking.” The Khan’s voice gained an edge. “You will go and challenge him. Show your strength and we will gain hundreds more allies in our war. Would this not help Pott’s more than you alone?”

“Why not go yourself?”

“I lead my people from the front. Atlan can do so for a short time, but they need me.”

“I have my obligation to return the Undertaker to his home.” I didn’t mention the data I’d collected.

“I shall have him returned safely. I give my word.”

I hesitated. I was tired. I still hadn’t slept or rested since the first attack on the Remnants. His reasoning made sense though, and I trusted his word on the undertaker. “I’ll do it.”

He nodded. “Angela will escort you there.” He looked back down at the motor and shook his head. “You aren’t my son, but perhaps we are brothers of a sort.”

I stood silently, unsure of how to respond to that.

“I shall have your engine ready soon. Angela will leave as soon as you will it.”