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Chapter 232: THE MASTER OF SIN. Monikers

If anyone had anything to say against this statement, their tongues hid behind their teeth from a single glance at Yvenna’s furious face. I, not intimidated, but more interested now, inspected her with refreshed eyes.

She had a lean, muscular build, only half-hidden by the leather armour and the simple clothes she wore. Another part of her skin was covered by bandages—places where she was wounded yesterday—but not much. Most of her wounds were bruises, and these she didn’t hide, letting them pepper her skin with greens and blues. Even so, she was beautiful—like any woman with all limbs in place, not half-starved and with a face that one didn’t need to put a sack on. If only the prettiest women didn’t tend to have the worst personalities… And men were so rarely interested without a lot of coercion…

The bruises didn’t go well with Yvenna’s fiery hair and eyes that mirrored her personality so well, but it appeared to me now that Yvenna herself wasn’t all rage, either. No matter her methods and her ways, there was no denying that they were successful, at least sometimes and to some extent. I saw with my own eyes that the kids could fight alongside her.

In my personal experience, throwing people into fire with some advice to guide them on how to get out was more effective than without—same results were achieved faster and with fewer deaths this way. It was hard to see Yvenna saying anything of use in a fight, yet—I didn’t hurry to dismiss the idea that she was a good teacher.

Either way, in the short term, this was a pointless topic of thinking. There would be no time for training in the upcoming weeks, and after—well, after Devourer would just have to deal with his followers himself.

I had a more pressing problem with Yvenna.

“Please, put the children down and forgive me my honest mistake.” She did the former, at least, and I smiled at her to throw her off as I spoke my next words. “Now you can tell me if I am being mistaken again by suggesting that you have some sort of problem with me, Yvenna. All your brothers and sisters in faith have been most happy to see me, the bearer of news about their lord and saviour, but you. What is it that makes you glare at me so murderously?”

Bishop raised his hands to his chest and abandoned his place at the wall to join the table, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by Yvenna’s hand on his mouth. It dropped soon after, but he stayed silent, at least for now. After the children moved away, it became a little clearer for a moment, but now with two people next to it, the place became crowded again. I partially negated that by lazily leaning back in my chair.

To my slight dismay, but no big surprise, Yvenna didn’t react much to my question, except for glaring at me even harder. “I just don’t like your ugly mug. What’s the matter?” She leaned over the table so our face drew closer. “How’s that important, the Master of Fucks?”

Hector stifled a giggle with the help of Gi, which is when Bishop jumped in again. “Please, don’t be offended, my lord! Yvenna does not control her tongue well—and she was the most distraught after Devourer left! Forgive her for lashing out! Yvenna, and you shouldn’t—”

“Don’t you fucking say this, Bishop!” Yvenna snapped at him, then jerked back and closed her jaws until I could almost hear her teeth scraping on each other.

Bishop stepped back, silent and pale. He wrung his hands, looked between me and Yvenna, and frowned further in visible indecision. This appeared to be a running theme.

I clicked my tongue without a smile now, but I wasn’t offended even without Bishop’s words. Though Yvenna’s reaction was curious.

Hers was certainly a moniker I hadn’t heard before, but it wasn’t the worst that was thrown my way in my life. Not to mention, it was somewhat pointless to be angry at people as mad as Yvenna was.

“I only wonder if you will follow my orders, that’s all, Yvenna. This is going to be an operation that requires precise planning and steady hands. Foot soldiers do not have to think about their orders, but they have to follow them to the letter, or everything would fall apart. I don’t know what is going on in your head, and I doubt that anyone but you truly knows. That doesn’t mean I cannot trust you—I can, to the same extent as to others. So, I will ask you like I’d ask anyone else in your place—will you follow my commands like they are Devourer’s? Or will you fight against me, and I should just put you away right now? I was ordered to keep you alive if possible.”

I caught Yvenna’s stare and held it. So many emotions fought within that lithe woman, that her eyes—mirrors that reflected one’s soul, they said—looked like a vortex of ash, smoke and fire. These fiery tornadoes appeared in the Fifth Circle sometimes, ravaging the already dead land and raising the red tongues of flamerock even higher to the sky.

And just like Yvenna’s eyes, even after the hottest, the strongest wind dissipated, there was still plenty left to burn.

She straightened up and folded her arms on her chest. “I don’t need to be kept alive. I can do that myself, and hit some bastards while I’m at it. Just say who, when, where. But your mug is still ugly, hedgehog-head.”

I grinned. “How marvellous.” My gaze flickered to the children that hid behind Yvenna’s back. “If I hear anyone else calling me the way Yvenna does, they will get lashes—and I have good hearing, don’t doubt it. Yvenna, I’m sure, will gather all her wounds exclusively in battle. For you, children, I will find an appropriate task, too. The meeting is over, Bishop, you stay.”