Chapter Text
Artwork by whimstories.
Once upon a time, there was an owl prince.
He grew up in a big castle in the middle of the woods with lots of toys and books, far more than any child could ever dream of.
Yet, the prince was sad, for he had no friends. His mother had died when he was very young, and his father was always away doing his kingly duties. The staff who cared for the castle were very kind, but kept their distance. The prince grew up accustomed to loneliness, with only his books and the shadows to entertain him.
On his eighteenth birthday, his father returned to the castle. The prince’s joy was short-lived, as he arrived with a bride for the prince.
The prince’s bride was from a distant city filled with buildings and people. She arrived with her brother, a tall, clever demon who crafted stunning ice sculptures with magic.
The day after the wedding, the king left the palace, leaving the prince, his new bride, and her brother behind. It would be the last time the prince would ever see his father, for, just as his mother had, the king died during his travels.
The only family the prince now had was his bride and her brother.
Though the prince didn't desire marriage, he was happy for company. Within months, they had a daughter, the light of his life. He happily took her on trips to the farmland, where villagers adored the cheerful baby.
Everyone who saw the prince could tell just how much he loved the little girl.
The joy, however, was short-lived.
The villagers mourned when the prince’s death was announced. At the grand funeral, they saw him lying in a clear glass coffin, appearing peacefully asleep.
It did not take long for the prince’s bride and her brother to leave the palace with the little girl for a manor at the very edge of their land. The villagers never understood what happened or why they had left, except that strange things started happening at the abandoned palace. Folks swore that at night, they saw lights in the palace and music swaying from the halls.
Stories began to spread that the prince had never left the palace, and that he was now nothing more than a ghost.
***
Blitz Buckzo was drunk.
This wasn’t uncommon, as he was almost always drunk. What was unusual was that he had managed to work for enough coins to be intoxicated in a tavern instead of being drunk in a field or an abandoned house somewhere.
Downing another mug of ale, Blitz reminded himself to enjoy the room at the tavern. For once, he could look forward to bathing in real hot water—already heating in a big basin in his tiny room—eating whatever hearty food the barkeep’s wife had prepared, and sleeping in a proper bed. These were small luxuries, but after so many nights elsewhere, he relished them.
All things considered, Blitz was the happiest drunk in all the land.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice spoke next to him. “Are you Mr. Buckzo?”
Blitz blinked through his drunken haze and tried to focus on the blurry figure in front of him. A short imp with white hair and freckles stood next to his barstool. Although Blitz couldn’t make heads or tails of who this little fella was, Blitz grunted out an affirming response.
“Mr. Buckzo,” the imp continued. “My name is Moxxie, and my employer has sent me out to seek out your services.”
“Whaddya want?” Blitz spat and held up a finger to the barkeep to insinuate another drink.
Moxxie cleared his throat. “I would much prefer to talk about this in private.”
Blitz swung around on the barstool and motioned to the nearly empty room. “Nobody‘s here, Shortcake. ”
“My name is Moxxie, sir,” Shortcake said. “And I really must request, with urgency, that we speak in private.”
Blitz groaned at him and motioned back to the barkeep for that drink, but the barkeep shook his head at Blitz.
“I’ve only had one!” Blitz screeched at the barkeep, holding up several fingers.
“You’ve had eight,” The barkeep snapped. “And still no payment for those or the room. I’m beginning to suspect you don’t got the coin.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Blitz dug into his pockets, looking for the three golden coins he had found in the last abandoned hovel he had been staying at, but all he came up with was a sizable hole in his jacket pocket. “Ah, fuck.”
The dreams of his warm bath flew out the window around the same time the barkeep growled and seized Blitz by his shirtfront.
“Excuse me,” Moxxie interjected over the sudden chaos. “My employer would be pleased to pay off this debt if you are willing to take this job.”
Since Blitz was a teenager, he had to learn how to survive in a world that made surviving very difficult. Sometimes that meant doing things just because it would keep him going until the next moment. Turns out, that racked up some mighty big debts.
With a still fuzzy head and blurred vision, Blitz agreed to the imp’s offer. Blitz watched as Moxxie paid the coins owed. Even hammered Blitz felt the familiar wave of shame wash over him.
“If you come with me,” Moxxie said once the debt was settled. “We can ride together to meet my employer. Do you have a horse?”
“I’d love a fucking horse,” Blitz murmured.
“So I take it you do not have a horse, sir? Then you may ride with me in the carriage. May I take your luggage?”
“I don’t got no fucking lougie…”
Blitz spat on the floor next to Moxxie as he wobbled, the drinks sticking in his mind and making the floor feel like a swaying rope bridge.
“Pleasant,” Moxxie said.
Moxxie led him outside of the tavern to a carriage that hadn’t been there when Blitz started drinking hours ago. It appeared to be made with light blue crystal and was led by a stunning white horse with diamonds braided into its mane.
“Yer boss is rich?” Blitz slurred his words.
Moxxie just grunted as he dragged Blitz to the carriage. Together, with Blitz leaning heavily on Moxxie, they climbed into the carriage. The cold benches felt nice against Blitz’s pounding head, and before long, Blitz fell into a dreamless sleep to the steady beat of the hoofbeats.
***
Daylight poured in as Blitz awoke, hungover and dazed. The first thing he saw was the same imp from last night, now sleeping against the carriage window. His white hair, once slicked back, curled untidily. Dressed like a model servant to royalty, the imp looked small and proper.
Blitz had not gone down that path, but some days, especially the days when he hadn’t eaten anything more than a handful of berries he hoped weren’t going to give him the shits, he wished he had.
But Mama hadn’t, even in their most challenging moments, so he never would.
Sunlight streamed in the carriage, and Blitz was grateful for the icy cold bench on which he rested his head. Upon morning reflection, he realized the carriage just didn’t appear to be made of ice, but was ice. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this carriage was made using some kind of Goetia magic, and while Blitz would prefer to stay far away from that bullshit, he had to admit this was a nice touch for a hangover.
Goetias, from what Mama had told him growing up, were noble pricks that were only noble because they had some fancy magic. Later, Barbie would explain that through her reading, it was far more complicated than that, but Blitz didn’t really care to explore more deeply. The important thing for him to know is that Goetia had magic, while demons like Blitz could only interact with it.
Braving the sting his hangover would certainly give him, he lifted his head to get a better glimpse of where they were. He saw rolling fields of recently harvested wheat, and for the first time in days, he was reoriented to the upcoming winter approaching them.
Childhood memories surfaced: long hours spent watching farmland roll past as their little wagon bumped along, guided by Mama and pulled by old Buttersquatch. He and Barbie had traded stories as they watched endless fields and farmhouses slip by.
The further they traveled, the more familiar the surroundings became. A red barn, a large windmill, a field with a large pond, and a set of similar houses right next to each other all drew back in his memory.
“Ah, fuck,” he whispered.
He knew exactly where he was. He wanted to kick himself for choosing the tavern he did. Cursing himself for being so careless, Blitz rubbed the space between his eyes. He hadn’t been back here in years.
Sober and curious, Blitz decided it was about time he knew more about what he agreed to.
“Hey, Shortcake!” Blitz called. “Wake up time!”
Moxxie startled awake with a squeak but quickly straightened himself. Moxxie looked out the window as he pushed his hair back, and in mere moments, he was the proper servant imp once again.
“Yes, Mr. Buckzo?”
Blitz cringed at the name. “Blitz is fine.”
“Of course, Mr. Buckzo.”
“Right, cute,” Blitz growled. “Anyway, what exactly is it I’m doing for your boss?”
Moxxie was silent for a few moments, as though contemplating what he could say, but ended up deciding on: “I’m not sure of the details, but he is hoping to hire you for your…” Moxxie paused and, with a groan, stated, “Your exorcism skills.”
Blitz raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and shook his head. “I’m going to stop you right there. I am not an exorcist.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. Exorcists are evil assholes.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but isn’t that what you do?” Moxxie asked nervously.
Blitz shook his head. “No, I’m not an asshole. I just kind of nudge souls along.”
“Nudge?”
Blitz sighed. This is how the conversation always went, but then again, he couldn’t blame them. If he wasn’t met with straight-out skepticism, then it was a misunderstanding of what exactly he did.
“So sometimes, after someone dies, their spirit, soul, phantom juice, whatever you wanna call it, has a hard time letting go,” Blitz explained. “Can’t move forward if you’ve got an anchor around your ankle. My role is to figure out what is keeping someone back, help them make a fucking choice already so they can skedaddle up to whatever is next. I’m what is called a psychopomp.”
Moxxie snorted a laugh, and when Blitz did not return the laugh, the imp blushed. “Sorry, sir, please continue.”
“You are real fucking rude, Shortcake. Anyway, I don’t force spirits out of homes, so if that is what your employer is looking for, he can go fuck himself.”
“But-but wouldn’t that just be easier?” Moxxie stuttered.
“For who?” Blitz snorted. “For me? No. That takes a shit ton of skill I don’t want to use. It can only be done at midnight in a big room, and even then, it could go very wrong. Exorcisms are made to pull souls and kick them to the great beyond, regardless of whether the soul is in a dead body or a living one. Think of how bad that can be if your little ritual goes wrong and grabs dear Grandma sleeping in the next room, well before her time. Bet you would feel really bad about that. For the spirits? Fuck no. It’s like…”
Blitz thought back to the first and only exorcism he witnessed. He had only been a child, but the sounds the spirit made as it was ripped from the walls of the home still lived in his mind. Although the memory was hazy, Blitz could only liken it to ripping flesh from bone. It was what prompted Mama to pack up Barbie and him in the wagon without Papa and never look back.
I’m sorry, loves, but we are not cruel to those that need kindness, Mama’s words echoed in his mind. “Enough is enough.”
“It’s bullshit.” Blitz ended it at that to rest his aching head.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. The rolling hills of farmland had been pretty, but it made his stomach sick. He didn’t need to be reminded of the past any more than he had already been. Soon, the hills flattened, and their travels became less bumpy.
Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and Blitz sat up far too quickly. He winced at the sudden headache and blinked away the sharp pain to peer out the carriage window. They were stopped in front of a large manor with dozens of windows that Blitz could only assume was at least a few stories tall. The mere size of the building was impressive, but it was the magical touches that truly took Blitz by surprise.
If it wasn’t for the carriage they had ridden in, Blitz would have assumed the statues that lined the path to the house were made of delicate glass. But even without touching them, he knew the large statues leading up to the front door of the manor were made of thick ice. Although the sun shone brightly down upon them, the figures of tall, feathered demons stood tall and sturdy. Strong magic, Blitz figured, which meant this bitch was going to be a handful.
The front lawn surrounding the large, white estate was green, and dozens of roses bloomed, but interlaced among the hedges were startling blooms of crystal-clear ice.
“Where the fuck are we?” Blitz snapped.
“We have arrived, sir,” Moxxie said confidently. “Please follow me.”
Moxxie opened the carriage door for Blitz, and together they walked down the cobble pathway to the entrance. Blitz looked up at the ice sculptures and realized they were all of the same tall avian demon with a pointed beak and a long tail.
“Is this your boss?” Blitz asked.
Moxxie nodded. “Yes, this is the home of Marquis Andrealphus and his sister, Lady Stella.”
Blitz shrugged, not really caring who either of those fuckers was as long as they paid him.
The inside of the manor itself was beautiful, with tall marble pillars adorned with snowflake etchings. Everything was shiny and sparkling in such a way that Blitz wondered if a speck of dust had ever managed to slip past the Marquis’s cleaning staff. There were portraits on the wall of the tall demon and a woman with long white feathers.
After going up a flight of stairs, Moxxie led Blitz to a bench outside a large closed door.
“Please have a seat while I announce your arrival,” Moxxie said before turning on his heel and disappearing behind the tall doors.
Still hungover and exhausted, Blitz plopped down heavily on the bench. Unlike the cold bench in the carriage, this was your everyday, uncomfortable wooden bench, and Blitz found comfort in resting his face in his hands.
What the fuck was he agreeing to all because he didn’t have enough money for his fucking drinks?
“Hello?”
Blitz lifted his face from his hands and came face to face with a little girl. She had a white face, a small black beak, feathers so grey they were nearly blue, and big pink eyes. She couldn’t have been any older than four, and she held a tattered, stained book that was nearly the same size as her. Her dress was poofy and clearly expensive, so more than likely, she was just another rich kid who lived in this big ass house.
“Would you like to hear about my daddy?” she asked.
“No.”
“Oh… well, are you here to find him?”
Blitz was not in the mood to deal with kids and their weird questions. “I don’t know your dad, kid. You are going to have to find him yourself.”
The girl chirped and took a step closer so the book pressed against his knee. “Can you help me look?”
Blitz took a deep breath to stop himself from being rude to this kid and instead rose from the bench and sidestepped away from her.
“You can use this book to find him.” The little girl held out the book that, by its poor condition, looked like it belonged in the trash.
Blitz groaned. “Are you sure he isn’t just hanging out in one of the hundred fucking rooms in this place?”
The little girl hooted sadly. “I’ve looked, and he isn’t here. I think he is lost.”
Blitz didn’t give a single shit about this girl’s dad. Honestly, he didn’t give a single shit about anything in this goddamn place. He wasn’t sure the last time he cared about anything.
The little girl pressed the filthy book against Blitz’s side, drawing an ‘oof!’ from his mouth.
“Get looking, please. You are wasting time.”
“No.”
The girl’s eyebrows drew together, and her eyes narrowed. Blitz’s spikes on his back sank at the fury radiating off of her. She opened her beak, probably to spit venom at him or something, when Moxxie reemerged from behind the doors.
“The Marquis is ready for you, sir,” Moxxie announced, then his gaze softened as it landed on the little girl. “Good morning, Miss Via.”
The little girl ran to Moxxie and wrapped him up in a hug. Moxxie’s cheeks flushed, and he calmly stepped away from the little girl.
“Let’s get you back to the nursery,” Moxxie offered, and the little girl took her hand.
The little girl glared over her shoulder at Blitz, but she followed Moxxie down the long hallway. Blitz, not having anywhere else to go, made his way into the Marquis’s office.
Marquis Andrealphus’ office was large and covered floor to ceiling in white bookshelves neatly stacked with beautifully bound books with unbroken spines. The desk in the center was of a rich wood, but fuck if Blitz knew the type, as it had been sanded down and painted white with silver accents. If it wasn’t for the tan wooden floors, Blitz suspected he would have gotten a major headache staring at the room for too long.
The avian demon at the desk told Blitz all he needed to know about the state of this office. Andrealphus, for that is who it had to be with the likeness he shared with the dozens of ice sculptures around the property, did not rise at Blitz’s entrance. He continued to jot down numbers in a large book.
“Ahem?” Blitz loudly cleared his throat after a minute of silence, except for the scratching of Andrealphus’ quill.
Andrealphus held up a finger to signal him to wait. Finally, Andrealphus removed his glasses from the bridge of his beak and leaned back in his chair.
“Mr. Buckzo, I presume?” Andrealphus asked, fingers templed to his beak, and his steel blue eyes focused sharply on Blitz. “Sit, please.”
His voice was deep and posh, with an accent Blitz could not place. Having grown up not far from where this manor sat, Blitz knew he was not a local. Andrealphus snapped his fingers, and Moxxie raced back into the room, sans the pissed off baby bird, to Andrealphus’ side. He was holding a teatray and, with a snap of Andrealphus’ fingers, a teapot and two teacups landed on it. Andrealphus snapped again, and Moxxie set out the teacups and began to pour the tea.
Blitz forced his lips out of the grimace they so desperately wanted to wear. Although Moxxie had been an annoyance, seeing someone treat a fellow imp like that always left a sour taste in his tongue.
“I trust your travels were pleasant?” Andrealphus asked, his eyes never leaving Blitz’s face.
Blitz watched Moxxie put a single sugarcube into Andrealphus’ tea and a dash of cream, then turned the teapot to Blitz.
“It was fine,” Blitz said and held up six fingers, offering a smirk as Moxxie rolled his eyes at the excessive amount before turning back to Andrealphus. “So… you got a ghost or something?”
Andrealphus sighed before clearing his throat. “One could say.”
Blitz took a sip of his tea before turning to Moxxie and holding up two more fingers. Moxxie glared but placed two more sugar cubes in Blitz’s tea.
“Well, get on with it then,” Blitz said as he threw one boot on Andrealphus’ desk before crossing it with the other.
It was the little things in life that made fixing rich fucker’s problems for them tolerable. If this asshole was that desperate for Blitz’s help, Blitz knew he wouldn’t say a fucking thing. So Blitz settled down into the chair and took a sip of his tea. He gave Moxxie a thumbs-up and caught Moxxie’s amusement at Blitz’s action before his face fell into a stern expression.
Andrealphus took a sip of his tea as he stared at Blitz’s boots and coughed. “This is horrible. Make a new pot.”
Moxxie nodded, as though he had made the tea instead of it magically appearing due to Andrealphus, and disappeared quickly from the room. Blitz envied Moxxie’s excuse to leave.
“You just can’t find good help these days,” Andrealphus said.
Blitz tapped his boots together, making sure flakes of dirt fell onto the prettily polished desk. Andrealphus tsked, which made the whole situation even more delicious for Blitz.
But knowing he could only piss this guy off for so long, Blitz took another loud sip of tea before asking. “Can we get on about the ghost?”
“Yes, it seems that would be for the best,” Andrealphus said and rose from his seat to gaze longingly out a nearby window. “My sister owns property a little over a day’s ride from here. It’s a beautiful palace, truly, sitting on acres of good hunting land and away from all this disgusting farmland with the disgusting dirt and cattle and…. ugh.”
The sunlight hit Andrealphus in such a way that he looked like a grieving widow watching longingly out to sea for her lost lover and not a prick with a stick up his ass.
“Sounds like you should probably be there instead of miserable here,” Blitz offered.
Andrealphus turned to Blitz. “I’m well aware this is not ideal, but you see, the palace has had some concerns as of late.”
“Palace?” Blitz pulled his boots off the desk, satisfied with the amount of dirt left behind, and put his tea cup down on the saucer. “I take it this is a ghost concern?”
Andrealphus nodded. “My sister’s husband, a prince, died of a sudden illness nearly four years ago. We did everything that we were supposed to, buried him as he should be buried, yet he seems to remain.” Andrealphus left the window and strolled back to the desk. “It was his palace, but he rightfully married Stella. Till death, and all that nonsense, and she remained by his side until his last breath.” Andrealphus placed his hands on the desk, and Blitz noticed how his claws dug into the wood. “That land should be hers to do with as she pleases.”
There was no way Blitz could remember all the psychopomping he had done in his life, figuring a good majority of the time he had been drunk, but he had seen this tale time and again.
“Were they happy?” Blitz asked.
Andrealphus cocked his head, and those brilliant blue eyes studied him again. “It was an arranged marriage, but as far as I know, he never hurt her.”
Blitz shook his head. “I didn’t ask that. Were they happy?”
“Happy enough to have a child.”
Blitz shrugged. “Don’t need to like someone to have a kid with them. You ever had yourself a good ol’ hatefuck?”
The peacock squawked and pushed himself up off his chair, away from Blitz. Blitz swallowed back a grin, as he knew he had pushed the clearly sexually repressed man a tad too far. The bird’s tail feathers rattled like a boiling over stewpot.
“Right, right, sorry,” Blitz said, keeping his voice light. “Don’t get your feathers in a bunch.”
Andrealphus’ tail settled, and he ran a hand through his crest feathers. “If you must know, I doubt they loved each other, but she was good for him, and his death was sudden.”
Something didn’t feel right, but Blitz had a good idea about what his boundaries were with this fella. Putting aside the drive to keep pushing, Blitz turned his attention to what was important.
“What does this haunting look like?”
Andrealphus groaned. “It’s really a pain, to be honest. We are trying to do some construction on the land, and it would appear the ghost does not like it.” Andrealphus sipped his tea and sighed. “Tools going dull, suddenly snowstorms in summer, strange happenings like that. We can’t keep a crew as these backwood bums appear to be superstitious.”
Blitz cocked his eyebrow. “I would say they are smart to get the hell out of a haunted palace, but that just might be my opinion.”
“And you would be correct that it is just your opinion.” Andrealphus sat back down at the desk. “With what I was paying them, they should have just stuck it out.”
What a dick, Blitz thought, but continued on.
“Have you done the typical ‘get the ghost the fuck out’ tricks?” Blitz asked. “Herb baths, horseshoes, asking nicely?”
Andrealphus waved his hand as though the question was ridiculous. “Yes, yes, but still he is there.” Andrealphus sat down again and pulled his large book closer to him. “I need someone to remove the ghost as soon as possible. Stella would like this construction to be finished, and the prince’s haunting has gone on far enough. Tell me your cost?”
Blitz narrowed his eyes, considering what this would cost him. Being away from town would mean no easy access to booze, and his other methods of getting coin, like tarot and tea leaf readings, would be impossible. But, if this fucker wanted this ghost as out as bad as it appeared, it might be willing to take the bait. Start high, let them bring you down, Barbie used to say. She was also very good at reading people and would know precisely what this fucker’s limits were.
But Barbie was gone, and Blitz was doing this on his own.
“Six hundred gold,” Blitz said, prepared to negotiate the ridiculously high sum he suggested.
“Done,” Andrealphus answered.
“Seriously?”
Andrealphus opened the heavy book with what Blitz realized was a ledger and watched the peacock write ‘Six hundred gold’ down.
Blitz had to bite his tongue to stop himself from whooping in delight at the easy coin he was about to get. Whatever ghost problem this dick had would take Blitz a night to solve at most. Easy in and out.
“I want this done by the end of the week.” Andrealphus pulled out a map and a pouch with what Blitz realized was at least thirty gold, which was more than he made in two months. “Stock up on supplies before you head out. There is a farmhouse near the edge of the woods, owned by farmers who owe me a significant debt. Give them this,” Andrealphus handed him a note, “and they will allow you to stay.”
Blitz read the note, realizing it was a barter to have the family get out of the outstanding debt, and he looked back up to Andrealphus. “You didn’t even tell me yet where the fuck I’m going.”
Andrealphus sighed. “I doubt you will know it anyway.”
The door to the study opened, and Moxxie returned holding the tea tray. His face held a stern expression, and he had a new pot of tea. Blitz almost felt bad for the sourpuss.
Andrealphus grinned. “You can take Moxxie with you.”
“What?!” both Blitz and Moxxie yelled at the same time.
“It makes the most sense,” Andrealphus suggested. “Moxxie knows the palace better than any of my staff could know. And,” Andrealphus paused, looking Blitz up and down. “Moxxie is very good at keeping an eye on things for me. I would hate for Stella to return home only for something to have been… misplaced.”
Six hundred gold coins weighed heavily on his future, and whatever insult he wanted to throw at Andrealphus evaporated into the air.
“But-but sir!” Moxxie called, rushing forward with the tea tray trembling in his hands. “I haven’t been there since Prince Sto-”
“You will go with Mr. Buckzo.” Andrealphus’ demand was sharp and final.
So it was decided. Blitz, accompanied by Moxxie, would go to the palace and get rid of the ghost of this asshole’s sister’s husband.
“Six hundred coins,” Blitz whispered as the two imps left the manor. “This better be fucking worth it.”
***
Blitz was allowed a single-horse wagon, and he was delighted to learn the horse’s name was Sweetheart. With Moxxie angrily in tow, they stocked up on enough food to last them far more than the week they were allowed, and with the leftover coins, Blitz bought himself a new traveling outfit that didn’t have any holes and boots that didn’t have heels triple-glued together.
“Ready to keep your eye on me?” Blitz asked as Moxxie reorganized the supplies in the back of the wagon, even as Blitz actively rested against them.
“I’m always ready to do what my master asks of me.”
“Suck up.”
Moxxie’s eyes darted to him in a single moment of defiance. “Don’t give me a reason to have to keep my eyes on you, and I won’t have to tell the Marquis anything.”
“Your ‘master’,” Blitz said in a mimic of Andrealphus’ ridiculously posh voice. “Didn’t even give me a chance to explain, but I know these lands. One could say I grew up around here.”
Moxxie glared. “I did grow up here, and I don’t know you. Where exactly did you grow up here?”
“Around.”
“Very specific.”
“Thanks,” Blitz said with a toothy grin.
Seemingly satisfied with where he placed the last cloth bag of apples, Moxxie closed the back of the wagon and crawled up the front to direct the horses to…
Well, Blitz still didn’t know where the fuck they were going.
“So where are we headed, Shortcake?” Blitz asked as he jumped into the front of the wagon with Moxxie.
“It’s Moxxie, sir,” Moxxie growled and handed him a map. “Here.”
“Fiesty, I like that about you,” Blitz teased, but his good nature fell when he looked at the path they were about to take.
The marked directions would take a good chunk of time as there was so much undeveloped farmland to pass through, as Andrealphus had suggested, but the path would be very smooth and comfortable. Blitz would know, since he had made a very similar journey dozens of times in this life.
“We…” Blitz started and swallowed back a lump in his throat. “We are going to want to avoid this way.”
Blitz took out a piece of a sharpened lead and drew the trail away from the center of the map, pulling it down only slightly.
“What the hell?” Moxxie said. “That isn’t a designated place on the map. We haven’t checked to see if it is safe.”
Blitz shrugged. “Don’t fucking worry about it.”
“Sir, I have been on this journey a hundred times, and I know that the way I marked is the fastest that-”
“I said don’t fucking worry about it.”
Moxxie backed down, and Blitz bit his lip and chose to focus on the new path. It would still be comfortable, and perhaps even a tad easier on Sweetheart, and would leave them very far away from a place he hadn’t been in a very long time.
“If you have this handled,” Blitz shoved the map back into Moxxie’s hands. “Follow my directions. I’m going to take a nap.”
Blitz climbed into the back of the wagon and, closing his eyes, went on pretending that his heart wasn’t glued together more times than his old boots had been.
***
Due to Blitz’s ‘I don’t want to address this trauma right now,’ shortcut, they ended up at the farmhouse much earlier in their journey than planned, but still quite late at night. After being greeted by an angry farmer wielding a scythe and having to do some quick explaining why two imps with a wagon were shouting they had a note that allowed them to be there, they were escorted into the large kitchen while a flurry of young imps raced out of the house to use the horse as an excuse to stay up late.
While the farmer and her husband read over the note, a young woman around Moxxie’s age appeared in the kitchen. She was wearing a long white nightgown and handed each of them a warm mug of sugared milk.
“Mighty cold out there,” she whispered, looking at Moxxie. “I’m sure you could use some warming up.”
Blitz thanked her, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Moxxie. It was a bit unfortunate that her eyesight was so terrible, but Blitz couldn’t fix that. Probably too busy staring at cows and sheep all day to recognize how pitiful Moxxie was.
Regardless of the farmgirl’s bad taste, they followed her into the barn, where the younger siblings had set up a makeshift room for the travelers in the barn loft. Moxxie started to argue that they were guests of the Marquis of this land and perhaps they deserved a mattress, but having slept in abandoned homes than Blitz knew what to do with, he promptly kicked Moxxie and told him to shut the fuck up.
The two dressed down to their shirtsleeves and their underthings and tucked themselves into the straw pile covered with thick quilts. The night was cold, and Blitz found himself uncomfortably close to the imp servant.
“Hey, Shortcake?” Blitz asked when sleep would not come.
“I’m trying to sleep, sir,” Moxxie answered.
“How can you sleep with how loud your teeth are chattering?”
Moxxie groaned and opened his eyes. “What do you want?”
Blitz looked out the large barn window, lost in thought, but finally decided to ask Moxxie about the history of the land that he thought he knew.
“The lands are owned by Lady Stella,” Moxxie said, his voice going oddly soft and quiet. “The start of the lands is at the manor, as you saw, and ends at the palace. Everything in between is hers.”
Blitz thought back to a childhood he hated to dwell on. “Had it always been that way?”
“No,” Moxxie said, his voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper. “There was a king, of course, but he was always gone, and those who lived on the land were allowed to go and do as they pleased. The king showed stewardship over his lands, but that all changed a few years before the prince turned eighteen. Suddenly, the folks who lived on the lands were told they had to pay rent, and they had to provide a chunk of their profits.”
Blitz closed his eyes. “What happened to the lands that no one lived on?”
Moxxie thought for a moment. “Like woods?”
“Like… oh, I don’t know… cemeteries?”
“I don’t really know, to be honest,” Moxxie answered. “Ever since the prince… well, since things changed, I haven’t left the Marquis’ side.”
Blitz hated how much he wanted to know, and hated how scared he was to take the time to find out.
So, he did what he did best, and changed the fucking subject.
“You got a crush on that farmgirl, huh?”
Moxxie spat. “What? No!”
“Oh, shut the hell up, you dooooo! You want to kiss her and love her and have her touch your-”
“Shut up, sir!”
Blitz felt the heavy feeling leave his chest as he teased Moxxie, but he knew that weight never entirely left. He doubted it ever would.