Chapter Text
"You don’t have to say everything to be a light. Sometimes a fire built on a hill will bring interested people to your campfire."
-Shannon L. Alder
———
In Oletus Manor, news travels by very fast. Despite its huge nature with the greenhouse and dozens of unoccupied rooms, all the residents usually don't wander the premises. They were invited to the manor as participants for the game after all, not for frivolities as guests.
Wariness might be the key to surviving this God awful game anyway. One wrong step can lead you into the wrong hands.
A man in a green tattered jacket was seated out in the greenhouse's small parlor. An unbothered look was on his face as he tapped his fingers against the centered table.
His mind seemed to be elsewhere, blue eyes flickered around the greenhouse to reflect his busied mind. The gardener — Emma Woods, was it? — did a good job tending to the worn out greenhouse. Most of the astray leaves and greenery were brushed aside or properly disposed of, he had to give her that.
Naib Subedar's gaze promptly turned to focus on the door leading out the greenhouse and into the manor. It was early hours, around perhaps seven in the morning, and he frequently found himself lingering inside the garden's grasp.
It wasn't as if he was morbidly obsessed with nature. It was along the lines of he found it comforting to see such plants blossoming in a controlled environment. Back home, all the plants were wild yet rare. On the field, nature was their greatest enemy.
His face twisted into a scowl. Not the best thought for this morning.
A sigh left him and he stretched his arms. Unlike other days where he'd probably find something to occupy him with, he had nothing to do today. The atmosphere was stagnant and he wasn't buddy buddy with any of the other residents to have some tea party in the parlor.
As if he were close with the likes of that shady man with a bucktooth or the one with a tophat and shady eyes. Naib knows trouble when he sees it, and he instantly saw it in those particular men.
Glancing around the greenhouse, he frowned to himself.
While the surroundings itself was gorgeous and pleasing to the eye, he couldn't help but admit there was something strangely ominous about the environment.
"Consider the garden your second home!" The gardener had chirpily gestured towards the cleaned space with frantic hand gestures during his tour of the place a few weeks back. He'll never forget the ecstatic gleam in those eyes of hers.
He shivered just thinking about the eccentric young lady. A nice lady, for sure, but there was a peculiar air about her.
Perhaps he should begin preparing for the day. Thoughts like these usually got him nowhere. He did plan on participating in a few matches according to his schedule.
Begrudgingly, Naib stepped out the parlor, stretching his limbs like a cat that hadn't moved in several hours. Mellow sunlight glinted off the silver stitches on either side of his mouth.
Just then, the door promptly swung open. The mercenary's focus honed in on the sudden entry of a familiar face: Emily Dyer.
Her eyes that held a motherly warmth were alight with energy but exhaustion. She was still dressed in that strange nurses uniform. He'd initially pointed it out when she first welcomed him into the manor, but she didn't seem rather happy with him bringing it up, so he avoided it from then on.
Seeing her fatigued state, Naib turned to her with a small frown. "Dyer. What is it?"
"Front hall," she breathed out through breaths. She braced herself against the doorframe and door, trying her best to catch her breath.
Naib quirked a brow. "Pardon?"
It was quite a sight to see the usually professional "doctor" be shaken. But that's why it was partially unsettling to see her in this state.
Just what could perturb the likes of Emily Dyer so much to bring her to this point?
The question was what made him face her properly with a narrowed, cautious look surfacing in his blue eyes.
"Miss Dyer, is everything alright?"
She did catch her breath and stood properly, inhaling deeply. She looked up to meet the mercenary in the eyes and he saw fear yet worry in her eyes.
"There's a new arrival."
***
There was an unfamiliar woman. More specifically, an unfamiliar woman who had ceremoniously walked into the manor and promptly knocked out Servais Le Roy.
When Naib followed Dyer to the entrance hall, he was met with quite a sight. In the center of the room was none other than the "magician" — as he called himself, but Naib considers it bullshit — lying down on the carpeted floor with Kurt Frank and Emma Woods desperately trying to resuscitate him in a way.
The man's nose was crooked in a twisted angle and was gushing a familiar crimson liquid that made Naib turn his head. And when he turned his head, he noticed the unfamiliar woman standing several spaces away getting chatted up by Riley.
She had her arms folded close to her chest, body weighed on her one foot with the other leg pointed out a tad. Her eyebrows with creased together in displeasure as she listened to Freddy Riley talk to her in a hurried manner. A large briefcase was planted at her feet.
The softness of her cheeks and the faint but mellow glow of her face indicated her youth. Along with red tinged lips, she seemed to be around her early to mid twenties.
What caught Naib's eye instantly however, was the faded yellow uniform of a piloting coordinator in the army.
"Lord, is he okay?" Dyer rushed over to the broken nosed Le Roy to Woods and Frank who were trying (and failing) to stop the bleeding.
"I have the medical kit as you requested Miss Emily!" Woods gestured to the first aid kit beside her as she fumbled with holding the handkerchief to the blood gushing nose. She looked stressed, poor girl.
Naib kept his gaze lingering onto the strange female who stood proud and tall as he treaded over to Le Roy's unconscious form.
He looked down at the bearded man and shaked his head. "What did he even do to deserve getting socked in the face?"
"Well according to the– er, lady over there," — Frank nodded his head towards the woman who had begun to talk back to Riley — "Sir Servais attempted to attack her upon entry."
Attack? Naib wanted to snort. This geezer attempting to attack a young lady?
"So she," Frank cleared his throat as to hide his mild displeasure. "handled him."
The way Kurt said "handled" made Naib shake his head, trying not to laugh at this pitiful ordeal.
It did seem like something Servais would do; jumping out at unsuspecting guests who enter the manor for an attack. But he most likely didn't expect to be attacked in return.
The mercenary looked over at the mystery lady for a split second. Much less, by a woman.
He angled his head to look back as Dyer and Woods began to treat the broken nose. Well, Dyer specifically; Woods looked like she was trying to help, her lack of experience in medical treatment evident as she fumbled with the different tools in the kit.
Then he immediately looked back at the woman when he noticed how Dyer twisted his nose back into a proper position. He grimaced. Okay, maybe he shouldn't watch.
Unfortunately for Naib, it seemed this glance didn't go unnoticed by the lady unlike all the other ones. He instantly met the sharp dagger gaze of the woman and he could clearly see her brown eyes that narrowed when they met.
He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head. A silent question.
She pursed her lips, before averting her attention back to Freddy Riley. Her irritation was clear, but Naib couldn't tell if she was speaking about him or not. He couldn't read lips, much less hear her with how hushed she sounded.
"Mr. Naib?"
He was torn out of his prompt analysis and turned his attention to the young woman with a strawhat who stood in front of him.
"Sorry. Was thinking," he grumbled, lifting a hand up to rub his nape as he focused on Woods. "What is it?"
With a gloved hand, she gestured towards Le Roy. "I was asking if you could help carry Mr. Servais to his room so Miss Emily could treat him properly?"
At the mention of the unconscious man, Naib immediately looked down at said Servais Le Roy. With a blood geyser spewing from his nose to be absorbed by a handkerchief, he looked fairly pathetic.
He remembered his first meeting with this man. He hadn't warmly welcomed him into the manor like Woods or Dyer, but at least Pierson made an effort. The man seemed to detest him, for what reason, Naib didn't know. Whatever it was, he'd equally detested him.
He opened his mouth, about to decline, but paused. In the corner of his eye, he saw a smidge of faded gold clothing. She could probably hear them and was basing her assumptions off of their behaviors.
He didn't really know why, but he felt compelled to make a good impression.
So he swallowed his pride and hatred, and managed to incline his head in one firm nod. "Alright."
Reluctantly, he walked over as Dyer and Frank moved aside to let him carry the unconscious man with a handkerchief tapes onto his nose. With no delicacy or grace, he threw the brown coated man over his shoulder like he were a sack of rice.
"Mr. Subedar!" The doctor let a mortified cry out when the magician's head harshly bumped against the floor as Naib picked him up.
"Apologies. Accident," he spoke with a tone that said "No apologies. Not an accident."
Good lord Servais was heavy.
Naib had to hide his secret burst of satisfaction when he launched the man up onto his shoulder, rather showing it in a light twitch of the corner of his mouth.
He turned on his heel, ready to head into the hall to the rooms and paused when he met gazes with the mystery woman.
Based on her unamused pursed lips and quirked brow, she heard and saw everything as Riley anxiously kept talking to her.
It seems the staring between them wasn't as one sided has Naib thought.
Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he murmured, "Fuck."
***
He soon learned the woman's name was Martha. According to her, her full name was Martha Behamfil and she was born and raised in the UK with a flight coordinator occupation.
The last name Behamfil was very, very familiar to Naib, but he couldn't place where or when he heard or saw it.
As of now, everyone except for Servais Le Roy had been seated at their appropriate spot in the dinner hall. Seems today entailed a standard meal of sausage, bacon, and eggs with a small basket of bread rolls in the center of the table.
Everyone was occupied. Emily and Emma had Martha sit beside the two of them and werre happily engaging in a conversation with the newly arrived woman, though it seemed very onesided. Well, two sided, based on how Martha's mouth moved rarely.
The lawyer person was keeping to himself. He seemed to be in a bad mood after trying to talk to Behamfil. About what, only Lord knows.
Meanwhile, Pierson was nowhere to be found.
Kurt was Kurt.
And Naib was sneaking glances towards the newcomer.
He couldn't help it. She was rather strangely intriguing, he had to admit. Appearing out of the blue in clothing that usually would be frowned upon, Behamfil walked in here with her head held high and her fist even higher.
Flight coordinator, according to her, was her position. It matched with the uniform she donned, so he eliminated chances of her lying. The last name Behamfil stuck with him in a weird way as well, so it further lowered chances of her being dishonest.
Naib wasn't too sure why he was even analyzing her.
So trying to busy his mind, he began putting a little bit of egg, a little bit of sausage, and a little bit of bacon onto his fork. Then he quickly chewed on it, contented with the burst of flavors that clouded his mind. That, and he just liked food.
But then he felt as though he were being watched.
When his gaze subconsciously floated to meet the prying, unreadable eyes of Martha Behamfil, she quickly averted her gaze so quickly it looked like she were just looking around.
He didn't know why, but he wanted to snort.
Then, she abruptly stood up. He quirked a brow.
Clearing her throat, she managed to get ahold of everyone's attention (as if everyone hadn't be paying attention in the first place).
"Good day everyone. I apologize for my rather frivolous entrance upon my arrival but I do hope I can make it up to you lot."
Instead of a curtsy, she folded her arms for one to be in front and one in the back. She inclined herself in a deep bow, her ponytail dipping in sync. It was a familiar bow for Naib. One that struck his memory and robbed his lungs of air.
"My name is Martha Behamfil. It's a pleasure making your acquaintance."
Behamfil. Behamfil, Behamfil, Behamfil.
He propped his arm up, using his hand to conceal the smile that threatened to break through his cool facade.
As she rose up and sat back down, Emily began speaking to her; something about a tour. But Naib didn't focus, stabbed a piece of sausage on his plate and placing it on his mouth.
When she sat down, Naib made eye contact with her once more. Shining blue eyes met deep chocolate ones. Then she broke the stare and Naib felt his lip twitch.
Interesting.