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It’s been two weeks since Cale had joined their little group— it’s strange, being in a group led by the very man that had almost beaten him to death, but you have to make some sacrifices, he guesses. It’s not like he wants to be here, he just owed this to them for saving Basen.
Cale had scrunched his face up in disgust at the thought of being in that bastard (Choi Han’s) party when Rosalyn had first proposed it after the bombing.
“We need all the help we can get. ” She had insisted, both to Cale and Choi Han, who had sulked behind her like a pouty teen, still a little astonished after learning that he and Cale had the same enemy. She’d explained their situation with all the gracefulness and confidence that a noble should have, even if there was an underlying threat in her words.
By for the most part, it seemed like she’d be fine if Cale decided to decline their offer (read:threat).
Yeah. He was wrong about that.
Cale Henituse learned that Rosalyn did not answer favorably to a no— she was a very, very stubborn woman when it came to the things she apparently cared about.
The group doesnt trust Cale, unsurprisingly, (Cale doesn’t think that he’ll ever gain their trust - which he’s fine with, of course. He doesn’t need, nor want their trust.) at least not in the way they trust each other.
They can tell that he’s competent at least. That he won’t bail on them or anything and that he has a smart mouth on him, but they don’t look at him him, don’t talk to him anymore than they have to. Most of them leave him alone and eye him with looks of doubt or disgust, sometimes a mix of both. They know of him and his reputation.
Not that he minds though, you get used to it, especially after it’s deserved (he was a piece of shit, but it’s not like he wasn’t a self aware one). He just thinks that it's a shame he can’t be trash in the form of a human with all these powerful people around. He knows for a fact that if they really, really wanted to, they could easily kill him, and he doesn’t trust himself enough to not push them to the brink of murder. Really, it’s a talent.
The plan was to just let Cale handle all the diplomacy things with some rich bastard who they, for some reason, needed the support of — which was so stupid, Cale thought, were they kidding? Him? The infamous trash of Henituse County, handling diplomacy of all things? He’s sure that some no name noble would be easy enough to convince anyways, especially with people like Rosalyn on their team, can’t they do this shit themselves?
Cale can only hope that they’re doing it just for the sake of pissing him off, because if they really are this stupid then they’ll never survive as the future idols of the world, with millions of eyes watching them and all that.
“You can do it.” Ron had insisted, leaving no room for argument with that stupid benign smile on his face. Apparently, being one of the only ones who could see through Cale's act had made him so confident as to believe that Cale could take up the act of a pleasant noble, a fake— like that idiot crown prince.
Apparently Ron thought that he was even capable of being diplomatic. Or maybe the man just thinks that Cale pretending not to be trash is funny. Ron’s a bastard either way.
Like Cale said, stupid.
It’s not like diplomacy would be hard for Cale, he’s sure that it’d be easy enough if he tried, even though the very idea of playing nice makes him want to bash his head into a wall — Cale could probably do it. He knows how to put on an act, of course (It’s not like he really had been that much of an asshole since the ripe age of eight), but it would be a bit of a struggle to get out of the ‘piece of shit noble’ mask he had.
Although, diplomacy was probably the least of his worries considering that the whole thing had been a goddamned trap. Fucking hell, you’d think that after going over the plan with several heroes (that should be smarter than this, he should say), someone would’ve pointed this out by now!
Cale scowls, back pressed against the wall of some dusty room he’d found in a faraway corner of the mansion, hoping that none of those guards of that rich bastard would find him. That would be… trouble, considering how physically weak he was.
He runs a hand through his hair, where the fuck was that bastard Choi Han? He was supposed to be with Cale in case anything happened! Cale would have preferred anyone else but they were all apparently ‘needed elsewhere’ (Cale doesn’t believe that one bit). That fucker, Cale would kill Choi Han if he ever got the chance.
Really though, where is that brute? Fuck. Goddamnit. They were supposed to be back by eleven to meet with the others, it was already ten thirty! Normally, he probably wouldn’t bother with this, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that Ron will pull out the classic fatherly look of dissatisfaction.
Cale would probably crumble under the man’s gaze anyway.
He shakes the thought off— (that’s deeper than he’s willing to go today) at this point, he’d have to go find that guy himself. Work. And he was already doing too much as it was — he should be in bed, or drinking a bottle of Henituse wine! Not this shit.
Cale shakes his head, making up his mind as he forages deeper into the mansion. He keeps note on all of the twists and turns— he and Choi Han were to find the artifact that Cale was originally supposed to bargain for with the noble with. Cale would’ve just decided to steal it in the first place if it was up to him, but then again, these were heroes he was with, and obviously they were too righteous to stoop so low.
There’s a thrum of… something as he walks further down, which probably wasn’t good. Why had they sent him again? Surely, they didn’t mean for him to die here? No, no, they… they’re too righteous for that. They should be.
The traps and hurdles that he needs to get through seemed to increase with each step, he was on a tight schedule, goddamnit.
He creeps down the halls until he hears the faint echo of what sounds like Choi Han grunting and cursing.
…
It is Choi Han — and he’s running right towards Cale.
Cale lets out a yelp as Choi Han speeds past him, gripping Cale’s arm in a bruising grip. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing, you bastard?!” He says, scrambling to keep pace with the man.
“Just shut up and keep running!” Choi Han replies. Cale quickly spots what they were running from.
Guards. Many guards.
Cale grits his teeth, his steps newly powered by the determination to not get trampled to death, and especially not by a bunch of mindless brutes. Such a tactless way to die. “Fuck! What the hell did you do? You were supposed to stay with me, you know!” He yells indignantly.
Choi Han scowls, dodging an arrow. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of in the middle of something!”
Ugh, Cale glares at the man through the corner of his eyes as they make a turn. And where was this godforsaken man taking him? Gods, he better know where they’re going.
It takes Cale a few minutes of running around in circles to realize that this idiot really doesn’t know where they’re going— he’s sure that they’d just made the same turn more than five times, and it doesn’t look like the crowd of guards has lessened either.
He swears he can feel his eye twitch. “You-“ Cale runs a hand over his face, the hero bastards really need to think their plans through.
The next turn they make is a particularly sharp one, one that causes the artifact that Choi Han is holding to soar into the air and ohmyfuckinggod, are you kidding.
Cale's eyes widen and before he can truly comprehend what’s happening, he’s in the air with the damned thing in his hands - a stone with jagged edges that’s engraved with sapphire in the cracks and a gold rose carved into the middle - and fucking hell, Cale swears that he can feel a thrum under his skin as his fingers trace the grooves and scratches in it. Huh.
He hits the floor with a thud. His fingers briefly tracing the rose carved into the artifact before the thrum he can feel begins to get overwhelming in power and a bright burst of light emanates from his hand.
For a second, it’s silent except for the pounding in his head and the sound of a stream. Stupid.
Cale gasps, ignoring the faint yell of “ Cale! ” and clutching his burning hand as his eyes flicker to the group of guards that were now lying on the floor, some half lidded and confused, their weapons scattered on the ground.
“What the… fuck?” Cale blinks.
Choi Han rushes to his side, his eyes looking at him with a strange, calculating look that Cale never would’ve thought possible on a brute like him. “You… you said you don’t have any powers. Or magic.”
“I don’t.”
Choi Han eyes him with an unimpressed look, gesturing to Cale's hands where a white star is printed (— that had not been there before), a few sparks flickering from recent use of it.
…
A white star - an attribute that every magic user had.
“Fuck.”