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By the time the fire had consumed the village and the miles and miles of surrounding forest, The Duke was already long gone. He sat in the front of the wagon, driving on for hours, whistling, not in any hurry. Why would he be? For the first time in years, he had no customers and no responsibilities. He rode for hours down the mountain trail, finally stopping by a stream to let his horse have a drink. She was such a diligent, hard-working thing. As he tied her to a tree, a long yawn escaped his throat. Perhaps he could use some rest as well.
By now, the sun was starting to rise. It was still overcast, but it didn't seem nearly as dreary as the day before. Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the delayed gratification of seeing almost one hundred years of watching and waiting finally pay off, but the merchant's mood was genuinely cheerful. It was likely unnoticeable to someone who had observed his regular demeanor, but his smile came easier this morning.
The back doors to the wagon swung open to reveal a wide, ornate room, at least twice the size that the outside walls could hold. There were various small chests, boxes, and antiques pushed against each wall, and the middle was cushioned with fine blankets and pillows. Despite the impossible sturdiness of the cart's interior, the wheels still creaked under his weight as he situated himself back in the caravan. He hummed in anticipation as he reached into one of the chests and pulled out a small sack, feeling the unique shapes of the objects inside it.
When someone (or something) was as powerful as the Lords had been, it took a long time for them to die. Their bodies could be destroyed, of course, but the sheer amount of energy remaining in the shards of their broken souls would take days to fade entirely. Though it wasn't as though it was much use to them. They could think and feel for a while longer, but they were still trapped. Just a temporary remnant that would soon be gone, like a picture burnt into an old television. Communication was impossible to almost anyone in the world. It would take someone attuned to the mold to be able to even feel them there at all. It was fortunate, then, that someone of that sort had acquired them.
The Duke removed a few small jars from one of the wooden shelves and brushed the dust away. He wanted to have a good spot for these. They were among the rare few items he never planned to sell.
He pulled out Moreau's crystal, running his thumb along the craggy shell. It was twisted perhaps, but fascinating to look at. There was barely a voice inside at all. The Duke felt nothing but a single, exhausted sigh emanating from it. He sat the shell on the shelf, deciding not to bother it further. Even he could give the pathetic creature a bit of peace.
Angie was next, and she did indeed cry out, but not in her usual shrill voice. Instead, the voice of a weak young woman. She cried quietly, occasionally unable to stop herself from letting out a sob. It was hard to tell if she even knew The Duke was there as he carefully set the doll down on the shelf beside Moreau.
Alcina Dimitrescu's remnants certainly knew he was there. It wasn't anger as much as it was bitterness. She hated Ethan Winters. This smug moron had only pointed him in the right direction. No, instead she chose to conserve what little energy she had left. For what? That part wasn't certain.
Karl Heisenberg didn't feel the same. His crystal physically buzzed with static electricity, to the point where it might have been painful to a smaller man. And he yelled. Between his sheer power and extreme anger, he'd managed to yell almost the entire time the cart had been moving. And now there was someone to listen.
“You.” Heisenberg growled. It was more of an idea, a thought projected as words into The Duke's mind. “Get your bulbous hands off me.”
It made The Duke chuckle.
“So aggressive.” He tutted. “Even after death.”
He spoke out loud even though he didn't really have to.
“Shut up!” Heisenberg yelled. It made the little statue jitter with electricity. “You stupid, fat FUCK! I was so close to finally changing things! Do you realize that? SO FUCKING CLOSE!”
“Indeed!” The Duke confirmed, as unfazed as ever. “It was quite impressive. With a little more patience, you may have been able to pull it off.”
“Patience?!" shouted Heisenberg, "Do you even fucking understand what it was like to have to suck up to that bitch of a woman for years?!"
"Yes, of course." said the Duke, rather patronizingly. "It must have been very difficult for you. Her most successful creation! Little oversight, incredible power, body practically untouched..." His voice grew a bit lower, slightly less cheerful. "No. I wouldn't understand."
"No." Karl shot back. "You wouldn't. Because you'd rather fuck off to the outside world and let other people fight for you! You don't have a stake in any of this!"
"I consider it strategy." His tone still wasn't hostile, but his smile was gone. There was a slight twinge of... something behind his eyes. "You must remember that not everyone has your sheer strength.- And it is quite impressive. But I don't think you comprehend the effort it takes to wait." He chuckled again, but there was an undeniable bitterness that wasn't there before. "That rage burnt you out in only a few years! Imagine fifty... or eighty! When your name slips away, when you yourself are gone, and Miranda only grows more powerful by the day, would you be able to wait? Could you sit on that burning coal for decades until your chance finally came?" He shook his head slowly, looking down his nose at the statue in his hand. "No... I don't believe you could understand that."
Perhaps Heisenberg had never quite put the pieces together, maybe his essence was finally fading, but the statue was quiet. There wasn't even any static electricity pulsing through it. And just like that, The Duke's smile returned. He relaxed back into his usual peaceful self.
"Pity." He said to the statue. He didn't know (or particularly care) if Heisenberg could hear him anymore. "If you did manage to curb that impatient temper of yours, you'd know how sweet the reward is."
He placed the lifeless mechanical statue on the shelf with the others, admired his work for a moment, then laid down for a long, content nap.