Home Sick

On a gilded hammock held by two cherubic oozarus, dimly lit by the soft light reflected on a great thousand-piece chandelier, rested Kalabas in his bedchamber. The floor was marble, unlike the jade ape statues, and the walls plaster, styled in such a way that it resembled freshly varnished, unblemished wood - the style of the room and furniture followed a stylistic pathos antiquated even to the Duke’s standards, but almost everything was as it was before the Fall of Vegeta and Kalabas was adamant to keep it that way. Not that he had any particular attachment to the unquestionably grotesque oozaru rug cut from grandfather’s shoulder, but the familiarity of sleeping where he had as a child eased him plenty, enough to sleep without aid.

Yet, in spite of the late hour the Duke was not asleep nor alone, but accompanied by a small pack of saibamen and reading the local newspaper. Kalabas swung in his hammock like a barque through a storm, and so did his disposition. That there were those opposed to the Queen was understandable, Kalabas liked Vocado better and he was far from being alone in that assessment, but he simply could not stand all this talk about doing away with the monarchy and in its place establish a democracy. Did these lame-headed traitors really trust themselves with matters they knew nothing of? Bah! On the other hand in every article he read a deep, earnest sentiment of union, a cry for identity, for Vegeta, for justice to saiyankind, and in a far too subtle degree, for arcosian blood. Of the latter he thought he had shed plenty.

Kalabas threw the Nighty Herald at his feet and snapped his fingers, impressed by the sharp echo made. Immediately the green mob scurried to his side, dragging along the Duke’s new and improved arm, three gremlins pulling by each finger and even then only moving it with a great deal of effort. “I snapped once, you fools.” the servants stared at him dumbly with empty red eyes, their ‘brains’ too conditioned to understand their new master “Cocoa.” Kalabas moaned dry and hateful, imitating his father’s voice so well that the fearful plants ran out of the room with their purpose renewed. It wouldn’t take long for them to return, he thought with his head on the feathered pillow.

Then, he heard that very familiar and welcoming chime. He smiled, anticipating a pleasant talk with his cousin-niece. “I am glad to hear from you, capuchin!” he declared at the empty room, face scrunching in worry once her reply reached him. “Dearest, I am afraid I won’t be able to. I am in Vegeta, but I’ll see to my quick return to you. Perhaps Karon or Vocado is awake?” He did not mention Roma as he was certain she would instead give her soda .- and if the parenting guide Kalabas bought was to be trusted, sugar before bed was a surefire way to ruin a restful night of sleep for all involved.

Kalabas almost said a very dirty word, but he contained himself - he had expected more from the third-rate psychopomp and the miniature princeling! To abandon his child like that, after he trusted them her wellbeing… He took a deep breath, wary of jumping into conclusions most dire, - perhaps Belle was simply stating that Karon and Vocado were not at hand, more likely than not they were just off and away for the time being - Kalabas knew they were not bad people, otherwise he wouldn’t have left her in their charge, and even while it was rare for him to see eye to eye with either the Duke knew that whatever passing contempt they felt would never victimize Belle. What’s more, Roma had it in her to fill a glass of water no matter how diluted her blood was by the Duke’s own wine. He was unsure whether he should charge per barrel or per glass or at all, truth be told, but regardless Belle would get her much needed water. Or so he thoughts.

“Daddy? You mean Chard?” Uncle Chard, reminded Kalabas to himself. Unless he had got over his distaste Vocado, Kalabas doubted the Belle’s father had joined Vocado’s little posse. Sudden ghostly flashes of things filled Kalabas’ vision, like stage props appearing and disappearing in place. A canopy bed, lances and blasters and similarly breathtaking instruments of war, some quite splendid artwork too… Why, the kid’s room was quite beautiful! - but only in Kalabas’ hallucinating eyes, he knew that Belle would do better with a more child-like decor. “Impressive.” he said as the walls and floor and furniture he perceived melded and contrasted and pushed and pulled, his perceived reality was a dizzying conglomeration of two spaces just similar enough for him to navigate through, what else could Belle do with her gift? He stumbled and bumped a lot, but he managed to throw his arms at the little kid in the middle of the ever shifting room. “What a blessing, you are in Vegeta!” His hug phased through her conceptual form, and his fall cut short by a saibaman who yanked him back to his feet by the bandana and received a pat for its trouble. Kalabas gave Belle, the only thing besides him that he could see clearly, a thorough glance.

She looked sick, how much Kalabas could not tell, but she was also bruised, and that he could see clearly. Was it carelessness on Chard’s part, or something done out of training, something done in a fit of madness, maybe anger? “Where are you?” At the castle, most likely, but he had to be sure. The situation required a degree of coolheadedness that the Duke was feeling himself lacking, his anger needed a target and he had to be sure that it was the right one.

The uncle followed his adored niece through short flights of stairs that doors that led nowhere. He was helped by his curious saibamen, pets as loyal as old dogs even if not nearly as smart, who tugged and pushed and guided him softly. Kalabas stopped when warm pewter burned his lips. It was the hot cocoa he had asked for but a moment ago. He finished it in three quick, worried gulps, walking Belle after. Stiff upper lip, she thought and he heard, concerned by how useful those words had become. She quite simply didn’t deserve to live in this permanent state of danger and anxiety. “Belle, attune your signature to mine. I need to pinpoint your exact location.”