LADY FAIRFIELD LET THE FRIENDS crash at her stately private island. She let Rafel go by morning, with a promise to visit in a fortnight, at the end of the month, on a full moon, on Reziah and Keziah twentieth birthdays, when he would—in the most impure of times—malevolently smash the twins to breathless squats.
Israfel was more than happy to help, and in anticipation for the fete, for he had in passing the foyer seen a large oil portrait of the entire Fairfield house: both girls standing behind their mother in a Victorian seat.
The girls were not ugly.
Their looks however were of no consequence to Rafel who found their greatest assets to be the sizeable accents in front and behind. Raziah and Keziah brought a new meaning to the word, curves. If the little planned tryst of a birthday surprise did happen, he'd need more than two hands to grapple the luscious fountains of cream he saw in that painting.
The Marfa of the Jewish home, Nura Fairfield was gracious enough to laden her visitors with rich assortments of spoil: food and wine and jewels, on her swanky vessel, the Silver May; that would take them home.
Ravenna waved the most back at the Duchess, who had taken some liking to her.
They were set to head out to shore and the ride that would take them back to spooky [C. A. W] and all its enchanting vigours, but on the byland, Rafel spotted a broken tower in the distance. It was sure as a raised talon in the gray sky. There was some thing about the fallen blackstone and soot pillars.
Rafel stopped the carriage-riding cowgirl with a whistle.
"There, on the headland, what is it?"
The girl removed her gloved hands from the reins with which she drew the horses. She hopped down with a bop born of practice—she'd probably been riding since she was seven; Equestrians trained their kids like so. As the Van Imperias were to their Griffins, so were they to their horses.
It wasn't just metaphor to say a cowgirl fucked a horse.
She replied with a squinted gaze at the black tower.
"That is the Eldritch Keep, my lord. It has been there before the Marfa bought the isle. Since it was the only structure in these parts born of the old world still standing, she didn't cut it down. It is rumored to hold a cyclops in its roaming, or a bear, depends on who you ask."
Peitho was already in Rafel's head.
[Ding!]
[This could prove good in reaching out quest for the Hyde monster to slay.]
[Apollyon is advised to engage this Eldritch Keep.]
Rafel gave a single order to the female equestrian.
"Ride for the Keep."
Before the eyes of the five friends was the silverly, gleaming weapons of something of a thousand armies. It was a treasure trove, but one not full of gold. . .but arsenals to arm an entire host.
"Peitho, what have we got?" Rafel rapped.
[DING!]
[HOST request confirmed!]
[Cellar counts a range of weaponry numbering half a century. In the nature of substance, all possess magic. Collection hints from level RARE to level EPIC; can be upgraded.]
[Origins: Unknown.]
[Worth: 5 million soul coins.]
"It's worth five solid," Rafel recited his system's voice in his head to his friends.
"Five thousand gold?" Percival asked.
Rafel laughed softly. "No. FIVE MILLION."
"Holy fucking shit." A female voice accented. It was Ravenna. Her emerald eyes lay on the pile of iron and brass. She would not make that much showing her tits at the county fair.
"Do we tell?" Percival mumbled.
Everyone turned to look at him like he was crazy. Obviously, the blonde royal was new to the group and their tasty predilection for villainy. But Aya, Rosa, and Ravenna were not. Rafel chuckled and gripped Percival's shoulder. His smile was dark and almost hideous, but for his beauty.
"Never," he croaked.
And then, he ripped off all of the hanging chains, baring the cellar ajar. He commandeered his gorgeous band of brunettes to work.
"Naamah, open a new portal into a miniature Hel dimension and start throwing these in. Percival is your muscle. Ravenna; you're Half-Angel, no way I want your purity corrupted in the sin of greed and thievery. You are on watch duty. Make sure Erika stays by the the carriage.
Everyone, places. Chop! Chop!" Rafel turned to the rising, stone stairwell, and then Rosamunde. She computed his stare even before he said the words, "my dear Detective, let us explore what other precious finds this Keep might hold."
He held out his tan, strong arm.
Rosa took it.