The Noble Queen-A Shadow Slave Fanfic

The rest of the relics would have to wait. Noble pursed her lips.

"Tether? How does it work?"

"Ask Titus. He is the one who has been wearing it since we left the mountains." Syrce shrugged and took a bite of something puffy and purple.

Noble had expected this answer. Who else would be the expert but the one using it? Unfortunately, the one who had put it on was not part of the Nightmare. He had been replaced.

The surly Master tugged at the leather relic. "It has me chained to something at the back of the caravan. I think it is the last cart. I am prevented from moving too far away from it."

"That makes sense since you are the last man in the line." Orrin nodded. "There is no one to watch your back while you watch everyone else's. An anchor like that would be excellent protection."

"Protection?" Flint tilted his head.

"I nearly wandered off in the woods," Noble explained. "If that happened to you, there would be no one in the back to notice, so a tether makes a lot of sense. It's a clever use of the item."

Flint grunted. "Well, I can't wander off right now, can I? Not with all of you around. So, how do I turn it off? Or better yet, take it off entirely?"

The Saint and Shieldbearer exchanged glances.

"How should we know?" The grey-eyed woman shook her head. "You are the one who recognized its purpose. You mean you cannot take it off?"

"It's stuck worse than glue." Flint hooked his thumbs behind the leather and pulled. Even under the pressure of Ascended strength, the belt did not move.

Noble would expect no less of something crafted by a daemon.

Seeing Flint struggle would have been amusing if not for the fact that they were no closer to finding a solution to his captivity.

"That is unfortunate," Syrce echoed Noble's thoughts. "What can we do, Orrin?"

The Shieldbearer stroked his beard. "I think the answer lies with Titus. Imagination crafted these items, so the wearer must have some control over how they are used."

"Just great…" Flint's dejected look said it all.

Orrin hummed softly. "We cannot fix your situation, but perhaps we can help with the environment. Since you are connected to the cart, we could move it to the center of camp. That would give you a larger area to move freely."

It wasn't a permanent solution, but it was a temporary one.

Sighing, Flint agreed.

Syrce gave the order, and the servants surrounding the cart got to work repositioning it.

"Tell me more about yourself, Bel. As your dearest friend, I ought to know more about you." Syrce offered her friend a plate of fruit.

After the incident with the tea, Noble was wary of anything being offered. However, Flint was already gorging himself on some of the plums, and he seemed to be fine.

Noble daintily selected a piece. "What is it you want to know?"

While she didn't mind sharing some personal details with those who were a recreation of the Nightmare, Noble didn't want to give her whole life story—or any part of it, really—to Flint.

The man was a huge fan of the former Dreamscape champion Queen Bee. Who knew what facts he might have collected about her personal life?

"Tell me about your family and where you come from." Syrce prodded.

"Hm. Well, like your parents, mine were heavily involved in government affairs when I was growing up." Noble felt the words were vague enough while still being true.

And from Flint's judgmental scoff under his breath, the news hadn't triggered any suspicion from him.

Noble picked her next words carefully.

"As for where I am from: as I said before, it's very far away. We are in peril, also. I want to help my people as much as you want to help yours."

"A land far away, hm? Are you from another Realm?" Syrce leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with anticipation of the answer.

Noble guessed there must be many kingdoms in the land. Communication with them must be sparse for the Saint to be so curious.

"You could say that," she nodded.

"How delightful! Realm Walkers are extremely rare these days. And we almost never get them here. You see, Orrin? I knew my dear friend was special!" Syrce was elated by the news.

Noble shifted uncomfortably under the praise.

'Do people not travel from kingdom to kingdom often?'

The floating Master was about to ask about the typical traveling habits of people when the sound of a moving cart overtook the conversation.

It came to rest beside the picnic blanket.

"Here is the cart, as you ordered, My Lady."

"Thank you, Petros," Syrce dismissed him with a wave of his hand

The soldier bowed. His brow knitted as he glanced behind Noble when he stood.

The floating Master quickly discovered why.

The disgruntled cook had allowed her kitchen to be moved, but not before climbing off in protest. She stood near the edge of the camp, scowling.

'An unhappy cook makes for a sour meal,' Noble silently repeated the old adage.

Flint was too relieved to care about the cook or her attitude. "Finally! I am going to go take a dip in the river. Maybe the water will loosen this blasted belt and I can slip it off."

"Doubtful," Orrin clicked his tongue. "It was meant to be a tether and an anchor. The only way to release it would be to lift the anchor or move the tether."

"And how do you propose I do that?" Flint crossed his arms.

Noble looked at the silver thread that matched the lines on her cup. The indefinable quality of both made Noble certain they had once had the same owner.

"If the belt belonged to Imagination, then maybe using it involves…thought?"

What else was human imagination but thinking taken to an extreme?

"Don't you think I have thought of thinking? It's all I have been doing since I got trapped." Flint stood. "I will be back as soon as I try my hand at good old-fashioned bathing." 

Flint took a couple of steps toward the river and stopped. He grunted. 

"Did you forget something?" Noble tilted her head. 

"I'm stuck!" The man grunted again, straining and leaning toward the water. 

"How can that be? The cart has been moved." Orrin tried to help his subordinate. 

Both men were suddenly pulled in the wrong direction. 

Looking over at the edge of the camp, Noble saw Cook heading into the woods to relieve herself. The two men were being pulled after her like dogs on a leash. 

Noble hid her grin.

Syrce noticed the connection as well. 

"I don't think it was the cart you are tethered to, Titus," she said slowly. "I think it was Cook." 

The two women struggled to keep their shoulders from bouncing up and down as Flint was dragged across the lawn with Orrin unable to assist him. 

"Do something!" Flint yelled. 

"Only you can," the Saint replied with a shrug. 

"Think," Noble coaxed him. "Unless you want to be tied to that lovely lady for eternity, find a way to release the tether." 

"Think..." Flint shut his eyes; his voice was as strained as his body. "Releasing isn't working!" 

His feet continued to slide.

Noble tried and failed to stop him with her Ability. The force was beyond her capabilities. "If you can't stop it, then try to move it!" 

Flint grunted. "Move the tether?... Move it to where?" 

"Anywhere!" Child of Promise responded. Anything had to be better than an angry old woman.

"Anywhere?" Flint's eyes shot open and locked with Noble's. 

'Oh no...'