Here's chapter 21.

Mark sighed, and mentally cursed at the stubbornness of the pair of royal guards in front of him.

It was bad enough that they had been assigned to guard him at his every waking hour, but now it was getting ridiculous: they stood side by side, defending the only entrance of the room.

That would've been in itself a completely acceptable condition, but the fact was that the situation was a particular one.

"I am honored and awed by your loyalty to your honored matriarch, but could you at least wait outside? Until I've finished bathing, I swear it won't take long." his only answer was silence.

He knew that it would be futile to continue with his plea, for the cold metal of their masks unwaveringly stared at him.

With a frustrated grunt he turned around, facing the pool of steaming hot water.

The blue liquid had been enriched by a couple of chemicals that functioned as disinfectants, but other than that everything else was the same. He looked back one last time, foolishly hoping for them to accept his request.

They were of course still standing by the locked door. He growled and undid his leather belt, letting it slide down to his ankles, soon followed by the fur undergarments and loincloth.

He quickly entered the pool, cheeks red from embarrassment.

He submerged himself, shaking his head back and forth, scraping his nails against his scalp in an effort to remove the accumulated dandruff.

He tried out a few of the soaps present on the nearby isle, finding their smell pleasant to his nose.

A small puddle of brown coloring had formed around him, but it was pulled away by the current generated from the motors of the artificial body of water.

The human shuddered at the amount of dirt that was previously on his body. Then, Mark yelped as he was forcefully pushed down by a large hand.

He unwillingly swallowed an entire mouthful of water, viciously struggling before being pulled back up.

He gasped for air, but was suppressed by the rough handling of the guard.

She mercilessly scrubbed his hair as he coughed from the constant dunking. "Cease your sputtering youngblood, you are not a pup, and you will appear before our high matriarch in a presentable manner!"

Fighting against a nine foot tall alien woman in a bathtub was not something he wanted to experience ever again.

There was little he could do to the unyielding hold of the female yautja, and no part of him was left unchecked.

By the end of the treatment his pride had been deeply wounded: it was truly humiliating to be treated like a child, incapable of looking out for himself.

Still, the comfortable clothes and perfume did not erase the feeling of uneasiness and constant alert.

It was surreal to be in a place with an actual society, even after the recent events.

He was now following the royal guards as they led him through the many pathways of the matron's quarters.

Finally, he was brought to a large room, a luxurious one. He noticed that the lights were dimmed down to a soft hue. There was a table placed in front of a large window of reinforced glass that offered a view at the vast expanse of the cosmos.

He lost himself in the explosion of bright colors, observing the swirling galaxies and sprawling nebulas.

Mark heard the approaching footsteps, he turned around and bowed before the matron.

The female ordered him to sit in his designated chair, specifically crafted to fit his smaller frame.

She stared at him, tasting his perfumed scent, "I presume that you have bathed." "Yes, I have... it was an interesting experience, to say the least." he shortly replied, not wishing to mention the embarrassing moment.

The first course was served, and surprisingly, there were some forks and knifes for him to utilize. 'Strange.'

"I am very grateful for your help high matriarch, however I cannot help but wonder how come no one has yet to make their displeasure to my presence known." she took a sip of the expensive c'ntlip, "That is because you are not the first ooman to be on this ship."

His eyebrows rose in confusion, "Many rotations ago, our last ooman clan mate lost her battle to the dark hunter and transcended to the halls of Lilka."

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that." "I was but a youngblood back then, after many experiences I learned to understand and know your species, much the same way I know of your desires."

Mark felt anger build at the remark: who the hell was she to judge him?

"You don't know shit about me!" he furiously whispered. Her look lost all its warmth, and she placed the bone cup she held back onto the table.

"You are right, I don't. You are my honored guest and as such I shall allow this blatant show of disrespect to go unpunished."

Her growl echoed throughout his being as she spoke, "Know that this is the last time you will be conceded this privilege." Mark averted his gaze to the diffuse the tension: he could very clearly tell that the matriarch was making an effort to hold back her anger.

He was quite surprised at her self control, 'Stupid, this could have ended badly!' he kicked himself, realizing the gravity of his attitude.

But that left him perplexed: this dinner as a whole was confusing.

He delicately placed the utensils on the plate, letting out a barely audible ting.

The female noted his lack of movement, "You may speak." she said, pausing as well.

"Again, I am honored by your hospitality, and your forgiveness, but nothing stops you from forcing me to face repercussions... which means that you have something else in mind for me." he monologued.

The huntress reached forward to grasp his chin and tilt his gaze upwards, ignoring his slight flinch.

"You are inquisitive and smart youngblood. I can clearly see why you were taken in by the Fire Skull clan. As for your theory, you are correct."

He sat back a little, out of her reach, "And so?" "You are an unblood yes, but that could very well change."

'What?'

He shook his head in disbelief: "Wait, you're- "Offering you the choice to become a part of my clan. Your impressive collection of trophies shall convince anyone aboard this mothership of your skill and honor."

Mark held his head in between his hands as he contemplated the situation: while it would definitely be nice to have a home, he could not forget everything that Kyiv had done.

To accept her offer would mean to live in another clan, and he knew that he'd be tortured by the guilt. He didn't have the heart to fall out with his mentor, it wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be honorable.

"And if I don't accept?" the older warrior then understood his decision, "I shall not force you to join us, therefore you shall still be returned to your clan."

He sighed in relief, grateful for the open minded philosophy of this matriarch.

The ate in silence; the human thought about his choice, ignoring the scrutinizing gaze of the yautja.

He was growing restless in these chambers: there were no hard meats, no threats, nothing.

Mark tried to occupy himself with getting back to shape, acquiring more muscle mass to cover his skinny body. It would still take some time, but he was already modestly satisfied with his state.

Everything would have been better if not for the royal guards following him everywhere.

He tried all the tricks in the book to outsmart them, but they were just too damn good.

This left him with the only option to stay locked in his room where they couldn't enter unless absolutely necessary. He at least had some sort of privacy in here.

Of course, he was still forced out by the various meetings, medical exams or bathings.

'Doesn't matter, it's only you right now.' he chided himself, doubling the speed of his strikes. Shadow boxing was a gift, for it allowed him to work harder and faster.

Sweat rolled down his forehead and onto his eyebrows, causing them to itch. He didn't stop to wipe the sweat off, knowing that in a real battle his opponent wouldn't allow him the time to do such a thing.

He heard the door open and he instinctively grabbed a knife laying in the nearby shelf.

A female entered the room, and by the looks of her attire and beads he concluded that she was a priestess.

He let go of his stance as he panted, placing the blade back into its holster. The unmasked huntress gave a quick scan of the room before settling her gaze onto him.

"What may I do for you honored priestess?" he asked her, assuming a respectful pose.

"You possess the mark of Cetanu, am I correct unblood?" she demanded, to which he simply gave a nod of the head.

She stepped forward and he turned around to show her the symbol.

The priestess examined it closely, letting out a click every now and then.

"This is most certainly interesting... what is your name ooman?" "Mark Johnson." seemingly satisfied, she turned around, her long dreadlocks nearly whipping him across the face.

"The records will have to be updated, for this is certainly a first." she left and Mark was confused by the statement.

Sighing, he exited the bedroom as well, deciding that it was time he spoke to the matron, he needed to ask her about a few things.

Wordlessly, the guards led him to an intricately designed door, and upon entering, he was greeted with the sight of two dueling yautja.

'So this is a kehrite...'

The matron was battling a guard; both were armed with wrist blades.

The speed and elegance of their strikes was impressive, so were the sparks that flew through the air when their weapons collided against one another.

He patiently waited for their training session to end but saw another guard approach him with the corner of his eye.

She silently offered him a combi stick, and once he was pleased with the length of it their duel started.

Mark could not avoid the low strike, and as osuch his legs were swept up as a consequence.

The impact against the solid floor still knocked the majority of his breath away. He was too tired to keep up with the royal guard, but he noted that she too looked winded.

He signalized his surrender, and gave a nod of respect to the female.

"That was quite impressive, young one." the matriarch commented, walking up to him. He quickly bowed to her before answering: "The hunters that protect you are skilled and honorable matron."

"So, it is my assumption that you came to speak, correct?" he voiced his affirmation.

"A priestess visited me earlier today, would you happen to know the reason behind it."

Her mandibles formed a small smile, "They were simply curious. I was however the one to inform them of your presence, and they were surprised."

"We shall arrive on Yaut tomorrow, so ask you to please transport my skulls to the honorable Kyiv ar'khan's dwelling."

"It shall be done." and he thanked her again. After that brief exchange, she proposed a friendly spar.

Naturally, Mark lost in the end, but he found it to be positive experience, and was proud to say that he had learned a couple of new tricks.

The marine laid on the bed, deep in thought.

For some reason, he felt as if something was eating away at his heart.

'I'll be able to go back but... oh... Mhei...' he sat up thinking.

'You fucking lovesick fool...' he screamed at himself.

'You dumb fuck! She won't find you worthy! What the hell was I even thinking!'

He had truly been a fool to believe he had a chance with her... gods, he was unstable.

He needed time.