Master

Chapter 47

Lincoln's P.O.V

"I want this moment to be remembered forever!"

My eyelids drop and my body sags with dread as Wequie bursts into the war room with a massive smile and glowing golden eyes.

I mumble a string of curses under my breath, a Proud Wequie was never a good sign.

"I want a monument in my name! I want flowers thrown at my feet! You should know that it is now a legal requirement that you tell me how amazing I am every single day, until the day I die, and you know what?" 

"What?" I ask dryly.

Wequie points a finger at me as he briskly closes the distance between us, "I want a fucking song!" He demands seriously, "A song written about my greatness so that all who live know just how fucking glorious I am!"

Staring at Wequie, I barely manage to blink, that movement now suddenly exhausting after all of...that.

I don't try to mask my annoyance or indifference at everything he'd just said, in truth, I'd zoned out for most of it, but clearly something had gotten Wequie all worked up. Still, I could admit that I was a little curious to know what on earth could have set his usually bearable dramatics to a nine on the Richter scale.

Incubi were naturally proud, confident creatures, but rarely did I see Wequie's love for himself reach such horrifying heights. 

When I did, I was never alone to deal with it as I was now. Normally, there was at least Malcolm watching from nearby to act as a buffer between us so I didn't have to face Wequie's antics on my own, but today, I was on my own.

That of course was because most of the clan was in their private corners of the castle, asleep or just resting their eyes. I was one of the few who didn't take the lighter hours of the day to get some rest before we'd be out again.

I was too focused on carving out every possible scenario so this war could be wrapped up as quickly as possible, and as a result, I found myself barely sleeping these days.

I couldn't recall the last time I'd stopped moving in fact.

"And you deserve all this because?" I already regretted asking. 

"I deserve all of this because-" Wequie cuts himself short as his face crumples with sudden displeasure, "I feel like this needs more buildup before I tell you."

"Wequie," I groan, my patience already withered to nothing more than a decaying corpse.

"What? I want to be appreciated!" Wequie demands as he tilts his head from side to side, searching. "Where's Malcolm? He needs to be here for this, and Aias too!"

I open my mouth to argue but Wequie was already running out the way he came, taking his excitement along with the rest of my energy. The air drains from me as I mentally prepare myself for whatever nonsense was about to come.

Dealing with Wequie and Malcolm was stressful on a normal day, dealing with both of them and the hose would be too much.

I rub aimlessly at my temples while I try to clear the small ache building there.

I was exhausted mentally where any other would be physically too, if not nearing their grave.
The only thing that saved me was the fact that I'd been built for this. While my mind might be decaying, my carcass was carved for conflict and thrived now in the middle of it.

But I was still tired. 

Every day there was something new to deal with, plan for or prepare for, and every day, I was the one who had to deal with it. The clan grew and my responsibilities grew with it in ways I hadn't accounted for at the start. It was challenging enough establishing an entire clan so quickly, adding the building war tensions to that only made it all more stressful.