Chương 52: The Tour of Dreams: Interior

They stepped into the inner hallway. The floor was covered by a thick crimson carpet woven with images of beautiful but dangerous flora: sharp-thorned roses, poisonous wolf's bane, and sweet, sleep-inducing poppies.

"And here," Pan announced grandly, "you can see the leader's… extensive collection of personal portraits." He gestured to a series of paintings depicting women of wildly different races. He truly does not discriminate, Ran thought, her eyes widening. Maybe I have a higher chance than I thought. But Kaoru was drawn to a stunning portrait of a Chinese woman in a jade-green silk dress, the second one of four mounted at the end of the branching hallway.

"Pan, who is she?" Asked the curious yookai.

"Ah, that is Lady Cu. The leader's second wife. A brilliant strategist, able to match him in both intellect and martial arts." Kaoru and Ran glanced at Galan, who just grinned and crossed his arms.

"They say their debates are sharper than any sword fight," Pan continued.

"Though I wouldn't know. They usually speak in Chinese."

"Spending time with her in those ways always seems to calm her mood," Galan added.

"Helped her channel her anger."

"That's wonderful, Lord Oda," Kaoru said.

"You're so great with women."

"I would love to know that side of you more," Ran purred.

"Sure," Galan smiled.

"Ahem," Meredith coughed, flattening her palm and drawing it across her neck.

"Actually," Galan said, turning back to Ran with a strained smile, "let's store that idea for now. Tell them about Theara next, Pan." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Pan gestured to the first portrait. It depicted a woman with sun-gold hair, her eyes closed in a moment of pure, ecstatic joy. There was a half-eaten piece of cake on the table ahead of her while she held a fork in her hand.

"And that is Lady Theara," Pan said, his voice softening.

"She was… the heart of our crew. The one who could always understand our leader. Astanka's bringer of joy." He looked down.

"I'd… rather not talk about her, Gal."

"Understood." Galan nodded slowly.

"Move on to Ianthe." Pan pointed to the third portrait, a deer-woman with long braided hair, her fingers poised over a wooden harp.

"This is Lady Ianthe. Those two love playing music together… the kind that can make the oldest of trees weep."

"Your trees can cry?" Ran asked, confused.

"He's exaggerating," Galan chuckled.

"I do wonder if you could sing some of those songs to me," Ran said, winking at Galan. His eye twitched. A faint, sharp sound of a blade grinding on stone made him glance over. Meredith was calmly sharpening a knife on a whetstone, her eyes inviting him to test the blade's edge.

"Alright, Pan," Galan said quickly.

"Fioretta's last." Pan pointed to the final portrait. It depicted a stage actress in a pitch-black dress, her face a mask of theatrical white paint, and a tiara of thorns on her head.

"Fioretta Kostanza. An absolute terror on stage. This piece was done after the day our leader acted with her and proposed to her, right in the middle of a play in her hometown of Firenze, completely deviating from the script." Oh… to be proposed to on a stage… Ran thought with a sigh.

"That sounds odd, but it has its appeal, I suppose."

"Don't say that as if you don't want a big burly goat-man to carry you offstage." Galan grinned. Ran's face bloomed red.

"I—I…"

"So what happens next?" Kaoru asked.

"We improvised," Galan shrugged.

"It was practically just us dating on stage until the curtain rolled." He glanced at Meredith, who was staring at the portraits with a sad, distant look. He knelt, offering his open arms.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice weak.

"You'll feel better. Trust me." She sighed, unsummoned the knife, and accepted his comfort, her worries melting away in his embrace.

"Lord Oda," Ran asked, her voice soft.

"Do you treat all of your wives like this?"

"Of course. Loving everyone means I have to be ready to prove they all mean everything to me."

"Do you… ever feel ashamed?"

"No, not at all," Galan said.

"I see love as something to be shared, not hoarded. But that's just my idea of love. It's better to know how you want to be loved before it's too late. Such as when you end up paying child support to half the forest creatures you don't even want to be with. Ain't that right, Pan?"He looked at Pan, his eyes half-closed. Pan went pale, stammering denials as the girls giggled.

"Anyway," Galan said, cutting him off.

"We should continue the tour." But before he could take a step, Pheidon's voice crackled through the voice expansion boxes.