While the D’Marian aristocrat’s views of this given situation differed notably from her own, Nia sat patiently and listened to Aristide’s thoughts and concerns. Frankly, she had expected more resistance and dissidence, given the number of D’Marians that had unfortunately become wrapped up in Locque’s plan. That he had accepted an audience with her so readily, and exhibited such hospitality, was really more than the Master Alchemist had hoped for, and this negotiation was unfolding far better than she had anticipated. Regardless how their stances differed, they frankly couldn’t have met on more amicable grounds.
“Of course, Lord Canaveris, I don’t blame you one bit for your opinion of Locque… and I did not come here to convince you otherwise.” The Master Alchemist slowed in her consumption of the food on her plate, recognizing that this conversation required more of her attention than she could pay to her groaning stomach. “She is not ‘my Lady’ by any stretch, believe it or not: merely an ally. Really, if it were up to me, I’d have forgone all of this killing and hostility nonsense. It is far too much work and costs more than it is worth. But… that was how Locque chose to get her point across: establish what she is capable of to dissuade retaliation and uprising. Whether or not we like it, it is a strategy as any other to get what one wants. I can’t blame the woman for her desire to take back what was once hers, but…” Nia sighed and put down her fork. “And I do mean this sincerely--I am sorry for your losses. While I might have taken the side of someone who has caused you and yours so much pain, and I do not begrudge your wariness, we’re not all that different.”
Nia picked up her goblet and took another sip, watching the dark liquid swirl within its pewter encasing. “I know what it means to be made an example. I once was one, too. Rather, my family was.” She rolled her shoulders back lazily, as if the matter of her family’s exile was a casual matter. “While I did not and could not dissuade Locque from her preferred methods of achieving what she wants, neither do I condone them. So yes--you would be right to assume that this current correspondence was my idea. Admittedly, Locque has made me promises that I rather look forward to, and just as much as you fear her wrath, I deeply value the protection she has offered to a fugitive such as myself. Sadly, when you walk in the shadows of disgrace like I do, there are few others to turn to but those who share in a similar disgrace.” There was a short pause that might have suggested she’d have preferred alternate alliances than that to which she was already beholden, but the bold woman’s true feelings on that subject still remained particularly vague. “But I do think she has done enough to make her point; there is really no sense stalling any longer. I convinced her to let me come here, today. I, for one, am neither a politician nor a leader, and have never had the inclination to be either of those things. Though, with the right wording, I think I can get her to agree to your terms, Lord Canaveris. Because, if I am being honest, I am damn tired of hiding, myself. I’ll admit I am someone who grows bored very easily, and between you and me…” The Master Alchemist leaned in and lowered her voice, as if worried that Locque would overhear her from miles away, “neither the sorceress, nor her other ‘companions’ happen to make very good company. This conversation is refreshing, to say the least.”
Frankly surprised that, in spite of her insatiable hunger, she was able to maintain a level of etiquette that she left to the wind whenever she attended Osric’s establishment, Nia put down her goblet and picked up her fork again, and daintily stabbed at a piece of cake drenched in rich honey. “With all respect, Lord Canaveris, I am not sure I would use the word ‘humble’ to describe your estate, any more than I would use ‘demure’ to describe myself.” She grinned, the smile reaching her rich, earth-toned eyes. “But I would adore any opportunity to put off having to return to hiding right now. Who knows when she will agree to let me wander freely, again? Send for some paper and ink, draft your terms, and I would be delighted to see what other masterpieces this abode is hiding.”
After a meal that was no more modest than the Master Alchemist or the Canaveris lord’s home, Aristide drafted the conditions upon which D’Marian surrender was contingent, and Nia proceeded to go over those conditions word for word. She had to give the man credit; he was honest, and at least to her untrained eye, there was nothing hidden within those words that would compromise Locque or any of the sorceress’s goals. Of course, the witch herself would determine whether or not these terms were sound, and as it stood, Nia could not promise anything for certain, but the Master Alchemist would be surprised were she to turn them down. Aristide asked for nothing untoward: Merely, for the security and safety of the people of Stella D’Mare. A ceasefire on both sides. The D’Marians did not want to be a part of this war, and so they shouldn’t have to be, for as long as they remained impartial.
“Excellent. While I certainly cannot make any promises, I also cannot see any potential amendments that will need to be made before you have that signature.” The Master Alchemist nodded, her eyes grazing the document one last time before tucking it away with care into the satchel at her side. “From this point, I would say it is safe to assume that as soon as you see to it that Alster Rigas is no longer lording over the D’Marians, I’ll be back to return this document to you. But seeing as there is still daylight, and I did not specify a time for my return… I am quite intrigued with what you have managed to do with your home in so little time. Not even a year, and are you to whom I can attribute all of these works of art?” Nia grinned, and wandered over to the bust of the fae woman after rising from the table. The detail was exquisite; the man knew what he was doing. “Amazing. You lot, D’Marians, are certainly a resilient and determined bunch. Makes me wish I could be visiting for far friendlier affairs, but… Well, who knows what the future might yield?”
“For a stranger, and a direct ally to Locque, you seem to invest a good deal of trust in this Master Alchemist who attacked one of our own, Lord Canaveris.” Lilica couldn’t help but observe, gesturing to Elespeth, who looked about as amused as her husband--which was to say, not amused in the slightest. “Not only that, but you assume that she has as much sway over the sorceress as she claims. Pardon me for saying, but despite your desire to protect the D’Marians, I really feel as though you are playing with fire.”
“And what if he were to refuse?” Vitali piped up, much to Lilica’s great annoyance. “What’s worse than a placated sorceress? A slighted one. Even if it was all the brainchild of this Master Alchemist to call the ceasefire between Locque and the D’Marian settlement in return for their cooperation and neutrality regarding this war--I feel it is fair to call it that, now--were she to bring it home that these terms have been denied, I would hate to see how the sorceress would react if it were made clear the D’Marians would rather take a chance and openly oppose her along with the rest of Galeyn than to accept these terms of mercy. Sounds to me like Lord Canaveris, here, is playing the game as safely as he possibly can, given the circumstances.”
That still did not seem to sit well with Lilica, nor did it sit well with Alster, who was still highly suspicious of that stranger who shared in his profession. “Do you know the sacrifices required to bear the name Master Alchemist, Lord Canaveris?” Isidor challenged in response to the man’s observation that he thought so ill of someone he hadn’t yet met. “Do you have any idea what this Nia must have done to earn it? And tell me--does she happen to bear the title with an air of remorse? No? Then that in and of itself is reason not to trust her. Her exile… wait. Exile or… you mentioned she claims to be a fugitive. So which is it? Was she thrown out of her home in Ilandria, or did she run from it to avoid persecution? Because the answer could actually matter...” He furrowed his eyebrows and adjusted his spectacles on his nose just in time to focus a glare at Hadwin who decided to interject. “Actually, wolf, neither her name nor her birthplace interests me as much as knowing why and by what means she is no longer part of Ilandria. I frankly don’t care what sob stories tug at her heart strings; because unless her circumstances surrounding her profession are at all similar to mine, then her heart is no more to be trusted than her word. Your Majesty, if you’ll excuse me…” Isidor stood and pushed his seat away. “There is something I must look into. I will take the responsibility to fill myself in on the rest of this meeting later on.”
With a curt bow, and before anyone else could question what motivated him to leave, Isidor left an empty seat next to Haraldur at the end of the table. His half-brother listened for the doors to shut behind him. “...is it possible,” he turned to Hadwin, “that he hates you more than me? Because that, my friend, is an accomplishment. I am not certain it is one to be proud of… but an accomplishment, no less.”’
“If we may get back to the topic at hand.” Lilica’s voice carried across the room. It was already plain on her face that she was just as done with this gathering as Isidor was; but she did not have the luxury of excusing herself when a representative of the D’Marian village (and probably future leader of it, if all things panned out as planned) had officially declared himself and the D’Marians independent of this looming issue. Neither a friend nor a foe, and not someone to depend on during this time of need. His focus was on the D’Marians and their safety, alone. But no one in that room, not even Alster himself, could fault him for that decision. It is not as though I have done any form of a spectacular job of keeping everyone safe… “Lord Canaveris, I think I can speak for the room when I say that no one begrudges you your desire for impartiality. I will not offer aid, because if I thought for a moment that there was a way I could remove the D’Marian settlement from Locque’s line of fire, then I would have already done so. I acknowledge my own failure for not preventing the most recent deaths… or any of the deaths, frankly. But we are not dealing with a predictable enemy like Mollengard. As you said, yourself, no one knows the specifics of Locque’s vendetta… and moreover, we do not know fully what she is capable of, and it is impossible to prepare for what you do not know.
“That said…” The Queen’s gaze fixed on the Canaveris lord, making sure to meet his eyes, “I only hope that your appraisal of this Nia and her word are sound--and that this decision of yours does, in fact, work out for the best in preventing any more unnecessary deaths within your community. As for Alster’s role in this...” Lilica glanced sidelong at the Rigas mage, who looked to have gone positively pale. “That is not for me to decide. And yet, on that note, you should know, Aristide Canaveris, that Alster and some of his kin have been solid friends and allies for a long time. Since the mas prince Messino was using us as pawns in his game. So while you can do what you must in the name of politics…” She turned her head once more to look purposefully at Aristide. “Anything that is said or done as a means for you to usurp Alster’s leadership that might jeopardize the Rigases safety will not be looked upon kindly. Do tread carefully, Lord Canaveris. For now… I am calling this meeting adjourned.”
Aristide saw himself out, with Forbanne guards in tow, and for a moment, no one in the room said anything. Not until Alster, who looked wholly unsteady on his feet, excused himself from the room, with Elespeth not too far behind. “I don’t like him.” The Queen said at last, speaking her truth now that formalities could be thrown to the wind. “And what is worse… he is right. There is nothing that I can do to ensure the D’Marians don’t lose more numbers. No amount of Forbanne warriors or the Dawn Guard can prevent Locque from striking again as she so pleases. This isn’t any fault of Alster’s as a leader; it is my own failure. I cannot protect the people residing in this kingdom from this witch…”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear sister. After all,” the necromancer sat tall in his seat at the other end of the table, ever shadowed by his own Forbanne escorts. “Hasn’t this witch’s attack been a long time coming? Was she not the reason for this kingdom’s--and our father’s--disappearance? If you ask me, everyone here is fighting a losing battle. You never stood a chance to begin with.”
“Thank you, Vitali, for your vote of confidence.” Lilica rolled her eyes and stood. “If you are so certain we are all doomed, then why have you not surrendered to Locque just like our Lord Canaveris?”
“Lilica, you know I only play the winning side. And we might have lost the battle--many of them, in fact, and many more to come--and yet… our father did leave this kingdom to you, for a reason.” Vitali shrugged his shoulders and noisily pushed his chair back from the table. “There is yet a war to be won, and you are still in the game. Howe is that for a vote of confidence?”
Meanwhile, Elespeth had Alster by the elbow, as she escorted him back to their room. If he did intend to show up to Aristide’s rally the following day, then they would have to leave by Night Steed while there was still darkness, but the Rigas head was in no shape to travel right now. “You’re not giving in to him, you know. That is not what this is about. You want protection for the D’Marians, but you have already sworn yourself to Galeyn… so impartiality is impossible. Alster…” The former knight took her husband by the shoulders and met his tired eyes. “He might be right. This ‘Nia’ has offered Aristide a pact that he cannot rightly refuse, on behalf of the D’Marian village. Were the roles reversed… I know you would do the same. You would do anything to protect the people that matter to you, who have depended on you, and if you step down--even if it seems like you are being thrown out of power… you are still in control of your own narrative. It is as Chara said: let Aristide have a taste of power long enough for us to deal with Locque. And anyway…”
A small smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “If you ask me--once he realizes the vitriol lobbed at him when the D’Marians decide he isn’t cut out for leadership, he will be begging to step down. A man like that doesn’t understand the responsibility that come with leading a village or a city, and he doesn’t really want it, beyond the title and prestige. Believe me--this is temporary. Your job--all of our jobs, right now? Survive. We have to survive Locque first. And then, we can deal with petty annoyances like Aristide Canaveris.”
The moment Aristide swept out of the room, coattails taking flight like a pair of elegant wings, Chara, who’d been on edge for the majority of the meeting, slumped in her chair. After Alster and Elespeth’s subsequent departure, their numbers had dwindled to only a few key players, who (save for Vitali and Hadwin, most likely), were left stewing from the aftermath. Even the largely taciturn Haraldur spared a few choice words for the fashion-conscious D’Marian nobleman.
“I don’t like him, either.” He emerged from his shadowed corner and joined who remained of the council at the table. “Everything about him looks like an artifice. But his policies are straightforward. His focus is on the safety of the D’Marian people. Any decision he makes is in service to his tribe. He may be beholden to Galeyn for their hospitality but he doesn’t owe them civilian cooperation for an invisible battle that’s only ever targeted people associated with Stella D’Mare. If you are wondering about his trustworthiness, he won’t swerve from his decision if it’s for the sake of his people. But neither will he be helpful in defeating Locque. Not at this time. It’s not your fault, either, Lilica.” In a roundabout sense, he seconded Vitali’s statement, but did not acknowledge the necromancer’s previous commentary. “Dealing with the sorceress takes careful strategy and understanding of the enemy’s movements. But we can’t monitor her at all. We can’t gather intelligence or track her location. She’s a wisp of smoke in the air, and catching her is close to impossible. Surely, we can draw her out, but what then? Is it worth the risk, the lives lost, in forcing her hand? You’re not wrong to exercise caution when we lack insufficient information to stage an offensive. If you’re failing your people, then we’re all failing, because none of us seem able to protect the people without calling for surrender. And even then, protection isn’t assured.”
“So,” Hadwin lolled his tongue around his mouth, “I know shit about military strategy, but I am a gambler--and they’re not far apart from each other in theory. Aside from going all or nothing on a reckless maneuver, you gotta have some idea who and what you’re up against; otherwise, you’ll be nursing your losses.” He mimed dealing cards atop the oak finish. “Hard to do that when your opponent is throwing cards at the table but refuses to show up. So, what else is left other than taking it easy and drawing the enemy to your table after convincing her you’ve folded the game? If Locque runs unopposed, she’s bound to slip up, expose herself...because if she wants to rule this kingdom, she’ll have to have an actual presence.”
“Or she can rule with an invisible hand for years before letting her guard down.” Haraldur crossed his arms over his chest.
“Anything’s possible--but if it’s Galeyn support she wants, she ain’t gonna build trust behaving like a phantom forever.”
“So you’re also advocating for giving her the Galeynian throne willingly?”
“Eh, just a thought. Probably won’t be alive to see that possibility, assuming Ro will kill me the second she starts popping a squat at the palace.” The faoladh, unfazed by the implication, leaned back on his chair. “Digression aside, sometimes you gotta lose the first few hands if you wanna win the game. Gambling’s got a strategy to it, too. It’s about taking calculated risks. What are you willing to sacrifice to get what you want? Supposing you fail, is it something you can afford to do? Wiggle room’s important, as are contingency plans. Can’t have any of those if you put all your eggs in one basket and then die--unless you think the odds are fair...or at least not abysmal, and the only other alternative is also death. A lot to think about, I know. And that concludes my elaborate gaming analogy. Thanks for getting the ball rolling, there, ghost-whisperer,” he flicked two fingers across his forehead in salute to Vitali.
“Whatever we end up doing, I agree with our rabble,” Chara snorted at Vitali and Hadwin. “We haven’t lost. And like or hate Aristide, I doubt he has an ulterior motive. I said I would interfere if he misstepped, but to the contrary, I can confirm that his conduct thus far is in direct response to D’Marian welfare. Much though I abhor his audacity to wrest power from Rigas hands, if doing so will prevent future carnage, then I am able to overlook his arrogance. Little Ari’s come a long way from the whelp I pulled out of the water,” she shook her head sadly. “Maybe I should have let the bastard drown.”
Alster hardly registered his wife’s presence until she slowed his brisk pace by tugging on his elbow. Forced to a stop, he did so in the middle of the corridor, but refused to budge when she tried to lead the way to their chambers. Despite his unmoored state of mind, he seemed both to listen to and register Elespeth’s gentle counsel. “Would I?” he whispered, staring not at her but through her, to another dimension. “Would I do anything for people who’ve abandoned me? Who’ve jeered and kicked me in the dirt, celebrated my failures, advocated for my death, actively tried to bring about my death, exiled me twice, and spewed vitriol while simultaneously demanding my everything because I owe them a lifetime of servitude? Do I actually care about them? No,” he dismissed in a calm undertone. An eerie, frigid undertone, devoid of all warmth. “I don’t think I do. Why else have I been avoiding that village and biding my time at the palace? Why do I avoid them as much as possible? In Braighdath, in Stella D’Mare, wherever and whenever possible, I’ve avoided them. Why haven’t I welcomed my duties as Aristide welcomes his? He loves the people, and they love him in turn. I respect that. But,” he stiffened under Elespeth’s hold, “there’s no reason to keep fighting for people who hate me. Who will always hate me. Even before Aristide publicly smeared my character, they’ve always looked for reasons to scapegoat me. Why not play to their expectations?”
At this point, he was barely acknowledging Elespeth, staring so intensely at nothing he might as well have been delivering a monologue to a mirror in an empty chamber. “I know what to say to them tomorrow. I know what to do. Elespeth,” the voids of his eyes blinked their recognition, “give me some time alone to think. Wait in our chambers for me. I’ll call for you well before the evening is through...and we’ll travel to the village together.”
Before he turned the corner of the corridor, he looked over his shoulder, his mouth twisted in resignation. “You were right. They were never going to accept me. I’ll never have their favor...but consequently, they’ll never have mine.”
As arranged, Alster fetched Elespeth about two hours shy of dawn. The soon to be former Rigas Lord appeared no better physically from the night before, sporting black bags under his bloodshot eyes and an unsteady gait. But beyond the bodily consequences to his sleeplessness, emotionally, he had discarded the dread of rejection and traded it for unwavering, self-righteous ferocity. He said little when the ex-knight joined him for a quick breakfast and said nothing during the short carriage ride to the village. He said nothing when they pulled in front of the villa atop the hill upon which the D’Marians settled, a location he’d selected for them, featuring a city-plan he designed and spearheaded. He said nothing when approaching the public demonstration outside his villa. With Elespeth at his side, he brushed past the irate crowd, entered the villa, dressed in his finest gold-brocaded royal blue tunic, washed and pinched the tired lines off his face, swept his blond hair from his forehead...and reentered the fray. D’Marians screamed a number of obscenities in his face as they tailed and chased him through the busy streets like a flock of sheep herding a dog to the pasture--the pasture, in this case, represented by the village square. Under the brisk, early dawn light, Aristide Canaveris, glistening in a coat spun from threads of silver and gold, strode across a podium, welcoming the Rigas Lord to climb the stairs and be visible. At a certain angle, the hastily-constructed wooden stage resembled a gallows, with Alster ascending to meet the noose.
“Lord Alster Rigas--as I live and breathe.” Aristide greeted his opponent with a magnanimous bow and an exaggerated flourish of his hand, similar to how one would ask a partner for a waltz. “You have finally chosen to grace your subjects with your indelible presence. My, this is an honor. Why the change of heart, Lord Rigas? You’ve repeatedly denied our request for a public appearance, preferring instead to cavort with Galeynians and hermit away in your villa. Are you so convinced we’ll tire of what you doubtless perceive as a ‘temper tantrum’ and behave in accordance with your harmful ideologies? The very same ideologies, in fact, which place us in the line of danger? Do you expect us to silence our voices and blindly fall in step because a Rigas told us to do so?” He pivoted towards the crowd, a buzzing majority, pulsating as one like a swarm of angry hornets. “There is no quelling this revolution until our demands are met. Until you pay for your crimes against the people. It is through the fault of your flawed leadership that we should find ourselves victimized by Locque’s throne-motivated rampage. Had you chosen D’Marians over your most cherished outsiders, had Lady Chara done the same in place of coopting a position as the Galeynian Queen’s advisor, would we be amid such a precarious position, where our only option is to surrender to the sorceress?” The crowd muttered and roared their assent.
“Rigas rule has failed us continuously,” he spoke over the peoples’ cries and exclamations. They hushed and quietened as though on cue. “Let us look upon the last two years alone. Lord Adalfieri used the Galeynian Queen’s magic to weaken the Serpent’s wards and unleash the beast on our fair city. Lord Adalfieri’s successor, Lady Chara, did not run unopposed. A Rigas coup, organized by Cyprian Rigas, nearly toppled her authority. The coup was subdued, but as a result, the man was driven to madness and imprisoned. Next, Lady Rigas ceded control to you, Lord Rigas--and why?” He scratched a gloved finger against his temple in exaggerated confusion. “What have you done to merit such an honor? Placated the Serpent that you’re responsible for disturbing in the first place? What else have you done for us? What has any unstable Rigas done aside from mismanage, squabble, and ignore the suffering their mismanaging squabbles have created for the common people?” Aristide placed a hand out for silence, anticipating the crowd’s receptiveness for hooting and hollering his every point. “Because of the Rigas ‘right’ to rule, we no longer have a home. Because of you, Lord Rigas, you have driven us to accept a deal with the devil. It is far safer to surrender to Locque than to withstand your disorganized, unfocused incompetency. An incompetency, might I add, that has a body count.” The Canaveris Lord swooped in Alster’s direction, a hawk about to snatch its prey with talons outstretched. “You have no power. You have no care. And we are sick of being bandied about by your fickle heart. Step down, Lord Rigas--and let no other Rigas follow in your place.”
Raising his arms, he faced the crowd, giving them free rein to applaud, stamp their feet, scream their disappointments over the Rigas ‘agenda,’ and organize chants tailored expressly for the current Lord and leader of Stella D’Mare. “Stand down, Serpent Bane! Stand down, Serpent Bane!”
Alster, meanwhile, stood steady, still, and impassive. He listened to the indictments against his character, the cries of the people, which seldom differed from their cries for his exile, or the cries condemning him to die. Always, they collectively chose the moniker: Serpent Bane.
Some things never changed--even after half a century. To those not burdened with an elongated lifespan, Alster Rigas was a generational boogeyman. Stella D’Mare’s greatest disappointment.
Digging his heels into the planks of the wooden scaffolding, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and, employing an amplification spell to his mouth, rumbled out his rebuttal for all to hear.
“I see I was wrong. I was wrong to believe the denizens of Stella D’Mare would ever accept Serpent Bane as their leader. To you, I’ve committed wrongs--atrocities. I’ve done nothing else.” His arms withered to his sides. “Surely not fighting in a war, defeating Prince Messino and his elite force, vanishing the Serpent from this plane of existence, fostering ties with the kingdom you temporarily call home, leading a diaspora to said home, planning the village upon which you stand--no.” He lowered his head, concealing his expression. “I’ve done no such acts of heroism. I am forever tied to my unshakeable fifty-odd year reputation. A friendly reminder,” an undercurrent of bitterness coursed through his otherwise deadpan-delivered speech, “you judge me over a mistake I made as a child. Are you proud, D’Marians? Proud of nursing your grudges and vilifying this hapless, flawed Rigas who only wanted your approval? Who only wanted forgiveness?” Something desperate choked out of his throat, but he grunted the offending reaction down, down, deep down. “No...I was wrong to place my faith in a people who would happily watch me drown, even when I’ve fought so hard for you. On the road, I accommodated your needs. Tended to the sick and injured. Healed wounds, broken bones, surrendered my rations, my bed things--everything. In Galeyn, I accommodated your needs. Built you a village, a community. A place to call your own. I expend myself, compromise my health, my energy--and for what? For spoiled children.” He seethed, mouth curling in disgust. “I look at you all and realize: I’ll never have your forgiveness. But why should you have mine?”
“You win, D’Marians. Effective today, I resign as Rigas Head, as leader of the D’Marians. I withdraw my protection. It is wasted, here. After all...I am Serpent Bane. I might as well start acting the part, yes? As the villain you created?” The crowd, previously elated to hear that their perseverance in deposing their most-reviled Rigas official, ended in a resounding victory, responded to his finalizing words with a sense of unease. “You fear Locque. You fear her power. In your preoccupations and obsessions over her magical might, you’ve seemed to conveniently forget who I am, and what I possess. That is fine. I am not particularly intimidating--in appearance or disposition. So I will remind you. People wonder if I’ve become the Serpent. Let me put those wonderings to rest.” He opened his eyes. Within the blue, his irises flashed a caustic orange. “We are the Serpent.” He uncoiled his arm--his steel arm--and reached his metallic digits towards the crowd. They flinched and recoiled in fear. “Do you want to see? The monster? Ah--well that was a rhetorical question. May Locque save you--because I am done saving your pathetic lives.”
Some of the braver villagers--chiefly mages--muscled through the wave of terrified citizens, lobbing spells to restrain the figure on the podium before he could act his revenge scheme. They bounced and sizzled uselessly off his body. Aristide, following suit, rumbled the earth beneath Alster’s feet in dire warning. “What are you doing?” He hissed out of the side of his mouth.
“Summoning the Serpent,” he said, flatly, responding little to the sway of the rickety podium. Off in the distance, near the lake, the air shimmered and shivered, parting to the sides like gossamer curtains. Through the parting, one enormous reptilian eye appeared. Using its oblivion-black snout, It nudged the dimensional tear, each forceful attempt further splitting and widening the gap.
The screaming crowd transformed into a mob. In their frenzied bid to escape, they resorted to pushing, pulling, and battering through rapids of frightened people fleeing in numerous directions.
“This is madness! I demand you stop--” But when Aristide glanced to his right, Alster Rigas was nowhere to be found.
“Lady Rigas!” The Canaveris Lord stepped off the podium and located Elespeth, who, to her credit, looked as shocked and dumbfounded as he did. “Did you know he would do this!? Dammit; no matter. We must evacuate everyone before this hell creature slithers Its way through entirely!”
While her husband’s mood following the meeting at the palace was concerning to her, Elespeth could not fault Alster for his dejected and defeated sentiments. To be called out by someone with the smugness of Aristide Canaveris, she could only imagine that her husband had internalized each and every one of his cutting words and had taken them to heart. And while leaving him alone did not at all seem like a sound idea, she had to respect that he needed some time and space to regroup and get his thoughts in order, so she did not begrudge him his request to be alone and to fetch her before morning. During the few hours that he was away, the former knight napped briefly in their room to ensure she had the energy to face tomorrow, and didn’t not rise until a few hours before Dawn, when Alster came to fetch her. In the time that he had spent to think and collect himself, it did not appear as though his mood had improved too much, if at all, which only concerned her even more. If he was to face the public on the morrow alongside Arsitride, who would no doubt eviscerate his character before the entire D’Marian village… Could he really face such a daunting task, while allowing the full force of that blow affect him?
The more he seemed to stew on it, the more that Elespeth was beginning to believe that this was, perhaps, an all-around terrible idea. Because she knew Alster well enough to know that he took things like this to heart, and she also knew precisely how he took them to heart. Having lost the opportunity to speak with him at breakfast, all for not knowing what to say, the former Atvanian tried to break the silence of the carriage ride with a gentle suggestion.
“The more I think about it, Alster… what is the sense in making a scene if you are already willing to step down, for a while? I am sure that Aristide wants it as yet another ploy to make himself look more favourable in the eyes of the D’Marians, but practically speaking… is it really necessary?” She waited for Alster to respond, but her husband remained staring intently out the window of the carriage, his eyes not quite focused on anything in particular. Elespeth could only hope that he was listening, and that her words were reaching him at all. “I just don’t see why you can’t let Aristide announce it, himself, and spare yourself the vitriol of a crowd that that man is surely riling up against you. Write a letter that he can read: declare that you have reasonably chosen to step down as a result of an unpopular vote in your favour. Everyone will get what they want--Aristide, the D’Marians, and you won’t have to put yourself through hell. I know you have thought about what you would like to say, but… isn’t it at least worth considering? There is a difference in choosing to fall versus choosing to step down…”
Still, her suggestion was not met with any response, which could only suggest that Alster had stubbornly made up his mind. Sitting back in her seat, Elespeth tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed, resigned to her own silence until they arrived at the villa later that morning, where an already incited crowd--led by Aristide Canaveris, no less--was already awaiting him. “Will you give us a damned moment!” She heard herself crying at the mass of raised voices and angry faces, as they pushed past the fray to make their way inside the villa. “We have spent almost the entire night attending a meeting that concerns the safety of everyone in this kingdom--the least you can do is allot us a moment to makes ourselves presentable to you ungrateful lot.”
On the contrary, though, Elespeth did not have much of an interest in dressing her best or weaving her long hair into a braid, despite that Alster saw fit to smooth his own hair and don something a bit more regal than his current attire. It was not out of disrespect for her husband that she chose not to follow suit, however, but rather her distaste for the people for whom Alster was dressing so well. They didn’t deserve it; why bother make the effort when she, alongside her husband, would only be ridiculed and jeered at by the masses that had already decided to oppose them?
So at the last moment, the ex-knight decided to forego her previous intent, and remained in the leather and steel armor that she had even slept in the night before, sword still at her hip. It wasn’t that she expected she would have to use it, or to fight at any point in time that day, but it was her hope that if the angered masses saw an armed warrior standing alongside the man they were berating, they might think twice before lobbing their insults his way. Unlikely, but… either way, Elespeth Rigas was by no means any typical lord’s wife. She did not hide behind him, but rather, alongside him, and sometimes in front of him to deflect a blow that would otherwise fell him. When once she had told him she would be his sword and shield… well, she had yet to rescind that promise. And while this was not something from which she could protect him--the ire of the crowd--she would no less show her strength, in hopes that, somehow, he might find his own strength in it…
“It’s not too late.” She told him softly, despite that she wasn’t sure he’d heard a single word she had said since the meeting had ended at the palace last night. “You can still pull Aristide aside; talk to him in private, avoid the crowds… No one is going to fault you for not facing those people, Alster. No one would ever knowingly want to tread hostile territory.”
It didn’t matter that he did not want to: whatever Alster Rigas planned to say would be heard, whether or not the D’Marians wanted to hear it.
No sooner did the two of them exit the villa that it all began. Well, it had already begun, for leave it to Aristide to start without them, but now that the reason behind the peoples’ anger was present, they unleashed it mercilessly--and Aristide egged them on. All the while, Alster just stood and allowed it; took each and every verbal blow with a silence and grace that… well, that she frankly did not expect. He had prepared mentally for this, certainly, but Elespeth did not know her husband to have thick skin or a hard heart. Perhaps that was why she never in Rigas lifetime could have anticipated what would come next.
“...Alster.” As soon as her husband began his woeful diatribe that accused the masses of not recognizing everything he had done right, she couldn’t help but feel that something was… off with him. Certainly, he had said he didn’t have a care for the very people who had spurned him for years, but that hadn’t been him speaking; it was the hurt, the exhaustion, and surely he had only been blowing hot air to get it off his chest. At least, that was what she had thought, but it appeared that those very hardened sentiments had persisted and coloured the scene for what he put forth now.
I have to stop him. This wasn’t the Alster that she knew, and surely… surely he would hate himself later if she let him continue. “That’s enough.” She whispered in his ear and took his arm. “Stop ignoring me; you’ve made your point. Let’s leave this toxic situation, Alster. The both of us have long overstayed our welcome.”
It was no use; she was too late. If ever there had been a chance to reach him past this madness, Elespeth had missed it… and now everyone was going to pay the price.
She didn’t believe it, at first--that her husband had made a threat. No, not a threat, but a promise that bespoke punishment to the people who had rejected his leadership. Didn’t believe it when the air in the distance, just over the lake, began to shimmer, and then a crack appeared, as if something too heavy had been placed upon glass… Alster wasn’t kidding. He was summoning the Serpent; the very thing that the both of them had almost died to send away and save Stella D’Mare. He… he was bringing it back willingly.
At a complete loss for words amid the gasps and screams of terror, the ex-knight turned to her husband, stricken and confused… but he wasn’t there. Just as the Serpent had appeared from a sudden crack in this dimension, Alster appeared to have completely vanished. When she turned again, she was accosted by Aristide, who demanded whether or not she had known that this was what Alster had been planning. Her speechlessness spoke for itself.
“Get everyone into their homes!” She told him, as the petrified crowd scattered and looked on with terror as the otherworldly creature began to slighter through the cracks. “I--I need to find Alster, he can stop it! He’s stopped it before, I just… I need to find him! Alster!” Pushing her way through the crowd, she called his name, over and over, until her voice was raw. “Alter, please! Where are you? You can stop this--you need to stop it!”
Almost as if on cue, following her heart-wrenching plea, something akin to the sound of thunder rumbled, and while the sun had only risen a few hours ago, the sky grew dark, as if night was gathering all over again--and fast. Another rumble, this time too loud to be thunder, and it shook the very ground beneath their feet. Overheard, tiny lights, akin to stars, flickered and grew brighter with every pulsation, until at last they burst, like an explosive had detonated. Shimmers rained down from the sky, tiny, miniscule fires that were not hot, but rather, freezing cold when they came into contact with skin. Seconds later, their light went out just after contact, and they were nothing but ash.
The sky began to clear. What few D’Marians remained, those who had not yet managed to make it into their homes, held their breath as the dark in the sky began to clear, yielding to daylight once again… and it was gone. The Serpent, the crack in this reality, and any essence of either of those things had vanished. As if they had never been under threat in the first place. Maybe he’d heard her; wherever Alster had disappeared to, maybe her pleas had reached him, and he had stopped this chaos before it could begin to snowball and endanger not only this entire village, but the rest of Galeyn as well. The last thing anyone needed was to be threatened by two ambiguous and dangerous beings…
Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The vitriol of the riot had been eviscerated by the panic that had replaced it, and the D’Marians once again put aside their pettiness in favour of relishing that they were alive and uninjured. And yet… something, to Elespeth, still did not feel right. Because her magic was Alster’s magic, and she’d have recognized that energy from anywhere. But whatever had banished the Serpent before it had the opportunity to fully emerge… much though she wanted to believe otherwise, it hadn’t been Alster. Because his magic, which she had come to know very intimately, had never looked or felt like that.
Not to mention, the Rigas lord was still nowhere to be found. It was far too early to celebrate any sort of victory, D’Marian, Canaveris, or otherwise when no one knew where Alster Rigas was. “...he was willing to hand this over to you. He was willing to step down.” Elespeth turned to Aristide, who hadn’t ventured far. But instead of anger in her eyes, there was nothing but a green see of desperation. “Why did you have to go about it this way? Why couldn’t you just have settled this in private? There was no need to crush him in front of all of these people, when all he’s wanted to do was try to make it up to them. To help, to earn a name other than Serpent Bane… Does it really surprise you that this got on his last nerve? Don’t you know what he’s been through, with his family, his people, with me… this was unnecessary. All of it. You could’ve had your damned title, Aristide. You didn’t need to tear my husband to pieces just to have it!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry your pretty head, Elespeth. Something tells me this has little to do with your husband’s pettiness at being a sore loser and all. I’m sure he will be just fine.”
The voice wasn’t one she recognized, and it immediately prompted the ex-knight to spin on her heel and face whomever addressed her. A woman with shiny hair the color of powdered cocoa, clad in leather beneath a winter cloak, stood with her hands on her hips. A stranger, yet something about her… seemed oddly familiar. Enough to put Elespeth on edge; she rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Who are you?”
“Oh--well, we’ve already met, but names weren’t much a priority at the time, I suppose. I’m Nia.” With a wide smile, the woman extended her hand, as if she actually expected Elespeth to shake it. “Lord Canaveris and I have already met. So now none of us are strangers. Isn’t that just lovely?”
“...in the forest. That weapon… it tore through my armour.” And that was her last nerve. Elespeth drew her sword. “It was you! You attacked me in the forest!”
“Now, I highly, highly recommend you put that away, she-warrior. Apologies for ruining you armor and all, but I’m just the messenger. And after what your dear husband just pulled...” her smile faded from her eyes, “Well… he just about put a lot of people in danger. And I don’t just mean from whatever otherworldly thing he summoned right out of the sky. Believe it or not, I am here on behalf of peace that your Alster very nearly shattered with his antics. I do not say this lightly when I am telling you that forcing a certain summoner’s hand is not in anyone’s best interests, right now, especially when she just did you all an unprompted favour and banished whatever the hell was coming out of the sky. I think you know who I mean.”
Though it was startling to hear that the witch, of all people, had been the one to reverse what Alster had set into motion, it did not sway Elespeth to play friendly with either her or her associates. “Are you suggesting I thank Locque? After everything the sorceress has done to harm this kingdom?!”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath for that, no. What I do suggest, though, is that you find your husband before he decides to pull any other magic tricks such as this. And Elespeth?” By now, Nia’s smile was gone, completely. “I suggest you and yours tread very, very carefully from this point on.”
“I don’t have time for you. For either of you.” Concern already lining her face, Elespeth left, in continuance of her search for her husband who suddenly refused to be found. Deep down, she had a feeling that searching was futile… that he would not emerge anywhere in this village, or in Galeyn, for that matter, but she had to try.
Nia watched the ex-knight take off in a flurry of deep-seated panic, and her lips formed a sympathetic pout. “Do you think he stopped to consider how it would drive his wife crazy to disappear into the abyss?” She asked Ari, and refocused on the satchel at her side, from where she drew a familiar-looking contract. “I was planning on delivering this a little earlier today, but thanks to your Rigas lord’s antics… you almost didn’t get it. Good thing I’m becoming something of an expert of talking her down; I said you couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the colossal snake in the sky. For one, I understand you’re an earth mage, and for another… well, it just doesn’t make sense you’d want to endanger the people you mean to lead, or incite the person with whom you are trying to form a truce. So…”
She unrolled the contract and held it out, the bottom now sported two signatures; a new, fresh one right next to Aristide’s. “Congratulations on your new role of leadership, Lord Canaveris. I hope you will settle in well as the head of this village and these people. You’ll find no interference from Locque--you have it in writing.” Nia dropped her arm when he took the contract, and raised her other hand to massage her temple. “Now, after that headache and a half, gratitude to our Rigas friend… you’ll have to excuse me. I need a stiff drink.”
“You can’t expect our citizens to stay within the boundaries of the village!” Aristide roared over Elespeth’s directive, standing against the facade of a building to prevent the wild crowd from mowing him aside in their desperation to escape. “We must usher them out of the Serpent’s path! The combined weight of that dread creature is enough to flatten the hill with a well-aimed strike of its tail!”
Leading the charge, Aristide pushed off the wall and motioned for his Canaveris kin to follow him through the streets to guide and reroute panicked D’Marians. With the majority of his family propelling ahead, the would-be leader of Stella D’Mare limped behind, but not alone. Lazarus, his personal valet, who always remained nearby and on standby, circled his arm and led him down the busy thoroughfare. “Ari--can you walk!?”
“I tripped over something--I’m fine,” Aristide countered defensively, but did not deny aid from the much larger and able-bodied man. “Help me evacuate--”
Without warning, the sky rapidly transformed from cerulean to stygian blue, the transition too jarring to signal a storm--not when no clouds featured overhead. Storm or not, ethereal rain fell upon the hillside, resembling sparks in a fire, or a cluster of fallen Rigas souls, punted from their place of honor in the heavens. Better to avoid the sparks than to interact with them directly, Aristide ordered every D’Marian in his line of sight to duck inside the nearest home or establishment, and made to do the same...but the sparks proved harmless to the touch, if but a little chilly, like snow, and the phenomenon had ended as swiftly as a roc transiting across the sun, blotting it and freeing it in the span of wings and a moment. The sky cleared and all returned to normalcy. The crack in the air, along with the abyssal monstrosity squirming into reality, had been erased so completely, one could blame the entire event on an overactive imagination, too much liquor...or a vivid nightmare.
“It’s too early to determine if we’re safe,” Aristide caught up with the kin whom he tasked with leading the evacuation. “Call off the evacuation. Keep everyone inside, for now. Assure them the threat has been extinguished but that it’s not yet wise to wander outside. This is a lockdown. I will personally make my rounds once I am able, but--”
He turned when he caught Lord Rigas’ wife in his periphery. Redistributing weight on his unafflicted leg and balancing against Lazarus’ proffered arm, Aristide had not ceased exuding noble forbearance and unshakeable grace, despite the compromised foot and an emergency in his midst.
“Lady Rigas.” His brow lowered in a polished glower as he listened to her air her grievances and assault him with baseless accusations. “I am not your husband’s minder. That is your job. Are you proposing that I should have given him special treatment to account for his hurt feelings? For his poor, overburdened bleeding heart?” He tutted in voiced disapproval. “The man is an adult. If he cannot handle the pressure of leadership, then I was right to oust him from the position. He has only done to prove my point; Rigases are too unstable to lead. And if I didn’t know better, I would say you are advocating for and justifying Lord Rigas’ unwarranted attack on innocents. For all the grief his disproportionate antics have caused, there are two positives to take away from this experience. One; we have exposed the depths of your husband’s sick mind, and two; it seems we’ve been spared calamity by our pact with Locque.”
Speak of the devil…
Before a fight could break out between Master Alchemist and warrior, Ari’s imperceptible nod to the mound of muscle to his left sprang him to action. Releasing his lord, Lazarus stepped forward to shield Nia from Elespeth’s sword, should she play the aggressor and attack. “If possible, Lady Rigas, do conduct yourself with a shade of humility,” Aristide called from his vantage point over his manservant’s shoulder. “In light of what your husband has done, it behooves you to behave. It would look poorly on you, otherwise. Miss Nia is our messenger, our liaison to Locque. I suggest you not exacerbate our already tenuous ties that Lord Rigas practically severed.”
It was then that Nia confirmed what Ari suspected. Credit for repairing the dimensional crack, and thereby stopping the Serpent from reemerging to wreak havoc on their earthly plane, went to Locque.
“We are grateful to your Lady. Endlessly grateful.” Ari bowed to demonstrate his respect. “And she will have the gratitude of the D’Marians, I am certain. Please have her understand; Alster Rigas’ actions do not reflect on our society as a whole. We will renounce him, disavow ourselves of any and all associations, past, present, and future. I will gather signatures; document, in writing, our public rejection of Alster Rigas--and, should he set foot on these hallowed lands again, we shall do what is necessary to apprehend him, and present him as a gift at Locque’s feet. As for you,” he tilted his head at Elespeth, mouth souring, “I suggest you leave. There is no place here for the wife of a genocide-happy madman. While I am sure you mean well, you are still not welcome. If we see you in this village again, we will take decisive action.”
The she-warrior, though quick to depart, was heading in a direction opposite to what he desired. “Laz.” He clicked his tongue to the burly fellow. “Please keep track of her movements. If need be, outfit her a carriage for departure and escort her inside. And before you ponder aloud whatever you are itching to say,” he drew out a hand, waggling it before the man’s mouth could open in protest, “I will remain here until you return. Miss Nia will provide ample company.”
“If that is your wish, Ari, I will see it done.” Laz dipped his head into a shallow bow and pursued Elespeth, surprisingly fleet of foot for one who looked to be made of lead.
“Frankly, I have little interest in the relationship status between Lady Rigas and her wayward husband,” he shrugged. “My interests lie elsewhere. Speaking of, I appreciate your ability to negotiate a favorable outcome with your Lady,” Ari leaned against the side of a building and crossed one foot over the other. “As you have been made privy, D’Marians are, again, victimized by our tyrannical overlords. We should not be punished for the actions of a man who has unseated his sanity and gone rogue. If you want me to testify before your Lady my innocence, I will do so. It was never my intention for this debate to end in my opponent summoning the Serpent. Saying it aloud sounds so ludicrous, like I am entertaining a vast hallucination. A shared delusion, even.” He removed loose pieces of raven-black hair from his perspiring temple. “I am glad you are able to realize this, lest we be dead either from a Serpent attack, your Lady’s wrath, or both.”
He accepted the parchment Nia handed over, unfurling the contract and nodding his approval at the signature scrawled just beside his name. “Thank you, Miss Nia. I will inform the people posthaste that we have Locque’s protection--and if they still refuse to believe in her word, I will reference what we’ve just witnessed as proof of her commitment to our safety. To me,” he rolled the parchment back into its cylindrical shape, “it sounds as though you believe Lord Rigas’ Serpent summons was a premeditative strike to draw out Locque’s power and to gauge her honesty.” Perhaps he has done us a favor, after all, he thought, weighing the pros and cons of Alster’s unfathomable stunt. It will be easier to convince the D’Marians of the viability of surrender. And maybe, just maybe, the Rigases will follow suit, without fuss, lest they be charged as co-conspirators and run ground by an angry uprising. “Even so, Miss Nia, I, nor the majority of D’Marians, condone being utilized as pawns on a chessboard, trembling at the merciful hope of a quick checkmate. It shows that Lord Rigas has a flagrant disregard for us as people...and I for one am relieved we’ve expunged him from rulership over Stella D’Mare. I will do better. People are people. Not examples. Not pawns.”
Slowly, he pushed himself from the wall, slowly applying pressure and weight to his injured foot. “As a peace offering, and once I run the damage protocol around the village, you are welcome to imbibe on my liquor stores, Miss Nia. I have a fantastic green beverage made of wormwood, anise, and fennel that I am sure you will appreciate--as a lover of intoxicating substances. I have it in reserve for special occasions. It shall be in toast to our truce. May our alliance stand in perpetuity...or, at least, until we relocate to our homeland.”
After some fruitless searching and a not-so-gentle prodding from Lazarus to withdraw her presence posthaste, Elespeth finally succumbed to the requests of Canaveris-ruled territory and departed in the afternoon by carriage, alone, her husband somewhere in the ether, but certainly not at her side. Upon her arrival at Galeyn’s palace, she immediately called for an emergency meeting to discuss exactly what had occurred at the D’Marian village...and by Alster’s hand, no less.
By the lunch hour, Lady Rigas had gathered all the usual faces: Lilica, Chara, Haraldur, followed by the frequent attendees: Isidor, Hadwin, Teselin, and last, the infrequent but equally relevant players: Roen, Vitali, and Tivia. She wasted no time before launching into the details of Alster’s odd behavior, Aristide’s rally, and the former’s colossal response to the infractions and injustices spewed in his name. As if the story weren’t already steeped with highly improbable elements, she concluded it by describing Locque’s counter-attack, which destabilized the Serpent’s portal and erased the pathway from the sky, preventing the beast from materializing and saving the people from Its otherworldly presence. Alster was missing, Aristide finalized the truce with the Master Alchemist, and the D’Marian village was effectively under Canaveris jurisdiction.
Unsurprisingly, Elespeth’s report rendered the entire room, Hadwin included, into a silence quieter than a snow-blanketed winter’s night. Some mouths hung agape. Others stared blankly at her, denial dominating their ability to process the string of barely comprehensible words she’d uttered.
Chara, for the duration of Elespeth’s account, had a hand cupped to her mouth, poorly hiding the stricken expression that overtook her. “Alster...why would you...I failed to stop you. Again. I can’t believe you would…” Trailing off, her mutterings became inaudible and hard to follow.
“What. The. Fuck?” Hadwin was second to speak. “You ain’t shitting us. I mean, I’ve got no reason to be shocked. He is Serpent Lord. I’ve seen that guy’s head. Actually,” a chuckle escaped his throat, “I’m impressed he had it in him! That’s a damn bold move. Supremely reckless. Locque could’ve killed them all out of spite, but something tells me Al wouldn’t’ve let it happen without one hell of a fight. Ah man, he put one over her, all right! She must be right pissed!”
“Is there something you see that we should be aware of?” Haraldur, lashing his arms to his sides to exhibit soldier-like poise and calm, quirked one eyebrow at the faoladh, allowing the smallest microexpression to show, and nothing more.
“I mean, I’m speculating,” Hadwin swiped his hand into the air, as though to bat away a fly, “but I’m basing it on what I’ve seen of Al when he let the Serpent dominate his head for a while, in Braighdath. As Serpent Lord, he wasn’t an enemy of humanity. He had no care for the people, but he protected them out of some cosmic duty. Sort of like an impartial god. I don’t think what he pulled out there was one hundred percent because he had enough bullshit and snapped. But I will say it wasn’t an entirely sound mind that came up with that plan.”
“Unsound mind is right!” Chara erupted from her seat, face reddening. “He put us all at risk! Locque won’t soon forget that he made a mockery of her in front of everyone!”
“Pipe down, Lady Chara,” came the faoladh’s amused retort. “We were always at risk. Safety’s an illusion, anyway. And hells, Al did her a favor. Her image was suffering. She now runs unopposed. According to Elly, it sounds like the D’Marians are gonna side with her outta gratitude for saving their hides. She got what she wanted: support. And all it took was a demonstration.” He cricked his neck from side to side.” A positive demonstration, painting her, if not as a hero, then as the lesser of the two evils. Other Galeynian communities, fearing this second madman running around, will accept Locque’s rule in exchange for protection from a mage who can fuckin’ summon an interdimensional nightmare-beast at will.”
“But if that’s true, he’s expediting the rate of kingdom-wide surrender and rewriting the narrative in her favor,” Haraldur argued. “By association, we’ll become the enemy to the people because to oppose her is to disturb the ‘peace.’ At this rate, we’ll have no choice but to surrender. Sooner rather than later.”
“Could be why he’s maintaining his vanishing act.” Hadwin knuckled the underside of his chin in thought. “Doesn’t wanna involve us in his plan or some shit--as a way to spare us from Locque’s wrath. We can’t wrangle him back if he doesn’t wanna be found. Neither can we be held responsible for what he does if we don’t even know the hell he’s doing, or where he is. Or--who knows? It could be he’s laying low for a while until this whole thing blows over.” He took a long, exaggerated yawn. “Did I mention I’m speculating? Pulling this out of my ass? The only person who can tell you for sure is Al, himself.”
“I want to believe you...but Alster has a history of doing this.” Chara, still in shock, kept her voice above a whisper to maintain composure. “The pressure becomes too much for him and he...lashes out. To a terrible extent. What if his actions were not a premeditated strategy?”
“Again...you’re gonna have to ask him--if he ever shows up.”
“And he’s not here.” Tivia, who’d remained a quiet spectator, spoke up from the back of the room. “Nowhere. As in...he’s not on this plane of existence.”
“He dead, then?” Hadwin glanced askance at Vitali. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Tivia confirmed in conjunction with Vitali. “He’s not. I can’t trace him on earth. But his star still burns brightly. His life-force is strong. He’s adrift in the heavens, but he is not lost. That’s all I know.”
“What if we need him to return? If Locque demands it of us in return for clemency?” Chara skimmed frustrated fingers through her hair. “Worse yet, she may want us to turn him in. As of today, he’s painted a target on his back and demonstrated that his power is formidable. She won’t overlook him again. He might have doomed us all...and himself.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Hadwin leaned a hand on his cheek, unmoved. “Whatever the fuck just happened, we roll with the punches, yeah?
“I can’t share in your views,” Chara dazedly returned to her seat. “Not when my cousin threatened the D’Marian majority, disappeared, and is in a whole mess of danger! What’s more,” shameful tears pricked her eyes, “I don’t know whether to restrain him forever or kill him! How dare he betray my trust!? I should never have left him in charge!”
“Elespeth?” Haraldur, finding it best for Chara to vent aloud and uninterrupted, sidled close to the ex-knight and inquired, gently. “You’re connected to him through a bond. Do you have any insights on his behavior? Or...are you able to contact him through your psychic link?”
“No. Alster has no interest in genocide. Whatever he did… why he did it, I can’t tell you. I honestly don’t know, and I wasn’t anticipating any of this to transpire. But I can tell you with certainty,” Elespeth met Aristide’s glare with every ounce of her own intensity, except for the fact that she was holding back tears, and by the redness outlining her green eyes, it was obvious. There was no real hostility in her tense stance; only panic. “It wasn’t his intent to hurt anyone. Alster… he had control over the Serpent. It benefits no one, him included, to act in aggression. And the Serpent… either you are unaware, or you’ve forgotten, both Alster and I have faced the beast up close. He’s communicated with it, and is not evil, merely foreign… not of this world. It is not its will to destroy or to cause harm. Alster would never summon something that could and would do harm onto innocent people.”
The ex-knight wiped her damp eyes on the sleeve of her leather armor and sheathed her sword. “No, you are no Alster’s minder. But if you had concerns--if power was what you wanted, you could have approached him and spoken openly about your concerns. Instead, you saw fit to smear his character and shatter him before the people he has only ever sought to help. For whom he designed and built this village. I… I cannot excuse what Alster just did, because I don’t understand why. But neither can you excuse your tirade--especially in light of what you just said. That you would see to it that my husband is some bloody sacrifice to this sorceress… and for what? To prove your loyalty? You think you are better fit to lead than Alster, and yet you would willingly give up one of your own to placate evil? Think what you will of me, but Alster is D’Marian. So I suggest you think good and hard about what you say before you make those kinds of threats. And you should know this, too.”
Though she would have wished otherwise, Elespeth did not draw her sword on the Master Alchemist, but she kept a firm hand on it. “I--no, we are not your enemy. Not Alster, not the palace, not Galeyn. Not yet; no more than Locque--or this lackey of hers--is any more your real ally.” She lowered a glare at Nia, who remained unaffected by her diatribe, at least outwardly. “I know that Alster cares about the D’Marians; why else would he have handed his title over to you so willingly? Without a fight? So I do hope you think about this, Aristide.” Turning away from Nia, she faced the new D’Marian leader with the very same intensity from before. “Think about where you will be and what you will do when Locque falls. Think about who you will be, and your alliances. Because we will make it happen; it is only a matter the time.
“Now, please excuse me, but I am not leaving until I have searched every inch of this settlement for my husband. I’ll see myself out, later.”
Without waiting for his consent, she took off not toward the gates, but deeper into the village to do exactly as she said: search for Alster. While this did not appear to sit well with the Canaveris lord, Nia did not seem particularly perturbed and merely shrugged her shoulders. “No, I am not one to get involved in their affairs, either. That is their business. Though I’ll admit, the drama is interesting.” The Master Alchemist tucked a tress of brunette hair behind her ear. “And if I am judging correctly… while I have a feeling Alster Rigas might have indeed planned this magic act as as a way to test Locque’s loyalties--and to get her to show her hand a little, which let me tell you, does not sit well with her--I do believe his wife had nothing to do with it. She might hate the ground I walk on, but to me, she seems reasonably sound of mind. You can banish her, but I don’t honestly perceive her as much of a threat, even with that fancy sword and her budding magic. Seems to me like she’s just as startled as everyone, just as confused, and worried sick over where her husband is. Something tells me she won’t find him here, but… well, let her figure that out soon enough. Don’t waste your resources trying to prevent the inevitable; she needs to find out for herself.”
Nia otherwise waved off his concern with a passive hand motion and shook her head. “No need to plea your innocence, I promise. Honestly, your Lady Rigas, there, has a point: while I am sure Locque would happily end Alster’s life for all of the trouble he has stirred up--and I’m sure as hell not happy about it--what would that say for everything we’ve done to keep the peace, hm? It does not suit us to stoop to his level. This contract,” she nodded to the paper that Ari had rolled into a cylinder, “merely states that you will not oppose Locque. It says nothing about doing her dirty work or bringing her Alster Rigas’s head on a platter. Relax; nothing has been compromised! I know a thing or two about talking people down.”
Since the sky had returned to that of a calm, clear winter day, with no hint of the Serpent or any other eldritch beings in sight, the panic in the D’Marian settlement had settled down significantly. A few denizens still appeared to be in shock for what they had witnessed, but the young and able-bodied were already tending to the elderly and the frightened children. Frankly, from where Nia stood, there didn’t seem to be any damage that needed sorting out. “You really dodged a knife, in more than one way.” She acknowledged, noting how everyone was slowly but surely coming down from that terrifying fright. “But whatever real damage could have been done--that was taken care of. No one is injured, no homes were destroyed. Thankfully, no one died from a heart attack, either--no thanks to Rigas and his party trick. And anyway…” She looked down at the appendage that Ari was favouring; his limp was far too noticeable to surpass anyone’s attention.”Something tells me you aren’t getting far with that foot. Get trampled on in the fray, or something? Here.”
Nia took a step forward and offered an arm for him to take. Although she stood a few inches shorter, it couldn’t be argued that she was still far more steady and balanced than he was in his given condition. “If I’ll be drinking your precious beverages, the least I can do is see you back safely. I mean… if we’re being honest, I am really in no hurry to get back to the sorceress in the mood she is surely in. Come on; your big ‘ol manservant will know where to find you.”
After a little bit of convincing, he finally agreed, and let her help him back to his villa at a relatively slow pace. His foot seemed to drag like it was made of lead; such a curious sprain, if she’d ever seen one. After what felt like far too much walking for such a short distance, they made it back to a familiar abode, where she had met him for the first time just the other day. So little time had passed, and yet, so much had happened in a matter of hours! Everyone had what they wanted: Aristide had his power, Locque had the D’Marians’ cooperation and surrender, and she had someone she could drink with. Well, at least for this occasion; since her own powerful ally was no less a looming threat, she couldn’t expect to be welcome in the D’Marian village whenever she paid it a call. Just because she was a messenger who had prompted the idea of brokering peace did not make her a friend to these people.
Once inside the estate, Nia helped him to an elegantly carved sofa so that he could take the weight off of his foot. The man looked pale and winded, but she supposed that much was to be expected with the appearance of a giant snake in the sky, and the looming threat of almost having lost out on the opportunity for a very important truce. “Want me to take a look?” She asked, nodding to his injured foot. “I don’t exactly fancy myself a healer, but my sort have been known to treat the occasional injury every now and then. Master Alchemy gets you learning more about the body and how it functions than you ever really wanted to know.” When he refused, it was not the refusal in and of itself that startled her, but rather, how quick he was to come to that decision. It left Nia feeling a little confused; had she said something wrong? Was she perhaps being too friendly, and it was off-putting? Or perhaps the man simply valued clearer boundaries. “Ah, if I’m being honest, I’d also prefer a healer to a Master Alchemist when it comes to tampering with my body. A healer’s work is far more straight-forward. Anyway, I’m sure it’s nothing a drink won’t cure--am I right?”
She smiled a cheeky sort of grin that suggested no hard feelings either way, and took a quick look around the antechamber. In a far right corner beneath a bust of a man she didn’t recognize, a decanter of amber liquid topped with a crystal stopper that gathered and dispersed light like a prism sat next to a couple of small, bell-shaped glasses. Since they hadn’t encountered any of his servants on the way in, “This certainly doesn’t smell like that anise-flavoured ambrosia you were talking about, but it does smell like something that’ll dull pain. Good enough for now?” Carefully lifting the decanter, she poured two glasses of the somewhat grassy, somewhat smoky beverage, and then crossed the room again to hand one to Ari. “To alliances and success, Lord Canaveris, however long they might last. Transient as they can sometimes be… life is too short not to celebrate what we have in the moment.” Nia paused, albeit briefly, as if considering the impact of her own words. But whatever crossed her mind was gone in a heartbeat. “I’ll drink to that.” And so she did, tipping the small glass to her lips and downing its contents in a single swallow.
She had spent all morning looking, here and there, up and down, inside establishments and around the perimeter. But the time came when Elespeth had to accept that Alster was nowhere to be found; at least, not in the D’Marian village. It wasn’t for the insistence of that Canaveris-serving goon that she eventually took her leave of the settlement, though; it was the realization that she alone would not be able to track him down, if he did not want to be found. And as much as she feared the conclusions that others might jump to… she had to tell the palace about what had occurred at the D’Marian village that morning.
Traveling by day meant that the former knight spent the entirety of it in the carriage, without food or water or anyone to talk to, and only her worrying thoughts as company. But as was expected from a stressed-out Elespeth, she hadn’t a care for either food or water, and demanded an emergency meeting as soon as she reached the palace doors earlier that evening. She did not wait for Lilica to arrive first, but immediately made for the council room where they had just met the night before, and stood, awaiting the arrival of the appropriate parties.
She had summoned everyone--including Vitali, against her better judgement--because everyone needed to hear this, and it needed to come from her. So no sooner did the last attendee--the necromancer--wander into the room with his Forbanne escorts and closed the door behind him, that Elespeth spoke up, before Lilica or anyone else could inquire the need for another emergency meeting.
And she did not beat around the bush. “Alster summoned the Serpent, today. At Aristide’s unholy little gathering in the D’Marian village.” The words rushed out of her mouth. It did not feel any less burdensome, however, getting them out in the open. “But it didn’t come through; it didn’t emerge completely. Something stopped it… I think that something was Locque. And now, Alster has vanished, and I cannot find him anywhere. I… I don’t feel him anywhere.”
Those already familiar with the Serpent appeared shocked and went a few shades paler. Others, like Isidor and Roen, who had not witnessed the beast first hand, did not seem quite as stricken, but were no less perplexed and concerned. The Master Alchemist, who probably had the hardest time digesting this truth, spoke up in a shaky timber. “But, he… Elespeth, did you know he was planning something like this? Was it planned at all? What was he thinking, exactly?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It is as the wolf said.” Vitali shrugged his shoulders and nodded in Hadwin’s direction, one hand absently fiddling with the pendant around his neck. “This was a genius albeit risky ploy to not only get Locque to prove she does mean to protect the D’Marians in exchange for their surrender, but also a prompt to get her to show him what she’s really made of. And something tells me that un-summoning the Serpent is probably the very least the sorceress can do.”
“So he has proven her loyalty and capabilities, but has simultaneously angered her.” Roen scratched his beard and shook his head. Though he appeared calm, and spoke in a soft tone, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of anger that he’d been harbouring since learning that the witch had used Sigrid to slaughter a D’Marian family to make some sick point. “Elespeth, you know I have respect for your husband, but… I fear what might become of this move. It was too bold; and I fully anticipate that the sorceress will retaliate for having her hand forced in such a way.”
“I don’t know; I don’t know why he did it, what he was thinking, but can we all take a moment to realize that no one in this room can even be properly angry with him because he disappeared!” Elespeth leaned over the table, her hands and arms shaking. She had been running on pure adrenaline since that morning. “There is nothing we can do about what has already been done, but we need to find Alster!”
Since the possibility that Alster Rigas was dead was debunked rather swiftly by the star seer and the necromancer, it left the room all the more confused as to his whereabouts. That he was nowhere to be found, yet still existed in some dimension that no one could reach… it made him nigh untouchable, by everyone, friend and foe included. But that did not mean that he was safe. Or that any of them were, for that matter. “I don’t… I can’t feel him. I could always feel him when we both walked the same plane. But wherever Alster is… it is in a place where I cannot reach him.” Elespeth's voice cracked as she stared down helplessly at the table without really seeing it. She hadn’t been able to see clearly all day with the fog of tears coating her eyes. “He’s gone. One moment he was by my side, and the next… he was just gone.”
“Elespeth.” Teselin’s sweet, young voice edged in after Haraldur’s. The young summoner leaned across the table to address both her and the Forbanne commander. “If he is in the other, somewhere among dimensions, there are places where making contact with him might be clearer; such as leylines that run more strongly in some areas than others. If you can find a place with a strong interdimensional pulse--”
“The Night Garden.” Elespeth suddenly looked up and met Teselin’s eyes. “Galeyn’s magic resonates the strongest in the Night Garden when darkness falls. I…” The ex-knight straightened her spine and looked around the room. “I can try to contact Alster through the Night Garden. Maybe… I’ll be able to feel him, there. Even if he is not ready to come back, I can at least get some answers--what he did and why he did it, what he was planning, how he thinks we should move forward. I don’t know that it will work, but I can try.”
“I should also note, that should all else fail,” Vitali spoke up again, over the murmur circulating the room. “Our Lord Rigas is not the only one--or only thing--that can transcend this dimension in favour of others. Do you remember when I mentioned there is a reason you are going to want me closeby, at the palace?”
Isidor furrowed his eyebrows from across the table. “You talk to the dead--but we have already established that Alster is not dead.”
“If you’d kindly let me finish,” the necromancer raised an impatient eyebrow. “I am not suggesting I contact Alster directly. But the wandering dead--those that have not crossed over--are apt to wander dimensions for lack of anywhere else to go. I am sure the lot of you would be dumbfounded to hear that some of the spirits that reach me are not even of this world, but are as foreign as the Serpent. All I am saying is that I can ask the right questions and be alert to whatever the dead care to tell me. That is, if Elespeth is not successful in making some sort of contact with her husband.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if I am an utter failure.” Came Elespeth’s retort. She was already making her way to the door. “The best that I can do is try to contact Alster and convince him to come back. The rest… I will leave that to all of you.”
No one had a chance to get another word in before the former Atvanian took her leave and immediately made for the Night Garden.
Lilica, who had remained silent to take everything in up until just then, folded her hands in front of her and looked down with an air of defeat. “...we have to prepare to surrender. Sooner than later.” She announced, to a room that had grown quiet again. “And I don’t know that it is safe to wait for Locque to request it of us. Chara is right: Locque might demand we surrender Alster to compensate for what he forced her to do. I will not surrender lives, so it is safest if we offer our cooperation now… while we still have the choice to do it willingly, and on our terms.”
Ari addressed the worry-sick Rigas wife using the calm, almost scripted verbosity for which he was known. Always the debater, there simply did not exist an option where he did not relish the opportunity to orate. “It matters not, his intentions. What matters is how they are perceived--and your dear husband wanted to be perceived as a threat to D’Marians. In respect to his wishes, should we not treat him how he wishes to be treated? If we are to go about touting his innocence, what will this sudden turnaround in attitudes accomplish?” His gloved hand brushed against the whitewashed plaster facade of a residence he’d been utilizing as a lean-to for balance. “D’Marians are already reeling from betrayal and confusion. To swiftly exonerate him on the grounds of hearsay, subtext, and his wife’s glowing endorsement is not an option at this time, Lady Rigas, and will compound any progressions to peace we’ve made and hope to make in the future. We simply do not have a case. Lord Alster Rigas presented his message clearly. In consideration of his message, I will respond to it within the context it deserves--whether he was acting a part or not.”
“Moreover,” he cleared his throat, “a transfer of power between your husband and me could never have happened amicably. Were it so simple, Lady Rigas.” His mouth drew into a pitying smile. “But I’ll forgive your blisteringly naive viewpoint, and I’ll even humor you; let’s talk hypotheticals. If we followed your model, after Lord Rigas stepped down, the Rigases would scramble to find a replacement and doggedly fight to restore order in the streets. Keep in mind, they would still carry the power; we did not displace the power. We merely asked a figurehead to step down and he respectfully did. What happens next?” He pitched his voice into an exaggerated level of faux incredulity. “Lord Rigas would maintain his staunch supporters--Rigases would rally behind him, extolling him for his benevolence and magnanimous behavior, painting a tragic tale of his mistreatment and subsequent martyrdom by the people. Schism would ensue, and factions would develop: say, we call the two factions Pro-Rigas and Pro-Canaveris, for reference. Therein, we’ve created dissonance and disharmony. At best, an uprising. At worst, a civil war.”
“In order to remove the establishment he represents, it was imperative to disinherit Lord Rigas with a savage tongue. But not just any choice words would do. We needed to run his name into the ground.” Ari billowed out the long tails of his coat, like a pheasant fluffing up his brilliant plumage. “Lord Rigas doesn’t understand the people because he is a Rigas. Rigases are inherently unstable. Rigases are flighty and unreliable. Et cetera, et cetera. As per our agreement, Lord Rigas would demonstrate exactly why he fits the mold of incompetence and instability, simultaneously discrediting not only himself, but the family from which he hails, and in doing so, steadily loosing the Rigas clamp of influence and subjugation over the people. Of course,” lines of displeasure creased over his brow, “your overzealous husband took the demonstration several thousand steps further, and opted to transform into more than just a disgraced leader--which would have been more than adequate. No, he chose to become a villain. Therefore, I will treat him as such--because the people will also see him as such. So please take heed.” Though he did not approach the bristling warrior, anchored as he was to the spot, he projected his voice to an extent where it created the illusion of movement--similar to how standing center-stage in an amphitheatre transmitted the slightest whisper into the ears of an audience sitting in the back-most row. “I ask that you leave, Elespeth Rigas, for your safety,” his fierce, resonating whisper warned. “In light of what happened, the people will not be so kind and understanding to the wife of Serpent Bane.”
Having exhausted her vitriol, Elespeth stomped out of sight, with Ari’s manservant trailing her shortly thereafter. “I meant what I said.” Through a careful slide and pivot of his injured foot, he turned a favorable position to Nia to accept the documentation of truce. “Lady Rigas is not in a welcoming atmosphere. While she presents no threat, she also does not inspire confidence among the D’Marians who have been victimized by her husband’s scare-tactics. Her loyalty to Lord Rigas is too blatant to ignore and too dangerous to leave unchecked.” He gently whacked the rolled-up parchment against his open palm. “Sometimes, to maintain peace, we must remove the source of strife. Elespeth Rigas is, unfortunately, intimately-related to our strife-bringer. Inseparable from her relationship and thus, inseparable from his deeds. She is guilty by association.”
While Ari nodded along to Nia’s claim that he needn’t organize a manhunt for Alster Rigas, he chose not to elaborate on his servile approach to dealing with Locque. By overcompensating his gratitude, expressing over-the-top apologies, and offering his resources in abundance, he was bridging a safe distance from harmful energies and intentions (namely Alster) that would cause the sorceress further upset. Instead, he appealed to her desires to reign as a respectable and respected monarch. He offered his obsequiousness on a platter, hoping the gesture flattered and placated the Lady tyrant enough to appreciate his promises, but never actually demand he deliver on said promises. A courtesy, a spoken commitment to behave, and a formal apology were all tied in a ribboned box intended for Locque to gaze at, but not open. Never would he willingly oppose Alster Rigas, magic versus magic. But he would say what was necessary to say--for the people’s survival. For now, their destinies rested in the palm of their tyrant’s crushing hand.
Nia’s suggestion that they leave for his villa, without his manservant, and that she help him ascend the leveled streets to their destination, was almost rejected outright. Only one person was allowed to touch him, and he was currently preoccupied with Elespeth Rigas-related matters. Alas, the more he created a problem, the more the Master Alchemist would see it as a problem, and her suspicions would mount. Alone, Aristide Canaveris stood little chance of gracefully exiting the situation. To do so meant to rescind his offer of hospitality, an even bigger faux pas than linking arms with Locque’s lackey.
Immediately regretting his decision, he agreed, stiffening when she looped an arm around his elbow in support. During the long, sinuous trek to the top of the hill, Ari held his breath for long intervals. To manage the mad pounding of his heart against his chest, he concentrated on each slow, plodding step, each ragged, infrequent breath. He counted to impossibly high numbers, or stared at the masonry of the cobbled streets they traversed. He said little--unusual for a man who loved to pontificate on any topic, however trite and banal.
At last, they reached the Canaveris villa. He hid his sigh of relief as they entered through the front door and settled on a couch in the parlor, beside the inlaid wooden display featuring a line of gem-cut glass decanters and their gem-toned, liquid treasures, which begged to be imbibed.
“Thank you.” They were the first words he uttered since beginning their miserable venture up the hill. He readjusted the positioning of his foot on the couch...but did not remove his boot. Judging by the bulges beneath the suede and leather, it appeared horribly swollen. “With a bit of rest, I’m certain the swelling will--”
He submerged his recoil of horror when she hovered close to his foot and again suggested that she touch him, touch it...the source of his ache. She wanted to investigate the problem area, probe it like a physician, peel away his boot to look, to see, to…
“No!” He drew back from her so quickly, his foot nearly rolled off the couch and slammed against the floor. “My apologies,” he added, once he ascertained she would not proceed with her well-meaning, but ill-conceived idea. “I mentioned, upon our first meeting, that I am particular about human contact. Following our little soiree up the hill, I’m afraid I’ve already reached my limit.” What he opted out of admitting was that Nia, aside from his mother, was the first woman he’d touched (non-intrusively, of course!) since...Chara. “While I have every confidence in your ability to treat a swelled foot, we do have a family healer who lives on the property. I will have him address the concern upon his return; not to worry.”
This seemed to mollify Nia, and her affronted expression quickly transitioned to light-hearted dismissal. Soon, her attention diverted to the jeweled display of alcoholic delights, glimmering and sparkling their intoxicating hypnosis on its beholder--who happily answered the call. “Ah, I am afraid that is not the ambrosia of which I speak. I keep it under special lock and key. I salvaged only one bottle from Stella D’Mare, so it is a highly commodified piece in my collection. Pity I did not abscond with a bottle or two of some cello: it is our regional delicacy.” He rested his head against a decorative pillow and gazed at the ceiling, eyes shining in longing...and homesickness.
“In Stella D’Mare, we soak the rinds of lemons or oranges in a heady syrup, add a little liqueur, and depending on preference, some cream. My explanation is an oversimplification, but this is how one crafts limoncello and arancello--truly divine creations. Wonderful with dessert.” Transferring his gaze to his hand, he repositioned the gem-encrusted rings ladled on his fingers, properly displaying the sapphires, emeralds, and rubies front and center. “I suppose its recipe can be replicated in Galeyn, granted the Night Garden produces citrus. An inquiry for another day,” he concluded with a shrug. “Nevermind I described a drink that I cannot realistically serve you--but it doesn’t appear you care too much about the flavor.” He took the proffered drink from Nia’s hands and raised an eyebrow as she downed the contents in one liberal gulp. “This is upsetting, Miss Nia. While I will not regale you with the complicated process of distilling and aging the beverage you’ve consumed so recklessly, nor list the names of the team behind its enchanting mix of nutmeg, smoked maple, black pepper, and clove--as you can no doubt discover those ingredients through direct contact--I do ask that you give the drink its due for next time, and experience not through the sense of touch, but the sense of taste. There is far more to appreciate than its mind-altering properties--but considering the strange nature of today’s events, I will excuse your trespass this once. But only once. That said,'' he raised his drink, still untouched, “I second your sentiments. Live in the moment. Sip by precious sip.” To punctuate his point, he sipped his caramel-colored drink. Slowly--and with relish.
“Wait.” Haraldur headed out the councilroom’s doors after Elespeth, his long legs catching up to her with ease. “Elespeth,” he called her name, but her attention was so narrowed on its singular trajectory that she likely could not hear him at all. “If you plan to contact Alster through the Night Garden, let me help.”
Slowing to a stop, she turned her head to heed his words. On affairs that involved locating Alster, he was no novice contributor, and the ex-knight seemed to acknowledge his sincerity to assist—enough to allow him the opportunity to explain himself.
“I don’t possess any magic, but—the sentinel tree is the brain of the Night Garden. Through communication with the tree, I can ease your transition and help you connect with its root system. But before we can do any of that at all, we have to wait until nightfall for the best result. Come on,” he curled a steadying hand over her shoulder, “let’s get some food and something to drink. By then, it’ll be close to dusk.”
While it took some convincing, Elespeth agreed to accompany him to the dining hall (though she refused to have anything but water), and, aside from a few interruptions by the Forbanne reporting to their commander, the amount of sidetracking was minimal. By the time Elespeth and Haraldur concluded their early supper, the sun had created the horizon, and by the time they reached the sentinel tree, dusk was gloaming into night. Haraldur guided her to sit before a small reflecting pool, a collection of rainwater that had settled near the underside of one of the tree’s enormously protruding roots.
“Stare into the pool,” the Forbanne prince instructed. “Concentrate on Alster. Let the darkness take you.” Using a stick, he drew several runes into the mud. “Laguz.” A two-staved, reed-shaped symbol. “Eihwaz.” He added one more stave to the bottom. “Algiz.” Two more staves grew from the top like outstretched branches. “Ansuz.” He drew two of the staves downward. Together, the runes of water, the underworld, the firmament, and communication created a sigil, a symbol of power that...did nothing. At least, at first notice. A minute later, branches snapped and limbs creaked as a sudden gust of wind rattled the leaves in a whirl of response. The sentinel tree received the message...and agreed to guide Elespeth into its fathomless depths to connect the two lovers.
Along the pond’s perimeter, green moss began to glow in green and blue shades of bioluminescence, casting a visible but unobtrusive light upon the surface. An image, appearing only to Elespeth, rippled in the reflecting pond. When the image settled and the ripples smoothed, Alster Rigas cast a bewildered stare at his wife through the water.
“Elespeth? How did you—? The Night Garden,” he finished, answering his own question. Behind Alster, blackness prevailed. The only light that shone was the ball of etherea he held close to his squinting face. “Listen, El. I didn’t mean to...I wasn’t going to leave without knowing I could reach you in some way. I always find you in dreams...wherever I am. No distance is too far. But,” he sighed, long and forlorn, “I realize sleep may be nigh impossible after what I did. Tell everyone I’ll return. I’ll return, and explain myself. But I can’t right now. In my current condition, I can’t make the return trip until I rest a while. I’m too far away. Locque is looking for me. She won’t reach me where I am, but she’ll try to reach you to get to me, I’m sure. So be careful. Stay inside the palace. If Lilica is planning to surrender...hold off. I’ll surrender to Locque, instead, to buy you more time. This is my doing...so I’ll take the fall. I won’t surrender my life, but I’ll form a pact of non aggression if it will protect you from harm. But...if you want to know why I did it,” he hesitated at his shift of subject and lowered his eyes, “I put the D’Marians first. Before anyone else. Before you, before Galeyn, before my friends, I prioritized them...like they wanted.”
“Right--of course. You did indeed mention your aversion to touch upon our first meeting.” Nia acknowledged this with a light smack to her own head. “Please accept my apologies for letting this detail slip my mind, Lord Canaveris. It was certainly never my intention to put you in a situation where you might feel uncomfortable; it just didn’t seem right to walk away while you were standing there, practically immobile with a sprained foot. I will be sure to keep my distance going forward--but by all means, if I am ever causing you discomfort in any way, kindly take note I am not made of glass; and for that I promise you I will not shatter if you tell me to go the hell away.” The corner of her mouth curled into that ever fun-loving, yet still painfully self-aware grin. “Believe it or not, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard it! And listen. I get it--you’re treading lightly because you think that insulting me will somehow directly get you on Locque’s bad side…” She shook her head and toyed with a tress of hair that had come loose of the rose-shaped weave pinned up at the back of her head. “Well, rest assured, I’m just a lowly go-between who’s hoping to make this alliance work. I really have no interest in bad-mouthing you, and as much as I do enjoy the novelty of this D’Marian settlement, you are by no means obligated to tiptoe around me. You’ve been transparent and respectful, and despite your obvious interest in politics, I somehow get the feeling you don’t fit the boots of a backstabber. So if I annoy you as much as I do those she-wolves, then by all means, you don’t need to be so darn polite.”
It wasn’t a ruse, any more that it was difficult to accept the man’s aversion to touch, which she could well have reminded her about before sucking up his discomfort and allowing her to escort him back to his estate. Anything could have incited those feelings on his part: perhaps he’d been hurt, in previous years, and physical contact only exacerbated those less than fond memories. Or, it was equally likely that he really had no interest in being touched by a Master Alchemist, who could detect every fiber of the make-up of his moral being with astounding, unnerving accuracy. Regardless, it was not her place to guess or question his reasons, and she felt rather foolish for forgetting about his preference for the extent of his personal boundaries. “But--I digress. Apologies for that, I don’t always know when to stop running my mouth. in any case, I am sure your family physician will see to your foot soon enough. Meanwhile--take your mind off of the near disaster Alster Rigas caused.”
She, for one, was certainly eager to calm her nerves, which was evident in the manner in which she downed the precious amber liquid in a single swallow. It didn’t occur to her until after the fact, judging by the shock on Aristide’s face, that in her stress-driven desire to drink, she had committed a terrible social faux-pas. After all, this wasn't Osric’s tavern amidst a peasant village, where her consumption of food and drink either impressed or surprised any other given patron. “...my apologies, Lord Canaveris. You’re quite right; that was rude of me.” Nia was quick to apologize, and smiled meekly at her empty glass. “I just went on a whim and downed it, didn’t I? I suppose I’ve just been getting too comfortable dining among the lower classes in the next town over. That, and I’d be lying if I were to claim that the giant snake in the sky didn’t shake up my nerves a bit, as well. Ha--you’d probably never know it by looking at me that I was actually raised among nobility!” She chuckled at her own character flaw and set down the glass. “This must be what happens when you happen to be on the road for a decade; you forget your manners. I wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but… if I am being honest, if the mood strikes, I might well forget I ever made that promise.”
Although one drink was hardly enough to calm her nerves, after coming down from her fear in insisting Aristide’s innocence with regard to Alster Rigas’s antics, Nia did not assume it appropriate to take it upon herself to refill her glass. Maintaining her neutral stance as a go-between for Locque and the village that was apt to surrender to the sorceress’s will sooner than later meant not only maintaining an unyielding position at Locque’s side, but also nurturing favourable relations with the person who would soon assume control and leadership over this settlement. Lord Canaveris had been more than amenable and hospitable thus far, but she had already come too close to encroaching on boundaries with guiding him home and failing to appreciate his fine liquor. Too many missteps and her carelessness could shatter these tenuous ties between the D’Marians and Locque--and it was not like anyone else was eligible to step in and take her place. The wolves would sooner tear everyone in this town to pieces for fun (well, Rowen would, at the very least), the Dawn Warrior was a mindless write-off, and the necromancer was so universally hated and feared that nothing could truly be impartial with him. She couldn’t screw this up.
“So what are your plans, then, if you don’t mind me asking? And before you think it--no, I’m not prying on behalf of Locque. I’m just genuinely curious. In case you haven’t gathered that, already.” Nia inspected the intricate details on the tiny, bell shaped glass, that she had so shamefully emptied all too quickly. “You’ve nearly effectively overthrown the most powerful family in this settlement and wrested power from them. So what do you have in mind for these people, now? It seems to me that you do have their best interests at heart.” She really wished she could say the same for the sorceress who had sworn to protect her. At times, it seemed that Locque did consider the well-being of Galeynians; but just because she thought she was doing right by them did not necessarily make it true. However, that was not Nia’s place to question. The sorceress had promised her protection and the comfort of a life that needn’t be lived on the run; really, what more was she entitled to ask for? “Our friend Lord Rigas certainly failed miserably in keeping the D’Marians satisfied. How might you go about it differently?”
While Nia listened with intrigue to his outlook on his change in status, it seemed like she had only just downed that heady beverage that had insulted Aristide so, when they were once again joined by the hefty manservant whom he had instructed to keep an eye on Elespeth Rigas. As it turned out, she didn’t need much convincing after all to ascertain her husband was nowhere to be found within the D’Marian village, and had left of her own volition… and now, given the look of discomfort on the manservant’s face to see her once again presiding within the Canaveris estate, it became clear to her that perhaps it was time to take her leave, as well. “Ah, no need to look so concerned, my tall, hulking friend. You have my word that your master and I were merely making idle conversation. Although, it does occur to me that it may not yet be possible to convince you that I am neither Locque’s will embodied, nor any kind of threat. And the last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome.”
Returning her small, empty glass to the table from where she had taken it (face-up, as a reminder that it had been used and required cleaning), the Master Alchemist adjusted her winter coat where it clasped below her neck. She hadn’t taken it off in anticipation that she really would be there that long. “You have my thanks for your hospitality once again, Lord Canaveris. I think I’ll make a slight detour to my favourite tavern in the adjacent village; it’s a better setting for my lack of etiquette, wouldn’t you say?” She chuckled and lifted a parting hand. “And do get your physician to look at your foot, won’t you? If you’re even able to get your boot off; it looks dreadfully swollen, if you ask me.”
With a final nod, Nia saw herself out with a characteristic lightness in her step, which was a vast contrast to the heaviness she had felt in helping the Canaveris lord up the hill to his not-quite-so-humble abode. Given his average stature for a man his size and build, she hadn’t anticipated that he would be so… heavy. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was made of stone!
Elespeth didn’t hear Haraldur call her name. She didn’t hear anything save for the thumping of her heart in her ears; a heart that felt vacant with its other half having gone missing. It was impossible to describe the disconnect she felt with Alster supposedly walking another plane entirely. With him gone, she was less grounded, everything around her seemed terribly less real, including the passage of time before her eyes. Where was he? And how fast could she get him back?
The word Night Garden somehow managed to push its way through the ex-knight’s brain fog, and she slowed in her haste long enough for Haraldur to get a few words in. “Haraldur, how? I know you have a connection to the Night Garden, but… can your magic really extend so far?”
His explanation was sound, when he gave it, and it was enough to boost Elespeth’s mood ever so slightly with a light shade of hope. “You’re right. I think you can help--any and all help is welcome, at this point. Let’s get to the sentinel tree and--”
The Forbanne Commander interrupted her frantic thoughts once again with a steadying hand. She had to fight the urge to shake it off, but deep down, she knew that he was right. It wasn’t named ‘The Night Garden’ for no reason; its energies, its magic, the strength of the leylines that fed into it and nourished its roots were strongest after dark. And nightfall was still a few hours away… “...alright”. She reluctantly agreed, but her stomach was tied in too many knots to even suggest an appetite. Nonetheless, she accompanied the Eyraillian Prince to the dining hall, where he ate his fill to accommodate his strength and stature, but she was barely able to keep water down in her roiling gut. After only a few sips, she gave up on the endeavour completely for fear she would succumb to retching, and waited for her comrade to finish, her eyes fixed on the windows as she watched the sun set second by second, moment by moment. She had to refrain from pulling Haraldur away from his meal prematurely when night finally obscured anything beyond the window pane, but as soon as he pushed his empty plate away, she was on her feet, and couldn’t make it to the Night Garden soon enough.
Approaching the sentinel tree, Elespeth took note of the small pool of water that Haraldur deemed to be noteworthy, and took a seat next to it as instructed. Stared into the dark depths of the puddle, expecting some breath-taking transformation as the Forbanne commander drew the runes. Nothing happened; the pond was still a pond, and there was no sign of Alster in the depths of the still water. Had something gone wrong? Was Haraldur wrong about how deeply his connection with the sentinel tree was rooted? Was she too unearthed and unbalanced to properly picture Alster the way that this magic required?
When at last she looked up to inquire, she found herself surrounded by darkness. The tree, Haraldur, and all of the Night Garden had seemingly disappeared around her. The only things that existed were her, and the pool of water before which she knelt… and the face in the water that was not her own.
“Alster!” Elespeth half-gasped, half-cried with relief, even if only to see her husband’s face again. “What happened, Alster? What you did with the Serpent… and then you disappeared. I don’t understand… what were you thinking? What were you trying to do? Canaveris is ready to have you arrested and offer you to Locque to save his own ass, if we go near the settlement again. How do we get you back, here? What are we supposed to do?”
She had too many questions and far too much anxiety to get through them all, so the ex-knight trailed off long enough for her husband to get in a few words… none of which really answered what was weighing on her mind, but it was something. “Lilica has already decided that surrender is inevitable, Alster. We don’t know how much your antics angered Locque; we don’t know what she is going to do next, but like hell will I let her have you! If we step down quietly and annihilate any reason she might have to retaliate… it might buy us time to find a way to cut her reign short. Whatever you’re thinking… you know I won’t let you put yourself at risk…. Not more than you already have. Alster…”
Elespeth wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall into the pool and mar the image of the only person she wanted to see. “How long ‘til I can get you back? Whatever Locque has in store, we are going to meet it head on--without anymore sacrifice. We haven’t… we haven’t even had the opportunity to live our life, yet. Together. Please, wherever you are…”
Before she could catch it in time, one errant tear trickled from her eye and rippled the image in the pool. Alster’s face distorted before disappearing completely, and the Night Garden, the sentinel tree, and Haraldur reappeared around her. The spell was broken; the connection lost.
“He wants… he wants to surrender himself to Locque.” Elespeth’s voice trembled; her hands trembled. She wasn’t sure she could get to her feet if she wanted to. “I can’t let that happen. We cannot assume that she won’t want his life in retaliation for forcing her hand, today. I… I can’t let her have Alster. We all agreed that we cannot let her have Alster!”
With Haraldur’s help, she managed to make it get to her feet before panic crumbled her completely. “He doesn’t know when he can return… Haraldur, he said that what he did, he did for the D’Marians. I can’t let him give himself away, anymore. Not for anyone. I…” The former knight took a breath, knowing full well that what she was about to say would likely give Alster a heart attack. “...I’ll negotiate with Locque, myself. Her go-between--that Master Alchemist--frequents the D’Marian settlement. If need be, I can feel out Locque’s interest through her. Wretched as that woman might be… she doesn’t seem entirely unreasonable.”
“You are not at fault, Miss Nia. I should have reinformed you of my touch-based malady, but in doing so, I would need to revoke my invitation to you, and that is a Canaveris faux-pas. While you may think little of it, it would shame me not to follow through with my promise. As it stands, I cannot properly serve you, hobbled as I am, so we will need to revisit this affair at a later date, once I have full operation of my two legs. I insist.” He swallowed another dainty sip of the caramel beverage. “At which time, we shall drink the green ambrosia, as you so call it. Oh--and not to worry, Miss Nia. Though I am slightly affronted by your lack of drinking etiquette, I am not scandalized. I have not been evicted from my country for longer than two years, but I am not so sheltered to have witnessed little of the pub culture, as it were. It is not in how you choose to imbibe that generated my reaction, Miss Nia. Rather, I tend to be a bit overprotective of my collection, especially of what little remains from Stella D’Mare. I know it’s been a decade for you, but for me, the memory is so fresh sometimes, it is as though I can taste the citrus fields and the sea brine on my tongue. Maudlin, I know.” An almost shy smile crossed the lips of the overconfident Canaveris Lord, as though he were defeated by emotions. “I am to blame, Miss Nia. My hospitality should not have limitations. I’ve been rude. If you require a second pouring, you need only ask and...well,” he stared at his foot, “help yourself, I suppose.”
But the Master Alchemist insisted she would be more comfortable continuing her drinking festivities elsewhere, and he could not deny her preferences. “If you are accustomed to a certain way of living, it can be difficult to reintegrate your standards from the past. On a much smaller scale, I find myself experiencing a schism of realities, as well--though I am blessed to be with my family. Were I in your situation, I doubt I’d survive; I’m the sickly sort. I bruise easily. I crave creature comforts; it is my greatest vice.” He swept a hand around the lavishly decorated parlor. “I daresay continued hard travel would do me in! You are adapting quite nicely, Miss Nia. But should you ever desire the finer things, do not hesitate to knock on my door. This humble villa pales in grandiosity to our estate in Stella D’Mare, but I am satisfied with its construction, as a whole. Besides, we are fortunate that our home was largely spared from the Serpent’s thrashing tail and remains in tact, so we do have a place awaiting our return. The D’Marian majority is not so lucky. Not so lucky, at all.”
When Nia inquired about his intentions for the D’Marian settlement now that power had been wrested from Rigas hands, his soil-colored eyes churned in thought and his visage visibly brightened. “Well yes, on that note, I do have plans for the future, however ambitious they may seem. I intend to dismantle the oligarchy. In the past, Stella D’Mare has relied on the Rigas ruling family--a Head, and a council of seven--to oversee all affairs in Old Town--the semi-autonomous region Andalari’s king so benevolently offered us in hopes to placate our egos and prevent an uprising. It held for about fifteen hundred years--but that is a story for another time. Now,” he pointed one jeweled finger heavenward, “one may argue that Rigel Rigas founded Stella D’Mare and hence, it belongs to and always will belong to his descendants. The Rigases might have owned the land, but they do not own the people. The people own themselves, and as such, they should get to represent themselves. My proposal is to establish a governing body in where people vote to an elect an official for every enterprise that comprises this village. We will have a merchant official, an artisan official, an official overseeing agriculture, and shepherding, a mage official, an alchemist official--et cetera. Together they will elect a president who is the best fit for our village. He or she need not be wealthy, or a mage--and everyone is welcome to run. Even a Rigas may attempt to win back the hearts of the people. To make elections fair, I will step down as the de facto leader of Stella D’Mare and offer the chance of rulership to others. Of course, there will be a fair amount of checks and balances kept in place, to prevent a dictatorship from a tyrannical overlord. But before I begin running my mouth, and risk boring my guest,” he let out a dismissive chuckle, “my ambitious plans are off to the horizon. First, we must establish order and structure before we hand off a crumbling artifice for the people to rebuild. Once we are satisfied with the cohesion, only then will we sally forth with our big ideas and our big ideals in hand.”
Before Ari was able to launch into another long diatribe about D’Marian politics, the manservant stepped through the parlor doors, his brow ticking in impatience and dissatisfaction.
“Ah, Laz! My apologies for promising I’d stay put, and then wandering off to do the exact opposite!” He waved an introductory hand over to Nia. “Laz, this is Miss Nia, Master Alchemist and Locque’s liaison. Miss Nia, this is Lazarus, my trusted friend. Do not be intimidated by his height or his girth. He is--well, for one, he is quite sprightly. For another, he is not violent. A tad cross at me, but not violent. But if you insist on leaving so soon,” he made to stand, remembered his condition, sighed, and threw his head dramatically on the pillow. “Laz, you will have to see our guest out in my stead. Good morning to you, Miss Nia--and may there be many more to come!”
After Laz returned from his task of--politely--ushering the Master Alchemist out the doors, he turned to Ari, crossed his arms, and glowered at him.
“Ari--that was an insanely stupid move.”
“I offered her hospitality,” his simple non-response increased the glower in Laz’s dark stone eyes.
“That’s no excuse. She’s a Master Alchemist; what if she would have discovered--”
“--Rest assured. She made no contact with her hands. She knows nothing. Now,” he swished the half-full glass in his hands, his change of subject abrupt as it was jarring, “care for a drink?”
“Elespeth.” He closed his eyes to prevent a similar reaction from welling beneath his lids. It tore him up to see her driven to tears on his account, such that he yearned to grab her by the shoulders and transport her across time and space to his side. Alas, he hadn’t the power or the skill...at present. Rigel Rigas, a spirit bound to the Blood Seal and thus, bound to him, the original progenitor and hence, the source of all Rigas magic, was teaching advanced celestial energy manipulation to his student and successor. Through their unconscious gatherings, in dreams and in meditations, Alster learned how to refine his portal magic to walk through different dimensions, universes, and levels of consciousness. Though he honed his abilities while untethered to a physical vessel, he hadn’t many opportunities to utilize his skills in a conscious, practical setting. Technically, he was able to vanish into another dimension, sans his corporeal form. He’d done so before--and ergo, he succeeded. But the success took a physical toll on his breakable, mortal body, requiring him to disconnect from that body and drift the cosmos as pure energy, leaving it in a state of suspended animation until which time it healed and he could reenter.
“Elespeth,” as he repeated her name, he opened his eyes, turbid and clouded in wistful blue swirls, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. Time has no meaning where I am. But I can’t imagine it will take any longer than a week or two. There is no doubt in my mind that I will return to you. We’ll still live our lives, El. That much I promise you. She won’t have my life, my soul, or anything of the sort. And she won’t have you, either.” He pressed his lips into a reassuring, albeit sorrowed, smile. “I’m not making a sacrifice. I’m surrendering to prevent a sacrifice...namely, mine. An unwilling one, committed by her hand. That’s all. El,” his fingers reached to wipe the tears from her eyes, a fruitless effort as they vanished into ripples upon contact, but a symbolic one. “Please continue to have faith in me. I love you.”
A teardrop fell. A teardrop he would never nor could ever catch. It landed in the center of their communicative pool. The ripples expanded in frequency, erasing Elespeth and plunging him into the darkness of his dimensional void. The ball of etherea flickered, and went out. Alone. He was alone, again--in a place time forgot.
But he didn’t stay idle and wallowing for long--whatever “long,” translated as at the edges of the universe. Through his connection to Elespeth, he could roughly determine the passage of time, enough to predict that the Night Garden was soon to pass into the realm of sleep for those of a diurnal nature. Most people fit into the category. While it might have been presumptuous to assume Locque required sleep, if Alster were to try and infiltrate her subconsciousness, she’d be certain to respond--awake or not awake. Seeing as she was searching for him...better to make an appearance on his own terms, far off, safe, and properly shielded from psychic attack.
Concentrating, he sought to locate the sorceress by mapping out her immense magical output, a previously difficult feat made traceable now that the immensity of her Serpent de-summoning counterattack twisted through the atmosphere in ropes of residual energy. Tabulating where the twists converged, he ascertained her physical location and swooped down to meet the spiritual wild-storm that comprised Locque. As he could not enter her subconscious dreamscape without permission, he landed beside the convergence, at her proverbial front door, and, true to his polite nature, he knocked on the door.
“Locque.” He felt her presence, like spider legs and spiderwebs scurrying along and sticking to him. “I can sense you--and I know you can sense me, too. I am here to issue a parlay. Let’s talk.” The uncomfortable sensation intensified, tingles sharpening to stings of a skin-puncturing consistency. Alster did not flinch, nor did he surrender his position.
“You’re angry. Enraged. That’s fair. I was duplicitous. I manipulated my audience in order to draw you forth. Believe me, I know how you feel. I’ve been on the receiving end, if you recall.” He stepped forward, into the radiating blackness of Locque’s miasmic magic. “What you did to Elespeth, what you did to my people, carved a scar on my body that will never heal. I’m sure you have your reasons, but Locque, you struck me first. You struck me, and I have every right to hate and despise you as you hate and despise me.” His projected image grimaced through the words, through the anger. “I have every right to retaliate and avenge my wife, avenge the fallen D’Marians and the people who were under my protection. But,” he shook his head, and the miniature sun that burned in the pit of his stomach, the one generating his righteous rage, subsided, “that is not what I did, here. My reasons were not to undermine you. What I did was ensure you would protect them in my stead. Locque,” he gestured to the blackness with a steel hand, a hand he usually manifested in dreams as organic--until Isidor modified it to near perfection, “you are vying for the throne. I’m sure you understand the importance of safeguarding the people and shielding them from dangerous outside interference. For example, if I were threatening and killing Galeynians one day and then offering peaceable terms for their surrender the following day, how would you determine my honesty? Tell me, would you see me as trustworthy? Would Galeynians see me as trustworthy?”
“Now that you know where I stand, I’ve come here to surrender,” he bowed his head to the prickling miasma. “You can’t have my life. You can’t have my essence, my soul, my mind. You can’t have my wife. What you will have is my ceasefire. I won’t fight against you, nor will I help the others fight against you. Much as you may tout your magical strength and abilities, Locque, I am only growing stronger. This is not a threat, but a fact. If you refuse to accept my surrender, given time, I’ll become a legitimate obstacle to your rulership.” With the swipe of a hand, he dislodged the darkness clinging to his aura. In its place, a gust of wind formed a vortex of additional protection from the witch and her creeping, hostile magic behind which she hid.
“I’m able to track you, now. I’ve memorized your signature. You’re a summoner. Your energy output is vast, but you’re not invincible. Far from it. You draw from a singular source, and by itself, it is inherently an unstable source. Your control is contingent upon your state of mind. You must bask in darkness to access it.” For reference, he pointed out the layers upon layers of night she cocooned around herself, like a frightened caterpillar refusing to metamorphose. “Of course, I hypothesize, but the fact remains that you’re not untouchable and not unconquerable. Now--why not kill me, instead? That’s a viable option. I know too much. Because if that’s your decision, you’ll never find me...and I’ll only get stronger. And if you decide to lure me out by threatening my wife or my friends,” unbidden, a flicker of abyssal lightning briefly surrounded his aura, “that will be a fatal mistake. I want peace, Locque,” he said, and the request was in earnest. “I don’t want to fight. I want to spend time with my wife. I don’t desire to live as an interdimensional fugitive. My word is my bond. I won’t attack you; in exchange, you and your allies won’t attack me, and Elespeth. You’re not unreasonable. I see a glimmer of something that deep down, wishes for harmony, too. It’s faint...but it exists. Neither of us advocates for bloodshed. I’m a healer. At least, I aspire to be.” He tilted his head to one side, “Weren’t you something similar, once?”
“Oh, don’t be hard on yourself for enjoying your ‘creature comforts’, as you call them, Lord Canaveris. Who wouldn’t miss what they are used to?” Nia commented lightly. Contrary to what he thought, her opinion of him did not tarnish for his love of comfort and luxury; on the contrary, she admired him for his honesty. “It might have been a decade since I’ve experienced anything even slightly akin to what you might consider ‘luxury’, but damn, do I miss fine food and a nice, long, comfortable sleep. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager for Locque to finally make her move so that I can migrate from just getting by to living with just a little more privilege. I honestly can’t wait to sleep in an actual bed again; I fear I’ve forgotten what that feels like. But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.”
While he was likely just offering out of his infallible sense of hospitality and politesse, Nia realized, it still struck a warm chord in her to invite her to stop by his exquisite abode whenever she felt the need to feel something other than the life of a commoner. And were Locque not already so close to taking hold of the kingdom, she might well have taken him up on his offer… but the Master Alchemist knew better than to give in to her wants. “That is very kind of you to offer, Lord Canaveris. I’ll admit, I do enjoy your company quite a lot. But believe me when I say that the more you invite me into your space, the more you will surely grow sick of me; I somehow seem to have that effect on people.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own painful self-awareness. “But I do enjoy your hospitality, don’t get me wrong. Once all is settled and our sorceress has what she wants… who knows? Perhaps our subsequent visits can be a bit more casual.”
She smiled. Even if it all had to do with keeping up appearances and finding the most surefire way not to piss off a powerful sorceress… It felt good to be welcomed.
It was out of genuine curiosity that she asked about his plans as a future leader, and frankly, she was not disappointed by what she heard. And it certainly was an ambitious plan! To dismantle the very rule that had governed Stella D’Mare and the D’Marians for hundreds of years, and rebuild governance from the ground up. Such a stark contrast from Locque’s plans of rulership: divide allies, weaken alliances, and subsequently, conquer. Really, she hadn’t any clue as to how the sorceress would truly treat the citizens of this kingdom. Like it or not, they wouldn’t follow her rule out of loyalty, but rather, a deep fear for their well-being, knowing what she was capable of. Aristide, on the other hand, literally had the entirety of the D’Marian settlements rallying behind him. She’d heard their cheers of support; they wanted what he could provide…
How might things be different if Locque had taken this approach, as opposed to pursuing power through instilling fear?
“Those are indeed laudable ambitions, Lord Caraveris. Respectable and far-reaching. Not without obstacles along the way, of course but… I hope that you find what you want. A way back to the home that you miss; a balance within your D’Marian society, and fair governance. If I am being honest… I don’t know what is in store for the Fate of Galeyn.” Nia lowered her voice ever so slightly, as if for fear that Locque would somehow pick up on her doubt from whatever ether-realm she currently occupied. Just because the witch had, of late, been less present in the physical realm did not suggest that her awareness was dampened in any way. “I suppose it depends on how the denizens of this kingdom respond to new rulership. They aren’t particularly enamored of Queen Lilica, from the sounds of it, but neither do they want their kingdom taken by force… If the villages were to follow suit to the D’Marian settlement, then I foresee far fewer problems. But I cannot divine that; I simply don’t know.”
But now she had most certainly overstayed her welcome; Lazarus, Aristide’s manservant, was far more eager to remove her than she was to leave. Best not to let a situation escalate for no good reason, or to cause any quarrel between the Canaveris lord and his manservant. “Though it may appear contrary to the decisions I have already made, and my general standing with Locque, I do appreciate the non-violent sort.” She flashed a wide smile at Lazarus, who did not appear the least bit impressed. Ah, well; she couldn’t win everyone over. “I don’t mean to be any trouble: I can easily see myself out. I know where I’m going. But if it would sit better with you as a formality--or for the fact that I haven’t given you much of a reason to trust me--then by all means, lead the way.”
She gestured outward for Lazarus to guide her out, but did not leave before flashing one final smile in Aristide’s direction. “I daresay it may be best to save your green ambrosia for someone with more of a mind to savour and appreciate it anyway, Lord Canaveris. But, if you can excuse my lack of etiquette, then know I am always open to sitting down to a drink with good company. And the best of luck in your future endeavors.” Nia grinned and lifted a parting hand. “Next time, I’ll try to remember my manners a little better. Just because I’ve been on the run for ten years is no excuse not to appreciate your fine spirits with the finesse they deserve; or, at least I can say I’ll try!”
It was true that the widely-feared sorceress had, of late, taken to the realms that no one could reach as opposed to occupying space in the physical realm of Galeyn. She favoured the gathering darkness for multiple reasons: for one, it allowed her a place to hide, where none could find her--well, none short of the only other summoner she had ever become aware of, who currently inhabited the palace alongside Galeyn’s current queen. Furthermore, it gave her a blessed chance to rest. Though it might not have looked as though she were up to much, especially considering how seldom she left the small cottage at the edge of the kingdom, it required a good deal of maintenance to ensure the spell that subdued and enthralled the Dawn Warrior held strong. She had been lucky in that the woman’s resolve had been weak enough that the sorceress had managed to squeeze through the cracks in her psychic armor and take over, but with enough extraneous variables that were not under her control, anything was possible--so rest was required. To stay strong. To keep the warrior under her thumb. And, most importantly, to shield those allied with her from anything that might vaguely be considered a weakness.
After the sudden rush of power to push the eldritch beast that a caster had summoned that morning--yet another thing the sorceress had not been expecting--the power and energy required to banish the creature before it could cause any damage to the settlement that had just surrendered to her had been vast, and incredibly taxing. As soon as the sky had cleared, Locque had flickered out of physical existence and left the Master Alchemist to deal with the turmoil in the village for whom she had volunteered to be a go-between. And among the gathering darkness, Locque brooded… and quietly raged.
Alster Rigas, the current but soon to be past leader of the D’Marian village, had purposefully shown his hand as a way to force her to show her own. A ploy to finally get the dreaded sorceress to display even a fraction of her power, and it incited her so that she wasn’t sure she trusted even her ironclad patience not to retaliate if she did not take a moment to withdraw and collect herself. Of course, her first thought had been to target him, specifically--but the man had had the foresight to flee to an ether-realm, himself, before she could hone in on his location. Ultimately… it was probably for the best. Perhaps this was something of a setback, but nothing that could be remedied, and it did not suit her to waste her time targeting anyone insignificant when she was so close to have exactly what she wanted.
But it did not occur to her that somewhere among the nothingness, the everything, that he might have been searching for her. Or that someone other than the young Teselin Kristeva might have been capable of that. As soon as the summoner became aware that something, someone, had managed to perform the impossible and seek her out among infinite worlds within the ether-realms, she blanketed herself in the darkness that surrounded to dampen her magical and psychological presence. For a while, she thought it had worked--until a voice from beyond, yet not too far away, suggested otherwise.
He was there; both close enough to touch and simultaneously lightyears away. Such was the paradox of ether-realms, dimensions that did not rely on time and distance the way that they were used to. To be at once irritatingly close and devastatingly far from absolutely everything was a wonder that even Locque did not try to understand. It didn’t matter; she had been found, and this Alster Rigas had words he wanted her to hear. And with nowhere to flee without exposing herself and abandoning her shrouds of darkness, all she could do was listen.
She let him say his peace. He wouldn’t leave until he had spoken, and a part of her was rather intrigued by his thoughts. Of course, much of it was predictable: his purposeful summoning of the Serpent, his resentment--hatred--toward her for everything she had done to either directly or indirectly impact his life. Threats that she did not want an enemy in him--as if he was really something to fear. All predictable, and none of it worthy of showing herself…
Not until those last words. And now, it was her turn to talk.
Truth be told, the summoner did not know what form she might take in the ether-realms; it wasn’t as though there was ever a mirror to consult. So when she shed her darkness, to give Alster Rigas a glimpse of the entity he had sought to find, she gave him a glimpse of every possibility in one: hair colour that shifted through all possible tones, eye colours that circulated from black to the palest blue and back again, skin as white as alabaster to as dark as ebony. No colour remained static, but continued to shift like an ever-changing rainbow. If he saw her in the physical realm, it wasn’t as though he would recognize her, anyway.
“How typical of a Rigas to overestimate their importance.” Yes, she was angry; but none of that really came through in the sorceress’s voice. “You are right, Alster Rigas; I struck first. But you and yours were never my target. You couldn’t be more insignificant to me. It was your own decision to become involved in something that was never meant to involve you. That you stand so closely to those who stand in my way is something I cannot ignore.”
She brushed her ever-changing hair over her shoulder, not once taking her eyes off of the person who had, in so many words, declared himself her enemy. “What you pulled with the Serpent did anger me. It took me off guard and required that I act fast. But I hope it was worth it, to you: to try my hand, whatever your reasons were. So, now you know just a little bit of what I can do; of my capabilities.” Locque clasped her hands in front of her. “I hope you enjoyed my display, Alster Rigas. Because the next time I show my hand, it will not be a display; or at least, it will not be so benign. Especially if you corner me in such a way again that I otherwise have no choice. But fear not, Rigas caster: your life matters little to me. Which goes to say, so does your surrender.”
Tendrils of darkness seemed to waft from her skin like steam: as if it were impossible to tell where the darkness began and ended, whether it surrounded her, or whether Locque, herself, was that very darkness. “I admire your fruitless attempt to intimidate me into compliance. I daresay, nobody had ever had the gall to try to stand taller than me, before. Yes, you are a skilled and powerful mage; that much I cannot deny. That you were not only able to summon an otherworldly beast to your realm, but to banish yourself to the ether-realms and to manage to find me in the meantime… indeed, that is certainly worth my attention. But if you fancy yourself an obstacle… then you underestimate me.”
The sorceress took a single, threatening step forward. Through her ever-changing colours, it was difficult to discern what emotion she wore on her face, if any. “So you think you can find me. That you know me and all that I can do. You think that for what little you know, you can scare me into compliance. Well, Alster Rigas, I will tell you this.” She fixed her colourful eyes on the man who dared to oppose her. “Your surrender means nothing to me. Frankly, the surrender of your people also means very little; I simply agreed to their terms as a neutral gesture. The only surrender I seek is that of Galeyn’s new and incompetent Queen. And I suspect that she will soon come to her senses and come to this realization, herself. After all, it is not as though she chose to rule--am I wrong?” Locque let her hands drop, and finally took a step back, reasserting the distance between herself and the bold man who fancied himself a direct threat.
“If you are here to look for clues to my story, Alster Rigas, you won’t find it. You’ll see glimpses, perhaps, as you are invading my space among the ether-realms, but they will provide you with no context. And I will not tell you; even if you sought it, I am sure you’d think it emotional manipulation on my part. In any case, it has been so long that some of the details have become lost to me. Besides,” She shrugged her shoulders and folded her arms, “the past is all a moot point. What has happened cannot be undone; I cannot be undone, nor can my desires. The sooner you realize and accept this, the better for everyone. So go on now, Alster Rigas. Go and spend time with your wife. Go and live the life you choose. I have no interest in disrupting or causing difficulty in your life if you have no interest in interfering with mine: that is the truce that I offer, Alster Rigas. Stand aside, stay out of my way, and do not involve yourself in issues that are not your concern. Get your friends out of the way, and there needn’t be any further violence. Believe it or not, I, too, tire of the bloodshed. I am ready to put an end to it, should everything fall into place. But understand that if you choose to stay in Galeyn… it will be in compliance with my rule. That is all I have to say to you. Oh,” Just as she began to turn away, as if just remembering something, she lifted a single finger. “And in case you think I am by any means less powerful here, or that you might have any advantage… just because you can find me does not mean you want to. And I strongly recommend you don’t.”
All she did was extend her hand, palm out, for a second--and she was gone. Or, rather, Alster was gone, pushed away, far, far away, through netherverse after netherverse, layer after layer of dimensions, until there was no longer any trace of the sorceress’s trail.
It would be a while before the Rigas mage would find his way back to the physical realm, now.
Amid the sowing of false bravado, small kernels of truth stuck out in the soil. The projection he displayed to Locque wasn’t all false. Few would argue his status as a formidable caster; he’d proven his mettle in many instances--albeit, not in the most conventional displays of power. With the exception of his Serpent summoning spectacle, he hadn’t much interest in touting brute force as his preferred style of magecraft. He was far more focused on discovering his limits, on the very act of discovery and on pushing the human mind to the brink of epiphany. To explore new worlds, new ideas, new methods previously unthought of or implemented. If such discoveries could improve upon society, it was his responsibility to pioneer the frontier and map out his experiences. An ambitious mage’s thirst for knowledge, a thirst for more, seldom died--for better or for worse. Alster Rigas was ambitious. Whenever he wasn’t reeling over in self-defeat, he could perform impressive feats, a fact undeniable even to the woman who’d shrouded herself in darkness. If self-recognition of his efforts painted him as arrogant, or high-opinioned, then the sorceress really had no interest in seeing eye-to-eye with her enemy, and was ready to toss him aside like a minor inconvenience. She underestimated him--though he certainly did not underestimate her. Armed to the teeth with every defensive measure he could muster, Alster could not be any less mindful of her bottomless summoner energies, but he refused to allow her to intimidate him, in turn. The persona he presented to her was one of pride, but not of superiority, or foolhardiness. He acknowledged her power and could even vouch for it, now that he’d analyzed her energies first-hand. But there were some forces stronger than raw power--and it was something he possessed. It was something that others possessed, too. And which she lacked.
“Hm.” An ironic smile curled the edges of his mouth. “Call me a Rigas, but you would fit in very well among our family ranks and ideologies. You certainly have the grandeur and the wounded sense of entitlement that’s been our generational curse. It’s no wonder we’ve been overthrown. D’Marians were fast growing tired of stroking our delicate egos. I offer this perspective as a word of caution, Locque. As a deposed and now despised leader...it’s the people who will define your rule. And they’ll let you know if they disagree with it. Not through words, perhaps, but by actions.”
He lowered his arms in a gesture of de-escalation--given how sensitively the sorceress perceived any collection of words or statements as a means to intimidate. “It doesn’t matter if I was your target, Locque. What you did at Braighdath affected me. It doubly affected my wife. Am I to overlook the damage because it wasn’t personal? No--” his body twitched, fighting the urge to peel back the civil, reasonable aspect of himself he’d adopted for negotiations that were quickly failing, “you made it personal the moment you enthralled her mind and forced her to kill an innocent woman. You don’t get to decide what should or should not involve me when you’ve already involved me!” He curled his hands into fists. Owned his anger. Did not hide its sparks of lightning from his aura. He let it happen, did not apologize for the outburst, breathed in, breathed out, uncurled his fists, and resumed normal conversation.
“You know of my reasons, Locque. I wanted to gauge your honesty. Your ability to protect the people you swore you would protect--I needed to see a physical display of your promises to the D’Marians, especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear how little you care about them. As for my intimidation tactics--you misunderstand me. I mean, look at me.” He motioned to his boyish face, his short stature, the favorable lean towards his right leg, and his decidedly meatless frame, “the only thing outwardly intimidating about me is my steel arm. Believe me, I am not trying to intimidate you. I don’t make threats, either. I make observations. I will become stronger and in so doing, I will become an obstacle...but not in the general sense of the term.” I was code for we, but it was better to have Locque think him bullheaded and obstinate than to draw specialized attention on his companions and their skill sets. Not that it really mattered, the extent of the people in power who opposed Locque, when she was so assured of her victory. “Anyone can lord power over the helpless. I felt it, in the D’Marian village, when I summoned the Serpent--and hated it. So--no--if standing taller than you means I must also subdue and subjugate on a regular basis, I’d rather not arm-wrestle you for the right. This is why I surrender. I could fight. I’m involved. I want to fight. I have the means to fight--and the exponential growth to improve and hone my abilities. But unlike you, I don’t fight to win. There’s no point in winning if it garners so much loss. If winning a war of attrition means this much to you, then I’ll stand aside to decrease casualties. Little as I mean to you in significance, I bear significance among the kingdom you wish to rule. Taking this step forward will encourage--has encouraged members of the Galeynian council to do the same. Queen Lilica, included.”
The variegated forms of Locque, shimmering and dancing like shadows reflected off the surface of the lake, drew closer to him. Considering their simultaneous nearness and distance from each other, like two stars sharing the same constellation despite spanning light-years apart, her movement was purely an act of intimidation. While he increased his defenses, he did not stir from his position; merely stared into her face of many moons, many phases, catching only glimpses of the person she once had been.
“I don’t think you care about manipulation, one way or the other. Otherwise, you would not have people under your thrall. In fact, when it comes to emotional manipulation, I am your best candidate. I am Alster Rigas--moved so by a monster’s plight that he became the monster. However, I must say there is something profoundly sad about not remembering a huge chunk of the reason you fight. You remind me of a wounded animal, biting against injustices done against you as you remember only the imprint but not its cause.” You remind me of Lilica, poisoned by her magic, he thought, but did not share aloud. “No wonder you are like this, Locque. Darkness feeding on darkness. If only it could have ended better for you...if only I could have helped you...and I say this in earnest, because maybe then, Elespeth would not have a woman’s murder on her conscience. D’Marian lives would have been spared. And Sigrid…” he closed his eyes a moment. “...what are you planning on doing with Sigrid? If Galeyn’s queen surrenders, will you consider releasing her? She is one friend in particular I would like to get out of your way.”
Before he could further inquire about the status of the Dawn Warrior, his eyes snapped open when Locque’s approach signified something dire. Something he anticipated, shielded specifically to combat, and yet...still felt the brunt of the attack as it vaulted him through a sickeningly vast number of realms from ethereal to infernal, celestial to abyssal. He spiraled, and spiraled, at speeds too grueling to control at once. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this would happen. You have failsafes. You know what to do!
But thought and preparation could not keep up the pace of his brutally-changing environs. To prevent the overwhelming stimuli from bleeding through him at once, and to prevent from losing his sanity, he...shut everything down. Mind. Body. Spirit. Blank.
As he wandered ceaselessly through infinity.
But not before sending a message to Elespeth, somewhere in the universe. Find me. Elespeth, find me…
Over the coming days, Elespeth’s motion to seek an audience with the Master Alchemist did not garner much support, particularly when a kingdom-wide surrender to the sorceress seemed to be the inevitable next step forward. Nearly a week had passed, and no one had heard from Alster. Not through dreams, and not through Haraldur’s connection to the sentinel tree. It didn’t take much speculation to link Alster’s sudden communication drop-off with his decision to surrender to Locque directly, prompting the others not to follow in his wake in regards to opening a dialogue. Not until they had a reasonable strategy, going forward. Elespeth, contrarily, appeared one sleepless night away from taking rash, independent action, and everyone was guarded against the possibility of her going rogue, for the sake of her husband.
“I understand your frustration. I’m frustrated beyond words.” Chara responded to Elespeth’s plea for decisive action, during their latest meeting. “We require answers. Believe me, I am trying to work with Lord Canaveris to ask the Master Alchemist on our behalf, but he has his hands full preventing the village from destabilization—from Rigas detractors, no less.” She rolled her eyes. “Moreover, he reports he has not seen the alchemist since the day of Alster’s public shaming ceremony and Serpent surprise. He has no reason to lie. If we cannot track the whereabouts of this Master Alchemist, then how are we to relay any message to the sorceress? Regarding surrender, Alster’s whereabouts, or otherwise?”
A chair skidded noisily against the tiled floor as Hadwin literally rose to the challenge. “Say no more!” He perched over the table, hands clawing over the wood surface in anticipation. “I’ve got a nose for this shit. You need a message? I’ll bet you a fiver I know where she’s at—or where she’ll be. Just lend me a steed and I’ll be on my way. No need for reinforcements or extra company.” He winked apologetically at Elespeth, “sorry, hon. But I’m respecting the sanctity of neutral territory, here. The second she thinks it ain’t safe, or that it’s been compromised by the opposing team, she’ll be a little less keen on making public appearances there. Tell me what you wanna say—and I’ll be in and out in a day. Cross my heart.”
“And what if your sisters decide, ‘oh, what a brilliant opportunity to corner our no-good brother and rip out his throat and vocal cords, so when he’s dead, he can’t waggle his tongue in the afterlife’?” Chara raised her eyebrow into a pinioned point.
“That’s a real specific interpretation, there, but sounds about what Bron would say. You got her pinned!” He rolled his shoulders forward and chuckled. “C’mon, Lady Chara, you know I’m ace at making and picking up deliveries, and I’m swift as all get out, so it ain’t like I can’t shake off my sisters like I did, last time. In and out, like I said.” He stroked the underside of his chin in thoughtful contemplation. “Give or take a few drinks.”
Before Elespeth could protest her involvement, or lack thereof, in accompanying Hadwin to contact the Master Alchemist, Tivia swept into the empty seat beside her and pressed a gentle hand upon her wrist. “Elespeth--let him go alone. I need you here, at the palace. It’s about Alster. He’s lost...and he needs your guidance.”
Once the majority of the council motioned, albeit reluctantly, in favor of the faoladh’s solo excursion to meet with the woman simply called ‘Nia’, the meeting adjourned, and Tivia was no longer forced to sit quietly through the rigmarole of Galeyn politics, or the back and forth lobbying the pros and cons of immediate surrender. She’d already resolved to let events play out as intended...with the exception of a few glaring observations that were impossible to ignore. So when everyone filed out of the council chambers, Tivia met up with Elespeth and immediately rerouted them to her private chambers at the end of the hallway.
“I’ve been in contact with Alster’s star,” she said as she shut the door. Approaching the dying hearth, she reinvigorated the flames with a steady stream of etherea. “He met with Locque...in the ether-realms. But something happened. She...she seemed to unmoor him, somehow. Banished him from her vicinity. And now, his spirit is spiraling out of control as it careens through countless realms and dimensions--and there is no end in sight. It is akin to falling down a bottomless well. Will he ever stop falling? Perhaps he will...on his own. When the momentum dies. But who knows how long that will take? In the ether-realms, time isn’t measured. A week for us could have been several thousand millennia for him. And I fear...the further he drifts from his corporeal body, which doesn’t currently reside on this earthly plane, the more likely he’ll cease to exist. I could not even divine the implications--of what it means to lose presence in the realm of your birth. No use thinking about it...because we won’t let it happen.” Turning from the fire, Tivia sought Elespeth’s hands and held them steady.
“We have to recalibrate his position in the universe. Link him to his star, which, as we know, belongs to a binary star--your star. If we’re able to cease his freefall and guide him to the realm where your stars both dwell, I daresay his safety will be assured--and he’ll be able to return to his body...and to earth. I think I’m able to do this, but I do need your blood for the undertaking. For full access to your star. But first,” her one luminous eye sought the she-warrior’s green-gaze, “you need to awaken him. To keep his spirit from splitting apart, he’s winked out of consciousness...out of subconsciousness. Normally, this would mean he’d be nigh unreachable, but you share his blood, his soul, his heart, his magic, his star. You are the closest to his avatar on earth. His grounding force. If anyone can reawaken him, it’s you, Elespeth. But we’re going to need,” she hesitated, “a medium to facilitate the process. Someone like, well,” she released one hand to scratch the back of her neck, “Vitali.”
Every day that Elespeth could not reach out to her husband was a day that the former knight grew more and more antsy, more sleepless, more restless to the point where she wouldn’t let anyone around her rest sufficiently, either. While she had no difficulty believing that Lilica and all of her allies took her husband’s sudden absence and disappearance seriously, that they had made absolutely no headway in a week, that Elespeth had not even been able to find Alster in her dreams, was driving her to desperation.
The meeting she called that morning was not the first time they had gathered to discuss Alster’s continued absence. It was unlikely that anyone, Lilica included, had any insight as to where or how to find her husband, or whether Locque was to blame for his continued absence, but she couldn’t sit around idly anymore. None of them could, and if the suspicious absence of one of their own was not enough to drive them take action, then she would incite the action, herself.
“It has been a week. I cannot contact him--I cannot feel him.” While everyone else sat at the table where the lot had gathered in the council chamber, time and again, Elespeth stood. She couldn’t sit down if she wanted to, for all of the anxiety coursing through her veins. “There has to be something we can do--some way to find that Master Alchemist if she is our only liaison with Locque. Alster wouldn’t be gone for this long, and I felt… I felt like he was reaching out to me, for help. Isidor,” Elespeth turned to their very own Master Alchemist, who sat rather helplessly across from her. “You said before you may be able to discern her identity.”
“I did. And… I think I have.” Isidor adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “If she was telling the truth and has, in fact, fled from Ilandria… there is a very good chance she hails from Ilandria’s most privileged and learned Master Alchemists. The House of Ardane. All other Master Alchemists in the past decade were exiled from the kingdom when the ruling monarchy banned the discipline--and rightfully so--but an example was made of the Ardane family, who have successfully had Master Alchemists in their bloodline for… well, probably hundreds of years. If this ‘Nia’ was not released quietly, but had to fight for a way out of the kingdom, then she is likely an Ardane, and a fugitive. Ilandria probably hasn’t forgotten about her. But…” A sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders sank. “I don’t know that there is much we can do with these insights. Even if we were to reach out to Ilandria, that nation is unlikely to want to become involved in the sort of war that Locque is threatening. I’m sorry that I could not tell you anything more useful…”
As it turned out, however, one of them did have an inkling as to where to find this ‘Nia’. “Hadwin… you think you can track her down?” Elespeth’s sleepless eyes immediately averted to the faoladh. “Good. How soon can we leave?” Except… there was no we. He would not be taking Elespeth along, with him. “What are you talking about, ‘neutral territory’? There is no neutral territory in this goddamn kingdom if Locque doesn’t give a shit about who she kills and where she does it! So where does this Master Alchemist fugitive get off claiming neutral territory if we can’t?”
Whether or not it was some ploy to placate the ex-Atvanian who was slowly losing her cool, Elespeth reeled in her anger long enough for Tivia to say what she meant to say. And of everyone in that room, the star seer was probably the most insightful--and the most helpful. “You’ve seen him, Tivia?” Her hope was caught up in a strangled whisper that fought off tears. The former knight was on the brink of losing her grip on her own emotional stamina. “Do you know where he is? How do we find him?”
The star seer said nothing more until the meeting was adjourned, and invited Elespeth back to her chambers where they could talk in private. “Tivia, if there is something you know… if there is any way we can find him, bring him back, you have to tell me. You know I’ll do anything.”
It was all she could do not to fall apart as Tivia described just how dire the situation was. That Locque was, by some means, responsible for Alster’s disappearance and his continued absence… and what it might mean if he was not found. Tears trickled down Elespeth’s cheeks, but to her credit, she did not sob. Not outwardly. “We’re going to find him.” Her hands trembled in Tivia’s and she exhaled a shaky breath. “My magic might be Alster’s magic, but it is by no means as developed as his. I cannot do what he did, but there… there has to be a way, right? A path that the stars have shown you?”
There was… but it involved the cooperation of perhaps the last person Elespeth wanted to work with: Vitali. “...he doesn’t have a choice but to help us. It is because of Isidor and Alster that he can reside comfortably in the palace.” She agreed after just a beat. To refuse involvement could, after all, be considered a treason, of sorts. “You can have all the blood you need. And I have a feeling that Vitali will require more than just that… but I will do whatever it takes to find Alster and bring him back. Where is he now?” She was already on her way toward the door before Tivia was even on her feet. “We can’t waste a moment longer… and neither will he, if he knows what is good for him.”
Since her last fateful meeting with the all-too accommodating Lord Aristide Canaveris, Nia had kept herself busy--but it did not mean she wasn’t bored. It had been a day later before she made contact with the sorceress again, after her period of rest and contemplation in a realm that the Master Alchemist could not reach, and she had put her to work again for a number of days, saying little about her run-in with the Rigas Mage--though she did acknowledge it. Nia also knew better than to ask too many questions, but at the back of her mind, she suspected Locque had not left without getting the last word in… which incited a bit of an air of concern. What had she done? And had she taken into consideration that by playing nice--for once--she was finally getting what she wanted? Surely she wouldn’t throw away all of this headway she’d made by a single, impulsive decision…
Nia hadn’t much time to dwell on whatever the sorceress may or may not have done to Alster Rigas, who had confronted her in one of the man ether-verses that the sorceress frequently traversed. Locque had plans, and the foresight to reinforce them, and she had not taken Nia under her wing to allow her to idly pass the time in taverns, gorging herself on ale and food, as the Master Alchemist was wont to do. “This cottage--I need you to fortify the walls. Make it impervious to attack and to break-in. And the warrior…” Locque had nodded to the still, statuesque figure of Sigrid Sorenson, who never moved unless it was under command. “Her clothes. While it is unlikely she will come under attack considering what she is worth to her allies, we cannot rule out the possibility that they might well do anything to get her back. I want her to remain untouched.”
“Well… she’s got the armor.” Nia had pointed out with a thoughtful frown, nodding at the leather across Sigrid’s chest, arms, and legs. “That not good enough?”
“No. Armor is more easily removed. When I say I want her untouched, I mean that in every way. I want the very fabric of her tunic to be her armor. Craft a pair of gloves, as well. The Rigas mage attempted to negotiate to have her back.”
“I mean… won’t you give her back once Galeyn is yours? It can’t be easy to keep that she-beast under your thrall.” The Master Alchemist observed. “You once said yourself it’s fairly draining. So once you’re queen, why not hand her back as a peace offering?”
Locque said nothing at first, her eyes fixed on Sigrid, deep in thought. At last she simply declared, “I am not sure that my idea of peace coincides with what Alster Rigas desires. Come and find me when you are finished.”
She had left, then, and while Nia was certain the sorceress had literally no idea what kind of preparation and effort it required for her to pull off all of the feats asked of her, she had offered up her skillset to the powerful summoner to use at her disposal. Nonetheless… it would be nice to have some recognition, or a least a little but of understanding, for the blood, sweat, and tears for everything she did for Locque of her own volition. Especially considering that so much of it required she go hungry for days until the task was complete. Even seemingly menial tasks such as reinforcing wood to become as strong and impenetrable as diamond, or to imbue cotton and wool with the same strength as steel and iron, took days of concentration and careful understanding of the give and take of balanced exchange. Every fiber of Sigrid’s clothes, every know of wood from which the cottage was crafted, required tedious attention, and it was a week before Nia had completed these tasks to Locque’s liking. A week of nothing but work, sleep, and water to keep her hydrated while her strength was slowly sapped from lack of food in order to keep her vessel of exchange pure and untainted while she completed her work. Many a Master Alchemist wouldn’t have gone to such lengths when dealing with organic materials that were not currently alive, and often saved that sort of sacrifice when performing their craft on living humans. But if Nia did not go above and beyond to show the sorceress exactly why she was worth protecting… she would be at risk of losing that protection. After all, she knew better than to assume Locque’s word was out of the goodness of her heart.
After what had felt like an eternity, every inch of that cottage and every thread of the Dawn Warrior’s clothes were reinforced and impenetrable to Locque’s liking. But by that point in time, Nia had gone so long without food that she couldn’t be sure of what was real, anymore. The line between dreams and reality was blurred, she couldn’t rely on her dulled senses to understand what was happening around her. Fortunately, Locque seemed to understand when the Master Alchemist had been pushed to her limit when at last she found her to relay the message of her tasks’ completion. “You were right, Anetania. You have not let me down--and you continue to live up to your word.” The sorceress touched her shoulder, and for a moment, she looked… well, for lack of a better word, ‘appreciative’. But Nia wasn’t certain she hadn’t imagined that. “But now, you need your strength back. Go and eat your fill; rest for as long as you need to regain you strength. You never cease to impress me.”
And like some sucker, desperate for validation… Nia couldn’t help but feel elated for Locque’s approval. And for the coin purse she pressed into her hand as she bade her to go and partake in her favourite activity: enjoying a meal big enough for an army.
Heavy on her feet, Nia mounted her horse and rode as far as the Galeynian village where her favourite tavern and its proprietor were located. Osric’s eatery and pub was a glowing, welcome sight to her tired eyes, and she couldn’t drag herself in fast enough that morning. The place wasn’t exactly bustling, likely from word of the Serpent that had reared its head in the D’Marian settlement. The Master Alchemist’s heart did ache a bit for the fact that Locque’s antics (and the antics her reign of terror inspired in others) seemed to be affecting the man in such a dire way; all the more reason to spend an exorbitant amount on food and ale to make up for the business he was losing.
She almost fell off her horse when she attempted to dismount, losing her grip on her own sense of balance, but managed to take a hold of the saddle before she gracelessly fell into the mud. Thank goodness her means of replenishing her strength and energy was only feet away, but she took care when she pulled open the doors, and kept a hand to the wall as she made her way over to the bar. Nia said nothing until she was seated, leaning heavily on her elbows as she waited for the proprietor to finish stacking the new kegs of ale and take notice. Hungry and exhausted as she was, she was loathe to take the man away from his tasks.
In any case, he took notice of his best customer soon enough, and not without a good deal of concern. “Miss Nia--it’s been far too long! Are you alright?” The older man immediately grabbed a clean goblet and filled it not with ale, but with fresh water from a nearby barrel. “Looks like you need something for your body and not your mind, right now. Everything okay? Can I get you anything specific?”
“Indeed it has been far too long, Osric. I’ve missed you; and your fine establishment.” Nia grinned through her exhaustion and accepted the water with a shaky hand. “Work… has kept me busy. Too busy. It is a real reprieve to be here, believe me. What do you have cooking, today?”
“Salmon fresh from the river this morning. Loads of fresh vegetables from the Night Garden, all the grains you could possibly eat… And, if I’m not mistaken, my wife has a few pies in the oven as we speak.” Osric’s bushy brows lowered in a concerned furrow at his regular customer’s lack of stable dexterity, her fingers trembling as if she were cold. “What sort of work is it you do, Miss Nia, if you don’t mind me asking? Because I daresay whatever it is, it cannot be work rendering you completely spent. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you haven’t eaten in days--but I think I know you well enough that that simply cannot be the case.”
Nia shrugged and took a careful sip of water, fighting the urge not to rush the man to fill her a plate of frankly anything for her empty stomach. Water was the one and only thing that had kept her going, this past week. “I work with materials. Woods, metals, fibers… I suppose it can be taxing from time to time. But,” she flashed that winning smile, “nothing your food can’t cure, my good man. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I don’t take ladylike portions.”
“Oh, I think I know. Coming right up, Miss Nia.” Osric left for the room behind the counter, and the Master Alchemist sighed softly in relief, finally able to see the light of the end of the tunnel. A reward for the work she had done… and preparation for the work to come. But she knew that; she’d come to accept it, and she didn’t mind, so long as she got a few decent meals out of it every now and then.
Nia didn’t even realize someone had come to sit next to her until she heard her name, and looked up to see a familiar face that she hadn’t anticipated she would run into, again; at least, not anytime soon. “Ah. The wolf. Good afternoon to you.” Since their parting words the last time they’d met had confirmed her suspicions--that they were on to one another, and their identities were no longer a secret--she decided not to waste time with pretenses. “If you’re in need of another drinking game, I’m not sure I can accommodate you this time. I’m a little under the weather, and the only thing that interests me is whatever food Osric can put in front of me in the next ten minutes; I’m not picky. Maybe another time, though? Since you clearly know where to find me.”
It seemed that Hadwin was not looking for a friendly drinking buddy, this afternoon--although the prospect for future afternoons wasn’t off the table so long as they could maintain friendly relations. The faoladh claimed to have a message from the palace; and for that, Nia was obligated to be all ears. She fiddled with the star pendant hanging between her collarbones: a habit she seemed to employ whenever, for whatever reason, she felt particularly vulnerable. “A message. Does this have to do with your missing Rigas mage? Word has it he hasn’t been seen since summoning the Serpent in the D’Marian village; and I’m afraid I can’t help you, there, even if I were able. Traversing dimensions isn’t my strong suit. It’s Locque’s, in fact, but… well, I think it goes without saying that seeking her help might be a little foolish. Unless…” She traced the stained woodgrain of the counter with a fingernail and arched an eyebrow, “there’s something else you’ve come to discuss? Whatever it is, I would be eternally grateful if you could be to the point. I’m a little bit exhausted as it stands, and the fewer words my mind has to process, the better.”
“Vitali is nocturnal, so he’s most likely asleep. He hates to be disturbed, but--” But that was no stipulation for Elespeth at all. The she-warrior was at her limit, and respect for a reviled man’s sleeping schedule was frankly the last thing on her list of priorities. “He might not welcome the interruption,” she inflated her cheeks and puffed out a sigh, “but he wanted to be useful to the palace. Getting disturbed at all hours of the day and night is part of the procedure, and...I suppose it’s about time he experiences what it’s like to be his brother.”
Moments later, they were standing before Vitali’s door and knocking. Unsurprisingly, one of the Forbanne guards assigned to his watch answered in his stead, regarding the two women with disinterest. “I assume Vitali is sleeping, but we must enter and speak with him. Please, let us inside.” Grunting inaudibly, the Forbanne guard nodded and stepped aside to allow them entrance. As expected of the nocturnal necromancer, the large windows in his chambers were curtained off by thick, wraparound curtains, underneath which the glass panes had been washed with black paint, for maximum efficiency. To prevent from stumbling around in the pitch dark room, Tivia summoned a firefly’s pinprick of light in her fisted hand and deftly moved to Vitali’s bedside. By the time she reached him, he was already awake. Rare was the occasion when anyone could sneak up on the perceptive necromancer, whether conscious or unconscious.
“Ah, Vitali--sorry to disturb you at this daylight hour, but you know I’d never think to stir you out of your sleep if it weren’t an emergency, or something that required your attention posthaste. This is one of those instances.” To provide him the privacy to stir from his bed and make the necessary adjustments to full-consciousness, she removed herself from his vicinity and invited Elespeth to do the same. Once he’d risen, changed out of his bedclothes, and appeared decent, Tivia launched into the details of Alster’s dire predicament and the purgatory of his spirit, which hadn’t expired but rather, hibernated as a defense mechanism against the overwhelming quantities of cosmic energy surrounding his meteoric streak through the ether-realms.
“He’s trapped in an in-between state, forced into a cocoon to preserve his entity from stripping away into pieces. With Elespeth’s blood, I may be able to pause Alster’s freefall and reposition him near the quadrant of the universe where his and Elespeth’s star resides. This may be enough to awaken him. He’ll intuitively sense that his spirit is no longer in danger. But in the event that doesn’t happen, and it sounds as though it might not without our interference--someone will need to give him a reminder of his connections here on earth. Elespeth can reach him, but she needs help. I imagine Alster and Elespeth are both humming at incompatible frequencies...but as a medium, you can bridge the disparities. So I am asking you--what would you suggest? Keep in mind, Vitali,” she added, as a gentle reminder, “you owe him, so your cooperation is greatly appreciated.”
And cooperation he gave, but his radical suggestion took even the star-seer aback with surprise. “What...are you proposing we trigger a near death experience in Elespeth so she can seek Alster’s spirit? That’s...is there no other method? A safer method, that wouldn’t put her life so much at risk?” If there was, he was the wrong person to ask. For someone who dealt in death and resurrection, naturally, his macabre gifts gravitated towards macabre solutions. With dead as his domain, it only made sense what was required. For Elespeth, it was a veritable trip to the underworld. “If Elespeth agrees to this, please guide her. I trust your capabilities, but I’m not the one you need to convince.” She looked to the other Rigas in the room, who, under the flickering glow of Tivia’s yellow etherea, paled in a sickly, jaundiced hue. But there was no question about it; she would agree to the terms. To save Alster, she would agree to about anything, however off-putting or compromising. However much it sacrificed her well-being. It was what made her and Alster a terrifying couple. Terrifying and yet...transcendent. It was beautiful, maddening, and enviable. Because you always find each other, in the end. You’re stronger together, and the universe recognizes it.
“If we’re to do this, we need cooperation from the others.” Tivia, shaking out of her morose thoughts, glanced over her shoulder, at the door. “Especially from Elias, Daphni, and the Gardeners. If we must simulate death, or near-death, the Clematis Healer deals in poisons and can titrate the ratio of poison to antidote. If we do this in the sanctuary, it will be a safe environment close to the healing properties of the Night Garden and the sentinel tree. Isidor can monitor your heart-rate and keep us abreast of your current condition.” She waltzed towards the exit, imploring Elespeth and Vitali to follow her lead. “It’s important we inform Lilica and Chara of what we plan to do. Perhaps this will merit another meeting, but we need to do this right.” I need to make this right. Sitting idly by, doing nothing...I don’t have to be a complete observer! “With everyone on board, we stand a greater chance of success.
Over time, Hadwin found to have less trouble persuading others to allow him free range around Galeyn territory. Granted, he always offered a service in exchange for the gallivanting, and each service had, as of late, doled out boons and benefits to the anxious crowd holed up in the palace...but not to anyone’s anticipation. Hadwin Kavanagh was not a reliable go-between, as evidenced by his past, shaky relationships with the majority of the Galeynian council, but no one could deny he was good at cinching results--and they were as good as desperate for assistance, however unconventional or problematic his history.
As a rule, the faoladh worked better alone. Sure, it was helpful to plant a shill in the audience if he happened to be pulling a big-scale confidence act or two, but in general, people, especially those who have lost their husbands to the ether, did not make the best partners in crime--or in this case, partners in...diplomacy? No; neutral territory was his idea. For the sake of negotiation, and continued negotiations, it was better to mark an established headquarters where neither party had the advantage or the reason to attack than to destroy its integrity with needless infiltration. Osric’s pub was non-threatening; it warranted no defensive measures in the form of Forbanne tromping around the perimeter or Elespeth Rigas causing a scene. There was no reason to whip the village into a panic over nothing; not when talk of last week’s Serpent incident was fresh on everyone’s minds. No reason to compromise a communication waypoint when communication between them and Locque’s minions was already so lacking.
All these thoughts of diplomacy and keeping the peace...Hadwin was beginning to sound like Alster Rigas, himself!
Since he’d departed the palace in daylight, without the bolstering speed of a Night steed, the journey from the center to Galeyn’s outskirts took a good portion of the morning hours. By the time he’d stabled his horse to a post outside of town, the sun’s positioning in the sky announced the arrival of afternoon. Excellent. He wasn’t late for lunch.
In wandering inside Osric’s pub, who should he see but the woman, herself, speaking with the proprietor and placing her order for a week’s worth of food. He couldn’t blame her. She’d exhibited a sort of...sunkenness in complexion since he saw her last. Like she’d deflated; not so much in spirits, but in energy, and most definitely from lack of sustenance. From what he knew of Master Alchemists, and really, his source pool amounted to the single digits, they tended to fast for big projects. Nia, for her efforts to appear presentable, could not hide the miserable stench of exhaustion and starvation that clung to her skin like sour perfume. A certain sorceress had been keeping her busy, alright.
Waltzing up to the bar, he ordered a drink and a plate of salmon before sliding into the seat next to Nia and heartily announced her name. “‘The wolf’?” He raised both eyebrows in mock affront. Aaah...we’re gonna have to work on that moniker. It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not to mention, I’m one of three, so it’s not ‘The wolf’ is something that’s narrowing or unique to, y’know, me. But, I’ll overlook the mark you missed, seeing as you’re about to ‘wolf’ down the table in a bid not to pass out. I got you, though.” Rummaging through the satchel he carried, he pulled out a rosy apple and rolled it towards her on the counter. “To tide you over. Don’t worry; I wouldn’t poison my own snack bag. You’re not gonna die by taking a bite. It’s from the Night Garden. I think that shit’s too pure to be pumped through with any kind of deadly astringent. Not like you couldn’t check for yourself with your magic hands. Ah, ‘scuse me; alchemy hands.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. To his satisfaction, she accepted his little peace offering as she prefaced why she wouldn’t be amenable to drinking games or friendly competitions of a similar nature.
“Nah--I hear you.” He brought his frothing tankard of ale to his lips and took several big gulps. “I’m always up for a next time. Can’t say I’m here for pleasure, though. I’ve taken a page from your book; I’m acting as a liaison. Got a message for you--well, it’s more for your ‘employer.’ And it’s hot from the palace.” He plopped his empty tankard on the bar-top and signaled the proprietor for a refill. When Nia ventured a guess on the message’s subject, Hadwin bobbed his head into a nod. “Ah, yeah, well, that’s part of the mystery.” He wiped the back of his mouth, removing the bits of froth that clung to his stubble. “We’re not seeking her help--nooo. Not if she was the one to put him in those dire straits in the first place. No one can contact him. It’s like he blipped out of existence--and fair, he did, but communication’s been dead since he announced he was gonna have a chat with your supreme ruler. So, as per your request, I’ll get to the point. There’s been talks of surrender.” To avoid eavesdroppers, he leaned into Nia’s perked ear and flattened his voice.
“If it’ll put an end to the aggression, the Queen’s willing to work out a deal with Locque. That’s what’s percolating in the air. But,” he plopped his arms on the counter, “doesn’t seem like there’ll be any deal in the works if Al’s floating around the primordial soup somewhere. I think Locque underestimated his importance or something. That scrawny, one-armed man’s either helped or saved the lives of almost everyone with a voice to speak for Galeyn’s affairs on the council--including the Queen. They’ll stand up for him. So, as of now, see this message as a look ahead. There’s motions in place for kingdom-wide surrender, but not if Serpent Lord ain’t standing in line with us when we do.”
He brought a finger to his temple. “The rationale behind it is that he approached her to surrender, and she acted in aggression, thereby rejecting his surrender--and jeopardizing any future surrenders. Surrender comes in stages, y’know, and it sounds like she was too impatient to go for it. If you ask me, that’s a sour look into what we’ll expect if we hand over the throne and say, ‘have at it, Locque!’ Ain’t no confidence to be had from a sore winner, and ain’t no guarantee she won’t lash out at all of us with that same amount of aggression. So,” he rotated one arm in a languid stretch, “that’s where we’re at. If she can’t even handle someone going to her doorstep to give her what she wants, then who’s to say she’ll stop her little violent tirade once she’s Queen? Better to be armed than unarmed, cuz she sure as shit ain’t making a case for herself aside from the fact that she’s way too unhinged to rule. I mean, how’s she gonna do business with her subjects if she’ll throw a temper tantrum whenever someone attempts to communicate with her and the only sane person and translator on her side--talking about you, missy,” he intuited through the side of his mouth, “is currently reachable through an educated stab in the dark?”
“If you want my opinion, the lot of you need to clean up your act, redevelop your public image--and try again later, cuz your lady doesn’t understand politics, let alone basic human interaction. If her strategy’s to rule by fear, she can’t get a start if there’s been no distinction made about which option is worse. Cuz both options look pretty shit to me.” He weighed his hands side by side in an approximation of a scale. “Opposing her--bad. Surrendering to her--bad. Where’s the give? Anyway,” he dropped his hands, “assuming she’s not gonna back down on her highfalutin plans, then please have her explain herself, using words and language, not dimensional wizardry, so we can finally come to a damn agreement about something. I’m getting sick of all these fuckin’ meetings. Ah, man,” he leaned back on his stool, whipping out his pipe and striking a spark over the bowl with flint and tinder, “sorry I wasn’t succinct enough for ya. Bit of good news, though,” he tossed his head towards the heaping plates of food Osric was balancing on his arms and hands en route to the counter from the kitchen. “Your meal’s here.”
Nocturnal or not, Elespeth wasted no time seeking out the necromancer as soon as Tivia made the suggestion. If Alster had no time to spare, then neither would Vitali. This was all part of the agreement to bring him to the palace, after all; because he claimed he could be of better use to them within arm’s reach. Well, now was the time to prove it. Everyone else had been dragged out of their beds for one reason or another to deal with dire situations, this past year; why would he be exempt?
The former knight banged on the door noisily until at last, they were ‘greeted’, so to speak, by one of the Forbanne guards keeping an eye on the suspicious necromancer. Before she could demand to see the man they were ‘guarding’, Tivia piped up with their request in a way that was far more eloquent and patient than her words would have been. Fortunately, the over-large guards were not opposed to their request, and allowed the star seer and the warrior entry, which was more than likely against the necromancer’s wishes.
Vitali’s chambers were exactly what would be expected of the light-sensitive man. Once the doors closed, Elespeth had to keep a hand to the wall to ensure she did not bump into anything as they made their way toward the bed. Neither of them was tasked with rousing the necromancer, at the very least; their intrusion in itself must have stirred him from his sleep, as evidenced by his speaking up before either of them approached his bed. “I assume you want something from me,” he said groggily, shifting his stiff body as he made to sit up in his bed. “And I don’t suppose going back to sleep for another five hours before heeding this request is much of an option, hm?”
“It is as Tivia said. Alster is… he is lost. We cannot contact him; we don’t have the means.” It was all Elespeth could do to patiently allow Tivia to take the time to explain their dire situation before piping up to emphasize the severity. “You’re the only medium any of us is acquainted with. If you can detect and communicate with spirits beyond this plane… do you think you can find a way to reconnect him to this world? It is as Tivia says: he is connected to me. We are bound spiritually, magically, physically… we have always been one another’s anchor. But I’ve lost my grip on him. I can’t guide him back. We thought maybe… maybe you would have a solution.”
“Quite possibly, but in the middle of the night? Or… day, as it is?” Vitali stifled a yawn and stretched. The covers fell away to expose his bare chest, and Elespeth flushed, immediately turning away before he could request, “perhaps give me a moment to dress? It isn’t as though I ever anticipate women barging into my room for my attention while I’m partially unclothed and sleeping soundly.”
The two women allowed him the time and space to dress, only turning back to face the necromancer. “Right then.” He clapped his hands together and took a seat at the foot of his bed. “So our Rigas Head has left this dimension and is, as it seems, lost in time and space… and you can in fact confirm this, Tivia? Does his star suggest that he is spiraling and cannot find his way?” The star seer indicated her confirmation, and Vitali nodded his understanding. “Right, then. So, herein lies the problem. I can’t reach these other dimensions that Alster can; my reach only goes as far as just beyond the veil of the living and the dead. But that is not where Alster is: he is not dead. But neither is he really alive, if the essence of his spirit has subdued itself so as not to evaporate into nothingness. By my skills, he is not reachable. However… just because I cannot put my finger on his location does not mean you can’t, Elespeth. If you really are his anchor, and your bond is such that you the essence of your spirit can find his… well, then you can act as a magnet, of sorts. You find him, and you pull him back to the land of the living. Although… I am not certain that you will be particularly fond of what that entails, I’m afraid.”
“And…” Elespeth furrowed her brows impatiently. “What does it entail, exactly?”
“Well, are you able to walk through dimensions like the Serpent mage?”
“No. Well… not to my knowledge. I don’t know what extent of Alster’s magic I inherited.”
“Then you are going to have to die.”
The room went silent for a beat. Both Elespeth and Tivia’s jaws dropped. “...what?” When the former found her voice again, it was little more than a broken whisper. “You… are you being serious? What exactly… how do you mean, I have to die?!”
“Well, you are unable to contact him here, on this plane of existence. And you are unable to traverse the ether-realms of other dimensions woven between the fabric of our reality. The only other dimension to which you have access is that of the dead: a limbo, of sorts. Come, now--I didn’t say you would have to stay dead.” Vitali chuckled, as if she were some young child too naive to possibly comprehend the essence of what he was suggesting. “Your heart will have to stop for a few minutes; your soul will have to wander, make contact, and bring your beau back. I’ll know how far gone you are, and if the situation looks as though it may become dire, I will tether your soul to your body, by the same means I did for Prince Sorde. If we have healers present, my brother, and myself, I can guarantee you will awaken, again. Believe me, if there were an alternate method,” he turned to Tivia and shrugged his shoulders, “then I wouldn’t know one, and you’ve come to the wrong person. I know my jurisdiction and my capabilities, and you have my word, whatever it might be worth, that you will not expire, Elespeth. But, ultimately, the decision is yours.”
The ex-knight didn’t have to think for long. If Tivia and Isidor were there to keep Vitali in line, not to mention the Forbanne guards who wouldn’t let him out of their sight… surely, nothing could go wrong?
“I’ll do it.” She spoke the words before she could think better of them. “Even if something were to go wrong… I couldn’t live knowing that I didn’t try. So… I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. Now, Tivia, as much as I would love to have the luxury to perform this at the sanctuary, it is my understanding that it is actually very difficult to die within the Night Garden, itself.” The necromancer mentioned, as the star seer began to brainstorm the terms and procedure. “I’m afraid that for all intents and purposes, Elespeth really will need to die, in every clinical definition of the term. No heartbeat, no breath, the complete shutdown of all bodily functions--and the faster it happens, the better. She will have approximately three minutes to find and retrieve Alster before a very fast-acting antidote is administered, if we are going down the poison route. Any longer than that, and we’d not risk a vegetative state in our once-Atvanian, but it will be infinitely more difficult to retrieve her soul beyond that point. So, if you want my input,” he slid off the bed and stretched his arms, stifling yet another yawn; cooperative as he was, it was clear the man was ready to go back to sleep for some time. “We do it right here, at the palace--in the evening, if for whatever reason, we need to make it to the sanctuary. But, that is the long and the short of it. If you are coming to me, then that is what I can offer. And I’m afraid I cannot guarantee success: that, Elespeth, is up to you.”
“...how soon can we do this?” At the blanched look she received from Tivia, who had just proposed they hold another meeting to discuss a plan that would no doubt come across as reckless and ludicrous, the former knight turned to the star seer and shook her head. “I’ve called for enough meetings; and we don’t know how much time we have to spare. We may not have the luxury of getting Lilica or Chara’s approval. Let’s inform the people whom we need involved--the healers and Isidor. I’m sorry, Tivia, but I don’t need anyone else weighing in with their opinions on why it is or isn’t a good idea; I am doing this.”
“Well, if you will allow me to be sufficiently rested, and if the healers and my brother can amply prepare in time, we can take action as early as tonight.” Vitali yawned again and shook his head. “I’m all in: you have my cooperation. So let me sleep, and wake me up when you’ve secured permission from all other parties.”
“Ah, you’re right; sorry. Not original enough, huh?” Nia squinted her eyes thoughtfully, as if trying to find the perfect moniker based on Hadwin’s appearance. Sadly, she came up empty. “I’ll have to think of something more unique when my imagination is at full capacity. Promise, next time we meet…” She paused at his offering, but accepted the apple after a beat, holding the fruit delicately in her hands. He was right; it was just an apple. Not a poisoned weapon to incite warfare. “I’ll have something better for you. But--and correct me if I’m wrong,” she paused again to take a bit of the apple. He was right: there really was no comparing fruit that came from the Night Garden. She’d never be satisfied with apples again, now! “I am assuming you didn’t come here to chastise me on my lack of creative nicknames and give me the best damned apple I’ve ever tasted.”
It had not surpassed her consideration that Hadwin might have approached her to discuss surrender; after all, when Locque had made good with the D’Marian settlement following their own surrender, it had certainly sent the message that giving in to the sorceress as opposed to standing in opposition to her was the safest route to peace. But the problem was, the palace and all of its strong-willed denizens wanted to go about this peace, this truce, this ‘surrender’ their own way. And if they thought that ‘their way’ would get the results they wanted… well, then they were in for a rather rude awakening.
Or it seemed, they’d already had it.
Nia chewed the piece of apple thoughtfully and already wanted more by the time she swallowed. If anything, the bite to eat to tide her over until her meal arrived only made her hungrier. “To be honest, she hasn’t said much to me this past week. She’s been busy; I’ve been busy on her behalf. But she did mention her encounter with your Alster Rigas… and I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m gonna need to tell you everything wrong with your magic-snake-boy’s attempt at ‘surrender.”
It took effort to sit up and straighten her posture; she was so tired! Food and then days’ worth of sleep were at the forefront of the Master Alchemist’s mind, but whatever the outcome of this conversation, it deserved her full attention. “Believe it or not, as pissed-off as our dear sorceress was at the antics that your Alster Rigas pulled, she decided it was not worth pursuing him through the ether-realms--because I managed to talk her down. You’re welcome, by the way.” She flashed a grin and tucked a brunette lock behind her ear, lowering her voice just above a whisper. “But then Alster decided that he wanted to find her--by the way, keep the name on a down-low. This place is freaked out enough as it is, and I don’t want to cause my favourite food and drinking joint any undue panic. Anyway, think about this for a moment. She was not present on this plane: she was in hiding. Solitude and a means of not being found. But what did Alster do? He went and found she who wished to remain left alone. I’m sure they had words; she didn’t elaborate. She did mention his surrender, but frankly, she doesn’t really give a rat’s ass about anyone’s surrender aside from the Galeynian Queen’s.
“So, picture this, then. She’s already incensed because she had to spend a good deal of energy and magic dispelling the serpentine hellbeast that Alster drags out of the sky, but then she actually listens to me and slinks away to cool her heals--and then in walks Lord Rigas, who not only touts some half-assed surrender, but his own anger, at that. Think what you want, but your boy confronted an unstable person in an equally unstable dimension; how in the hell did you think that would turn out?”
Nia shook her head and turned her hands palm-up in a ‘what can you do?’ sort of gesture. “Am I saying I agree with how it went down? Of making an even bigger enemy of Alster Rigas? Not at all; in fact, from one messenger to another, I’ve been doing my damndest to broker these surrenders. To make sure the peace really is peace, and y’know, to save on the bloodshed, because in my humble opinion, that is getting old fast. But believe me, there is a reason why I am the go-between. I mean, I think it’s safe to say our sorceress’s social skills have… something to be desired, to say the least. You wanted surrender? Well,” she spread her arms, “you should have gone through me. I know how to talk to her, after all; I can read and tolerate her moods better than anyone else since I’ve spent the better part of the past year in her exalted company. And it’s not like I am really in hiding. Dropping a message to Aristide Canaveris would’ve been all it would have taken for that, or--hell, you know where to find me. I’m rather predictable, aren’t I?” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own vice.
“Look,” she spun around on her stool to fully face him, her brown eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, but nonetheless, alert. “Here’s what I can tell you. Surrender is gonna be in everyone’s best interests, because one way or another, she is going to have the palace, and the throne. It is up to you and yours to decide how much blood she’s gonna spill in her wake. And I can’t even guarantee how different she’ll be when she gets what she wants, but I can tell you this: she’s wanted it for a long, long time. This is her goal, the end of her journey--to have her home back. But her home rejected her in the first place, on top of a bunch of other really bad shit happening, so she had no choice but to take it back by force. If you want my opinion, I think getting what she wants will put out a lot of her more dangerous flames. Hell--she might even be willing to give you your friend back! You know, the tall, foreboding blonde? All stricken from losing her lover or something? That might even be something I can negotiate; no promises, but I can try, and I encourage you to go along with it. Because the alternative?” She paused to take another bite of the apple, growing all the more impatient for her meal. “You all die. Or worse. I don’t know what worse is, but like hell if she isn’t capable of it. Whatever you decide, believe what you want of me, but I don’t take particular pleasure in the idea of your blood fertilizing Galeyn’s soil, or the prospect of any of you being dragged off to some dimension from which you can’t escape, like your Rigas mage. I hope you surrender; I encourage you to, because damn, your other she-warrior did a number on me from our momentary encounter in the woods when your sisters went after you. Just because I can make knives that cut through anything doesn’t mean I want to use them! That fighting shit? It isn’t for me.”
By now, she’d finished the apple, and none too soon: Osric came around with two plates of steaming hot food that looked like it could easily feed two men his size. Nia’s eyes lit up with excitement and relief. “Anyway--I’m not your enemy. I’m not really anyone’s enemy, though I’m sure you and yours will see things differently. Guess I’m also not much of a friend, either. Just like the lot of you, I’m doing what it takes to survive, is all. But seeing as we do have some common goals--you know, that being no more death and all, feel free to drop by for future discussions. If I’m not here, then I’ll be at the D’Marian settlement; and if I’m in neither of those places…” She blew air from between her lips and picked up her fork. “Well, then I’m probably, unfortunately, busy. Let’s hope she doesn’t put me up to any more hefty work anytime soon; I’ve got a week’s worth of eating and sleep to catch up on!”
Once the decision was settled, Tivia and Elespeth immediately set off from Vitali’s chambers to gather the necessary people for the evening’s impromptu death ceremony. Ruling out the Gardeners, as they would surely seek authorization to proceed from Lilica and Chara, they covertly circumnavigated the healer’s quarters and approached Elias and Daphni in transit. On their return from lunch, Tivia and Elespeth intercepted them in the hallway and informed them of the situation.
The Clematis Healer, predictably, stared at the duo as if they had lost their minds. “You want to enlist my skills as an apothecary to effectively poison and kill you, Lady Rigas?” The warrior answered in the affirmative. “To retrieve your husband from the nether-space?” They nodded. “And if I decline your request, you will seek alternative and far less sanctioned methods in which to temporarily die?” The two women looked at each other, looked back at him, and nodded again. “...I shall gladly abet in your murder, Elespeth. Not like you have given me a solid choice in the matter.” He rolled his hazel eyes. “I’d rather you die on my watch than die by negligence or malpractice. However accomplished the necromancer is in his death and anti-death techniques, I will feel safer knowing you are surrounded by expert practitioners in their respectable crafts--for whatever it’s worth.”
Having won Elias’ reluctant cooperation, they moved next to Isidor’s chambers and knocked on his door until he answered. Tivia resolved not to squirm in place as his concerned expression drifted on her for a moment. Swallowing her latent anxieties over addressing the man she hadn’t fully gotten over, she hurriedly delved into their inane plan to awaken Alster from his spirit’s chrysalis state. All it took was dropping Vitali’s name, and the Master Alchemist was immediate in his willingness to help, too mistrustful of his half-brother’s antics to sit aside. “Thank you, Isidor. I know you’re busy, but any aid you can provide will make all the difference. ...As it usually does,” her one eye lingered on him longer than was considered casual. She cleared her throat and dipped her head, settling her mortified gaze downward.
Fortunately, they were out of his vicinity before the awkwardness had time to congeal into a thick, unsavory stew. Given their urgency, superficial follies and past dalliances hadn’t the grounding to blossom into anything substantial, let alone take root. Of that, Tivia was relieved. She needed to focus on her role in transferring Alster’s spirit, a daunting task, considering her connection to the stars was limited to a passive capacity: insightful screeches containing prescient knowledge, and little else.
That evening, long after supper had ended, she, Elespeth, the healers, and the Kristeva siblings gathered in the chambers of the married Rigas couple. Equipped with his medical bag, Elias sat on the vanity beside the bed where Elespeth would rest and set up his collection of bilious purple vials sided against smaller bottles coated in amber-glass, the colors and tints of the substances undecipherable by sight alone. Isidor, assisted by Daphni, took measurements of the warrior’s heart-rate and checked her vital signs. Vitali, by contrast, lounged on a nearby chair and simply waited for when they’d have use of his medium abilities.
When everyone appeared more or less prepared, Tivia laid a cloth over Elespeth’s lap and presented her with a sterilized scalpel--Elias wouldn’t allow them use of a sharp edge unless it met his approval. “Before we begin,” she explained, “I first need to make contact with Alster and Elespeth’s stars. In doing so, the hope is to shift Alster’s spirit to a stable and fixed point in the universe. That way, when Elespeth awakens him, he won’t return to a state of cosmic drifting, else the cycle will repeat itself and he’ll be forced to revert back to the womb-like level of energy preservation to protect his ethereal form from disseminating. With the use of Elespeth’s blood, I’ll connect to the universe, halt his mad descent, and guide him to the celestial body of his namesake.” It sounded so inane when she voiced her plan aloud. Impossible, delusional, the kind that would call her sanity into question. Even worse--no one argued her contribution. Did they actually trust that she would succeed, or were they--rather, Elespeth--so desperate, they were willing to overlook practicality in favor of results?
After handing Elespeth the scalpel, Tivia hugged her arms over her chest, pretending to combat a chill in the room. In actuality, her shivers were attributed to the terror of failure. Can I do this? If I couldn’t, then the stars would never have presented the idea. I must trust in them. There is nothing else, no one else, in whom I’m able to entrust my destiny. Not Vitali. Not...Isidor.
Once Elespeth nicked her hand and the blood pooled across her palm, an incision parallel to her blood oath scar, Tivia reached out and held it tightly in her grasp. Standing tall over the bed, the star-seer shuddered her one eye to a close, and concentrated on emptying her vessel, on making herself scarce, so as to house the twin stars woven in Alster and Elespeth’s birthright.
As she lessened, the gas giants greatened their presence. Her hands warmed, radiating a soft, blue hue. A high-pitched hum traveled between her ears. The stars recognized Elespeth. Through her bloodstream, the channels of her magic, the cells that comprised her heart, the stars recognized Alster and located him, adrift in space-time, sailing through dimension after dimension in speeds too fast to quantify. Together, the twin stars guided his spirit through an approaching rift, a glittering graveyard of stars, with carcasses scarring the vast void in stained remains of red, purple, and green. Through the rift, his spirit tunneled, folding through layers upon layers of worlds and multiverses as though they were thin sheaves of parchment.
The humming between Tivia’s ears intensified.
Alster’s essence emerged on the other side of the rift, floating now before two searing eyes of unfathomable girth. The sheer gravity of the two celestial giants chained Alster’s tumbling spirit into a complete standstill, holding him in place and anchoring him, as Elespeth surely anchored him on earth.
Down on the earthly plane, Tivia’s one eye winked open, its entirety, from the iris to the sclera, filled with the same quality of searing blue starlight. “It is done,” she said, in an alien tone that carried two disparate voices in one. Twin claps of thunder battered at her ears. She bounced on her heels from the reaction, releasing Elespeth’s hand. Blood and thick streams of white pus gushed out the sides of her head. Elias stood from his seat in alarm as Tivia, eye rolling back in her skull, collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood and bodily fluids.
“Not that I like to put all my eggs in one basket, here, but,” Hadwin blew a stream of smoke out of his pipe, “well, I’m here to offer perspective for the folks I’m rooting for, just the same as you’re doing, surely. Of course, I’m invested in your side, too, seeing as my sisters are running amok in your employer’s favor and I’m not callous enough to be unaffected if something happens to them. Nonetheless, you’ll excuse my bias when I say this.” He swished around his refilled tankard of ale, as of yet untouched. “At the time of Al’s otherworldly conversations of surrender, you didn’t exist as an established go-between. You had one meeting with Lord Fancypants and that was that. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but to be an official liaison, there’s gotta be some degree of reliability. Reliability, I emphasize...not predicability. There’s a difference between finding you at Osric’s, inhaling a plate of food, and seeing you on the circuit as you actively make yourself known to the bigwigs of the palace--which, with your skills, you could do easily without risking capture. What you do is your prerogative and all, but you can’t cast all the blame on Serpent Lord for his methods of communicating surrender when there were no other methods available, and he was stuck in the ether-realms, anyway, where it made more sense to reach the woman literally hiding in the dark. So he went and visited the person who, no two ways about it, needs to answer for herself if she wants the goods.”
In one hand, he took a gulp of ale; in the other, he puffed on his pipe. Not at the same time but the intervals spanned so close together, that the illusion of simultaneousness looked convincing. “This is speculative on my part, but I think he chose to surrender to your lady as a test to see if she’d accept. As I’ve said, surrender comes in stages. At least, in this game, it does. The D’Marian village was stage one. Alster Rigas--stage two. Only then can you access stage three: the real prize. You can’t expect the queen’s surrender just cuz you want it real bad, or feel entitled to it; not without first entertaining a certain hierarchy of behaviors--and he was one of them. So she failed to comply, and that could set surrender back a bit. Cuz she decided to be--what was that?” He cupped a hand to his ear. “The word you used? ‘Unstable’? So you admit it--your lady’s unstable. That’s not a good look. Believe me,” he chuckled, enjoying a private joke at his expense. “Instability far outclasses anger on a spectrum. Sure, maybe Lord Rigas went about things the wrong way; he’s a little too idealistic and passionate at times and it gets in the way of common sense, but it looks like he went about it under the assumption that your lady is a rational, logical, thinking creature and would accept his proposal just to keep the peace. The fact that she flung him into space because he disturbed her ‘me time’ and got a little short with her proves otherwise. And that’s why we’re all sitting in the palace, sniffing our noses. If she’d treat a potential ally like a rag-doll, then what the hell are we gaining by surrendering? Her ‘mercy’? You’re telling me she won’t all kill us dead or worse after she’s got command of the throne? Hells, it’ll be easier for her to do! Not to mention, I’m a sitting duck,” he bit down on the stem of his pipe, curling his mouth into a grimace. “My sisters are gonna bargain for my death. On a personal level, it ain’t in my best interests to join in on this surrender.”
“So now that it’s noted and confirmed to come to you on all matters involving our unstable pocket full of sunshine, let’s set it in stone, shall we?” Rummaging through his satchel, he plunked two nondescript black pond stones on the counter. “Al created these resonance stones a while back. Said he learned how to make ‘em from the Canaveris mages, believe it or not. ‘Least he picked up some pretty stones while they were raking him across the coals. So...in case you’re ‘busy’ and can’t do your go-between duties,” he pointed to the twin rocks, “no problem, cuz you can just tell the recipient of the companion stone what’s up. Convenient, yeah? Heaven’s forbid anyone else makes the mistake of talking to your lady out of turn. Now, all communication falls upon you. Congratulations!” He spoke into one of the stones. The companion stone echoed his sentiments in a tinny, but nonetheless audible, garble. “Yikes,” he cringed. “That’s what I sound like? Fuck, take this away from me.” He pushed the stone to her whilst he pocketed its twin. “Anyway, now that you’ve got a promotion, she’d better be giving you a raise for all your hard work. I bet you’re doing way more than my layabout sisters are. Well,” he second-guessed his observation, “Bron ain’t lazy, but she’s also talentless, so I can’t envision her as being too useful. Poor sod. Eh, if she gets me in the end, I’m sure that’ll make her feel accomplished, me being the reason for all her current woes and whatnot.”
Shrugging away his flippant aside on the sisters who despised him, Hadwin reared back his head and finished his second ale in one swig. “I’ll tell you what, Nia. If you can negotiate the return of Siggy, back to normal and not enthralled, you might have yourself a deal. You can keep the sword and everything, too! No one wants her to have it, anyway. Dangerous toy--and I know you agree, cuz that’s why you lot fucking unearthed it in the first place.”
As the food arrived, Hadwin paused to allow the famished Master Alchemist to gorge her share. In the meantime, he smoked his pipe until empty, ordered a third ale, and dined on the one plate of salmon he ordered for himself. Contrary to his status as a ‘wolf,’ a creature synonymous with hunger, he never presented as hungry or particularly food-motivated. But he was always thirsty. Thirsty for something. Drunk for something. That said, the salmon tasted delicious, and he swallowed every bite.
“Ah, well I’m all done here.” He pushed away his plate to illustrate. Packing up his pipe, he turned to Nia on the stool, who had nearly finished her mountain of grub, despite their dining at around the same time. “At it, as always. Well, I’ll leave you to it. But just remember,” he stood up, and met her gaze with probing golden eyes, “I’m in for the survival, too. Maybe not at first, but I’ve got a lot to live for and plenty to make right. I’m also a gambler. I wouldn’t pick a losing side if I thought we never stood a chance--however slim the odds. Keep that in mind, whenever the protection you’ve got fails you, and you’re on your own again,” his tongue slid out a slither of a whisper, “Ardane of Ilandria.”
Isidor was used to being bothered at all hours of the day, for one reason or another. It came as no surprise when a knock sounded at his door later that evening, after most of the palace had supped; what took him off guard was opening the door to find not only Elespeth, but… Tivia. Why are you here? He wanted to demand, but alas, found himself at a loss for words, as usual. Why do you have to keep showing up when you know how difficult it is for me…
It wasn’t necessary to ask any questions, however, since Elespeth dove right away into an explanation for their sudden arrival. “Isidor, we are going to find Alster. We are going to bring him back.” She announced immediately; he couldn’t have gotten a word in, even if he wanted to. “But in order to do that… we are going to need your help.”
“Elespeth, as much as I would like to be of assistance, I am not sure that alchemy, or even Master alchemy, can bring Alster back,” he informed her sadly with a shake of his head. “If it could, I promise I would have already offered my help.”
“All I need you to do is to keep an eye on me and my vital signs.” The former knight went on. “In order to find Alster… well, it is necessary that I die. Not for long, though, and that’s why I’ll need your help--to make sure I don’t remain dead. Vitali… he has agreed to help as well, but frankly,” she twisted her mouth into a grimace, “I would feel far more reassured if you were there to keep an eye on him.”
As predicted, dropping the necromancer’s name was all that was required to have Isidor on board. “You’re trusting Vitali to… to what? To bring you back? To ensure you don’t remain permanently dead?” Of course, he sounded incredulous. But Isidor was likely the last person to trust anyone’s life with his brother, even if the man was capable of preventing death, as well as drawing spirits back from the dead. “...I’ll be there. Just because I assisted Alster in creating that amulet that allows him to tread the hallowed soil surrounding the Night Garden doesn’t mean I don’t still believe he isn’t up to something he isn't telling us. The man always has an ulterior motive, Elespeth, whether or not we want to believe it. I’ll keep an eye on him and see that he comes through on his promise.”
With the Master Alchemist’s cooperation, along with that of the Clematis and the Sybaian healer, they all planned to meet later that evening in Elespeth and Alster’s bedchamber. Performing this feat within the palace ensured they were far enough away from the Night Garden to ensure that the ex-Atvanian would, in fact, die, but also that it was close enough in case they encountered an emergency and needed to rush her to the sanctuary. No one had been informed about this except for those present for this procedure; if anything went wrong, then it was on them, and them alone, to rectify the situation. The healers, along with Isidor, had already expressed their concern for the fact that no one else knew what was about to take place, but being well acquainted with Elespeth Rigas’s obstinacy, everyone knew that with or without their help--this was happening.
Elespeth accepted the sterile knife that Tivia brought to her, and listened intently to the way the star seer foresaw this unfolding. For someone new to magic, and who still didn’t fully understand how to grasp it, it all made sense to her in an abstract way… but the majority of her own willingness to put her life on the line (quite literally) stemmed from sheer desperation. She trusted Tivia; and she had no choice but to trust Vitali. She would give out her hard-earned trust like smiles and compliments if it meant even a slim chance of getting Alster back. “This is going to work.” She heard herself say aloud as she stared at the small sharp object. She wasn’t sure if it was meant to convince herself or the others. Pressing her lips together, she drew the steel across her palm. Blood welled to the surface of the three-inch gash. “Let’s find Alster… let’s bring him back.”
No one but Tivia herself could possibly have understood what transpired next. It was not the first time any of them had seen the star seer fall into a trance, but this was not her typical passive reception of whatever the stars whispered in her ear. She was taking charge of her unique and valuable skillset, and using it to her advantage--to their advantage. Elespeth expected that there might be consequences… but none of them were prepared for the star seer to collapse on the floor in a frighteningly questionable condition.
“Tivia…!” Isidor, predictably, was the first to react. The Master Alchemist pushed himself away from where he stood like little more than a tall, dark decal against the door, and rushed to the fallen Rigas woman’s side, where Daphni and Elias joined him soon after. “It’s her… ears. Something has ruptured…” With incredulous eyes, he looked around the room, and ultimately settled on Daphni, who also seemed to understand his urgency and intuited what he was about to say. “She needs to be taken to the sanctuary. Elespeth…” It was painful to turn to Alster’s wife with such a look of shame and apology. He had just promised her he would be part of this… to keep an eye on things in case a certain necromancer did to swing things his way at their expense, for some untold agenda. “I know I promised to be here--to help…”
“It’s fine, Isidor. You’re right--you and Daphni should take Tivia to the sanctuary, have the Gardeners help her.” The former knight didn’t so much as blink. “I’ll be fine. I have a healer and a necromancer… whatever happens, I will be waking up again. You have my word.”
“So long as your necromancer keeps his word,” Isidor hissed as he and Daphni helped Tivia to her feet. Her balance had been thrown off so terribly by damage to her inner ears that she couldn’t stand upright on her own. “Vitali… you owe it to me--and you owe it to Alster to see this through.”
When they were three-people shorter, Elespeth put the knife aside and sat back on her bed, expelling all of her nerves in a breath. “Tivia stabilized Alster’s spirit… but I don’t know how long it will remain that way before we lose our opportunity. Let’s do this now.”
“So whatever danger you’ve got in that vital I trust will kill her quickly?” Vitali piped up from the corner, as Elias produced a vial from his pocket. He didn’t need to see in order to feel the Clematis healer’s glare on him. “Look, you’re a medical man. You know well enough she’s got no more than three minutes of complete cardiac arrest before there’s no guarantee she’ll even be herself when we bring her back. She needs to die fast to get back fast, so that antidote had better kick in just as quickly. Full disclosure, Elespeth,” he turned to the Rigas lady. “Keep that knife nearby. Because if our Clematis healer’s antidote doesn’t kick in quickly enough, you’re going to have to bear the same scar on your chest as our Eyraillian prince if I’m required to bind your soul to your body. Just so we’re clear.”
“We’re clear, Vitali.” Elespeth was doing a poor job at hiding her impatience. “Dead for three minutes, then I’m coming back. This is going to work; it has to. Elias.” She held out her arm, her shirt sleeve rolled up to her shoulder to allow him to inject the lethal substance that would stop her heart, and closed her eyes. “Like I already said--let’s do this.”
She couldn’t begin to describe what it felt like to die, because it was all over so fast. One moment, she was so heavily aware of the racing of her heart and the chill in the room, and the next, she felt… nothing. It was dark. Elespeth was floating, but she couldn’t see or detect her body: no arms, no legs, just… nothingness. And there was nothing frightening about it: on the contrary, it was… relaxing. Just floating, with no weight, no worries, carried on some invisible current… she almost gave in to the peace if it weren’t for a spark of consciousness that reminded her of why she was floating on this current, at all; a familiar tug of something creeping up from the back of her mind…
...find… need to find… who? To find… him. Alster… Alster! I need to find Alster!
She wanted to call out his name, but in this current state, she had no voice; or at least, she could not navigate the essence of herself efficiently enough to understand how to project it. But that didn’t matter, because she didn’t need to call to him--somehow, inherently, she already knew where he was.
They were bound, connected, one and the same in this ephemeral form. Her heart might not have been beating anymore--but it was still there. Still a part of him, as he was a part of her. So Elespeth waded through the darkness, playing an entirely one-sided game of hot and cold, drifting to where she felt him more strongly. It was as though the closer she got, the more easily she could traverse this nothingness, the more control she had… until she was there. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, could touch him, but she could feel it the second she reunited with Alster. Alster… it’s me. It’s Elespeth. You need to come home… It was the closest to shouting she could get; and if nothing else, she hoped she was at the very least emitting enough of a signal to catch his attention. To wake him up. You need… you need to come back to me!
“No; you got me there. That’s a fair take. To be honest, this whole go-between thing was my idea, and is fairly new.” Nia agreed, with no reason to dissent or lie; it wasn’t as though she had anything to gain by not being honest with the man who was making himself the envoy on the palace’s side. “So I guess it wasn’t all that obvious at the time; but it was still a pretty dumb move on your Rigas boy’s part. He wanted to test the sorceress? Like… how many ways can it be said that that is one hell of a bad idea? Hell, even if this wasn’t her we were talking about, you don’t spring a surprise game on someone expecting them to know the rules when they don’t even know they’re playing. So your many stages of ‘surrender’, or whatever you want to call it, wasn’t exactly transparent to begin with. I’m not saying that the witch was right to blast Rigas into oblivion, or whatever it was she did, but… well, is it not fair to say she can’t be expected to subscribe to the rules of a game she wasn’t aware she was playing?”
Nia took another shaky sip of water, feeling more and more refreshed and awake, the more she put into her exhausted body. “Yeah, I’ll call a spade, a spade. She’s unstable--at the moment, at least. But then, I don’t think anyone had ever really accomplished a successful take-over without walking the edge of sanity a little bit. And, like I said; who knows what the future holds for her? Seems to me what’s driving her crazy is not having her home back. She managed to keep her head on her shoulders long enough to come good on her agreement to the D’Marian settlement. Wasn’t that the test? She promised protection, and they got it. But as far as you’re concerned…” She blew air from between her lips and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, my semi-canine friend; or not friend. Whatever. Your sisters seem to have their own agenda a lot of the time. I’m frankly surprised that my ‘employer’, as you put it, has managed to keep them in line for as long as she has. Your relationship with the other wolves is your own war; I don’t think our sorceress is quite concerned with it either way. But you seem like the surviving type, to me. So if your lack of surrender is solely based on concern for what your sisters might do to you… well. There are worse ways to die, you know. Just some food for thought.”
The Master Alchemist tensed her muscles, and prepared herself for danger, when she watched Hadwin reach into his satchel, only to find that him pull out what looked like an ordinary stone. Except they weren’t so ordinary; not after some tampering, at least. “Well, now. This is certainly handy.” Nia accepted the stone, which felt heavier than it should in her palm. She couldn’t wait to get her strength, back; this was quite pathetic. “Growing up, my parents had the odd enchanted object here and there to communicate with important liaisons all over the place. Never had one myself, though. Thanks for the handy gadget.” She tucked the stone away in a pocket sewn into the inside of her winter cloak. “Sadly, my role as a messenger--and mediator, as it seems--has little to do with promotion and more to do with me trying to find an excuse to just get out, more. I’m sure you’re already aware, but I grow bored, easily. Frankly, if I hadn’t managed to convince our hidden friend with otherworldly powers to broker a deal with the D’Marian settlement, I’d probably be losing my mind. Your sisters are absolute shit for company; so is your blonde she-warrior. And on that note: you’ve got it. My promise, to talk my ‘lady’ into giving that terrifying woman back to you lot… provided you do the sensible thing and surrender. I mean, it’s the damn sword she cares about, not so much its wielder. Sound good? I seem to have a way with talking sense into her. Shouldn’t be an impossible feat. Now, I hate to be a conversation buzzkill...” She hungrily eyed the food as it was placed before her, “but I am fucking starving, and I can be a real bitch when my stomach is left empty for this long. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be more pleasant.”
Despite having easily three times more food than what her fellow messenger had ordered, Nia was nearly finished by the time he had taken his last bite. And, finally feeling hydrate and sufficiently sated, and with a much clearer head, her mood had already improved significantly. “Hey, don’t judge; it’s been a damned week, okay? I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” she commented without really feeling offended at all. But when she glanced in his direction again, something more intense glimmered in his golden eyes. Had he been saving his bite for his departure all this time? “Well, if you’re in it to win it, hunny, then you might just want to jump ship altogether. Galeyn had already lost, and while I’d love to say there’s plenty of room on ‘my’ side of things… something tells me your company would only upset your sisters and cause a hell of a lot of trouble. But hey--all power to you. I’ll root for a fellow survivor!”
Or, she would have, were it not for that last comment. Nia’s smile faded, and she put down her fork, looking away from the person she hadn’t thought was ‘all that bad’. “I stand by what I said: I’ll root for a fellow survivor--provided that survivor doesn’t stand in my way, and make an enemy of me. I don’t care that you know my heritage: not like anyone in Galeyn knows what that means, except for perhaps your own Master Alchemist cooped up in the palace. But if we want to keep this relatively amicable--then you’ll want to keep your subdued threats to yourself. Wolf.”
“The ‘game’ we speak of is called life,” Hadwin, in his clarification, said, as if it were most obvious observation in the world. “Doesn’t matter if it was some ‘test’ or not. In fact, aren’t we all being tested by someone else? Tested for loyalty, tested for honesty, tested as a potential friend, ally, or enemy? So, test or not, it was really that your lady failed at being a human...human-like thing,” he amended, “capable of making decisions that don’t involve banishing someone she disagrees with from her sight. I mean, when I really disagree with someone, I punch ‘em in the face, but I’m also not vying to be the next monarch, and my methods don’t include a fate worse than death. So did your lady overreact? Fuck yeah, she did. Al’s idiocy is a moot point. He came to her with his hands down. It’s undeniable that she’s in the wrong, here. And it’s a taste of what’s to come, under her rule. You’ll say she’ll calm the fuck down once she gets what she wants? So like a child who’s given their favorite toy to keep them from screeching their heads off, yeah? Great to know we’re getting a tantrum-prone tot to sit on the Galeynian throne.” He broke into a faux-relieved grin and seized his heart with his hand. “I feel a lot safer, already!” Lowering his hand to the countertop, he drew little whorls and designs in the ring stains caused by his tankard of ale. But his little water-art side project didn’t last for long before the food arrived, and a moratorium on all communications was established, temporarily. What ensued was a brief interlude of silence, considering the Master Alchemist’s propensity to shovel her food into her gaping maw like a snake that could unhinge its jaw and swallow a deer whole. After she and he finished, he rose from his stool, sprinkled coin on the counter, and said his bit, which, predictably, rankled the Ilandrian fugitive something fierce.
“‘Course you’d see it as a threat.” In response, he smiled ‘amicably’ and showed his empty hands. “Just spilling fears, mate. It’s what I do. Like a fucking facial tic or something. Call it a personal character flaw. What’s more, it ain’t a threat to tell you what I think--and what I know. I wouldn’t threaten someone I like, and I like you. Fuck, you’d know it if I didn’t. I’m far from subtle. Besides, I’ve got no reason to make you an enemy. No. Consider this more an unsolicited service from a concerned party. ‘Brotherly’ words of wisdom or some shit. Don’t trust anyone as far as you can throw them. That includes me.” He ticked off his fingers. “That includes the palace. That includes my sisters, and that includes your employer. Hells, if you piss her off, she’s liable to throw you so far into the nether, you’ll relive your damned infancy. If she’s only got her sights on the throne, you really think she cares a rat’s ass about you as a person? Psh. We all know the story. Unstable people in pursuit of power and driven by revenge...you think that shit has a happy ending for all? Protect yourself, foremost. And your interests. For when the worst happens. From one wanted person to another.” Readjusting the straps of his satchel, he turned to leave. “Let’s arrange for some good ol’ chit-chat next time, hmm? Ideally, about something that’s not all doom and gloom. Folks at the palace are too high-strung to shoot the shit, and I take it that if we surrender, your lady won’t be too hot on party-games and the like. Pity she’s not the ‘fun,’ unstable type. I could get behind that.” He flicked two fingers across his forehead in a salute. “We’ll keep in touch about that whole surrender thing. Adh mor ort!” The “wolf” flew threw the doors of Osric’s pub, leaving in a noisy clatter so reminiscent of his style.
Garbled sounds approached her. Temporarily blinded by the starlight burning dark, blotchy motes across her eye, Tivia could barely acknowledge the shadowy figures who crept to her level, but reacted to their touch, shivering from the chills they transferred upon her feverish skin. They plucked her from the ground, jostling and jerking her wilting form in movements so jarring, she felt the spirit evacuate from her mind, independent of star interference. A moan of discomfort escaped her lips, but it lost itself in the low waterfall roar rumbling against her ears. The shadow figures did not listen. They forced her forward and she was falling in circles. They propped her on surfaces and she slid up the walls, hovering upside down. Her feet dragged against the ceiling. The floor? Did physical constructs exist in her current reality? Had she fallen through a rift in Alster’s place, sentenced to tumble through spatial lingo for eternity?
Her only means of determining her planar status was through her sense of touch. Her sense of smell. She remained corporeal. The world about her responded to touch. It was solid, salient, rife with scents and the changes of air pressure on her sweat-soaked skin. The shadow figures glided on either side of her, emanating subtle odors that put her at ease. She especially favored the one on the right, who reminded her of freshly-turned book pages, tilled earth, and bedsheets. Lilies in spring-bloom. Comfort. One arm held fast to the shadow, afraid it would dissolve into ghost wisps and disappear if she didn’t capture and seize it in her grip. Don’t go. Don’t go. She spoke the words aloud. She didn’t speak the words aloud. ...She didn’t know. The waterfalls in her ears had drained dry, the roars subsiding. Deficient of direction, she clung to the only compass in her area...trusting it would bear her home. To a place that made sense. To quietude. Peace. The shadow was a welcome darkness--the antithesis to star matter and its unrelenting, incandescent noise. She sank into its black hole and closed her eye, contented by the familiar void. It was so wonderfully silent!
Don’t go. Don’t go…
After Daphni and Isidor departed, carrying a disoriented Tivia Rigas with them, only two individuals were tasked with seeing Elespeth’s death operation to its successful conclusion. Elias, filling the bilious purple concoction into a small syringe, wasted no time in resuming the steps to the procedure, despite Vitali’s questioning of his credentials. “Yes, it will kill her quickly,” came his perturbed reply. He tapped the body of the syringe to check if the deadly substance hadn’t trapped pockets of bubbles from inside. “As the Order’s go-to poisoner, I’ve a reputation to uphold. I’ve killed the ones I couldn’t save, and killed the ones who could not reconcile a lifetime of pain. To ensure their swift departure, not only is this poison fast-acting, but it is effectively painless. I may not have eliminated their ails, but I will have at least eased them into death. And I always have an antidote on standby. Do not insult me again, necromancer.” He strode past Vitali, syringe in hand. “It won’t hurt.” He knelt at Elespeth’s bedside and slid the needle into her arm. “This much I promise you.”
The moment the foreign substance entered the warrior’s bloodstream, its effects were instantaneous. Her heart, seconds before pumping at an elevated, but nonetheless healthy rate, stalled, skipped, and, not one minute later, stilled. No longer carrying a pulse, she was classified as clinically dead.
While Elespeth Rigas expired on the bed and, with the necromancer’s help, launched her spirit through the ether realms in search of her husband, Alster Rigas barely existed in a nebulous coma of emptiness. One could argue that he did not exist at all, not by the definition the land of the living prescribed as “alive” or “present.” Having sloughed off his outer skin, he originally wandered the universe as a vibrant ball of light and energy. After his encounter with Locque, the light had been extinguished, and the remnants of energy pulsed at a sluggish beat, equating to an animal trapped and preserved in ice. His frequency dropped down to an atomic level, sinking in the spaces between spaces. Nothing but mere particles. Alster Rigas the entity had compartmentalized itself into so diminished an element that he subsisted as a mere concept, dead to everyone and everything but for the connections left behind on the earthly plane--his home. Threads of fate, built upon unyielding trust, love, and magic, comprised his core self, down to the last crumb of matter; they were impossible to sever. And they were what the once conscious Alster Rigas was banking on to save him from his cosmic hibernation. Elespeth’s soul housed components of his essence. So long as she and it remained in tact, he would never fade. They would never fade.
The threads of fate vibrated like lute strings, producing a frequency able to penetrate the disseminated presence of Alster Rigas. The message transmitted through space, weaving into language, into sensation, into emotional resonance.
Alster...A reaction.
It’s me, Elespeth. A jolt.
You need to come home. Come back to me…
Come back to me…
The threads of fate sang their lament. She sang her lament. Unbidden, a response twanged from the debris field that contained the scattered building blocks of Alster’s ephemeral spirit.
El...es...peth.
The ravaged field, stimulated into activity, magnetized into formations, slowly reconstituting the lost form of Alster Rigas. The threads continued to twang noisily. Clumsily.
El...es...peth.
His spirit achieved wholeness. His mind reawakened. Memories flooded to the fore, refreshing and refilling the cup that had been upended and empty for vast reaches of time. Next, thought bubbled to the brim, providing the means to understand the context. As he reformed, remembered, reconstructed, and resurrected, he asked questions of himself. Who am I? Alster Rigas. Who is she? Elespeth Rigas. Where are we?
The memories caught up to him. The D’Marian village. Summoning the Serpent. Disappearing into the ether-realms. Confronting Locque. Surrendering.
Spinning ceaselessly out of control.
His spirit gasped fully awake, as though it had escaped from the dregs of the ocean.
“Elespeth.” He sought the pulse that didn’t take a form. When he made contact with her, her facsimile appeared, a translation of her corporeal counterpart in an ethereal state. He manifested in kind, according to his latest recollections: a short-statured boyish figure possessing a steel arm. He threw her into a tight embrace. “You...you found me. I knew you would find me. But how--?”
She went on to explain that Tivia had stabilized his spirit from its mad tumble through space-time, that she was dead, and that the necromancer was tasked with reeling her soul into her body at any moment. As he withdrew, alarm colored his aura a deep, burgundy red. “Go, Elespeth. Go now. You’ve done what you’ve set out to do. I’m awake--I’m whole, thanks to you and Tivia. I know where I am. I can find my way back.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. “Let me help you home.” A milky trail of stars formulated from Alster’s hands, taking a serpentine path to a distant, blinking spot among the multitudinous blinking spots of its infinite neighbors. “Follow the path. The necromancer should be able to do the rest.” He reserved a gentle, hopeful smile. “I’ll see you soon, El.” With a firm but tender push, Alster vaulted her into the highway of stars...and she was gone.
Meanwhile, in the bedchambers of Galeyn’s palace, Elias administered the antidote and generated a few well-placed shocks of magic to restart Elespeth’s heart. Fortunately, by minute three, the warrior’s unresponsive organ responded with a weak flutter, followed by a series of other weak flutters. Encouraging bloodflow from the veins to the heart, Elias conducted circuits of healing magic from his hands to expedite the body’s receptiveness to the treatment. Through careful monitoring, electric currents, and blood manipulation, Elespeth was declared alive. Weak, but alive. And absolutely no necromantic interference was necessary.
“Are you able to gauge if she succeeded in her fool’s errand or not?” Elias, a fixture at his patient’s bedside, refused to move or take his eye off the unconscious woman until he could determine her stability. “Otherwise, this entire venture will have been pointless and I will not entertain a secondary trip. Be that as it may...we need to transfer her to the sanctuary for recovery and convalescence. Pray that this quest did not agitate her heart when she is already prone to cardiovascular diseases.” He lifted his head to address the necromancer, however pointless it was to establish eye contact with a blindfolded man. “Whilst I keep her vitals stable, go and have your Forbanne companions fetch the Gardeners for a transfer to the sanctuary. It is nigh time that they, and the queen, find out about this unsanctioned little episode.”
She could feel his essence; she knew it was him, but she didn’t actually see him until he successfully awakened. Like a flower unfolding its petals in the sunlight, Alster materialized before her, and with his spirit form visible to her, so, too, was she able to get a grip on her own form, and feel like something other than floating, other-worldly darkness. She wasn’t sure if she could shed tears in this state, in this realm, but she felt the urge to. “...Alster”. Elespeth found her voice. She reached out to touch him with hands that she could finally see she could feel him. Like he was actually there, in corporeal form. “Alster… I don’t have a lot of time. I can’t walk other planes the way you can, at will. To get here, I had… I had to die. Temporarily--Elias and Vitali are there to revive me in just a moment. It was the only way I could reach you… to awaken you.”
Elespeth knew she only had moments--or by now, less than a moment, but she wanted it to last. She didn’t want to leave him when it felt like so long since she had seen him. “Where will I find you? And when?” She breathed, clinging tightly to his arms, reluctant to let him go. “How will I know this worked? Alster--”
She didn’t have the opportunity to finish her sentence. With a light push, Alster expelled her from his space, and once again, she went flying through nothingness, through blackness… when all she wanted was to make her way back to him. What if it didn’t work? What if he still couldn’t find his way back to her, or to his body, wherever it might be? There was too much left unknown, she wanted to have been sure that this venture actually worked…!
But it was too late, and there was no going back. Before she knew what was happening, the former knight gasped awake and opened her eyes to a whole other dimension--that of the living, and the only one with which she was familiar. About ten minutes after her heart had begun to beat again, her blood circulated in her veins once more, her whole body shook, and she struggled to sit up, requiring the help of both the Clematis healer and the necromancer who were, to their credit, nearby. Her chest was tight, it felt difficult to breathe, but not impossible… Would this set her back? Considering the heart condition that had nearly taken her life?
“...find… we need to find… him.” She gasped, remembering what it felt like to talk. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and her vision, blurry. “Alster… I saw him… I felt him…”
“Does that answer your question, flower healer?” Vitali snidely remarked with a smug grin. “Seems like this fool’s errand was successful, after all. You, there.” He nodded at the Forbanne guards who stood at the door. “You heard the man. One of you go and retrieve the Gardeners. And when you’ve done that, go and inform ‘Her Majesty’ of the current state of affairs. No doubt, she’ll be downright thrilled to find out that Elespeth literally killed herself to bring Alster back.”
The Forbanne guards exchanged a look, and wordlessly, one of them left to perform the errands. But Elespeth, who was already trying to stand on her own, clearly had other plans. “You know, it is generally not recommended to exert your body in any way when you come back from the dead.” The necromancer informed her, and with the help of the Clematis healer, had no difficulty keeping her at bay. The former knight was weak; she couldn’t possibly have fought them off. “You’ll do more damage than good if you try to go full out, so soon. Listen to the healers and the Gardeners, of course, but if you want my expertise, you’ll stay off your feet for a few days, at the very least.”
Fortunately, no one found any further resistance from the usually very stubborn warrior. Moments later, the Forbanne guard returned with Gardeners who had prepared a stretcher to transport Elespeth to a carriage, which would then expedite her to the Night Garden to facilitate and hasten her healing. Elias accompanied them, leaving Vitali with the task of delivering the news of what had transpired to his sister.
Which, it went without saying, was possibly one of the last things he wanted to do--but Clematis had argued something along the lines of it being more important for him to continue to monitor the Rigas woman since necromancy was now a null and void point, considering she was alive. “Alster Rigas,” the necromancer breathed irately through his nose as he made his way, Forbanne guards in tow, toward Lilica’s chambers. At this hour, she was likely asleep, or settling down to it… and this had a real chance getting really ugly. “Consider my debt to you repaid.”
Under the cover of darkness, and at the accelerated speed of the Night Steeds, Elespeth arrived at the sanctuary in record time, and was carefully carried in by the Gardeners. Elias hadn’t had his eyes off of her for even a second, in case some setback threw her back into cardiac arrest, and before she could open her mouth to assure everyone that she could make it inside on her own, the Gardeners were already carrying her weak form and placing her on one of the empty cots--the one next to Tivia, it turned out. The small sanctuary was soon congested with the amount of people caring for the two afflicted patients. Both Daphni and Isidor still remained at Tivia’s side, concerned for her disorientation and the extent of damage to her ears. Both looked up with a mixture of concern and relief when Elespeth occupied the bed next to the star seer.
“Was it successful?” Daphni asked Elias, who still kept a pulse on the Rigas woman, who, while alive, appeared very, very weak. “I mean… obviously, she has survived, but what of Alster…?”
“...he must be found.” Why was it so strenuous to merely form words? That single breath upon which she uttered those four words left her winded for almost a full minute after. “I saw him… he is awake. He will return. He must…” Again, the breath dissipated from her lungs, and she couldn’t go on.
“Take it easy, Elespeth. Don’t put any unnecessary strain on your body; you’ve been through a lot.” Daphni rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “And that is not an exaggeration. I think Elias will agree when I say it would be best for you to sustain bed rest for the next few days. Not only because you were clinically… well, deceased, but for the manner by which that happened. Even if Elias administered an antidote, it would be best for you to let your body acclimatize again, and continue to purge the remnants of the poison.”
If she’d had the strength and the energy, Elespeth would have groaned. How long had she spent in this place, in the past year? And all of the convalescence following what Isidor had done to help heal her heart… She couldn’t get rid of this place! “...seriously?” Was the only rebuttal she was capable of voicing in her weakened condition, as the Gardeners draped a woolen blanket over her prostrate form to maintain a passable body temperature. “Daphni… regardless of me, find… Alster. Please…”
“Rest assured, Elespeth Rigas, we will keep an eye open for your husband… though this whole situation and how you sought to bring him back baffles me.” Senyiah spoke up, unable to mask the fact that she was slightly annoyed by the fact whatever they’d done had landed two people in the sanctuary in the same night. “As for our other patient… it is difficult to make a prognosis with regard to the star seer, at this time.” The Head Gardener turned to the two healers, sparing a single glance over her shoulder at Tivia. The Master Alchemist, who stood with a worried countenance at the foot of her bed, hadn’t left her side since she had arrived, alive but only moderately responsive. “We’ve confirmed that both of her eardrums have ruptured; I am not sure that there is much she can hear at this point in time. Fortunately, such conditions are known to often have favourable recoveries in terms of loss of hearing being only temporary, but… well, frankly, I am unfamiliar with star-inflicted injuries. We will keep an eye on her, but there is little else we can do…”
As if the sanctuary hadn’t become crowded enough, the sudden sound of hoofbeats and the arrival of three new unwelcome patrons in the small, cramped space was inevitable. Queen Lilica threw the door open, followed by none other than Chara, and the shadow of Vitali, who looked less than pleased to have been taxed with the errand. “What in all the hells were you thinking?” The Galeynian Queen demanded. By the sleeplessness of her red-rimmed eyes, it was fair to assume her outburst was due mostly in part to stress and exhaustion, and less to what had actually taken place to land the star seer and the ex-knight in the sanctuary. “And why am I hearing about this after the fact, from my brother, who was involved?”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must ask anyone who is not a Gardener or a healer to surrender this space to those who are capable of tending to these patients.” Senyiah all but snapped, having long since lost her patience the moment a newly-revived Elespeth was brought into her care, once again.
“Then they can leave--but I must have words with Elespeth.”
“Neither of our patients is either conscious nor strong enough to sustain a conversation with you at this time, Queen Lilica.” It was all the Head Gardener could do not to raise her voice. “If you please…”
Fortunately, Lilica was not an unreasonable monarch, and more often than not yielded to Senyiah in such cases. There likely wasn’t another person who could have spoken to her in that tone, given her mood, and gotten away with it. “Fine. Then the rest of you will have words with me--you included, Isidor. What happened to Tivia does not exempt you from having been involved.”
The Master Alchemist flushed a deep crimson and staggered away from Tivia’s bed, bumping into one of the Gardeners. Her eye had been closed for some time now, as she’d appeared to have fallen into some state of rest… I doubt she’d want me here, anyway. It’s best I leave… “O-Of course…” He stammered, before filing out of the sanctuary and into the cool winter air behind Daphni and Elias.
Having been dragged out of bed to be relayed this news, Lilica was of no mind to have a conversation standing in the cold, and wasn’t so callous as to put the others through that when they were obviously so ill-prepared, having left in a rush to transport Tivia and then Elespeth to the sanctuary. “Take your carriage back to the palace,” she told the healers and Isidor. “Meet us in the council room when you arrive.”
And so began yet another impromptu meeting, this one with far fewer parties, and much later at night than anyone really cared for--but given the nature of was occurred that evening, the Galeynian Queen was not about to wait until morning. “I’ve heard it from Vitali. At least, insofar as I can believe a word he says.” Lilica wrinkled her nose, leaning heavily on her elbows at the head of the table, with Chara ever at her side. “But I want to hear it from the rest of you. I want to hear, for one, why the hell any of you more level-headed people agreed to participate in the first place, and two, why I wasn’t informed.”
“If I may, Your Majesty… the only reason I became involved was because my brother also happened to be.” Isidor directed a pointed stare across the table at Vitali, arms folded across his chest as if to ward off cold--or, more accurately, ward off conflict. “I’m sure it goes without saying that I did not trust him to do what was right, should something go wrong, and… and I would have stayed, but Tivia…” His voice trailed off. The rest of the story spoke for itself.
“Queen Lilica. I am loathe to speak for either Elespeth or Tivia, especially given their current conditions, but… the two of them came to us for our help, along with the necromancer. They said there wasn’t enough time to seek permission or to inform you, since Alster’s spirit can allegedly only sustain itself, wherever it is, for so long.” Daphni ventured, in the sort of gentle and amicable tone that she often used when forced to take the place of mediator. “They approached us to find the safest possible means for the unsavoury task of… well, temporarily ending Elespeth’s life. But I am sure it comes as no surprise to either of you that, if we had not agreed, Elespeth would have found another, far less safe way to achieve the desired result. Our participation was entirely from a harm reduction standpoint. But we are all deeply sorry that you had to hear about this second-hand…”
Lilica massaged her temples with her index fingers and exchanged a look with Chara. “...I believe you. Especially given Elespeth’s growing hysteria with Alster’s unknown whereabouts this past week. But… what of it, then? Elespeth obviously survived this ordeal, though we still have no way of knowing when and how Alster might return to this realm. And it is bad enough that we have already lost a strong ally to the ether-realms during a time when Locque’s tyranny is slowly creeping in our direction… but now Tivia and Elespeth? We cannot afford to have any more key players down. We’re vulnerable enough as it stands.”
“Elespeth seems to think she made contact. And she trusts in Alster to return… at this point, I’m afraid all we can do is heed her advice and look for him. Keep our eyes open. None of us here has much experience with realms beyond this plane of existence…” The Sybaian healer sighed and folded her hands in front of her. “We have to hope that it will all fall into place, as it should. Alster hasn’t let us down yet; let us not give up on him prematurely.”
Four days had elapsed since Elespeth’s questionable foray into death to awaken her husband’s spirit. Four days since Tivia ruptured her eardrums and landed in the sanctuary, and four days since Hadwin lobbed around the possibility of surrender to the fugitive Master Alchemist in league with Locque. While events around the palace had quietened from their emotional uproar, it was a quiet not created by communal resolutions or the restoration of harmony, but by a disquietude that strained across the heart of Galeyn and drained denizens of their color. Truly, nothing had been resolved. No one died, but two important players had dabbled in death and predictably ended up in a worse state than before. Owing to how the warrior and the star-seer handled the situation, doing so without consulting the queen in her own domain, tensions and trust between allies were tenuous at best. If people chose to withhold secrets of such magnitude and willfully plot dangerous rituals behind closed doors, what else was happening, undetected? Amidst a time of rising hostilities in the guise of Locque, none could afford to lose trust in each other. Surrendering to their main aggressor and tormentor would test the loyalties of everyone who swore fealty to the Galeynian crown--to Queen Lilica. And if they hadn’t the decency to reveal their significant plans to those in charge, then it was only right for the Galeynian monarch to feel slighted and disrespected by the people she’d expected would be forthright and honest with her.
Chara spoke as much at the impromptu meeting they held following Elespeth’s death and subsequent revival. Considering her long-standing history with Alster Rigas, she would have sanctioned the dangerous mission to the ether-realms; after all, it wasn’t their first time rescuing the hapless mage from some danger or another. The nature of his elevated power, paired with his propensity to play hero, seemed to attract no end of misfortune for him. By that vein, Lilica also would have given her go-ahead to proceed...had they been informed. Therefore, while the two of them found no fault in freeing Alster from his interdimensional prison, its poor execution and blatant disregard for communication rattled both queen and advisor into a froth of displeasure. Having little else to say but reprimands over proper monarchical procedure, they dismissed Vitali, Isidor, and the healers, just in time for Hadwin Kavanagh to wander inside the councilroom and make his report, which did naught but solidify their stance. Too weakened by their recent losses, surrender...was inevitable. Moreso if there was the possibility, however slim, of negotiating for Sigrid Sorenson’s return.
It was a decision they slept on for a few days more. Like Elespeth in the sanctuary, they held their breaths for the possibility of Alster’s reemergence on the terrestrial plane. Not that getting him back was incumbent on surrendering, but if they were going to relinquish the throne to Locque, they wanted the cooperation of everyone who held influence or sway in the Galeynian council. So too would they wait for the relative recovery of Elespeth and Tivia. By day four, the cantankerous warrior was making a fuss for her release, having exhausted all patience in reassuming the role of a patient. The star-seer, in contrast, reacted little. Her hearing hadn’t yet been restored, which may have accounted for her reticence, but of the handful of times she did speak, it was to ask after Isidor. When the Gardeners under her care answered that he was busy and wished not to be disturbed, she deflated in her bed, nodded resignedly, and looked to her reactive bedside companion as a form of entertainment to pass the time.
“Elespeth,” she addressed the restless warrior once, her voice pitching to a persistent, overcompensatory yell. In hearing nothing, she could not gauge her volume, the pacing, or the emphasis of each stressed note. Nonetheless, she tried to come off as coherent by conveying her message in a slow, deliberate speech. “Alster will be here soon. Very soon.”
Knowing her reputation as a star-seer, she did not produce those words as a false comfort or an empty reassurance. According to the celestial bodies that presided over the heavens, the former Rigas Lord’s return was imminent.
As imminent as tomorrow.
Haraldur Sorde, in following Lilica’s orders, withdrew his Forbanne forces and consigned them to the palace. Although they did not yet make the move to surrender, measures were put in place as an indicator to Locque that they were taking the proposal very seriously, enough to relegate their troops to one, small, conquerable area. One could also interpret the pulling of soldiers to the palace proper as a defensive move. In a worst-case scenario involving an indiscriminate attack from the sorceress, they would be in a better position to counterattack. Forbanne were highly trained in subduing magically-gifted foes. And with the addition of the Dawn Guard, even the power-radiant Locque would quickly grow fatigued by fending off their skilled numbers if they rushed her in a surprise attack or a retaliatory surge.
Alas, no one expected Locque to pit herself against an army. Nothing so direct. Whilst donning a multitude of masks, she would likely hide behind Sigrid and weaponize the enthralled warrior’s condition to demand their cooperation. For that reason...he doubted the fallen Dawn Warrior was ever on the table for negotiations.
At least there was one sliver of favorable news. By withdrawing his troops, Haraldur was able to spend more time at the palace, meaning he got to maximize his role as a father and be with his family. Approaching six months old, the twins were slowly establishing personalities as they crawled all about their environment, curiously tumbling and grabbing anything in their pathway of destruction. Becoming more of a fixture in their lives, especially during their formative development period, was a great comfort in the face of so much uncertainty, and he took advantage of every precious moment afforded to him.
Despite his duties as a father, Haraldur was not exonerated from the position of Forbanne Commander. Not only was he always on call in case of an emergency or an urgent meeting, but he needed to observe his soldiers during major shift changes in order to double-check and allocate their stations. Aside from bouncing between fatherhood and commander, he couldn’t ignore his commitments to the sentinel tree, an entity that, in exchange for providing aid when asked, requested he spend an hour a day, if possible, either in the Night Garden or outside, communing with nature. Fortunately, the request came easily to him. If he didn’t set foot outside the palace, he grew restless, as was always the case since childhood. Indoor confinement always felt punishing, suffocating...and now, he understood why. Trees didn’t fare well trapped within walls, shuddered from the sun and the circulating air.
On this particular morning, he decided to visit the trees that had sprouted to commemorate his childrens’ birth, and which were also linked inextricably to their souls--a non-human inheritance gained from their father. In relation to their human counterparts, the trees were young, mere saplings in age, but the ultra-fertile soil of the Night Garden encouraged them to expand at an impressive rate. Their twig-like trunks had propelled from the ground, unfurling glossy, full-bodied leaves that caught the sun through the openings of the sentinel tree’s far-stretching canopy. There was no doubt the young saplings were thriving in the Night Garden, a surefire indication of the twins’ own health and wellness.
En route from the two saplings, Haraldur headed toward the sentinel tree, figuring he would linger near the base and greet it with a hello. However, as he neared the massive roots, the tree creaked in the wind, the understory littering with fallen leaves. One leaf landed atop his boot, several runes burned into its veiny, dendritic surface. Perthro. Something needed to be found. Tiwaz. Something hailing from the sky and the stars. Mannaz. A person.
Haraldur frowned at the reading. “Alster?” He inquired to the tree. It rustled its affirmative. A second leaf appeared at his feet. Another rune. Laguz.
The reflecting pond.
Unsure of the condition in which he’d find the Rigas mage, Haraldur hurried to the pond. Sure enough, collapsed near the surface, he found Alster, pale, shivering, and laying in a puddle of vomit.
“Alster!” He crouched by the weak mage’s side, carefully hauling him from his splayed position on the ground. While weak, he was conscious, and exhibited signs of awareness. His half-closed blue eyes sought Haraldur, who was busily securing an arm over his shoulder. “Are you alright? Can you walk?”
“Yes,” he responded, a statement that spluttered out of him in a half-cough. “Or...I think so. Just a little...a little…”
“Save your breath; let’s get you to the sanctuary.”
Alster continued, staring ahead as if he didn’t hear or even see Haraldur. “My body’s not accustomed to...it’s too...tactile, here. Bright. Loud. But,” he blinked away the tears gathering from his light-sensitive eyes, “it will be fine. Rigases are celestial casters. Our bodies can handle otherworldly pursuits. We can disconnect from the earth with little repercussions because we’re not earth-bound. We’re meant for the stars.”
“I’m not doubting you, but you need immediate attention.” He hugged Alster’s small waist and stabilized him against his broader bulk. “You’re weak and shaky on your feet, but it’s not far to walk.” He took one gentle step forward; Alster’s legs buckled and plummeted him forward. He would have tumbled if not for Haraldur’s firm, anchoring grip.
“Rigel Rigas, when he was alive, was able to live out of his body for long intervals of time. Earth-based time, rather,” Alster carried on, unfazed by the state of his overburdened muscles. “I might have exceeded his limit. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”
“Almost two weeks.” He straightened Alster’s stance. “If you can’t walk, I’m going to have to carry you. Is that--”
“I could have been gone for millennia,” Alster mused aloud, again not acknowledging his companion or his attempts to convey him to the sanctuary in one piece. “It’s difficult to gauge the passage of time when you’re lightyears from earth. Traversing both space and time is tricky, but as long as one has a connection to their homeworld, their body should readjust just fine, and if I haven’t been away for too long...”
Sighing, Haraldur let the reality-detached mage rant and list theories regarding his tenure in the ether-realms. Meanwhile, he carefully slung the smaller figure over his back, securing him in place by the legs. “Hold on to my shoulders,” he warned, but his warning fell upon unresponsive ears.
“There’s an infinitude to explore and I haven’t even scratched the surface! I’ll have to arrange another expedition to--”
“Alster!” Haraldur roared for his charge’s attention. Thankfully, he stopped talking. “We’re going to see Elespeth. She’s at the sanctuary and she’s worried sick about you. Now hold on to my shoulders so we can get there as soon as possible!”
Mention of Elespeth seemed to do the trick. Sobered into obeisance, the Rigas mage nodded and placed his hands on either side of Haraldur’s neck. Their trek to the sanctuary lasted only a few minutes, as the small cottage was nestled against one of the sentinel tree’s enormous roots, near the Garden’s veritable center. When they reached their destination, Haraldur hailed a Forbanne guard, who was standing watch in the vicinity. “Go and inform Queen Lilica and Chara that Alster has returned. Tell them he’s been safely delivered to the sanctuary.” Saluting fist to chest, the Forbanne guard dashed off on his errand. At the door, Haraldur knocked on it with his foot and waited for a response.
Elespeth, likely chomping at the bit for something to do, was the one to answer the door. “Elespeth. Good news.” Haraldur jerked his head at the passenger riding on his back. “I picked up a stray by the sentinel tree. He’s very weak, but he seems to be ok.” Maybe not mentally, he wanted to add, but chose not to allude to her husband’s current state of being.
At the sound of Elespeth’s voice, Alster gazed downwards at the source from over Haraldur’s shoulder. “Elespeth.” Different from his interactions (or lack thereof) with the Forbanne Commander, he looked at her and not past her. “El...I’m home.” Before he could squirm out of his carrier’s grip, Haraldur swept inside the sanctuary and slowly lowered him upon an empty bed.
“Did I take too long? I’m sorry.” He welcomed her to sit beside him on the bed. “I’m sorry...for everything I did. I was too ambitious. I made a horrible miscalculation. Several, in fact. And…” his attentiveness began to drift. His eyes unfocused as he stared at some immovable spot on the ceiling. “And those miscalculations...took me so, so far away from you. For so, so long. You...died for me, didn’t you?” Those unblinking eyes, overcome with the sting of emotion, sank closed, inviting the darkness that was so prevalent in the ether-realms. “To bring me back. I remember. What can I do, El? What can I do to make it right?” He didn’t react when she touched him, when she pulled him into her arms. In her embrace, he sat stone-still, as though he weren’t truly...there. “How...could you forgive me?”
“You could start by letting the healers have a look at you.” Haraldur, standing aside out of respect for Elespeth and Alster’s reunion, gestured to the two Gardeners in the room.
“My body’s been underutilized. It was kept in a preserved stasis. As it’s unused to dimensional travel, it’s experiencing something akin to altitude sickness. There’s also been a separation of body from the mind and spirit, but it will mend as I acclimate to my environment. That’s all,” Alster railed off his symptoms with the cold, logical accuracy of one who was diagnosing a patient, and not the self. It was as if he could see himself from a distance.
Before anyone could question not only his physical condition, but his cognitive ability, Chara, followed by Lilica, stormed into the crowded sanctuary in a repeat performance of several days prior. Except, the queen’s advisor led the charge. Livid in color, she stalked up to Alster, who was leaning into Elespeth, eyes still closed and his breath rattled, winded. “Alster Rigas.” One blue eye opened just as she sent a backhanded slap across his cheek. It wasn’t a hard slap, but it left a red mark on the side of contact. Though he did not register the pain or the shock, even as it lashed his head from side to side, Chara’s angry tirade wouldn’t be discouraged from its climbing momentum. “You have a lot of explaining to do and plenty to answer for! I’d love to see you chained in the dungeon for all the stress you’ve caused everyone!”
“...I know.” He managed out two words before he leaned forward on his knees...and vomited on the floor.
By the time Elespeth was able to sit up in bed, and to leave the sanctuary long enough to relieve herself and tend to her bodily needs, she was fully prepared and eager to leave the sanctuary for good--and probably would have, were it not for the constant presence of Elias, Daphni, Senyiah, and the other Gardeners who knew well enough to ensure she would not take off without leave. The former knight was beyond done with recuperating and convalescence, and as soon as the second day, she was no longer feeling any lingering effects of having been… well, dead. She was beyond ready to stop being deadweight, but every healer insisted she continue to exhibit progress and health for a little while longer before they would be ready to formally discharge her. So for the next handful of days, Tivia was her only company, and while she bore no ill will against the star seer who had helped her immensely in contacting Alster again, being cooped up for the umpteenth time certainly did not make her great company to be around.
It wasn’t as though Tivia could hear much, in any case, so conversation was all but null and void between the two women. Whenever Tivia did speak, it was to ask after Isidor, whom the Gardeners often brushed off with assuming he was busy with other tasks. It pained Elespeth to know the truth and to not be able to articulate it to the star seer: that Isidor, regardless of how busy he was, would always make time for her… if only he thought his presence would be welcome or helpful. While the former knight wasn’t sure what had transpired between the Rigas woman and the Master Alchemist, It was more than likely that Isidor did not feel his presence was necessary… or that Tivia wanted to see him at all. The whole situation left Elespeth feeling particularly melancholy, knowing that it was just the opposite.
Without a convenient way to communicate with Tivia, aside from gestures and using her body, the sanctuary remained relatively silent for a number of days… until one morning, Tivia spoke up to inform her of something important. Even without her ability to hear (or to hear well, at the very least), the star seer was no less attuned to those things that otherwise remained beyond the reach of average individuals, such as Elespeth. And her loss of hearing by no means successfully trapped her otherworldly knowledge in her mind; not when she was still capable of speaking, despite that she couldn’t hear it. Alster will be here soon, she’d said, with deliberate annunciation. Very soon.
“Tivia…” The otherwise bored and sullen Elespeth was suddenly all ears. She turned in her bed to face the star seer, her green eyes brimming with hope and longing. “When? Where? How will I find him? How will he be… what am I even doing?” The ex-Atvanian’s shoulders deflated and she turned back, slouching into the pillows of her bed. “You can’t hear me. And if you knew more… I know you’d tell me.”
It didn’t matter; she’d heard everything she needed to motivate her to disobey and take matters into her own hands.
Shortly after one of the Gardeners had come to deliver some fresh water for the two patients, Elespeth took the small window of opportunity to step outside--and she couldn’t believe her timing. Tivia had been right; in fact, she had never been more right.
“Haraldur.” She gasped at the hulking form of her friend, but it was not him upon which her verdant eyes were fixed. It was the figure slung rather unceremoniously over his shoulder. She recognized the blue overcoat from the day he’d disappeared, and the shock of dark blonde hair…
It was him--it was Alster.
“You found him… Alster. Thank the gods!” Air rushed out of her lungs so quickly, it felt as though she had been holding her breath from the moment he’d disappeared. He wasn’t the only one who had lost time: memories of the past few weeks, up to and even including her short death, were choppy and blurry for Elespeth. Nothing seemed to register when she was so preoccupied with her husband’s safe return. It felt as though she could finally pick up life where she had left off; she could resume living again. “Alster, it’s been two weeks… you’ve been gone for two weeks. I didn’t know how, or when, I would find you…”
She was relieved; beyond relieved, in fact, but if Elespeth was being honest with herself… she was also angry. Angry that he had planned this without telling her. That he had left her, and everyone else in the dark, for so damned long. Angry that he had incited Locque’s wrath, and encouraged even more tensions between the Rigases and the D’Marian settlement, which was quickly losing faith in their leading and arguably most notable family. The former knight thanked the stars above for his safe return… but she realized, now, that there was more than doting and comforts in store for him, now that he had to face the consequences of his decision.
“You didn’t tell me… anything. Not what you had intended with the Serpent--that you were going to summon it at all.” She didn’t take a seat on the bed; she stood, her arms straight at her sides. “I searched for hours for you until Canaveris all but threw me out. I searched all over the kingdom, in case you had managed to manifest. And yes, Alster, I… I died for you. And Tivia?” She gestured to the star seer in the adjacent bed, who looked far more deserving of pity and sympathy than she usually did. “She has lost her hearing as a result of trying to contact and locate your star. To make what I did possible, at all. Alster, when… when the hell are you going to realize that these sacrifices you make are forcing the people who love and care about you to make sacrifices, themselves?!”
Elespeth hadn’t realized she’d been yelling until she could practically feel her own voice bounce off of the walls of the small cabin. Even Tivia, who could hardly hear a thing, seemed to flinch at the sheer intensity of her energy. But her ire was nothing compared to what lay in wait for Alster when Chara all but burst through the door in a wind of pure rage. The proud Rigas woman did not so much as hesitate to strike her offending cousin across the face, which prompted both Lilica and Elespeth to reconsider whatever positions of anger they had previously taken. “Take it easy, Chara!” It was Lilica who grabbed the angry blonde by the shoulder and pulled her back, just in time for Alster to expel the contents of his stomach on the floor. “He’ll explain himself--we will all personally make sure of it. But first, he needs to be in the condition for that to be possible, and that won’t happen if we all take a swing at him prematurely.”
“What is going on?” A familiar voice demanded, and from behind Lilica, Senyiah appeared, once again incensed that the sanctuary appeared to be full of people who had no business being there, when there was clearly a patient in need. When she laid eyes upon who the patient was, the urgency only escalated. “Alster Rigas…? Anyone here who is not infirm or a healer, I must kindly ask you to leave. Please do not make me repeat myself.”
“Understood, Senyiah. I’m surrendering my bed to Alster and discharging myself from care..” Elespeth declared and stepped away from the bed, toward the door, without offering any further explanation. The Head Gardener didn’t even have time to question the former knight before she was gone and out the door.
The troubled and hurt look on Alster’s sickly face did not surpass Lilica’s attention. And although the Galeynian Queen had every reason to be angry with Alster for the way he potentially compromised their surrender, she could not help but feel sorry for him. “She has been through a lot, lately. Allow her a little bit of time and distance,” she suggested gently, and handed the Rigas mage a fresh cup of water. “Hydrate yourself and rest, Alster. Because as soon as you are well enough, you are going to speak before all of us--your comrades and allies--and explain everything. Do you understand?”
Only when he nodded his comprehension did the Queen, her advisor, and the Forbanne commander vacate the premises to allow Senyiah and the other Gardeners to tend to their new arrival. To help make Alster comfortable in the small cabin that he would once again have to call home until he was fully recovered. During those next few days, as Alster slowly came back down to earth, and his body reacquainted itself with existing among the living, the breathing, the corporeal, Elespeth did not visit. When Alster asked after her, the Gardeners always promised they would send the message that he desired her company… but she never came. It wasn’t until the Gardeners and healers saw fit to discharge the wayward mage that he saw his wife again--along with all of his other friends and comrade. Haraldur, Vega (who temporarily had the children in the care of a nanny, long enough to be part of this assemblage), Isidor, Teselin, Hadwin, Chara, Lilica, and even Vitali had all gathered in the council room, where they had spent so much time in the past handful of weeks. The only one missing was Tivia, who had yet to regain her hearing, and to whom the Gardeners at the sanctuary still tended in an effort to expedite her recovery (although Isidor had already agreed to take notes on what was said and deliver them at a later time to keep her in the know). They had gathered to hear him out--and to fill him in. An exchange of information, with the thinly-veiled expectation that he would also be delivering a sincere apology to all those who had been affected in some way… which, honestly, was all of them.
“We have no doubt that you did what you did only after you considered the consequences. And that you really and truly thought it was the right decision to make.” Lilica declared, far more composed than she had been the day he had returned. Frankly, the brief lull in communication while he’d recovered had been a real boon, in that it had allowed tempers to simmer and extinguish and (to an extent) remove intense emotion from logic and reason, and active listening. Even Elespeth, who had all been trembling with suppressed anger before, now appeared less sullen and more… well, for lack of a more fitting word, despondent. They hadn’t all gathered to completely destroy Alster: on the contrary, they wanted a reason to believe that his attempt to ‘help’ hadn’t muddied the waters further.
The room was silent as he ventured to explain, from the moment he’d decided to follow through with his tactic of summoning the Serpent, to his time spent in the ether-realms… both before and after he’d encountered Locque, who had single-handedly delayed his return to the corporeal world. As it turned out, seeking out the sorceress within the abyss hadn’t been without its advantages. For one, he was able to confirm that the witch was, in fact, a summoner (much to poor Teselin’s dismay…). Furthermore, although they had only been glimpses, veering so close to her energy field had awarded him the rare opportunity to actually glimpse into her past--her distant past. In the mind of the human, and not the monster. While there were still too many holes to draw any useful, concrete conclusions, from what he had gathered from the snippets, this otherwise terrifying woman had far more humble beginnings. That of a healer, in fact; a very young one… who had once borne a strong connection to the Night Garden.
Of course, none of that really mattered in the short term when she had clearly evolved into a monster. Although it was insightful enough to keep at the back of their minds, in case there was ever a need to make use of that very information. “You saw that she was a healer… a Gardener, then? So… what? She intends to take this kingdom back by force in some vague hope that the Night Garden will remember and accept her for who she once was?” Lilica sighed and drummed her fingers patiently on the wooden table. “I think what we need to be focusing on is the fact she made you spiral so far into netherwhere that you almost lost yourself. We’ve already decided to surrender, Alster. We are going to give Locque what she wants on the condition that the killing stops. That she calls off her wolves and Sigrid. In fact…” She nodded to Hadwin, who sat far from her at the other end of the table. “Hadwin has managed to make contact with the Master Alchemist, Nia--the one serving as Locque’s go-between. We have not heard from her recently, but she explained to Hadwin that she might possibly be able to negotiate Sigrid’s release… if we meet her conditions. Which, at this point, have not been confirmed.”
“Not only that,” Isidor piped up, somewhat hesitantly. As much as he hated to give credit to a man he very much despised, he could not deny that Hadwin had acted on their behalf. “But… he confirmed what I suspected, through her fears. This ‘Nia’ is an Ardane. She hails from possibly one of the most prestigious families of Master Alchemists in Ilandria… well, in history, if I am being thorough. As much as she claims to be acting as a neutral party, I suggest we all continue to be very wary of that woman and what she is capable of. Remember, she is acting on behalf of Locque, however much she might try to act otherwise.”
“Ilandria and Eyraille are not exactly allies; but neither are we enemies. Our truces have been long-standing for generations.” It was Vega who spoke up next--a voice that this room had not heard in quite some time. But if anyone had thought that motherhood had softened the fiery Skyknight by any means… they were wrong. At least, when it came to war, and anything and everything that threatened her friends and loved ones. “They did expel Master Alchemists and the practice a little over a decade ago, if my memory serves. And if this Nia is a fugitive, as I hear you’ve suggested, Isidor… Then if I know Ilandrians, they would be pleased to have her back. To make a point.” The copper-haired woman folded her arms on the table and straightened her spine, wearing a countenance of stone… with all the chill to accompany it. “Focus on Locque; do not worry about her lackey. I imagine this Nia Ardane is well aware of my presence and from where it is I hail. I imagine, for that reason, she would want nothing to do with a neighbour to the country that ran her family and her kind out of her own home. As a result, something tells me she will not misstep… because she cannot rely on her sorceress to protect her from the wrath of the Kingdom of Blades, should someone decide to inform Ilandria that she has been found. Hadwin,” she nodded to the faoladh at the end of the table. “The next time you rendez vous with this woman, be sure to remind her that it is most definitely within her best interests to ensure that her witch does not lay a hand on another soul in this kingdom. If she cannot promise that, well… then redirect her to me. I would be happy to have a discussion. I don’t make threats. But,” as she turned her head, her eyes caught the firelight, and once again, the ferocity of the Sorde princess made itself known. “I do make promises. And I keep them.”
Whether as a result of his culpability, his unmoored mindset, the compromised state of his body, or a combination of all three, Alster Rigas fell quiet, and retreated into himself. He chose not to engage Chara and her incendiary--but true--remarks (granted, there were few who would challenge her rage), and he didn’t stop Elespeth as she abstained from his company...aware he might not see her until he recovered. Lilica and Haraldur, on the other hand, were helpful, supportive, and said little to condemn his actions, but neither did they defend them as they departed in a stiff formation, a deliberate mask to cover their turbulent thoughts regarding Alster’s undeniable complicity in the events of the last two weeks. Tivia, citing her sensory loss of hearing, also said nothing, but she acknowledged him with a shallow nod and promptly turned her attention to the window for the majority of their time together in the sanctuary. It was what he was expecting. As Serpent Bane, he knew how to wear guilt and bow to others who were affected most by his impulses.
Seeing as the Gardeners were the only ones who actively communicated with him during those lonely few days, they provided his sole, front-facing connection to the material world. He did not fuss or argue as they monitored his vitals, instructed him to drink, eat, and rest, and encouraged him to exercise his languishing, inactive limbs. As a model patient, he did everything to the letter, and was even able to convince them of his success in tethering his body to the earth...when the adverse was true. In reality, most of his thoughts, fixations, and visual wanderings were not on reality. He saw the ether-realms, both through the conscious filter of his eyes, and through the unconscious explorations behind closed eyes. Through detachedly observing the body language, facial expressions, tonal cues, and blatant instructions of his Gardener caretakers, he manufactured the correct behavioral patterns that would best convince them of his recovery. Not everything he did was a deception, however. True to form, his once ravaged and weak body was strengthening by the day. He no longer experienced sickness of motion, and his stomach had settled, enough to drink and consume food without regurgitating the contents in one violent purge. Physically, he appeared better; he was better.
Physically. Emotionally...he was still adrift in the ether-realms.
Several days later, the Gardeners declared him healthy and able to testify in front of the Galeynian council. With their blessing, they discharged him from the sanctuary under the condition that they accompany him to the meeting, as he remained shaky on his feet and winded of breath from prolonged standing. When he arrived, everyone of importance, sans Tivia, were gathered inside, eager to hear the long-awaited explanation behind his secret motivations. To prepare, he wasted little preamble on greeting the group--Elespeth included. Making sure to induce eye contact with each person, lest they think his mind was elsewhere (it was), he gave a polite, yet clipped good afternoon, followed by a personal apology. Not for everything he’d done, no. He held fast to some of his methods, deeming them as necessary. As for Locque, he only approached her to mitigate the damage his stunt with the Serpent had wreaked on Galeyn and its dwindling options. He said as much in his opening statement, as he stood between Lilica and Chara at the head of the table. Clasping his hands, he corrected the sway of his feet to appear somewhat dignified, while the deliberate sagging of his shoulders helped him appear remorseful. And truly, he was remorseful for how events unfolded, for causing Elespeth’s death and Tivia’s deafness, but he just could not find it in him to feel it, when he wasn’t entirely present. Yes, he was able to represent Alster Rigas and his memory, but not much else. His eyes were to the stars.
“It was an impromptu decision to summon the Serpent,” he said, starting his dissertation from the beginning. “In fact, Lord Canaveris unintentionally gave me the idea. He suggested I lean into my martyr mentality during our final debate. That I let the crowd know just how much I’ve sacrificed for them, and remind them of their ingratitude for all my exhaustive efforts. He wanted me to demonstrate my weakness, my pettiness, my instability, so I would not only disempower myself, but the Rigas name. My decision to summon the Serpent was twofold. I summoned the Serpent to complement the narrative. I was dangerous, unstable Alster Rigas. Serpent Bane, unleashed, and unhinged. It would force both my D’Marian supporters and the Rigases to disinherit me out of necessity, else they be viewed as Serpent sympathizers, proponents of attempted genocide. To further sell my fall from grace, I told no one of my plans. Especially you, Elespeth.” A flicker of apology passed over his otherwise impassive expression.
“Shamefully, I have to admit...your panic was my selling point. Something I was banking on. I needed this to look believable. To look like I’d lost my mind. Had I told you my prior intentions...I couldn’t guarantee I’d be successful. If you were in league with me, it would seem too premeditated. I had to erase the variables. The fewer people knew, the smaller the risk. This was done in part because of my second reason for the Serpent summoning: I needed to see if Locque would be as good as her word. If she would protect the D’Marians from threats of this nature. She did, and proved her mettle as a formidable sorceress and summoner by effectively unsummoning the Serpent.” Although no one asked, he chose to answer an unspoken question: The Serpent? What were you thinking? “I never intended on harming any D’Marians. The Serpent was fully under my control. And if Locque refused to save them, or chose to raze the village to the ground in a rage, I accounted for all alternatives, and kept every failsafe in mind. One of those failsafes was to scapegoat myself. If Locque chose to retaliate against Galeyn, I would step forward and explain that no one else was involved in my decision to oppose her. Which brings me to my conversation...and my miscalculation.”
He leaned forward and positioned both hands on the table, stabilizing his wobbling legs, which were hidden from casual observation. “I anticipated she would be looking for me. She would want to exact revenge for forcing her hand, and I worried she’d harm Elespeth if I didn’t step forward and make myself known to her. So I found her in the ether-realms, in spirit form, separate from my body. I came forward to surrender as a way to take responsibility for my roguish behavior and to distance myself from Galeyn, which neither knew of or supported my reckless charge. I may have,” he hesitated, “postured to Locque a bit. I was angry, and intimidated, and I didn’t know how best to convey my terms of surrender. It didn’t matter; she was very clear about how it meant nothing to her, and that I was of absolutely no significance. Unsurprisingly, she cares only for Lilica to step down and hand her the Galeynian throne. It further incensed me. I wanted her to care, to see me as a threat, to be aware of exactly how much pain she put me through since Braighdath. How I didn’t forget, wouldn’t forget, and that she should fear my retribution if she decided to keep crossing me, Elespeth, or the D’Marians.” On the table, he clawed his steel fingers so taut, they were rattling from the held pressure. Sighing, he released the tension. “Needless to say...she didn’t take kindly to my outburst...even after I did try to recover my reason, but...it was too late. And you know the rest. She banished me from her vicinity and the resulting ricochet vaulted me through the ether-realms at a rate that was liable to tear away my soul if I didn’t take extreme precautions. I was,” he bit his lip, feeling, again, the outer fringes of emotion connect to his physical form through the ether-realms, “I was only trying to protect everyone from the damage I caused in the first place. I would continue to ask for your forgiveness...but,” he shook his head, and the emotion faded, “wailing my sorrow and remorse is not a productive use of anyone’s time, so for now, I’ll stick to the facts. I did learn something from my encounter with Locque. A few things, rather.”
He paused to swipe a tin of water from the table, drinking it with a finesse that would please the Gardeners tending to his care. “I was able to trace her residual energies on the material plane and follow the trail to the ether-realms. Through locating her, I discovered that she is a summoner.” He cast Teselin a quick look, aware of how the information would affect her. He chose not to linger on the detail and continued his analysis. “When I connect to one’s energy in my ethereal form, sometimes my sensitivity to frequencies allows me to see memories and emotions. Though I detected mere remnants, I’ll tell you what I was able to glean.” Lowering the now empty tin of water to the table, he put a hand to his chest to clear his throat, still a little hoarse from disuse.
“A long time ago, Locque was a Gardener. Young, idealistic...helpful to a naive fault. She tried to save a dying man--a thief, from the looks of it, but her involvement had repercussions. The Night Garden was at capacity, and the energy she channeled to save this man’s life cost other patients their lives. People actually died in the Night Garden. As a result, the Gardeners stripped away her title and exiled her from Galeyn, but on her travels, she met the man who she spared from death. He and his companions returned to Galeyn to plead her case, but violence ensued, between the thieves and the Dawn Guard, and those who were advocating for Locque’s return...were killed. A good majority, anyhow...including the thief she saved. She did not take to this outcome very well, I suspect, and...the woman you see today is the result of festering, built-up hatred and revenge. I couldn’t tell you why she seeks the Galeynian throne. Why she would desire it, considering the associated memories she has with this kingdom. Perhaps she believes that to claim the throne, she can relive those better, simpler times in her life, before war, strife, and the consequences of her decisions removed her from her homeland. Or, consequently, she wants the throne to better enact her plans for revenge. To destroy, or subjugate, Galeynian lives. Whatever the case...I’m in agreement, Lilica.” He side-turned in the queen’s direction. “I can’t reach the person she once was. Darkness inundates her soul. It’s consumptive, almost complete in its takeover. The tiny spark that I thought I saw...wishful thinking, perhaps. She’s too far gone. Galeyn is free to surrender to her...but she nullified my surrender by flinging me into an infinite loop and leaving me to a fate worse than death. So for that,” his brow dropped, intensifying the electricity shifting in his blue eyes. “I refuse to yield. Not that my surrender matters a lick to her, anyway. She actively harmed me, so I will keep my promise to her. I’ll be an obstacle to her victory. I’ll destroy her.”
“Going vigilante again, huh, Al? Like that worked real well for you and for everyone else the first several times?” Hadwin lolled his tongue across his teeth, unimpressed by the former Rigas Lord’s emphatic vow. “This whole defeating Locque thing is a team effort. So calm the fuck down and join the team. You looking to turn dark from revenge, too? Abandon your values just to stick it to her?”
Alster, staring at the table, lost complete focus of the room, of the people, gazing beyond to some faraway solution in the heavens. “She fucked with us,” a whispering, sibilant tone slithered out of his mouth. The ‘us’ didn’t seem to reference the room, or even Elespeth. “She won’t do it again.” Backing away from the table, he automatically headed towards the nearest exit. “Excuse me.”
“You’re not excused!” Chara shouted, grabbing for his hand, but he was already out of range. To his credit, Alster fell in step with the Gardeners, who secured him in place by the shoulders.
“I need to rest.”
“How bloody likely!” In exasperation, she gestured to Elespeth. “Go with him. Make sure he does nothing stupid.”
After she followed him out the doors, the meeting, minus two, resumed without a hitch. Chara made sure that it would not dissolve into chaos, despite Alster’s concerning performance, questionable mental condition, and dramatic exit.
“And will she be able to negotiate for Sigrid’s release?” Haraldur, replying directly to Lilica’s summary of Hadwin and Nia’s surrender talks, spoke up in his seat beside Vega. “If Alster saw Locque’s memories and interpreted them accurately, it seems she doesn’t have a good relationship with the Dawn Guard. As a more practical reason, she may want Sigrid on her side as leverage to keep us in line in case we decide to stage an uprising in secret. More, there’s no other way to guarantee she won’t stop killing. According to Hadwin’s report, the only reason she didn’t act rashly in response to Alster’s Serpent summoning was due to this Ardane woman talking her down.”
Vega seemed to have a solution for keeping Locque in line, via the Master Alchemist. Through her Ilandrian connections, she proposed they tell her what lay in store if she didn’t ensure Locque and the wolves cease their killing.
“First off, loving the fierceness, Momma Roc,” Hadwin effused, sporting a grin at Vega’s fiery aesthetic. “It’s a great look for you. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about scaring people into submission, but Nia ain’t Locque’s wrangler. She might have the woman’s ear, but there’s a limit to her influence. Besides, she doesn’t need the threat of Ilandria hanging over her head. That’s overkill. It’s enough that she already knows we’re on to her. We’re not gaining any advantage by being overt. Also, surprising as it may sound to some,” he winked at Isidor in particular, “death ain’t really her scene. Not like she’ll stand between Locque to stop it from happening, but she’s not gonna advocate for it, either. Anyway, I’ve laid down some of our terms, last time. She knows our surrender is contingent on preventing bloodshed. Though, honestly,” he tapped a finger against his jaw, “I don’t know how that’s gonna sit with Rowen. She’s got a taste for murder. She’ll wanna do it again.”
When all representatives (that were currently present), voted to have Hadwin contact Nia via resonance stone to schedule a meet-up and discuss the terms for surrender, Lilia adjourned the meeting and sent everyone on their way. Outside the council-room doors, the faoladh caught Teselin by the shoulders before she shuffled out of sight. “Hey, scamp,” an updraft raised his voice to a gentle, solicitous lilt, “what’s on your mind?”
