With the meeting adjourned, everyone agreed that surrender was not only imminent, but necessary, even if only to buy them time to figure out a way to overthrow the tyrannical sorceress. Everyone was in agreement that that was the best course of action to ensure the safety of the denizens of Galeyn, be they native to the soil or D’Marian refugees. But where agreement differed was in the end result: at least, with regard to how they would eventually wrest control from Locque after she had taken over. It was no surprise that the decision to defeat the witch by any means possible, violent or otherwise, was unanimous. Even Alster, who usually had a tendency toward peace and nonviolent conflict resolution seemed unperturbed--and even supportive--of the possibility of destroying the sorceress completely. And while the urgency of this situation perhaps demanded taking so drastic an action as stooping to Locque’s level of darkness to defeat her--by slaughtering her the same way she had slaughtered countless others--Teselin simply could not accept that. She could not accept that there was no way to defeat someone overcome by their own darkness than to annihilate them completely.
Because if that were the case… what did that mean for her? For her future, that was arguably just as likely to follow the same path as the sorceress should the right circumstances crop up?
Hadwin must have noticed the way she’d withdrawn into herself, and understandably asked what was on her mind--though he probably could have guessed, given his fearsight. Her stomach had been in knots since Alster had divulged what he’d learned from the glimpses of the sorceress’s past that he had witnessed in the ether-realms. “I’m fine,” she lied anyway, not really wanting to unpack what was bothering her, since more often than not it resulted in nothing by unfounded reassurances that ‘no, don’t worry’, this won’t happen to you’. “I’ll be right back.”
Before Hadwin could ask any questions, the young summoner was rushing out the door, and after Alster.
The Rigas mage himself hadn’t gotten far before his wife caught up to him, gently grabbing his shoulder before he could turn a corner. “Alster… are you alright? I understand the Gardeners saw fit to dismiss you from the sanctuary, but…” The former knight frowned as she met his eyes. Something was different--no, something was… wrong. They were her husband’s eyes, the same azure blue she was so used to seeing, but they did not gleam with Alster’s light. There was something that flickered in his irises. Something… foreign. Detached. And it struck her with immediate concern.
“You look…” She trailed off, searching for the right words, if there even were any. “Your eyes. The last time your eyes looked like this, it was when… when I tried to break away from you. To shatter our connection. It was when… you gave yourself over to the Serpent.” He heart dropped to her stomach, just hearing the voice speak it aloud. It made sense, though… didn’t it? To summon the Serpent, he’d have had to breach the barrier he’d set up between himself and the otherworldly beast. Had he inadvertently let it in, again…? “Did… you really come back, Alster?” The former knight asked, more softly than before. “Fully? And if so… what did you bring back with you?
Before he had a chance to answer, a familiar young voice called after them from down the hallway. “Alster--Elespeth. Wait!” Teselin’s small feet hurried to catch up to the couple. Her face was simultaneously flushed, and yet very, very pale. “Alster… what you said about Locque. What you learned about her. If all of that is true--if she has become what she is as a result of a series of misfortune and pain due to what she perceived as betrayal on so many levels… doesn’t that suggest that she was not born some evil thing, raised and nurtured to only do wrong onto others?”
Elespeth’s brow furrowed and knit in the middle. “Teselin, what are you trying to say?”
“I mean that maybe… maybe there is another way. Violence only begets violence, and if we really, truly want to make sure no one else has to die… Maybe you couldn’t reach the person that Locque once was in another realm, Alster. But what about here, on the physical one? Face to face, with no pretenses, no one taking the other off guard?”
“Are you really suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Teselin?” Elespeth sighed. All of this felt terribly familiar: talking the young summoner out of a plan that would end terribly… wasn’t this really the crux of their relationship? “I think Alster made it pretty clear, and he would know if there was any potential of reaching Locque. Or the person that she was. I’m sorry, but that ship has likely long since sailed. There is nothing left of that woman but hatred and revenge; without it, I doubt she would even be able to exist in her current state. And in any case…” Heat crept into her cheeks, and her hands closed into fists. “There is no excusing what she has done--all that she has done. There is no redeeming someone who sees no remorse in what it costs them to obtain power. Naimah, Cwenha… everyone that had died before their time because of Locque. Are we supposed to forget about all of that? Let bygones be bygones and allow the witch to do whatever she sees fit with this kingdom?”
“And what about Queen Lilica? Did you also consider her a lost cause, when she was consumed by her own darkness?” The young summoner’s eyes flitted between Alster and Elespeth, frantically imploring them to listen. “Did she not once make an attempt to kill you, Elespeth? Did she not almost give up on herself--until someone took the time to see something she couldn’t? Until Chara saw her worth, the real person in her skin, and showed her what she could really be?” At the ex-knight’s dumbfounded expression, she felt it necessary to add, “No, I didn’t pry into Queen Lilica’s past, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve just been in close quarters with her at the palace, and I see… glimpses in people, sometimes. Like Alster did with Locque. I don’t try to; they just come to me. But that’s beside the point. There was hope for Lilica--and her darkness has permanently marred the palace, itself. Scars that will never go away, and yet, she is Queen. She found the light because someone made her believe that she could. Locque… it does not sound as though she had that. But that doesn’t make it too late. If she has even the faintest memory of the person she once was… it’s possible that she can be reached.”
Elespeth shook her head. It was all she could do to remain composed and not unleash the words she wanted to say to Teselin. “Teselin… I understand why you might think this way, particularly since finding out Locque is, like you, a summoner. But…” She expelled a long, audible breath. “I’m sorry, but I need to say it like it is: that frame of mind is naive. Not everyone can be redeemed. Not everyone is worth trying to redeem. Sooner or later… you are going to need to realize this for yourself. Preferably, sooner.”
The young summoner was silent, her arms hanging loosely and uselessly at her sides in defeat. “...I’m sorry you feel that way. That you’d prefer the route of violence because my words aren’t worth the air that carries them. But…” It wasn’t sadness she wore on her face: on the contrary, it ever so faintly resembled anger. “I think you’ll be surprised to find that you’re wrong. But don’t take my word for it.”
Teselin turned away from the two people she’d thought would understand, realizing in hindsight that that was truly the naive move. Alster, he would usually be in agreement… or so she’d thought. He was a known and self-proclaimed pacifist, but something… something seemed off with him, since his return from the ether-realms. She could not put her finger on it, but even just standing in his vicinity, she could feel the odd shift in his energy, something less familiar and more foreign. But that was neither here nor there; Alster was not her problem to solve.
Locque, on the other hand…
Turning a corner, the young summoner managed to catch up to Hadwin. “When do you plan on meeting with the Master Alchemist again?” She asked, without any preamble as to why it interested her. “I want to go with you.” Of course, that did not sit well with the faoladh for a number of reasons--anything from contaminating the neutral grounds upon which he met with Nia, betraying her (and Locque’s) trust by bringing along another person, unannounced, and potentially putting Teselin a risk of becoming targeted. But none of these things seemed to particularly concern her… nor deter her from her decision. “I’m going to be honest with you, Hadwin, because you deserve that much. But if you won’t take me with you…” She took a slow breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Then I will find a way on my own. And it might be more dangerous, and you might hate it even more then letting me come with you to meet Nia Ardane… but I’m sorry, I’m not asking your permission. I’m asking that you give me the opportunity not to do something more dangerous.”
And that was all it took, putting Hadwin between a rock and a hard place to have his agreement. He contacted Nia via a resonance stone that evening, and a meeting was set up for the following night to discuss where both parties stood--and how they would be moving forward.
“You sure there isn’t something wrong, Miss Nia?” Osric asked the Master Alchemist who, for the first time, had entered the man’s establishment without ordering a mountain of food. “You know, if you don’t fancy what’s on the menu this evening, I think we can make an exception and cook something special up for my best customer.”
“Believe me, if I were here on leisure, you can believe I would gladly eat a heaping tonne of whatever you’ve got cooking in your kitchen, Osric.” The Master Alchemist toyed with a brunette lock wrapped around her finger. “But tonight is about business, unfortunately. Don’t forget about me, though--maybe I’ll stick around afterwards and snag a piece of your wife’s pie? Ah… who am I kidding?” She grinned, wide and cheeky. “I’ll probably eat the whole damn thing. It tastes just that good. But…”
She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. Sure enough, Hadwin was on time--as was his little tagalong. “That will have to wait until later. I’d love a refill, though!”
After having her stein filled to the brim with ale for a second time, she picked it up and took a seat at a table in one of the darker corners, and beckoned the wolf and his companion. “Maybe I should have asked if I could bring a friend. Two on one doesn’t seem particularly fair,” Nia quipped, taking a seat across from them at the rectangular table. Hadwin had at least had the sense to inform her that Teselin would be coming along. “Then again… I don’t think I have any of those. No offense, Hadwin, your sisters are shit for company, and they’d really be my only options. Ah, well; maybe that’ll change when everything else changes. And speaking of change…”
She paused to take a long sip of her ale. Nia wasn’t near inebriated yet, but by the end of this, she might want to be. “Word has it your Rigas mage has returned from the land of the… whatever, wherever the hell he was. In one piece and doing well, I take it? Glad to hear things worked out.”
They didn’t seem too interested in speaking about Alster, however. This was business, and they wanted to know what she had to say--particularly Teselin. “Alright, I can take a hint. Not interested in smalltalk. Well…” Nia rested her arms on the table. “I gave her my spiel, about what we discussed, and it’s as simple as this: you agree to quietly surrender, and that’s that. No one else has to die, no more threats or looming doom or anything. You can all stop holding your breaths, waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”
“And Sigrid?” Teselin asked, quietly hopeful. “Will she release her?”
“So… about that.” Nia pressed her lips together and spread her hands. “She didn’t go into details, but it seems that’s a touchier subject than I thought. She has no intention in harming your she-warrior, in any case… but I couldn’t quite get her to budge. Yet. Although, if you ask me, I think she’s afraid to let her go. Like it’ll offset her plans to claim the Galeynian throne. But once she has her kingdom and everything falls into place, I have a feeling she won’t see a need to keep her under her thumb anymore. Mind you, she might toss that sword into oblivion, but I can’t see her hanging onto your Sigrid forever. Not the answer I know you want to hear, but it’s something. And you do have my word that I’ll keep on trying.”
“Nia… I know you don’t know me. And this will probably come across as a little untoward, but…” Teselin leaned in and lowered her voice. “Is there a chance that she will speak with me? At any point in time?”
The Master Alchemist blinked, temporarily wondering if she’d heard right. “Oh, honey… she barely wants to speak with me. At the moment, that might be a rather difficult feat. But not impossible. If you don’t mind me asking, though… why?”
“Because we’re the same, she and I. Magically… structurally. I just thought she might be interested. Feel free to pass on the message--I figure it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Teselin shrugged her shoulders. “And, one more thing--what is she planning? For Galeyn, I mean. Does she mean to subjugate everyone? Reign tyranny over a peaceful kingdom?”
Nia couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “What? All this damned trouble to wreck the place and the people? No, no, I guarantee that is not her plan, sweetheart. What a damned waste of time and energy that would be.” She shook her head and took another swig of ale. “This is her home. I think she felt she was missing something, being away from it for as long as she was… and once she has it back--officially--it seems to me she just plans to bask in it. To reconnect with what she’s lost. Not that I know how that’s gonna unfold, but there’s a reason she hasn’t touched any of the Galeynians. I know, sounds hard to believe, but think what you want, I wouldn’t have agreed to help her if she’d planned to just raze this place to the ground. A damn shame it had to come about this way, but… well. She was exiled. Couldn’t exactly expect this place to welcome her back with open arms, and she wasn’t enticed to stay away. Some are fine living the nomadic life, and others...” Something akin to empathy flickered in her brown eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Others want a home. To just stop and breathe. I can’t speak for her revenge, but I think her endgame is more important than that.”
“Did she tell you this? And you believed her?”
Nia smile lazily and shook her head. “Over time, through bits and pieces of conversation, it came together. And I like to pride myself in being a good judge of character--as far as knowing when someone is bullshitting me, at least.”
“Interesting. Then…” The young summoner pressed her lips into a line. “I do hope she will agree to speak with me at some point, Nia. In fact… it might benefit her to do so.”
While he made it clear that he was done expressing his viewpoint, Alster anticipated that someone, most likely Elespeth, would follow after him. Sure enough, she called his name in the hallway. He stopped, turned, and acknowledged his wife, but did not dismiss the Gardeners who were more or less keeping him aloft. Between the perspiration forming on his brow and the labored exhaling through the mouth, he did not exaggerate his condition to the council. Indeed, he looked like he needed rest, convenient excuse or not.
“Am I alright?” Echoing Elespeth’s question, he angled his foot against the floor and slid it against the smooth marble, a subtle gesture and reminder of his plane of residence. It was solid. Impermeable. Bound by the strict guidelines of gravity. “I’m as well as can be expected, considering what happened. My eternal gratitude goes out to you--and to Tivia. My body is undergoing an adjustment period, as I’ve detailed a few days ago...before you left and decided not to return,” he added in a matter-of-fact whisper to conceal some of the hurt that threatened to pull on his neutral expression. “But I deserve it, so...nothing new. My eyes are fine, by the way.” He tugged at one corner and dropped his hand disinterestedly to the side. “Whatever Serpent influence you see, it’s not like last time. We’ve since adapted to each other’s frequencies. I’ve just been really good at hiding the part of me you don’t wish to know, through shields and partitions. There’s nothing sinister afoot. I’m readjusting,” he reiterated. Separating from her anchoring arm, he stepped away and readied a retreat, but the emergence of Teselin from the corner stilled his footfalls.
“Teselin,” he shifted in her direction. “No, I don’t believe Locque was born evil, but her unfortunate circumstances created the darkness which she allowed to incubate and fester until it transformed her into a person unrecognizable from her past self. There remains very little trace of the Gardener she once was. Were it possible to let her guard down and exploit the light within her, the chances you would survive the encounter are...well,” his brow tightened, fighting to contain his resentment, “look no further than what happened to me. I approached her with every magical precaution at my disposal and I still could not defend against her power. Whether you encounter Locque in the ether-realms or in person, the results won’t differ. Maybe you won’t end up spiraling through oblivion as stars birth and die around you, but will you reach her through mutual understanding? It won’t be enough to save her.”
Something gentle, akin to the Alster Rigas of earth, the human-born mage of Stella D’Mare, bubbled to the service. “You can’t compare Locque’s darkness to Lilica’s. They are entirely different people. Lilica was a troubled woman who experienced lapses of judgment, spurred on by the toxicity of her magic. She never professed to do good, but neither did she consistently cause harm. What she did to Elespeth, to the Night Garden, was reactive. An impulse; not premeditated. Since knowing her, she’s always shown reason and a willingness to help, to change. Chara would not have entrusted her to train me in chthonic magic, otherwise, and certainly would not have entrusted her heart. One can argue that all darkness is black, and there exists no shades, no gradations, that we should not downplay whatever damage Lilica has tolled because the fact that she’s performed evil acts at all makes her as evil as Locque...makes me as evil as Locque. Or,” he gazed knowingly at Teselin, “makes you as evil, no matter your mistakes, or your good intentions. And if we are more or less exonerated of our past misdeeds, this means that Locque should be able to follow the same formula, correct? That she should be given a chance? But that is simply not true. Locque presents as worse because she’s not willing to change. She’s set in her path. She has a single-minded goal, and is unconscionable in her disposal of annoyances--like me--who deign to stand in her way. She does not want your help. If you only want to find the good in her because she’s a summoner, like you,” his sigh carried exasperation, but, perhaps to counter Elespeth’s threat of outburst, he maintained his composure, “please reconsider. I tried the pacifistic route and it almost got me killed. It killed Elespeth, and deafened Tivia. I will not make the same mistake again. If you think I am willing to continue to make allowances for someone who tried to obliterate my soul and my spirit, who wished me to cease existing because I surrendered--and you can blame me all you want for how I chose to surrender, but I made the effort to play by her rules all the same...then I am sorry, but I’ve exhausted every ounce of forgiveness, diplomacy, or impartiality. No one has disregarded me so much as to want me beyond dead. To continue forth with my hackneyed plans for peace will not spare me or anyone from her wrath. On the contrary, if we learned anything from these past few weeks, it’s that she doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t Galeynian. I don’t want violence, Teselin. But if violence will end her violence...then I will do what is necessary.” Like a mirage, the unruffled countenance of Alster rippled away, replaced with raw, serpentine power. “All I ask is that you do not cross my path when that time comes. I won’t compromise myself again.”
After the young summoner swept out of their company, energies buzzing like a hornet that had been forcefully expelled from its hive, Alster redirected attention to his wife. Attention insofar as it existed in a limited, ostensible capacity. He referred to her, looked at her, but his mind hummed in the spaces between spaces. The affairs of the material plane, aside from thoughts of revenge, flitted so far from his care that it almost seemed he’d banished earth from his vicinity. “I’ll return to the sanctuary. Though I’m discharged, if it pleases you that I continue to recuperate, I’ll do so. I wouldn’t want to impose on you...or on anyone. I’ve done wrong. I should be punished for it.” Slowly, his feet rotated, pointing towards the sanctuary in a mechanical, soulless motion. “I’ll isolate myself appropriately. I know the patterns, Elespeth. I do something wrong...and you don’t want me near. You’re angry. It’s fine. Be angry. I won’t beg for your forgiveness this time. Or your company. ...What would I even say differently? I’m the reason you had to die. I was trying to protect you...and you died anyway. There’s nothing else I can do for you. I failed.” A certain buoyancy inflated his steps, as though they were ready to sprout wings and float skyward the farther he drifted from Elespeth. “While I’m at the sanctuary, I’ll see to Tivia. I may be able to restore some of her hearing. My star was in part responsible for the damage. Perhaps I can reverse it.” Without another word, the dispirited Alster, accompanied by the Gardeners, disappeared down the hallway, to a place where he could disappear from the world...and devise a strategy to annihilate Locque, body, mind, and soul.
When the riled-up summoner returned to Hadwin’s company, the faoladh, still traveling the hallways from the council chambers, girded himself for a request he really didn’t want to grant. Nonetheless, it was unavoidable. Once Teselin developed the stubborn light in her determined eyes, no force of nature could divert her path elsewhere--because she was the force of nature. This trait was simultaneously admirable (seen when she risked everything to save his life), and, factoring in her summoning magic and the right conditions, a little terrifying. At this moment, the manifestation of her sudden desire to go poking Locque with a stick did annoy Hadwin a tad, considering how carefully he’d been handling affairs. Despite his general demeanor, he did have the capacity for careful planning, but he’d also be remiss to ignore or reject outlier situations that would interfere with order and structure. Hadwin thrived best under degrees of uncertainty. It put forth the most creative solutions, and presented hair-raising challenges that only the likes of a reckless thrillseeker like him would enjoy. But Teselin was not a thrillseeker. She vehemently rejected the parts of her unorthodox heritage that represented chaos and disharmony. And seeing as he was the arbiter of chaos, himself, he initially hesitated to force open the gates and throw her into the fray.
Nonetheless, it was better that she go with him--and he would have insisted on it anyway--than sally forth into unknown territory. Into a (literal) den of wolves.
“Of course, chickadee.” After mulling the thought in his head for a bit, he grinned his approval. “We’re in it together. Like shit am I letting you go at it alone.”
And so it was arranged. Via resonance stone, the faoladh prefaced his message by mentioning Teselin’s inclusion, spinning her company as...well, maybe not as harmless, but opposed to doing harm. She was curious, inquisitive--a lost girl desperate to know herself.
The following night, the duo set off by Night steed to their rendezvous point. To discourage eavesdroppers, Nia had reserved a table nestled in the farthest corner of Osric’s pub, far from the bustling center of the bar, which was full up with thirsty patrons clamoring for the proprietor’s attention. Not to be deterred, Hadwin managed to snag a prize of two ales before relocating to the dark table, Teselin in tow.
“Ah, well isn’t this very apropos. Dark corner for dark dealings.” He mused with a toothy grin. “Got a deck of cards? I’ll start us a crooked game.” The faoladh slid into a chair and Teselin followed suit. “Hells, I would’ve honored the friendship rule, but you’re not wrong. Even at their most engaging, Bron practices abstinence in all things fun and Ro...well, she’s got a rich inner world...minus the innards she’s ripping outta folks. If you’re looking at the three of us face-value, I inherited all the personality.” As he took a grandiose sip of ale, he swept a hand over to the summoner sitting on his right. “This is Teselin. Closest I’ve got to a partner in crime. And I say that because you better wash your clothes before you enter Ro’s smell radius; if she catches her scent and my scent together, you betcha she’s gonna froth at the mouth.”
Hadwin, always one for small talk, could crown himself unofficial king of small talk and few would dispute his claim, gladly answered Nia’s small inquiries. “In one piece? Sure. Is he well? Eeeh,” his hand made a so-so gesture, “that’s subjective. At any rate, he’s withholding from surrender. Says that your lady agreed to it, then immediately booted him into hell, so that dishonesty play doesn’t really warm him to the idea of trying again. But you folks don’t give a shit anyway, so not like that’s particularly worth noting.” For Teselin’s sake, he put a stopper on the pleasantries and the banter, aware she hadn’t much patience for anything but the business end of their arrangements.
“Oh wow. Surprise surprise.” The faoladh rested a hand against his cheek. “Siggy stays on her leash huh? Let’s make that a continuing condition of our surrender then, shall we? Between you and me? Keep trying. Cuz that was a huge negotiation point, right there. Not looking good if your lady wants to enjoy any dose of popularity. Ah, who am I kidding?” He drew his hand across his forehead, swiping unruly strands of ruddy hair back into place. “This is a takeover. Charisma’s got fuck all to do with it. Though I do recommend she tries to be a little personable if she wants to rule over a resentful crowd. Y’know...catching more flies with honey than vinegar? Conversely, you can also attract flies with shit, so...guess that alternative’s working swimmingly for your lady, but damn if it doesn’t stink! So on that note,” he swirled the dregs of his ale as though it were a fine wine, “it remains to be seen what she’ll do once she’s got the throne. Kingdom ain’t gonna rule itself, and if all she wants is to bask...you’re gonna experience some economic collapse and a serious downturn on the quality of life. Hers included. Galeynians might not be as vocal as D’Marians, but they did cause a stink to overthrow their leader. Oh, is she ever gonna be in for a rude awakening when she takes the mantle as queen, that’s for certain!”
It didn’t take long for Teselin to propose what Hadwin had been suspecting, all along. An opportunity to speak with Locque, in some hope to gain insight on her behavior and on her summoning ability. “Ah, well it goes without saying.” He slid his now-empty tankard across the table. “But I’ll say it anyway. Count me in, too.” With his second tankard, he casually toasted to Teselin. “Where the scamp goes, I go. See it as a temporary hostage situation. I’m sure my sisters would love to have me delivered to them on a platter. It’d be hard for Locque to say no to a little chat with my associate, here if she knows her wolves may get to feed. Besides, I ain’t doing it entirely out of solidarity, much as I love the scamp. I see it more as protecting Galeyn’s interests. Sure, we’re surrendering, but is that gonna stop Rowen from her murderous appetite,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that? Everyone could point fingers at Locque for enabling her, but she’s still the one who’s done most of the killing, and was doing it before she teamed up with your employer. Do we really believe the peaceful life’s gonna suit her, if that’s what Locque’s aiming to build when she ascends? So yeah,” he leaned back in his chair, intermittently sipping on his second ale. “Why the hell not? I’d like to talk to my sister. No funny business on my end, either. With all involved parties in the same room, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I can speak for my sisters when I say they’ll be on to me from the get-go.”
Alster might have insisted that all was well, that he was just readjusting to his corporeal form and the tangible realm, but something still seemed increasingly off about him--and that suspicion was solidified in the way he replied to Teselin. The former knight had never witnessed her husband interact with the young summoner in any way that wasn’t kind or supportive. But what his parting words to her sounded like, just then… It sounded as though he would go to any lengths to stop the sorceress, even if it involved an ally standing in his way. This was not the Alster she knew and loved--that Alster would never even consider pursuing a goal if it meant it might harm a friend or ally. And yet… somehow, he seemed not to care what it might cost. Even if it meant putting the naive, albeit well-meaning Teselin in danger.
“..what did you mean by that? ‘Don’t cross my path’’?” She was not about to let her husband walk off without explaining himself, and quickly fell into step next to him. “Alster, I understand that you are readjusting. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have felt like when you… well, whatever happened to you, wherever you were. What you did is far beyond my capabilities and comprehension, and I am just as livid about what Locque did to you as you are. But… but you cannot put your desire to seek vengeance on her before the safety of your friends and allies. What if Teselin stood in your way? She is naive enough to do so when she becomes fixated on her own ideals… would you really destroy her, an innocent life, if it meant delivering the sorceress a fatal blow?”
The former knight couldn’t help but feel the burden of her own guilt. It had been days since she had last seen her husband, leaving him to ponder his actions and recover on his own. Perhaps if she had waived her anger and kept him company… would things have unfolded any differently? Would she still see the Serpent in his eyes? “You aren’t imposing on anyone, Alster. But your body doesn’t look as though it has recovered fully… it must have been very taxing for you to leave the sanctuary, just to come here to explain yourself. If you want… I’ll go with you.” Elespeth sighed, deflated, her shoulders sinking as if only realizing the weight they carried. “Yes, I am angry. I am angry that you left me in the dark, and that you put me through such an extent of panic for so long. I’m angry about what happened to Tivia, although… although I understand, now, that that wasn’t your fault. It was never your intention to get lost among the other realms: that was Locque’s doing, and I understand that now. I’m… I am sorry that I did not offer you the care and understanding you needed upon getting you back. If I am the reason that you haven’t fully returned to yourself… then I want to fix that.”
Placing a hand on his arm, she stalled his pace to get him to listen. She really wasn’t sure if any of her words were registering; he seemed so… far away. Like he hadn’t really returned at all, at least, not fully. “Tivia will be fine. The Gardeners have done well to tend to her, and they’ve said that hearing loss usually isn’t permanent when it occurs from ruptured ear drums. I’m sure she would appreciate your help, but… maybe it would be better to offer it when you are more fully recovered. You do need rest… real rest. Alster… I need you to promise me something.”
Standing in front of him, just a couple of inches taller by height, she rested her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. She wasn’t sure he really saw her any more than he heard her… “We are all livid for what Locque has done. But Lilica has already decided that surrender is our best option at avoiding any further death and violence. Everyone has agreed that this is the best step to take, given the circumstances, and that is our plan, moving forward. I realize this doesn’t sit well with you, given what happened, but whatever vengeance you are seeking… try to temper it. Not for Locque’s sake: for that of your friends and allies. We’ll get what we deserve, Alster; we will see her fall. Just...” She sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “We cannot stoop to her level to get there. You can oppose her, but promise me you’ll let things unfold as Lilica has decided. Make Locque think she is getting what she wants… and end it, when she least expects it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I thought way ahead and have a room in town; I don’t intend to return to my normal digs this evening. Something tells me that your darling littlest sister wouldn’t bat an eyelash to go full rogue, if she happened to catch me associating with you, again… and I’ll be honest, I wanna keep this neutral grounds safe. This place is good to me. That man is good to me.” She nodded toward Osric, who was serving up ale to a couple of men at the bar. “I owe it to them to keep them out of that little puppy’s line of fire.”
Stretching her arms out in front of her, the Master Alchemist shrugged her shoulders. “Like I said--it was a bad idea on his part to provoke a mad dog, so to speak. Not saying I agree with it, but she really couldn’t care a lick for what your Rigas man does or doesn’t do. Her sights are set on the palace, and only our Galeynian Queen can give up the place--and the title. So while I am sure I can convince her not to attack again--unprovoked--it is up to your dimension-crossing mage to not upset her the way he did. Listen, it may not look like it, but I am doing a good deal on my part keep the peace--literally! So…” Nia exhaled audibly and dress back into an upright posture. “I’d really appreciate if your players could do the same. As for your intimidating, blonde warrior… I’m working on it. I’ll keep working on it. You want my take? She won’t let her go until she feels safe. Your Sigrid is in every sense of the word, ‘leverage’. And she will not be letting go of her as long as she feel offensively opposed… which may be food for thought for your Alster Rigas. If he plans on continuing to strike, then none of this is going to work out, and you may well not get your warrior back. If he steps out of the way, and our new Queen finally feel safe again, then I doubt she’ll want to continue to expend energy on keeping Sigrid enthralled. That’s my two cents’; do with it what you will, but negotiations go both ways. Otherwise they’re just demands. And I don’t think I need to tell you, you won’t get far with demands.
“But--no, you are entirely right. She might’ve been around for… gods know, hundreds of years, but she’s going to have to do a lot of self-remodeling if she wants to be better-received, eventually. That’s why she has people like me.” Nia grinned a broad smile and took another sip of her ale. “Since you’re holding my name over my head now, it shouldn’t come as any surprise to you that I hail from aristocracy. I know a thing or two about needing to be ‘liked’--hell, I grew up in the Ilandrian palace, right alongside the prince himself. He’s only about half a decade older than me. I’ve seen what’s required when it comes to being a presence for the people--and our sorceress listens to me. I’m here to help until she’s confident--and I am confident--that she can go it all on her own. Like I’ve said, I can feel it in the atmosphere: she’s looking for a reason to finally put her weapons down. She wants the life that she never had the opportunity to live. Unfortunately, getting there did require a take-over, as you put it, because there was no other way. Galeyn would never have accepted her back.”
“So you’ll convince her to speak with me?” Teselin spoke up again, relentless in her pursuit of having Locque’s ear. “What you said… that’s exactly what I anticipated. She isn’t murdering and turning this place upside-down for the sake of being evil. She might not see what she’s doing as right, but she is desperate… and desperation can lead people down dark paths. Nia, I trust that you can help her. You’re realistic; you have a sense of what is going on around you, and despite that you attacked Elespeth, you also seem to be grounded in what is right and wrong. But I… I think, maybe, I can help her, too. For the better of all of us.”
“Right and wrong are entirely subjective, young lady. Depends on the situation, the consequences, and what else is happening around you. Frankly, I don’t see what is happening as ‘wrong’ so much as it is unfortunate. A shame it couldn’t have turned out a better way.” Nia twirled a lock of her hair on her finger. “But, honey, that’s an awfully huge burden--and a little too idealistic--if you think you’re going to walk up to our sorceress and propose to ‘help’ her. Not when you’ve been on the opposing side, all along.”
“I wouldn’t put that to her outright. I want… to know her. Obviously there is something that others are missing. After all, you are working for her of your own volition--so what is it you see?” She angled her head curiously. “You don’t think she’s good or bad. Just that she is what she is. And for whatever reason, you’re alright with that.”
The Master Alchemist sat back in her seat with her ale in hand. It was nearly empty, by now; she was going to need another one to get through this conversation. “To me, she was an average person that was dealt a shit hand in terms of where fate took her, and it only got shittier when she was already knocked down for the count… so yeah. I suppose I sympathize a little, as someone who was run out of their home after years of loyal servitude. Did I go ballistic and threaten Ilandria? No, but I suppose that’s because I didn’t have the power she has, and was too much of a coward to try. Not like anyone has ever led a one-man army successfully in rebellion against a nation.”
“So you were dealt a bad hand, too, then? You sympathize with her because her feelings are your own. And maybe revenge wouldn’t be off the table for you if it was within your reach… Is that why you help her? Because you couldn’t do the same for your situation?”
Suddenly, Nia didn’t seem all too keen in talking, anymore. She downed the remainder of her ale and heavily set her stein on the table. Her opposite hand toyed with the rustic star pendant hanging between her collarbones. “Osric--whenever you get a chance, my friend, I’d love a refill!” She called to the man at the bar, before turning back to the wolf and his decidedly… annoying little protege. “I know you didn’t come here to talk about me and my circumstances, little summoner. None of that matters or has any bearing on what the real person in question will or will not do. I’m doing what I can to keep everyone happy and to mitigate the number of people who have to die. I’ll continue to work on getting your warrior back; I’ll speak with her future majesty and mention you’re interested in speaking with her, as well. But I’m really not in the mood to regale you with my history. So, if we’re done here…”
The Master Alchemist stood and picked up her stein. “I promised Osric I wouldn’t leave without having a bite to eat. I think it freaks him out and throws me under suspicion when I don’t order food. If you have any more questions, you know how to contact me.” She lifted the resonance stone from her pocket and waved it at them. “This thing is ridiculously handy; kudos to whichever one of your mages crafted it! Haven’t seen communication trinkets such as this since the eternal mirrors in my home, way back in the day. Felt like you were really there, chatting with the person right next to you… but I digress. Goodnight to you both! Oh, and Hadwin?” Nia pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “I know you’ll disagree, but I’m going to suggest you keep yourself out of your protege’s little rendez-vous with Locque. For one, I doubt she’ll agree to meet with more than one person, and for another… I can’t guarantee your sisters won’t catch wind of it and tear you to shreds. Wouldn’t be the first time the littlest mutt has acted independently of Locque, and having you cut down right in front of our little summoner here would break her heart and ruin the whole thing.What I can guarantee is your fledgling little do-gooder will be safe and sound, and return in the same condition in which she left. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” She winked. “Do yourself a favour--do us all a favour, and stay away.”
Feeling it was probably best to give the Master Alchemist her space, Teselin left with Hadwin as soon as he finished his drink. Their carriage awaited them outside, with the driver nearby, keeping warm in an adjacent establishment. As soon as they were safely on their way back to the palace, Teselin let a load off of her chest.
“I’m sorry. I guess I said too much…” She sighed, warming her cold hands between her knees. “We probably could’ve gotten more information if I hadn’t tried to get personal with her. But… I think she’s right, Hadwin. It may not be safe for you to be there when I meet with Locque. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I’m confident that she won’t do anything to me. She knows better than that, and I do trust Nia to keep her word that I’ll be safe. I’d never forgive myself if Rowen got to you because of me…”
She could remember all too clearly what it felt like, watching Rowen embed that knife into Hadwin’s gut… and she couldn’t relive that. She’d rather die. “Hadwin… I think we need to keep a close eye on Alster.” Negotiating with Locque made her recall the sentiments mirrored in Alster’s eyes, earlier that day. Determination for vengeance, unyielding in his own mindset. “He isn’t himself… he hasn’t been since he’s returned. He is determined to have his vengeance on Locque for what she has done to him and everyone he cares about, but I’m afraid that it will only make matters worse. He told me not to stand in his way… but I need to tell you, that I am going to. If it means the difference between violence begetting violence and the potential for peace, whether or not it means finding whatever light may be left in Locque--I am going to have to deter his efforts. And I don’t know what that will result in, so…”
Teselin looked up from her lap. “I need you to keep an eye on that, for me. Use your fearsight, whatever it takes, but we cannot let Alster stoop to the same low as Locque. Because if he ends up acting on behalf of the Serpent, again… then we may only be neutralizing one monsters in favour of another.”
Alster’s flight from the hallway to the welcome haven in his mind was mildly interrupted by that same, steadfast hand reaching out to tether him in place. While he didn’t stop moving forward, the strength of her will slowed his swift retreat to a crawl. He could not fend her off when his body could scarcely travel without pausing for a breath, so he readjusted his pace and accepted the supportive company of his wife...who had come for him too late to make a difference. Too late to change his mind.
“What I meant is what I said,” he told Elespeth, his tone blunt, undisturbed. “Teselin is letting sentimentality override her sense of danger. I, too, thought I could reason with Locque. I take responsibility for my handling of the situation, but if she truly wanted peace and understanding, she would not have treated me like a mere insect--and she will pay for that severe misjudgment. In the meantime, I will not have Teselin take the same route I mistakenly took. I will not see the same thing happen to her...or to anyone. Never would I think to destroy our allies, Elespeth.” An undercurrent of pain coursed through his next words, but it was gone as soon as he uttered them. “Why do you always think so poorly of me? You thought poorly of my treatment of her, in Stella D’Mare… No,” he shook away his sentiments. “I erred by making my information of Locque public, unintentionally creating an ill-advised opportunity for the summoner to resume her journey of self-discovery, at horrible risk to herself. If I have to subdue--not kill--Teselin before Locque can harm her, then I will. I pray it will never reach that point--that I will have destroyed Locque and freed everyone of her tyranny by then.” He made the closest thing to eye contact his unfocused gaze could manage. “I do not kill unnecessarily, Elespeth. You know this of me. Or...I thought you did. But it’s time I took action. My words mean nothing, to no one. My words can’t save. Talking...it can’t always solve our problems. Only fear and violence seem to register with people, nowadays. It registered with the D’Marians. Now, they’re free of Rigas rule...of my rule. Pathetic as it was.”
He ceased walking, stabilizing his teetering body against the wall with his steel arm--ignoring his wife’s attempts to help. Nothing could be relied on, in this material plane. Not the walls that held him aloft, and not the woman who likely resented him for dying on his behalf. She offered apologies and professed her guilt for withdrawing when he needed her to stay, but now, her gestures seemed emptyhanded. Everyone and everything seemed empty, hollow, unimportant. The world and all its ineffectual inhabitants eclipsed his compulsion to eradicate the sorceress from existence. To do to her what she did to him. “Elespeth...I don’t need you to come with me. I wouldn’t make for good company, anyway. ...Was I ever?” He spoke distantly, directing his question to the wall. “You run from me. That’s fair. I’ve run from you, too. Always with the intention of returning, but...I’m not innocent. So keep running, Elespeth. I won’t stop you.”
He registered no reflex, no indicated movement when his wife made contact with his shoulders. He maintained his line of sight with the wall, melting the solid structure down to its vertices, its geometric components. When broken down to its base forms, the material plane existed as nothing but a realm of frequencies, wavelengths, shapes...shadows. Too much substance haphazardly covered the pit of oblivion from which all matter would sink...one day. Even Elespeth--or the shell of Elespeth. She, too, would succumb. So why entertain so much pointlessness? Connections, alliances, friendships, love. Surface level, mortal distractions of the sort interfered with his end goal--ironically, an earthly pursuit. But it was the only one that would guarantee any traction. Any immediate results.
“You cannot begin to measure how livid I am.” Shades of caustic orange flecked in his blue eyes, resembling leaking pools of corrosive acid. “But if you think I am going to surrender to her again, and repeat the same strategy that landed me in my hibernation-induced purgatory--then no, I will not be so foolish. Neither am I foolish to land a premature strike. As I am, I need to develop my extant abilities. This will take time and practice, but I’m able to manufacture both in the ether-realms. Rest assured, I will not disrupt Lilica’s plans for surrender. I am patient. I can wait this out. She is free to do as she sees fit for the safety of this kingdom, but I will not take part.” Swinging his steel prosthesis from its stabilizing point against the wall, he laid it upon Elespeth’s hand...and managed to wrest her grip free. He stumbled out of her path, erecting non-physical barriers between them. If need be...he’d require magical barriers. Her touch, if prolonged...it could do things to him. His senses. His emotions. His...heartbeat.
“Don’t come with me,” he gasped. “I need rest. So I will rest. Let me do so...alone.” As soon as he uttered the word, ‘alone,’ Alster Rigas disappeared, identical to the vanishing act he pulled in the D’Marian village. For the second time in several weeks, he was gone from the earthly realm.
“If it doesn’t matter what Serpent Lord does or doesn’t do, then it’s not gonna matter to your lady if he’s at large and not cooperating with Galeyn’s terms for surrender. He may not be part of the package, but not caring about an opponent implies that Locque feels safe--or at the very least, unthreatened--whether he’s directly causing disruptions or not. Therefore,” Hadwin raised his hands into a shrug, “we’re in the clear. Nothing to worry about, yeah? And about our ‘demands,’--I mean, we’re surrendering to you. Not like we’re gaining anything by this decision, aside from not dying, which is a raw deal and ain’t even a fucking guarantee. Whereas your lady’s gaining everything she’s always wanted, no repercussions, no sacrifices, no true act of good faith. So tell me,” he inclined his head in curiosity, “where’s the negotiation aspect, here? This ain’t unconditional surrender, y’know. So I’d say our ‘demands’ are reasonable, seeing as we’re asking for the return of one person. You say she’s using her for leverage? Isn’t her ability to lob people into a dimensional infinity loop enough leverage against us?”
“Look,” he dropped his hands on the table, his sharp, bony knuckles knocking against the wood, “I know we’re both trying to broker a good, peaceful agreement, here, but keeping the peace also means ending hostilities, and there’s just too many variables on your end that don’t inspire confidence for a happily ever after. And since you’ve really been riding this fear campaign, it’s no wonder there’s doubt aplenty creeping up about your commitment--rather, her commitment--to a bloodless reign. You can go off about how it’s in our best interests to cooperate and all that rot, but it’s also in her best interests not to continually piss off the people who are gonna be part of her little utopia world. Cuz then it won’t be a utopia. It’ll be a despot imposing gag rule. Anyone who talks out of turn or disturbs the peace gets the axe. So,” he snagged the handle of his tankard and swung it towards him, “we make this part of the ‘negotiation.’ Sigrid’s return. Alive, mind in tact. Doesn’t have to be right away if your lady’s that afraid we’re gonna misbehave or some shit. But it’s gotta be a surety and also not...five years down the line. There’s no ‘or else’ proviso. No demand. Just a request for an additional act of decency on our future monarch’s part. If she loves Galeyn that much--shouldn’t be a problem.”
Eager to keep discussing the possibility of gaining an audience with Locque, Teselin re-broached the subject to Nia, bolstered by talk of the sorceress as some tragic figure whose hand had been forced. He glanced sidelong at the summoner, glimpsing the perennial fear that clung to her with stubborn persistence. Ah, kid. She’s not the answer you’re looking for. “I second that notion,” he cleared his throat and gestured his tankard at Nia. “Right and wrong’s a judgment value. But that’s how far my agreeableness goes. See, just how Nia here slaps Locque’s whole situation as unfortunate, I say fie to that. Everyone’s got a sob story, but I ain’t gonna boohoo this woman just because life was hard and it made her snap. C’mon,” he chuckled, “haven’t we all had a shit time? If I showed pity for every person who tried to kill me in a fight, I’d be dead fifty times over. ‘Sides, people don’t typically do evil for evil. Locque ain’t the exception; we just didn’t know her circumstances ‘till now. Try hard enough and you can make any idiot look sympathetic, even when they’re enthralling minds and banishing souls.” He draped one arm across the back of Teselin’s chair and stretched out his collarbone until the joint made a satisfying pop.
“Having the insight or the empathy to relate isn’t gonna stop her from doing what she’s doing, not when she’s come so far and desperation drives her. Only way to sway her is with a better bargain, and that’s hard to top. Which does remind me,” he upended his second tankard of its ale and deposited it next to the first one, “if cinching a peaceful life in Galeyn’s her aim, why’s she vying for the throne, anyway? Ruling as queen couldn’t be any further from a harmonious, stress-free retirement. Couldn’t she have just asked for her citizenship to be reinstated? And if I recall, there was a story I heard about how she wiggled her way into King Theomyr’s good graces. Seems he trusted her--loved her--until she showed her true colors and tried to control the throne and the Night Garden.” He returned both arms to the table. “So my question is--if she had something good before, why blow it? What’s more, if she successfully wormed her way into Galeyn’s court, couldn’t she have done it again, with her shape-changing and whatnot? You can’t tell me this isn’t also a quest for power. I mean, c’mon, she wants access to the Night Garden?” Across the table, he raised a suspicious eyebrow at Nia. “Don’t get me wrong, I sort of get it. If you’re at the top, no one can oppose you. You make your own rules and you don’t answer to anyone. ‘Cept, you definitely answer to the people who hate you, so...Damn it if there isn’t some iffiness in this whole flawed story! Maybe Locque can clear up that gray area. If anything, humanizing her’s gonna give a much-needed boost to her image and all that. Make her more...accessible. It definitely worked on you!”
Hadwin didn’t quite receive the answers to his biting questions on Locque’s character. Teselin, big ball of curiosity that she was, probed too hard on the personal front and effectively spooked Nia into reticence, which was a huge feat, considering her garrulousness rivaled his own.
“Nah, I’ll leave you to it. The pub’s yours for the eating!” In conjunction with Teselin, he rose from his chair, but not without some final words concerning his involvement in Teselin’s diplomacy talks. “Ah, see, you misunderstand me. Sure, I want in on this arrangement, but I’m not exactly in it for Locque. As I said, I want to talk to Rowen. Throw Bron in there for good measure, too. Put ‘em all in a room and then put Tes and me in that room. If this is a parley, no aggression, no violence, just words, Locque, if she’s worth her salt, will be able to hold my sisters back from chewing on my haunches. Ro’s gonna be an obstacle to peace. She doesn’t want peace. And hells, she probably won’t listen to me, either, but...I think it’s about time we had a chat. So relay this to Ro when you get the chance. Tell her...and we’ll see if she accepts my request. But one on one ain’t gonna work. She’s gotta be with Locque and Tes. All in one place. ‘Cuz she’ll behave if she knows that taking me down will cause a catastrophic deal of collateral damage.”
With a cheery wave, both to Nia and to Osric, Hadwin exited the pub, sauntering behind Teselin. They hailed the driver from inside the warm stables where he waited, piled inside the carriage, and immediately set off for the palace. It wasn’t long before the summoner, unsurprisingly bristling in fear over his decision, urged him to reconsider. “Ro won’t get to me,” he reassured, sprawling out his legs in the small carriage space. “She only got to me before cuz I let her. I’m not letting her. That’s why I’m requesting failsafes be put in place. If I’m accompanied by you, she won’t dare.” He bumped her playfully on the shoulder. “Now that she knows what you’re capable of. Gonna be honest with you. I’m asking that you give me the opportunity not to do something more dangerous,” he said, volleying Teselin’s earlier words back at her. “Cuz I will. And you’ll hate it even more.”
“Now that that’s settled,” he placed a hand over his mouth in a faux yawn, indicating he was bored of the subject, “ah yes, Serpent Lord. Well, who could blame him? Were I in his shoes and had his power, I’d do the same. Hells, I have done the same. He’s wanted to do her in for months. And if my earlier remarks were any clue, Locque doesn’t exactly have my vote of confidence on anything peace-related. Not the kind of ease-putting peace people strive to achieve, anyway. But I’ll agree about Al. He hasn’t been his morally upstanding self lately. Always cause for concern. But he’s not overtaken by the Serpent. Not like last time. And something tells me he’s prepared to deal with my fearsight onslaught. It kinda loses its efficacy the more you use it on the same person. They get desensitized to it after a while. Well,” he pantomimed a set of scales in his hands, “that, or, they go mad. Wouldn’t want the latter to happen to Al when he’s already unhinged. I’m with you, though. He’s gonna need some babysitting.”
“Alster, I agree--and I’m not saying that Teselin is in the right by any means. She is too sentimental and idealistic; hells, if anyone should know that, it’s me. I’ve gotten to know the girl from the very beginning. And if you ask me, talking feelings with a psychotic sorceress is not going to solve anything. But I also think--no, I know that Teselin is more talk than action, or else she wouldn’t have come to you to change your mind. So this talk of ‘subduing’ her… I don’t think it will be necessary. Alster…” Elespeth’s features softened. “I don’t think poorly of you. I am afraid that you aren’t in the right state of mind to be making these decisions. You spent two weeks traversing some… otherrealms, and you lost touch with yourself. Then you spent time recovering, and I don’t think you’re fully there, yet--physically or mentally. And I acknowledge that part of that… is my fault. Because I was angry, and I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. So believe me, I know anger. I know how it can cloud our judgment. It can make us do things that we ourselves would never do, if we are being authentic. I mean… isn’t that what happened to Locque? Look how far anger and vengeance took her, from the person she once was...”
She didn’t like this feeling. This feeling like she was talking to a wall, or some other inanimate object that wouldn’t--that couldn’t--respond. Alster had not exhibited such a disposition since he had allowed the Serpent to rule his body and mind. He had insisted this was not the case, and neither had Hadwin seen fit to step in and snap him out of it, which she assumed he would have done if he’d suspected the same… but this was not a side of Alster that she had ever seen. And what frightened her more was that it was making itself known in the absence of the Serpent. “If I wanted to run from you, Alster, I wouldn’t be here. I was angry at you, and I needed time and space to come to terms with that. But now I’m… I’m just worried. I thought with time, and just being here again, you’d come back to yourself. But you’ve come back different, and I don’t know how to change it. That’s why I want to be here. That is why I am not running, because running from you will only make it worse. I was so desperate to get you back--to have you, to feel you again. Was it…” The former knight swallowed a lump in her throat. “Was it not the same for you, Alster? Was I… not the reason you wanted to come back? Was it all about seeking vengeance on Locque?”
Elespeth hadn’t thought that was a possibility, namely because she refused to acknowledge it as one. That the man who was her entire world might not see her the same way through this red lens of anger. But the moment he pushed her hand away, her heart sank at the realization that it was true. Alster had no interest in grounding himself and returning to who he once was. Perhaps that transition had begun the night he’d decided to unleash the Serpent on the D’Marian settlement, and she had just seen it as a reaction to Aristide’s harsh defamation of his character. Maybe that had something to do with it; maybe this had all snowballed into something that was too big for Alster to handle, and so in order to deal with it… something other, another side of him, was necessary to protect his fragile ego. Because her love and support wasn’t enough.
Had it ever been?
“Alster, I just… I want to help you. I won’t stop you if Locque’s death is ultimately what you seek. And if it doesn’t interfere with Lilica’s plans for kingdomwide surrender, then maybe I can even help you. But you need to be in a better place, first. A place of reason and intent, not… not revenge. I’ve seen where that takes people. So you have you. Forget the sanctuary, just… come back with me to our room.” She extended her hand, knowing full well he wouldn’t take it. “I feel more at ease there, too. Not in the middle of the Night Garden. It will be good for you, to be around something more familiar. I don’t… I don’t think you should be alone. I think that’s exactly what is poisoning your mind, and I wish I’d… Alster!”
She took one step forward, and he… was gone. Again, flickering out of existence like a candle whose flame was snuffed out. By choice, once again, but this time, it was not to hide from Locque. Not to shield himself from danger, and not even for the betterment of his physical or mental condition. He had disappeared… to get away from her. To run from her, like she was some threat to his very existence, and not at all his wife. Is this it? Some truth I’ve been ignoring? The former knight thought with dismay, jaw agape and eyes wide with hurt. I’ve never been enough for you, have I? Not enough to help you, not enough to heal you, not even to make you stay… what more have I been than a pleasant distraction?
All of this work, mental, physical, emotional, that she had invested in really being Elespeth Rigas. Accepting and learning to use magic that she had never asked for. Putting her days of being a knight behind her in favour of learning to be a mage, to be closer to her husband and exist as more of a unit than an individual… what had been the point, if she had never really been Alster’s anchor in the first place? Maybe he hadn’t even wanted to come back. Maybe it had been easier for him to exist in an in-between state… without her. After all, how could you feel you were lacking when you’d disconnected from everything?
Maybe this wasn’t her burden to bear--and had never been. I can’t make a difference to him. Then I’ll just have to make a difference to everyone else… Elespeth Rigas is useless. But it’s possible… that Elespeth Tameris still has some potential.
Without another thought, and without shedding another tear, Elespeth Rigas slipped her wedding band off of her finger. And Elespeth Tameris returned to her chambers to sleep.
Though she was hesitant to do so, Teselin had to accept that Hadwin would effectively use on her the same reasoning she’d used on him. There was a lot of unfinished business between the faoladh and his sisters, particularly Rowen, and at some point, it would need to be addressed. Perhaps, just like she felt Locque possibly wasn’t lost forever to her own darkness, the same could be said for Hadwin’s littlest sister. She couldn’t begrudge him the opportunity to face her, especially when it was highly likely that Locque would bring reinforcements, considering she really had no reassurance that Teselin and her companion would come to her on friendly terms. The young summoner had no choice but to agree, because she knew full well that Hadwin was both capable and willing to go at this from an entirely more dangerous angle. “Alright.” She sighed and shook her head. “But remember, you made me a promise. To not go chasing death--right? If Rowen makes a move to attack you, Hadwin, and if Locque or Nia does not make a move to stop her… then you know I will have to. And…” Fear trickled into her small voice. “I don’t know how that will look, or what it will do, but you and I can both agree that it won’t be anything good or well-measured. So if this is your decision… then you’ll have to go into it knowing full well what it might incite, if it comes to that.”
But it was non-negotiable, otherwise, and there was no changing his mind. The young summoner had to accept that, however much it tied her guts in knots. “It’s almost worse that he hasn’t been overtaken by the Serpent, though… because that means that his thoughts are genuinely his own. That isn’t the Alster that I’ve come to know… and I don’t know what he will do. He’s already told me not to stand in his way, but he and I have very different ideas on how to handle this. I know that you have no faith in Locque, Hadwin, and you shouldn’t… at least, not right now. But I am not in agreement with Alster. I don’t think that she is beyond saving. I think she is doing the only thing she knows to do to keep herself safe, to obtain what she wants, and that is to overpower anyone and anything that is a potential threat to her. If you want my opinion, she’s not some nefarious being inside and out. She’s no more than a scared animal that realizes she has to be an apex predator in order to survive… and, really, is she wrong? After what has happened to her?”
Teselin fixed her dark gaze out the window, her eyes bright with determination. Her small hands had clenched into fists on her lap. “Alster could not reach her because he is not like her. She only partially responds to Nia because she has sworn to her, but even Nia is not like her. But I am like her, Hadwin. Everything that Locque is, now… I have the potential of being just like that. It is just as likely that one day, my own magic and darkness might consume me. All it takes is the right amount of pain in the right places. If I can talk to her, though… and convince her that I am not an enemy, then maybe she will let me in. Maybe I can find the person she once was… and we can turn around the trajectory of this crisis before it takes any more lives.”
Not wanting to deprive the Galeynian Queen of any more sleep than she already had been, Teselin and Hadwin arrived at the palace and decided to call for another meeting in the morning, instead. A small meeting--merely one between Lilica and Chara, themselves. There was no need to involve the others and incite unnecessary worry, but it was necessary to let Lilica in the know… despite that she knew exactly how the dark mage might react, anyway.
When they arrived early the next morning in the councilroom, Lilica and Chara were already involved in a conversation with Elespeth; and a particularly escalated one, by the looks of it. “What do you mean he vanished, Elespeth?” Lilica asked, obviously struggling to keep her calm. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“Because I couldn’t, Lilica. I can’t. I don’t have that power. He walked away from me when I reached out to him. What Alster wants or needs at this point in time clearly has nothing to do with me… and he made that very clear.” The ex-knight kept a very neutral and informational countenance, but the missing ring on her finger had not gone unnoticed by any of the parties. Yet no one mentioned it; this clearly wasn’t a topic into which Elespeth decided to delve. “I don’t know where he is. I’m sure he will come back when he feels ready, but I don’t have the time or the energy to spend fruitlessly searching for him or trying to reach him. I think my skills and capabilities are better spent elsewhere.”
“Queen Lilica… I’m sorry to interrupt you. But Hadwin and I have some news.” All eyes were on Teselin as the young summoner spoke up in her small voice. “Hadwin and I have managed to convince the Master Alchemist to incite a meeting between the two of us… and Locque. I just thought you should be in the know.”
As if news of Alster’s sudden disappearance again wasn’t enough to get Lilica’s adrenaline going… The Galeynian Queen shared a startled look with Chara before turning back to Teselin. “You what?! Do I need to spell it out to you how that is a terrible idea in so many ways, Teselin?”
“She won’t hurt me. I know she won’t--and Nia also guaranteed it. She’s the one who has been going out of her way to negotiate peace, so I trust her. It helps no one if Locque lashes out. I’m going to speak with her… so that we can learn more. I want to know what her darkness is really feeding off of. If I can see the source… maybe I can reverse it. We’re the same, she and I; both summoners. She might not have opened up to Alster, but I believe there is a chance she will open up to me.”
“Gods, Teselin.” Lilica groaned and massaged her temples. “You cannot save everyone! This sorceress has made it clear she harbours no regret for all of the tragedy she has caused. You’ll only be putting yourself in danger!”
“I’ll accompany you.” Elespeth spoke up again, her verdant gaze fixed on Hadwin and Teselin, on hand on her scabbard at her hip. “No doubt the witch will be bringing along her own reinforcements, even if it is agreed upon that this meeting will go peacefully. Allow me to stand in the background. I think we all know she will have the wolves with her, the Master Alchemist… and possibly even Sigrid. Given all of the carnage she has caused, it is not unreasonable for you to be foreward thinking in keeping yourselves safe. You can inform your go-between that I’ll be an unobtrusive presence unless circumstances dictate otherwise.”
The young summoner paused for a beat, but… what Elespeth was saying was not unreasonable. And especially given her concerns for Hadwin’s safety, she was impelled to agree. “Nia won’t like it… and I am sure Locque won’t, either. But the Master Alchemist has been quite good at meeting our conditions thus far. Hadwin,” she nodded to the faoladh. “You can inform her of this using the resonance stone. Tell her that Elespeth will be there as a precaution and not as a threat. She’s right; Locque can’t begrudge us this. She knows we want to stay safe.”
“If you ask me, this is entirely ludicrous, but between you and Alster… I am becoming more and more aware that I have little to no control over what any of you do in this kingdom.” Lilica huffed. “Not like I could stop any of you, anyway. I only request that you do not worsen the situation, Teselin. Tell her we are ready to surrender. Update me on the status of having her relinquish Sigrid from her control. I will leave that to you--so please do not let me down. In the interim… we have somewhere else to be, today.” The Galeynian Queen held up the written memo that had been delivered to them from the D’Marian settlement. Aristide Canaveris had invited them for an audience… although for what reason, Lilica could not divine. “What do you think he wants? Hasn’t he already more or less stated he will stand in opposition to us if it means protecting the D’Marians?” She deferred to Chara for her opinion, before glancing at the former knight. “Since I imagine this meeting with the sorceress will not be taking place anytime soon, Elespeth, I’d request that you accompany us today. This Aristide Canaveris does not seem as though he means ill will… but I’ll be honest. I don’t trust him at all. The way he so shamelessly dragged the Rigas name through the mud does not inspire me to harbour friendly relations with him or his family. Nonetheless, it is necessary to see what it is he wants.”
“I’d be happy to.” Elespeth tucked her braid over her shoulder. It was the first time in so long that she had sported her characteristic weave, now that her hair had once again grown long enough to accommodate it. “Inform me of the time of departure, and I’ll be prepared. The same goes for your, Teselin. Hadwin.” She nodded to the other pair of inquirers in the room. “You can count on me.”
“I’m not chasing death,” Hadwin promised, hand over heart. “Last time I did that, it didn’t go over too well. I’ll take it as a given; I’m not meant to die yet. Wish I could’ve learned that lesson without all the carnage, but what’s done is done. You’re still my savior, kiddo.” He wrestled her into an affectionate side-hug. “So much so, I’d be pretty choked up if something happened to you and I wasn’t there to pull you out of hot water. Yeah, I’m aware of the risks. I’ve calculated them all. But if Rowen already wants me dead, and she motions for my death to be used as a bargaining chip to gauge the honesty of Galeyn’s surrender, what’s that gonna do to you if it happens? Be it now or later, she’s still looking to kill me. I imagine she allied with Locque so she could eventually get to me, with the backing of a powerful sorceress on her side. She’ll be right pissed she’s not getting her way. So, let’s see this meeting as a golden opportunity to nip away some hostilities--or, failing that, see where everyone stands.”
His reasoning didn’t mollify her--as evidenced by the headache fast blooming in between his eyes. She feared so much for his safety, he could hear her heart racing with the mortal terror of a rabbit desperate to wiggle from the jaws of a hungry wolf. To help calm her, he smoothed his palm in between her shoulder blades and lightly massaged some of the tension knots that formed in her muscles. And damn, was she ever stiff, like one big cyst, or callus! When was the last time she relaxed? “There’s still some Serpent influence in Al; it’s just not the same as it was in Braighdath. It ain’t a dominating force. It’s more a...complementary one. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. Unlike his Braighdath counterpart, this Alster still has fears. Very faint ones. Faraway ones. But he’s not completely disconnected from his emotions, else he wouldn’t’ve reacted in anger about Locque.” As Teselin led the conversation from Alster to her beliefs regarding the sorceress, he paused in his impromptu massage session, deciding how much or how little to say in relation to her own fears.
“Ah, Tes, it’s sweet you always want to see the good in people. Just don’t get your hopes up if things don’t work out.” He removed his palm from her back and slid aside to return to her the precious carriage space he’d usurped. “You’re both summoners; doesn’t make you the same. You’ve got something in common. There’s a difference. Don’t go comparing yourself to the sorceress over something superficial like magic compatibility, or the fact that she was once a nice person, like you. Sure, maybe she can provide you some little tidbits, insights, a look inside her head, but that’s it. Don’t think she’s suddenly gonna see the light after steeping in darkness for centuries. Not to discredit your efforts or anything, scamp, but I don’t need to tell you twice to keep your wits about you.”
The following morning, Teselin called a meeting between Lilica and Chara to discuss their arrangements for an audience with Locque. Upon entering the council chambers, they witnessed a rather intense discussion in progress. Elespeth, sans wedding ring, had approached the queen and her advisor to report Alster’s disappearance...again. In reaction to the news, Chara, her temples sore and red from aggressive rubbing, looked ready to be sick. “He can’t be left alone, Elespeth. I also made that very clear.” She said, in a low, but intentional rumble, laced through with desperation. “He needs to be reached. I won’t have a repeat of fifty years ago--the last time he was consumed by thoughts of revenge. He cried for help...and I walked away. He awakened the Serpent and people died. It could be that he’s still crying for help and you’re doing him a disservice by focusing your ‘skills’ elsewhere. Like I did!”
Teselin was smart to interrupt Chara and Elespeth before tensions escalated and emotions ran ugly. The subject change was abrupt enough--and shocking enough--to reroute everyone’s attention to the summoner. “What!?” She echoed Lilica’s outrage. “What the hell? You, too, mongrel!?” She flicked her irate blue eyes at the faoladh. “What manner of chaos are you planning?”
“I mean, it’s simple,” Hadwin cooed, leaning against the table in a disarming and casual gesture. “One, to look out for the scamp, here. Safety in numbers. Well,” he backpedaled, “it’ll really be she who’s looking out for me. Two; I’m gonna have a word with Rowen. Locque wants us to surrender, but we have a conflict of interest that needs to be addressed. See, our surrender is conditional upon ending bloodshed, but Ro wants me dead. And if I’m affiliated with Galeyn, Ro ain’t gonna be too pleased that I’m off-limits. To kill me is to break the terms of our cracker-thin truce--unless I take a page from Serpent Lord’s book and abstain. Then I’m free game. But, if I die, that means I’m gonna break Tes’s heart, and I made a promise to her, besides. Ergo, I’m gonna have a little talk with my baby sis to clear the air a bit. To guarantee my survival and to guarantee that our truce is airtight. That sound like a plan?”
“A plan I’m sure only came to fruition because Teselin wants to talk the darkness out of Locque,” Chara issued a dry retort, honing her attention on the summoner. “What are you actually hoping to achieve? Your magic is unpredictable, and you haven’t the skill to perform anything of this magnitude on command. Need I remind you that you were training under Alster for a time so that you could learn to control your ability? Power means nothing if you can’t wield it correctly. What if your attempts to ‘reverse’ Locque’s darkness backfires, and your meddling renders our surrender null and void? Do you honestly believe our mad sorceress will trust you so implicitly as to allow you access to her mind? And from one conversation, no less!?”
“Eh. Stranger things have happened.” Hadwin offered, with a shrug. “Al talked to the Serpent when it was rampaging your city and that went off pretty well.”
“You are not helping!”
“Just a bit of perspective, is all.”
“You know that? Fine,” Chara snapped. “It is as Lilica says. She, nor I, have any control over what happens in this kingdom.”
“Nope; we’re just a bunch of disparate blokes united to Galeyn under our own self-interests. Thought you knew that by now.” Hadwin winked. “I’ll tell our ravenous Master Alchemist about our additional company straightaway. She’s still working on the Siggy case, by the by. Locque wants to keep her in chains. For leverage, till she’s able to trust we won’t overthrow her. But hey, maybe we’ll see her there. I’ll make sure to give her your best. Anyway,” he pushed off the table and pivoted towards the exit doors, “I won’t keep you from your evening activities. Enjoy your dinner with fancypants, you two!”
As the three were dismissed from the council chambers, Hadwin, telling Teselin to go on ahead without him, swerved in Elespeth’s path as she retreated and clamped a hand on her shoulder.
“Wow--you must have piss-poor faith in yourself to give up so fucking quickly!” He nodded to the absence of a ring on her finger. “What, you had one sour encounter with your beau and you’re ready to call it quits? I thought the two of you were destined by the stars or whatever. Nice to see that’s all a crock of shit because you’re about one of the most dysfunctional couples I’ve ever seen. Seriously,” he released a breathy whistle. “If it’s not him, it’s you. What a cosmic seesaw your life’s become. You do it to yourself, too. Flinging off your ring at the first sign of trouble; it’s like you thrive on the drama! But whatever; they say passionate relationships fizzle out in a year or two. ‘Cept that’s not exactly true in your case, and I’m here to tell you why.”
Whether she wanted his take on the situation or not, Hadwin was never shy to deliver. And so he doggedly followed her down the hallway, linking them side by side with his unyielding hand until she had no choice but to listen. He wouldn’t leave, otherwise. “Gods, do I have to hug you and whisper in your ear that you’re enough? I can still see Al’s fears. They’re faint, but as long as he’s connected to this world by one emotion--anger--his fear’s not lost to me. We have a connection--cuz I’ve been in his head. You have power over him, and he’s afraid of that. He’s afraid you’ll reach him and it’ll undermine his plot for revenge. It’s possible he vanished because you were getting to him. Hon--you’re enough. The only one who’s enough, I’d say.”
“Answer me this,” he patted her on the shoulder. “When you died to awaken him from his space-hibernation, how did he seem to you? When you interacted with his spirit, that is? Was he the Alster you know, or was he the person you see before you, now? If the answer’s the former...then he’s whole. Nothing was lost, or stripped away in Locque’s galaxy kick. It’s just that the parts making him whole aren’t here. This world overwhelms him, but the only thing that makes any lick of sense right now is to eliminate the most recent source of his pain. I can tell you from experience...revenge can be that strong. Strong enough to ignore the people who are reaching for you. Who care about you. They’re in your way, so you punt ‘em aside.” Hesitating to provide more context on his act of revenge, the very act that alienated Rowen and, in part, contributed to her downfall, he elected, instead, to chew on the inside of his lip in a rare interval of silence.
“Do with this information whatever you like. Hells, you can ignore it and continue taking up odd jobs to distract yourself. But if I could make a suggestion--hold off on removing that ring. If you ask me, that bare-finger statement looks like a flat-out rejection. He might get the hint that you’ve given up, that you’ve rejected him, and then all he’ll have is revenge.” Disengaging from Elespeth, he moved aside and redirected his hands to his pockets. “Don’t think you’re not part of the problem, either, Elespeth Rigas or Tameris or whoever the hell you are now. At the eleventh hour, when all seems lost, what are you doing? It’s what Lady Chara is saying; you’re walking away. Even when you died to save him, you still believe you’re nothing. Ain’t that something? And you know what the hilarious part is?” He chuckled for emphasis. “He feels the exact same way. That he’s not enough...for you. So,” he stopped in the middle of the hallway, “I rest my case--you’re both dysfunctional...but if possible, you’re far more dysfunctional when you’re apart. Anyway, that concludes my marriage advice. If you love the guy, stick it out. Give it more than one damn conversation before you commit to a bachelorette lifestyle, geez. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he threw up the resonance stone and caught it mid-air, “I’ve got a message to deliver. Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he began to walk away, “I should start charging for my services. Every last one.”
Once the sun lowered in the horizon, casting the world in a hazy shade of darkness, Lilica and Chara traveled to the D’Marian village. It was the first time in months that they had embarked outside the vicinity of the palace. Perhaps for Lilica, it had been for longer; because Chara had taken up the mantle of Rigas Head and interim Forbanne Commander during Haraldur’s recovery and Alster’s absence, she grew accustomed to frequent travel to and from the D’Marian settlement. Prior to the Canaveris uprising, she’d occasionally acted as a representative at Alster’s behest. However her previous involvement with the citizens of Stella D’Mare, she had not visited since the change in leadership, partly out of concern for how she’d be received. While the Rigases were not run out of the village, likely due to some ordinance that Lord Canaveris passed, hostilities between the people and the former ruling family were at their peak. In response to Alster’s public meltdown and reactionary Serpent summoning, the Rigases, reputation ruined, had no choice but to step down to avoid further turbulent relations with the D’Marians. Amid the tussle, the confusion, Aristide Canaveris stepped up to the challenge, welcoming the shift in power and politics. He gloated as much in his letter to Chara and Lilica.
Despite the outcome, I bear no Rigas, especially you, Lady Chara, any ill-will, a section of the letter read. As proof of my devotion to perpetuate amicable relations with the Rigas and Tenebris family lines, I cordially invite you and her Majesty, Queen Lilica Tenebris, to the Canaveris villa for dinner and to discuss our future, as trusted allies.
Operating under the mindset of intense skepticism, Chara exited the carriage as it pulled up before the Canaveris villa, leading the procession while Lilica and Elespeth followed. At the door, an imposing man greeted the trio.
“It is lovely to see you again, Lady Chara,” the bulky man bent into a reverent bow. “Welcome, Queen Lilica.”
Chara’s brow folded. “Lazarus? My, you look different.”
But the man’s attention flitted to the third, uninvited party in the group. “Lady Rigas. Your presence will not be necessary. If you recall, Lord Canaveris has banned you from setting foot upon this village.”
“Oh, it is no bother at all. Let her inside!” A cheery voice sounded from behind Lazarus. Aristide, resplendent in a peacock blue overcoat and sleeves of green brocade, swept his gloved hand inward. “I am nothing if but charitable. Please, come in from the cold. All three of you.”
Once inside, their raven-haired host led them the long way, through galleries lined with paintings and bookended by sculptures. Long-aware of his hobby of sculpting clay and chiseling marble, Chara wasn’t surprised that he’d created more pieces to rival that of his Stella D’Marian residence, but what piqued her curiosity was how several of the female busts and figures wore the same face: high cheekbones, fierce-set eyes, plush lips, a sloping nose, and a slender neck. Although they depicted an ideal beauty, the figures...looked like her.
Three traversed rooms later, they entered a space of modest size, decorated lavishly. A silken cloth covered a wood-worked table, its legs designed to resemble clawed dragon feet. Above, a chandelier created entirely from stones glowed bioluminescent colors of green and blue, casting spots of dancing light in every direction. Each chair displayed intricately-embroidered cushions: scenes of forests, flowers, and meadows in the sunlight.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” Ari urged his guests. “I will be sure to inform Francis that we need another place setting for Lady Rigas. Dinner tonight is a creamy carrot soup with caramelized ginger and fresh bread, garlic and gruyere stuffed mushrooms, and poached salmon with spiced potatoes and a wine-butter sauce. All vegetables are complements of the Night Garden, your Majesty.” He turned to Lilica and lowered into a bow. “For dessert--profiteroles, custard-filled, garnished with wild berries. They are your favorite, if I recall, Lady Chara.”
“Yes,” she nodded, showing no signs of being impressed with the decor, the presentation, or the dinner menu. “I suppose this will do, Lord Canaveris.”
“Ari is fine, Lady Chara.”
“Noted, Lord Canaveris. You may keep calling me Lady Chara.” Choosing a chair farthest from him, she sat beside Lilica, unfazed and indifferent.
“Ah, quite right, Lady Chara,” he chuckled as if she had told an amusing joke. “May I offer anyone a drink? We have wine and ambrosia of all flavors, all colors. I’ve even maintained a small collection of Stella D’Mare’s finest. No limoncello, I’m afraid, though I do not see why we could not concoct a batch. Your Majesty, does the Night Garden grow citrus?”
“Galeynian red wine will be just fine, thank you,” Chara said in a stilted drone. “I’ve grown accustomed to the taste.”
Elespeth hadn’t come with the intention to talk about Alster. It was noteworthy to let everyone in the know that he had taken off to an alternate dimension--again--but how she was going to deal with that remained to be seen. It hadn’t been something she’d considered since her husband had vanished before her eyes, because frankly, she needed a break from it. Evidently, not everyone thought the same way. “And how would you propose a way I could have stopped him, Chara? I reached out. I told him I didn’t want him to be alone, and that I wished to stay with him to oversee the remainder of his company. And then he vanished.” She opened her hands, palms up, an indication that she was empty in terms of solutions. “I tried. But Alster does what Alster wants. I don’t have the ability to go chasing him through dimensions every time he has a tantrum; so when he decides to return, maybe then we can talk. As of now, I am out of solutions. I’m sorry, Chara.” Her gaze softened a little, revealing a glimpse of the world-weary warrior behind her otherwise strong-willed countenance. “I had to die to reach him, last time. I doubt that I can convince Elias to repeat the procedure that led to that; he isn’t convinced that I have any chance of coming out of it safely in the future, given past complications with my heart.”
Despite that the former knight in no way agreed to Teselin and Hadwin’s plan to meet in person with the sorceress, a topic that shortly cut off any further discussion of Alster, she was grateful for the change in topic, no less. A break from having to explain herself when Teselin readily took the floor.
“I want more insight is all, Chara. I’m not so naive to think that I can talk Locque out of anything; but I am also not so reckless as to assume that meeting her violence with violence, as Alster seems keen on doing, will cause any of this to unravel in a way that benefits anyone.” The young summoner appeared completely unfazed by the reactions of the Galeynian Queen and her advisor. She had been expecting it exactly as it came, word for word. “But I think there is worth in communicating with Locque one on one, as opposed to through the woman who is acting as her envoy and diplomat. That is even if she agrees to meet with me. Nia could not give me any guarantees… so at this point, I am just going on the assumption that she is interested in speaking with me at all. But if that does pique her interest--then that might be all we need. After all,” she looked from the dark-haired queen to her pale-haired advisor. “Doesn’t it behoove us to know our enemy? To hear the words from her mouth, as opposed to whatever the Master Alchemist interprets them to be? This is an opportunity for insight, not a means to solve any problems. And besides, it wouldn’t benefit her to attack us. Nia seems to be really encouraging a non-violent approach since she has some hope that Locque obtaining her goal might in some way humanize her. What interests me is to see for myself if there might be any truth to that; or if Nia is merely seeing what she wants to see out of some futile hope that it will all work out.”
“Be that as it may, Teselin… what do you propose if it all turns out to be true? That somehow taking my throne tames the sorceress?” Lilica asked in a tone that suggested she did not mean to patronize the young summoner. “So we just let her take it and move on with our lives in hopes that she doesn’t relapse in her tyranny and run this kingdom into the ground? Regardless of her disposition and how it changes, while we will yield temporarily, you know that cannot be our endgame. My father… he left this to me as a reason, whether I want it or not.” The Galeynian Queen sighed and rested the palms of her hands on the smooth redwood table. “He trusted me--and the Night Garden trusts me to take care of Galeyn. The kingdom reawakened by my blood, not Locque’s. Whatever her intentions… I have a feeling the place will never truly accept her. Even if the people do, out of fear of the alternative, the Garden has not chosen her. There is no real future for her in this place. Especially not after the nature of her efforts to seize it.”
“...I know.” The young summoner’s voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. She turned her dark eyes to the floor. “And I think, sooner or later, she will come to recognize this, too. But better that it is a realization she makes herself than one we force upon her. And if by some off chance she does trust me enough to open up, even a little, between me and Nia, we might be able to mitigate whatever reaction results from that realization. Please understand I am not being naive. I am trying to be proactive--to look ahead at another possibility. The one that suggests somewhere inside the ruthless sorceress is the Gardener who was once thrown out of her home, and desperately wants to feel a connection, again.”
“I don’t know that I would call this a good idea at all. But you are right in that it is an opportunity.” Elespeth interjected, and crossed the room to stand near the summoner and the faoladh. “And I agree--I don’t think Locque will see this as a chance to recklessly attack. All the same, you can inform her envoy that I will be in attendance as a fly on the wall to ensure your safety. Not an unreasonable measure, I think, considering… everything.”
With that settled, whether or not it sat well with the Queen and her advisor, the summoner departed, along with the former knight, who planned to meet up with Haraldur and continue to patrol--something she had not done for a while, considering everything that had transpired with her husband. She wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about that, right now, because it was too draining, and she needed something else to take her mind off of her otherwise futile attempts to reach her husband…
Evidently, Hadwin had other plans.
“I’m tired, Hadwin.” Elespeth groaned, and did not let up her pace. If he wanted to berate her, he had to keep up. “And I tried. I tried hard, to the point where I died for Alster--literally, I died for him. My fucking heart stopped and I was clinically dead for three minutes, just to be able to reach him, to convince him to return. And it worked--he came back. But evidently, that wasn’t enough for him to want to stay. I am not enough for him to want to stay. He’d rather fuck off to whatever realm he was hibernating in than be near me. He literally pushed me away… and I am done. I don’t know what else to do, Hadwin, because I literally reached out to him, and he pulled away. Whatever he thinks he needs right now… it isn’t me.”
The ex-knight sighed and looked down at her bare ring finger. Maybe he was right: maybe that statement was too harsh. But… “I’ve given up everything for him. My family name, my life as an ordinary person without magic… as a person without a title. Again, I have died for him--do you understand me? I have literally died! What more can I do? What more can I offer if he won’t stand in my presence for more than five minutes?” She looked about just short of pulling her hair out, so terribly exhausted and stressed and at a complete loss. Elespeth was finally reaching her breaking point. “I’ve gone to such lengths to adapt so that I could be with him, so that we could be together, and I am just tired, Hadwin. Don’t take this the wrong way: it’s not like I’m annulling our marriage. Alster obviously needs a break… and so do I. I’m tired of these efforts being fruitless, only to have him run away again because the real world is too scary and overwhelming for him to endure. When he decides he wants to return, then we can talk. But I can’t keep putting my life on hold because of his tendency towards dissociation. None of us can; so I’m going with Chara and Lilica to the D’Marian village today, and with you and Teselin when you meet with Locque. Look--you really want to help?” She paused in her step and turned to face him in all seriousness. “Show me a good place to drink, tonight. It seems to work for you; maybe it’ll get my mind off of this bullshit as well.”
Not a single one of the women in the carriage ride down to the D’Marian village was at ease with Aristide’s extended invitation, and the atmosphere made it increasingly obvious as they neared the D’Marian settlement. When at last they arrived outside the familiar dwelling, Elespeth mentioned off-handedly to the two of them, “Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t let me inside. Thanks to Alster’s antics, I have a feeling there won’t be a warm welcome reserved for me.”
It turned out her suspicions were not unjustified. The door opened to reveal Aristide’s giant of a manservant, who appeared to recognize Chara in a very familiar way. She had mentioned having been acquainted with Aristide some time ago… but both Lilica and Elespeth had assumed it had been in passing, as most of Chara Rigas’s relationships had been. But the Galeynian Queen in particular let go of those musings as soon as the giant dared to affront the former knight.
“I should have you know, I personally asked Elespeth to accompany us as a safety precaution. She is a well-trained and capable warrior, and travel to and from the palace is no longer safe--especially for me or anyone who happens to be in my company.” She nodded pointedly to Chara. “It is my assumption that the invitation extended was one of goodwill. So if that is truly the case, I would please ask that you treat my comrades with the same respect that you offer to me, and to Chara. I would otherwise be inclined to reconsider you and your lord’s intentions, as well as my visit, here.”
Elespeth was about to open her mouth and reassure them that she would be far more comfortable staying with the carriage, anyway, but Aristide himself was for whatever reason inclined to waive a policy that she was sure he would otherwise be happy to enforce. “You can just call me Elespeth,” she mentioned offhandedly to the giant, as she trailed behind Chara and Lilica. “Believe it or not, I happen to be more than the mere extension of my husband, and his name.”
While Elespeth couldn’t really care less to pay close attention to the collection of busts that lined the corridor, Lilica took almost immediate note of her surroundings. She was used to the garishness of Rigas lifestyle, through her relations with Chara, Alster, and Tivia, but this… what Aristide boasted was something else. Such care had been taken with creating these pieces of art, and while they all boasted their own unique differences, there was also a general similarity to all of them… as though each and every bust could have been sisters. Perhaps it was her imagination, but… they all looked suspiciously like Chara.
As Lilica and Chara approached the table, Elespeth hung back near the doorway, one hand resting comfortably on the hilt of her blade. “That’s really not necessary…” She said to Aristide, as he offered to make a place at the table for her. “Please understand that I am here only as Elespeth--not Lady Rigas. Just a protective shadow for the Queen and her advisor as they travel. By all means, pretend I am not here at all.”
Although the former knight had no qualms about shirking her more formal title in light of the fact that she was little more than an entourage, today, Chara appeared quite insisted on keeping up on other formalities--none of which surpassed either Elespeth’s or Lilica’s attention. But the latter simply assumed that it had to do with the obvious tension between the D’Marian settlement and Galeyn, at large. After all, they were dining with the man who had decided to ultimately side with their most direct and lethal threat.
“Lord Canaveris, I am sure that whatever you have planned for a meal will suit us just fine.” The Galeynian Queen spoke up, taking a seat next to Chara as a servant crossed the room to fill their empty goblets with deep, red wine. While she decided to forego indulging just yet, Chara did not hesitate to bring the silver to her lips; it had been quite some time since she had witnessed the Rigas woman so eager to partake in the substance. It was a habit that tended only to crop up when she was under a good deal of stress. “And we are grateful for your invitation and your hospitality. Although I hope you will not take offense that I ask at the real reason for this kind invitation.
“You made your stance very clear upon your visit to the palace, and we all understand and respect the reasons behind your decisions. Chara and I vie for the safety of the D’Marians as much as you; after all, Stella D’Mare was Chara’s home. And it was a home to me for a short period of time, as well. It is not with any pretense or sarcasm that I think I can speak for the both of us in saying that we are glad the D’Marians have secured safety. However… your truce and surrender to Locque has effectively allied you with Galeyn’s most lethal and direct threat. It has also compromised the well-being of Alster Rigas, who has been a trusted friend and ally for a very long time. Locque attacked him in the ether-realms while he was trying to negotiate our own surrender; his wife quite literally had to die in order to reach him and bring him back safely. It has gone from bad to worse for us at the heart of the kingdom. So if all of this is a gesture of your goodwill, as much as we appreciate the sentiment… I hope you understand that none of this changes how it may be particularly difficult to consider you a ‘friend’, at this time.”
“Bitterness and resentment much?” Hadwin playfully elbowed her in the side. “Nah, I get it, Elly. You’re pissed and afraid. Pissed that you died and afraid that it ostensibly led to nothing--except, y’know, your husband’s life. Nobody knew he was gonna freak out like that, but it makes sense, given the shit he’s probably seen. But don’t you agree, if the roles were reversed, that the king of self-sacrifice would gladly do anything, even kill himself, to save you? It’s not like he hasn’t made big-time gestures of love in your name.” He held up a finger to indicate that she hear him out. “This crazy bastard hacked off his toes to ensure your heart transfer surgery went without a hitch. So what you got magic as a little something extra? Ain’t life full of surprises? ‘Least you’re alive and your heart’s healed. Get over it. Hells, he split the pain of your heart condition for months while he traveled and led his people to Galeyn, ill and compromised.” He ticked off several more fingers. “He went off to Nairit with the necromancer as his only company to fetch the hermit to help you. Convalesced for weeks with you after giving you literal pieces of his heart. Shredded the air to rescue your sorry, stimulant-dependent ass when I found you fertilizing in the woods. Almost started a war with Braighdath to spare you from the gallows. Convinced the Rigases to accept you as an honorary so the two of you could carry on with your saccharine love life, unchallenged. Sprung you out of Atvanian prison. Dealt with your months-long identity crisis--which you are still having. Withstood the fact that you’ve been pushing him aside, constantly, when all he wanted to do was help. Sound familiar? Fucking agreed to our menage a trois. Mad kudos to both of you for that, by the way,” he winked. “Shows true commitment. S’why it’s a shame to see either of you throw all that progress away.”
“So yeah,” he cleared his throat to continue, “I’d say the two of you are an even-split when it comes to dealing with each other’s many, many idiosyncrasies and self-made tragedies. Let me make it clear; I’m not Team Al or anything. Neither am I excusing the fact that he’s massively fucked up in the head and has made some shitty judgement calls. Can’t also excuse the fact that you think the world is scary and overwhelming, too. And that you’ve also been running. For years. Literally and figuratively. I mean, your face says it all. You’re scared and overwhelmed. You’ve been scared and overwhelmed. Even before your darling beau pulled that Serpent out of a hat trick. Anyway,” he snapped his neck from side to side, “I’ve invested a lot in keeping the two of you afloat, so see my continued meddling and calling out of your collective bullshit as part of the return investment. Cuz I ain’t done with either of you, yet. If I’ve got anything to do with it, Al won’t stay as Loveless. And I’ll fuck with him as much as I’m fucking with you, whenever I get my hands on him. That’s my guarantee.”
Before he released his grip on the conversation and left Elespeth alone, he visibly brightened at her mention of partaking in a drink, that evening. “But...that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy a little off time with some other folks. By the devil you need some fresh air with people who aren’t always on edge. So, I’ll be sure to clear my schedule, Elly. Because I have to hear the details about your dining experience with Lord Fancypants.” His grin revealed full exposure of his canines. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Aristide waved a bejeweled hand of dismissal in Elespeth’s direction, unperturbed by her shift in status. “No need to decommodify yourself, so. I have been harsh in my approach to besmirching the Rigas family, true, but I have seen not to disentitle you as a whole.”
“How generous of you,” Chara seethed into her goblet.
“You are free to maintain your nobility if it so suits you,” Aristide said, either not hearing her comment or electing to ignore it. “I realize I spoke out of turn, last we met, Lad--Elespeth,” he corrected. “I am certain we can make concessions into reinstating you as a citizen of the D’Marian village. Your husband’s crimes are not your own. It may take some adjustment to regain the trust of the people, as they no doubt will associate you with our most recent Serpent scare, but as a sign of my willingness to foster positive ties with not only Galeyn, but with the Rigas family, consider it a boon of gratitude for your heroics, past and present. Therefore, it would be my honor if you sat at the table with us.”
The warrior, at no surprise to Chara, did not budge from her guard-like post in the corner of the room, leaving Aristide no choice but to drop the subject. However poised in his handling of negative feedback, Chara did not miss the frown that roosted, briefly, on his face. As a man who loved to play host, it likely stung him to have such a poor reception. But what else did he expect? For them to fall so much in love with his hospitality as to conveniently forget the troubles his appropriated rulership had cost the Rigas reputation?
Fortunately, Lilica did not suffer the banal pleasantries for long and delved straight into the topic for which he called them to discuss. Taking a seat in a chair opposite Chara, Aristide lifted his goblet of wine and sampled enough of the burgundy substance to wet his lips. “Ah, well normally I would suspend all matters of business until after we dine, but I understand how time is a precious resource, and you’ve your hands full brokering terms for Galeyn’s surrender. Out of respect for your time, I will make this rare exception to combine business and pleasure. We shall make this an expeditious dinner!”
“First off,” he nodded his sympathies to Elespeth, “I extend my heartfelt apologies over the ordeal you’ve suffered. I never intended to push your husband towards despair and desperation, never to drive him to summon the Serpent, nor to approach Locque for a surrender she violently rejected. I knew naught of your sacrifice. I may begrudge your husband for his actions, but I do not wish his death--or yours. Neither do I wish for your disgrace. Again, what I said last time was uttered in a state of duress. There arises no need to hunt Lord Rigas, and given Galeyn has provided him protection--as you say, he is a trusted ally, your Majesty--” he added as an aside, “I cannot very well ask to imprison or punish him for his crimes against Stella D’Mare.” Setting down his goblet, he nodded for the servant to bring in three bowls of steaming orange soup, garnished with slices of ginger. “I will overlook his condemnation if I can receive from you two things: one, a confirmed explanation detailing his reasons for summoning the Serpent, and two; positive, ongoing relations with Galeyn and the Rigases. Seeing as your Majesty plans to surrender her kingdom to the same direct and lethal threat, it is not so farfetched to consider us allies by association. As for the Rigas family,” he glanced across the table at Chara, “we are not yet allies, but I hope we can set aside our differences; chief among them, the method by which I usurped their power, for I have no interest in stripping them--you,” he amended, gesturing to Chara and Elespeth, “of your assets, material and immaterial alike.”
“Dragging our good name into the dirt to raise you as the better piece of dirt...you claim your flagrant disrespect will not disturb our quality of life among the D’Marians? Even as citizens vandalize our property and shout obscenities in our faces?” Chara, not touching her soup, focused on downing the contents of her wine.
“Ah--simple politics, Lady Chara.” He collected a spoonful of the carrot broth and slowly scooped it into his mouth. “You are no stranger to a smear campaign. As former Rigas Head, you were at the receiving end of one, and benefitted when your opponent was made to look incompetent. I did not speak poorly of the Rigas family in any other avenue but in your ability to rule. Yes, I cited some examples, but the examples are already common knowledge among the township. I but elucidated on them for clarity.” He dipped one end of bread into the soup, soaking it full of the savory, aromatic concoction. “I have instructed the D’Marians not to bother the Rigas family, especially as they are cooperating in light of Lord Rigas’s unprecedented attack. Lady Chara, I can only be held accountable for my actions insofar as they have affected your family, but need I remind you, the one who most negatively impacted your reputation is Lord Rigas, himself. That is why I ask for an explanation, so that I may forward it to the citizens who have a right to know why their former leader, a leader who has shown empathy and understanding went, for lack of a better term, rightly mad.”
Everyone in the room knew that mentioning Alster’s mental ableness was currently a sore point for the woman who still held herself responsible for catalyzing the event that defined him, over fifty years ago. “It was to ensure that Locque would protect you from danger, which she did. It was also to ensure no Rigas would take advantage of the void in power in his absence, because he did not want a civil war. He did so by decimating the peoples’ trust in Rigas rule so they would flock to House Canaveris, instead. His harebrained scheme ceded leadership to you, Lord Canaveris--completely unopposed. Handed to you on a damn platter. Because he believed it was the fastest route to peace and unity--much though I despise him for his deceptiveness.” Hailing the servant, she raised her goblet for a second helping of wine. “It is your responsibility to restore the Rigas name.” She pointed at their host with an accusing finger, her voice heating to a boil. “I will agree to nothing unless you mitigate the damage. Repair the bridge that you started to burn. Do not pretend this didn’t start with you, no matter how much you sugarcoat your involvement. This has been your end goal all along. To ruin our name.”
Aristide, hiding his expression under mouthfuls of bread and soup, swallowed his last dose and set the empty bowl aside for the servant to take. Leaning over the table, he steepled his fingers, listening to Chara’s request with a patient, albeit slightly troubled, air. “Lady Chara, if I did not know any better, I would venture that you are referring to more than just recent events. If I have done something else to offend you, then please note I am willing to make amends.”
“I cannot help but observe that after three thousand years of your family’s history, it is only when you step up as Canaveris Head that the power shifts in your favor. Why is that, Lord Canaveris? Do you have unresolved grief associated with the Rigas name?”
“Lady Chara, that is a bold assumption, and completely unfounded in fact,” Ari placed an affronted hand over his chest.
“Is it, ‘Ari’?” She growled the name. “Or are you still nursing my rejection from the day I left you? It would explain your determination to defame Alster, my former betrothed and the friend you failed to replace. Why you supplanted his position as the head of Stella D’Mare. Because now that you are in a position of power, you can take the moral high ground, divvying out your mercy by the handful and pretending you are a benevolent leader, brimming with forgiveness for the people who wronged you.” She set down her half-full goblet of wine to free her hands, which clawed her frustrations into the air. “You get to feel big about yourself, even when we are both aware you’ve been stewing in a decades’ long grudge and planning for the day when you could exact your vengeance--and force me to be reliant on you, for a change.”
“Lady Chara--I fear you are mistaken.” Aristide dropped his air of diplomacy, exchanging it for one of placation and de-escalation. He spoke in a low tone, as though trying to soothe a wild horse. “This does not have any basis in the past--”
“Yes, let’s speak more of the past you so deny!” Rising from her chair, Chara rammed her hands on the table, spilling her untouched soup against the silken tablecloth. “What of the sculptures in the other room, Ari? The ones that borrow my face? Or your winning me over with dessert, and wine, and whatever else I fancy? Tell me this has nothing to do with the past; I dare you! Tell us the truth, or,” her face pinched into wrathful wrinkles, “I’ll tell them the truth!”
“We had an agreement.” Aristide rose to Chara’s challenge, and stood from his chair. “We made a pact!”
“Somehow, that outdated pact seems a little null and void when you’ve betrayed my family, and by extension, me!”
“You betrayed me, first!” The Canaveris Lord’s mask finally dropped, revealing visions of a hurt boy inside a man’s body. “Is that what you wish to hear? You were the only one who understood me outside of my family. You saved my life. I gave you everything I had in devotion to you, and it was not enough. Chara, you didn’t even say goodbye!” Breathless from sudden exposure to his ‘truth,’ Aristide leaned on his chair for support. Tunnelvision removed everyone else from the room but him and the woman he once treasured. “The sculptures preserve your memory. It tells the story of the one I lost, over and over again. In different forms, in different lives. It is much a story of pain as it is of triumph. When I can sculpt nothing, revisiting our fonder memories resets my creative fire. We all have a muse. Unfortunately, the muse is you--and I have tried, and failed, to find another.” He swept a goblet off the table and drank, a casual movement to help enforce normalcy, and calm. It didn’t fool anyone. “Difficult as it may be for you to believe, I sought power for the betterment of Stella D’Mare. I do not agree with the Rigas right to rule. I have seen Lord Adalfieri’s corrupting influence, the petty squabbles of Lord Cyprian Rigas and his retinue seeking to overthrow you for the coveted spot, and Lord Alster Rigas struggling to harness harmony in a position he never wanted, which he then decided to end on his own onerous terms.”
“So what of you, usurper?” Chara spat. “What are your grandiose plans for leading our city?”
“I plan to step down once I can establish a representative republic, one where every citizen is given a say,” Ari responded, with confidence. “You cannot deny that Rigases have made questionable decisions over the years, and no one has thought to ask the people what they want. I would like to give them a platform. So no, ruling is not my endgame. Now,” regaining his foothold in the conversation, the mask he’d peeled off his face slowly began to reform around his soil-churning eyes, “it is my turn to ask. What is your truth, Chara? Why did you walk away from me?”
“My truth? Fine, you will have it.” Her eyes narrowed into sharp pins. “I grew bored of you! There is nothing else to tell.”
“If this is true...do you regret it?”
She stared at him defiantly. “Not anymore.”
“I see.” Aristide, mouth twitching in disappointment, lowered into his chair. After several moments of reflection staring at his empty goblet, he looked to Lilica. “Your Majesty,” he addressed the queen, who, for the duration of his and Chara’s heated back-and-forth, was lulled into uneasy silence. “Are you to reflect the stance of your advisor, and deny our peaceable union? I may have surrendered out of necessity, but it does not please me to bow to a tyrant--and I fear this truce will not hold.”
Truth be told, neither Elespeth nor Lilica had any particular idea of what to expect when Aristide Canaveris proposed that the Queen and her advisor dined with him… but it was safe to say that neither of them could possibly have predicted that it would unfold as it did, especially Lilica. Certainly, something about the familiarity of the wide array of busts had been a little bit off-putting, but as soon as the Canaveris lord elucidated the meaning for that when Chara brought it to everyone’s attention, it all began to make sense. His history with Chara, it seemed, had to do with more than being mere acquaintances or allies… The busts, the spread of food, the dessert that just so happened to be her favourite--this was less about relations with Galeyn, and more about relations with the proud, blonde Rigas woman. In fact… Lilica couldn’t help but wonder if that was all this was about.
“Lord Canaveris.” Since Chara had displayed enough fire for the both of them, the Galeynian Queen opted to take a more cordial approach and to spare the suddenly very dejected man his feelings. “Please allow me to reassure you that we would not have made this venture all the way from the palace if we did not think that it would be possible to clear the air. I was not aware that your disdain for Rigases and your motivation for relieving Alster from his position as Stella D’Mare’s transpired beyond the events that have taken place since your arrival, here…” Her eyes flicked between Aristide and Chara, the latter who seemed adamant not to make eye-contact with the former. “But, if I may be so bold… I think it is all in our best interests to let the past remain in the past. It goes without saying that everyone has done things they are not particularly proud of. But Chara and I--and Elespeth, at that--know how deeply Alster regrets ever unleashing the Serpent in the first place. I do hope, however, that you will take Chara’s explanation as the information you need to understand that he is not your enemy. His plan was calculated and premeditated; he wanted to ascertain that Locque’s word to you and your settlement were not void of promise. And in the end, the only person he ended up putting at risk was himself… well, ultimately, Elespeth.” She gestured to the woman standing stoically in the corner, hands clasped in front of her, but looking both eager and willing to jump in if things became too heated.
Lilica was not about to let that happen, though. “If I may be frank with you, Lord Canaveris… I was not convinced upon first meeting you that we might be capable of becoming allies. Not when you were so adamant about overthrowing Alster Rigas, whatever your reasons for that might be. I, among many of us, was put off by your attitude, which had nothing to do with Chara’s predisposition to you; I am not aware of the details, nor do I particularly care to know them. However… first impressions are not permanent.” The Galeynian Queen’s disposition softened ever so slightly, a stark contrast from the sharp angles of Chara’s unyielding countenance. “Part of my kinship with Alster relates to the fact that neither of us wanted the mantles that were forced upon us. It had never been within his aspirations to lead the D’Marians. Likewise, when I unveiled Galeyn after a century, it was never my intention to become its Queen. I wasn’t even aware that would be a requirement, on my part. Admittedly… had I known this, prior, I would have given coming here at all some second thoughts.”
While it was no deep-seated secret that Lilica was a rather reluctant Queen, it was not often she expressed those sentiments, particularly to someone with whom she was not particularly well-acquainted. But if one thing had made itself abundantly clear, it was that Aristide Canaveris was not the threat she had thought he might be. Nowhere near, in fact. “Your ideals for this village are admirable. A republic: a place where every voice holds equal weight. Perhaps, one day… if Galeyn survives Locque, if I survive Locque, then I can gradually begin to fashion the same outlook. There is something too unyielding about monarchy and the like. As if your thoughts or my thoughts for how people should live their lives are the only thoughts that matter. Honestly, if it was Adalfieri who first inspired your unease with Rigas rule… then I rightly can’t blame you. It is not as if I can hold myself upon a higher pedestal; I was the one who killed the man. When the Serpent’s chthonic magic drew out too much of my own, and everything I touched was at risk of being swallowed up in darkness…”
The Canaveris lord must not have been aware of that fact, for the way his eyes widened. Apparently Rigas gossip did not always reach the ears beyond their own; Lilica had been sure the whole of Stella D’Mare must’ve known it was she who had felled their respected and renowned leader. “But I digress. If your plans for Stella D’Mare are in earnest, then they are respectable. Although, your ‘words under duress’, as you so put it, are not an excuse to smear the name of the man who led all of these people to safety. It was Alster that oversaw this exodus; not you. I was not there to bear witness to how you tore him down the day he summoned the Serpent, but after your words in my own councilroom… I can only imagine their magnitude. The effect they must have had on both Alster and his wife.”
“Don’t forget that he literally offered to find Alster and surrender him to Locque if it meant keeping the witch happy.” Elespeth, who had remained respectfully silent from the other side of the room, spoke up when it seemed most notable. “We all heard it. His giant manservant may deny it, but you need only look as far as Locque’s own Master Alchemist to know that he holds so little regard for Rigases--for Alster--that my husband’s life meant less than nothing to him, in that moment.”
“...which leads me to my predicament, Lord Canaveris.” Lilica sighed and rubbed one of her temples. “Both Elespeth and Chara have a very valid point: and that point is your words. How they change to suit the situation. How you can throw away Alster’s life in one moment, strip Elespeth of her rightful citizenship as a D’Marian the next, and then turn around and pretend like you didn’t mean any of it. I am an inexperienced monarch, and an even more inexperienced leader, but I have come to realize the impact that my words hold, and so I use them very carefully. Because they mean what they mean in the moment you say them, and you do not get to determine how they are interpreted, or how they might sit with others. I would very much like to believe that you are coming from a genuine place, inviting us here. I’m just… not sure of that, yet. But,” she spread her hands and offered a smile, at the very least, “you have gone out of your way in preparing what sounds like a wonderful meal. I would not insult you by accepting your hospitality, only to leave on a sour note. So,” she took a tentative sip of wine, too nervous to lose her good sense. “Why don’t we partake?”
Though the meal was genuinely delicious, there was no denying the air of awkwardness that hung heavy in the air. Nor did Lilica have much of an appetite to eat very much, rather regretting bringing up ‘business’ before they could partake in something more light-hearted. It had been her hope that a break from the heightened emotions would perhaps reset the mood of the room, but now realized that that was impossible, given that the history between Aristide and Chara was far heavier than she had thought. There was no lightening that brand of history… and nothing that anyone could say to make this meeting any more palatable, at this point. All that was left was damage control, and the only person capable of that was, unfortunately, her.
“I meant what I said before, Lord Canaveris. I want to believe that your words, the ones you have shared with us tonight, are coming from a genuine place, and not out of a sense of opportunity. It does not occur to me that you are by any means a bad person, although some of your decisions have been questionable. Nor does it strike me as appropriate that the D’Marians and the rest of Galeyn should be at odds; as you have said, despite that you’ve established a truce with Locque, I am not convinced that there is any guarantee you are safe. Nor do I feel our surrender will by any means ensure the rest of the kingdom’s safety, but it is a measure that I find unfortunately necessary. So,”
Folding up her almost untouched napkin, she set it upon the table and stood from her seat, with Chara following almost in tandem. “I hope that you will allow me the opportunity to dwell on this for a little longer. To see how things unfold for you, and for this settlement. To see for myself that the merit of your words do hold weight. Will that suffice, for now?” She knew it was less than Aristide was hoping for; far less, in fact, considering that not only was she hesitant on his offer, but he had been eviscerated by the woman who still had his heart, whether or not she realized it. But in this moment, the promise to keep lines open for negotiation was all that she could offer.
“We will be in touch. There is much preparation to be done at the palace at this given time, but know that I am willing to continue to leave our lines of communication open. I do not begrudge you your surrender to Locque; not when I have come to the same conclusion. I just…” The Galeynian Queen sighed, and smiled sadly. “As of yet… I need a reason to really trust you.”
On that note, Lilica filed out, with Chara close behind her. It was Elespeth who lingered for a beat in the doorway, her hand having dropped from the hilt of her sword. No longer on guard. “I jumped at the opportunity to come when Lilica asked because I was afraid for her safety; and for Chara’s. Now… I realize how foolish that was. Considering every part of this had nothing to do with winning over Lilica’s favour… and had everything to do with Chara.” The warrior woman shook her head and tucked her braid over her shoulder. “To think I really thought you were a threat, Canaveris. I was wrong; I see now that you’re not. You aren’t a threat--but neither are you a leader. You’re just an artist…” Her gaze drifted to one of the busts. It was impossible at this point not to see Chara in the piece… “With a broken heart.”
Hadwin had wanted the details of the dinner, later that evening, and provided he didn’t play at some ruse of trying to hold some moral high ground over her, he would get what he wanted. She had to give him credit, the faoladh was ready and waiting by the time they returned to the palace after dark, and she let him lead the way. There was no one better to judge a drinking establishment, and by now, she figured he’d visited every one Galeyn had to offer.
They settled on one in a village that was within walking distance from the palace, on Hadwin’s insistence that their ale tasted the best, but Elespeth really couldn’t care less for how the booze tasted. No sooner did she have pewter in her hand that she began to down its contents at a rather worrying rate. “So, I’m on here on the assumption that you’re not going to pick up where you left off earlier in telling me I don’t know everything my husband has done for me…” She began, slamming the mug onto the table to take a breath. Maybe she should have taken Aristide up in partaking in that meal: what little she’d drunk was already going straight to her head. “Because if you think I’m not already keenly aware, then you need to lay off smoking whatever the hell you put in your pipe. I know what he’s done, and I am still angry with him, and I don’t feel like indulging his childish way of ‘running away’. I’m not saying I haven’t made piss-poor decisions, but at least I fucking own them, Hadwin. I’ll be the first to admit them, whereas Alster just explains everything away. It’s all for me; it’s all for us. It’s all for the D’Marians or Galeyn or whatever the hell other cause he’s touting, and he refuses to see the repercussions. But that’s all I have to say on the matter. I came out to drink to get Alster off my mind; and you don’t want to hear about him anyway.”
Leaning back in her seat, the former knight took another long swig, barely tasting the ale for all she just wanted it in her body and fogging up her mind. “You want to hear about Canaveris. Well, you’re in luck, because it went about exactly as you might expect it to go. Or maybe not; I was kind of taken off guard to find out the man is obsessed with Chara Rigas.” Unfastening the tie at the end of her braid, she shook her chestnut waves free of the weave. It had been giving her a headache. “Oh, yes, I do mean obsessed. You should see the busts the man had crafted. Damn talented, I’ll give him that, but they all look like Chara. She broke his heart some eons ago and the man has never gotten over it. To think I actually thought that he might be a threat; he is possibly the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever seen. It was actually sad; it is sad. That whole gamut? It was entirely for Chara. Lilica was just an excuse to get her there. And you think I’m dysfunctional!”
Elespeth shook her head and made to take another sip from her mug. It was empty. “I’m either too good at this whole drinking thing, or I’m not good at all. Regardless--I need a refill.” The ex-Atvanian stood, not yet unsteady on her feet, thankfully, to go and retrieve what she wanted. “As awful as it sounds, you know, I think that was what I needed. To go and have a good look at someone else’s problems instead of my own. I don’t regret it; in fact, it was oddly… therapeutic.”
Sometime after night had fallen, when Lilica, Chara, and Elespeth had departed, Aristide had another visitor--this time, an unexpected one. It had been a little while since Nia had paid one lord Canaveris a visit; not since the day that Alster had fucked things up for everyone by drawing out the Serpent. A lot of damage control had followed that, but also… a lot of things were beginning to look up. In particular, negotiations for Galeyn’s final surrender had finally signaled the beginning of the end of all of this sneaking around, hiding out of plain sight… everything that Nia particularly loathed. Life was boring without social interactions, and as soon as Locque had claimed the palace, she could finally walk about in daylight. No need for invisibility cloaks or limiting herself to Osric’s tavern (though she still planned to keep the man in business!). And all of that had snowballed from Aristide Canaveris’s decision to make the call and surrender first. She’d known it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the kingdom would follow suit… But when it came down to it, she only had “Ari” to thank for his cooperation, that had signaled the beginning of it all.
And it simply wouldn’t do to not thank him. In fact, it was the least she could do.
The Master Alchemist, with a satchel slung over her shoulder, was surprised not to see the flamboyant lord’s giant manservant loyally guarding the estate when she arrived at the top of the hill, and entered through the courtyard. Was he feeling so secure under Locque’s protection that he didn’t see it as necessary? “Lord Canaveris?” She called, after respectfully knocking once. No one had answered, but the door was ajar, as if whomever had last left hadn’t cared enough to ensure the cold was kept at bay. She made sure to close it behind her. “I hope the hour is not too late for you? I hope you can forgive my intrusion, but I come bearing a gift…”
As soon as she made her way past the main foyer, Nia realized that her timing could not have been worse. Whatever meal had been had at the dining table last looked to have been hastily cleaned up. No servants were nearby, and Canaveris himself, reclined in a chair with an empty goblet in his hand, looked as though he had seen better days.
“I… am deeply sorry. It appears that I have clearly come at a bad time… are you well, Lord Canaveris?” The Master Alchemist raised her eyebrows and took a few tentative steps forward, as she reached for what was inside her satchel and pulled out a deep-amber tinted bottle. “Your cooperation through Locque’s truce has led to the Galeynian Queen finally considering surrender, you know. I thought you might like to try some of my own specialty spirits--admittedly, it’s crafted through alchemy, so I suppose I cheated a little as far as liquor-making goes, but it… appears as though you have already partaken in something that I am sure is far better than anything I can offer. Well… if you’re ever curious to try it, I’ll just leave it here.” She placed the bottle on the dining table before casting a somewhat worried glance in the aristocrat’s direction. If she didn’t know better… the man looked rather broken, for lack of a better word. “It is obvious you’d like to be alone, for whatever your reasons, so I shall not intrude anymore than I already have, but is there anything I can get for you before I leave? Some water, perhaps, so that whatever you’ve indulged in doesn’t land you with a splitting headache?”
Despite the slip of his composure, a humiliating display of weakness before his important dinner guests, of which their cooperation was crucial, Aristide recovered by slipping on the stone mask that he’d carelessly tossed aside by rising to Chara’s bait. He knew better than to let emotion dominate his mind, lest he experience another stress-related flare-up, as what happened to his foot during Alster Rigas’s surprise summoning. A flare-up could appear anywhere on his body, and effectively immobilize him. Chara, however, had bested him. Not afraid to play dirty, she enacted the leverage she held against him, a tactic she’d often done in the past to command him to do as she willed. Her threat hung in the air as cuttingly as any blade, and had he declined to answer her question with the truth she so desired, the sword would descend and aim to reveal him as the...creature parading in human guise. Funny how she opted not to eviscerate him before the Galeynian council, upon his first official audience with the Queen. Had she deemed it so, Chara could have halted his entire campaign in one fell swoop. But she didn’t. Out of faith for his ableness as a leader? No. For Alster Rigas, who supported the plan, albeit hesitatingly? Whatever the case...she may not have regretted her treatment of him, but she likely regretted her inaction that caused her cousin and his wife so much grief. Her vitriol was fueled by hindsight...and guilt.
“I agree, your Majesty.” Aristide adopted a genial tone, easily reclaiming his role as the well-adjusted host of a dinner party that was currently on fire. “I never intended to discuss the past, but when Lady Chara asks a question, she will not relent unless she receives the answer she seeks. Please understand,” he spread out his hands, beseeching, “I do not have ulterior motives for inviting you to my villa. I have been perfectly transparent with you in my letter. I gathered you and Lady Chara to humbly request your support, as allies with a common goal for peace and the cessation of bloodshed. Never would I presume to dredge up the past when it does my character a disservice and paints me as a slighted man driven by spite. You may have enough information to indite me based on a shared history with the former Rigas Head, but my goals are firmly rooted in the present.” He shifted in his chair to allow the servant to gather his empty soup dish. “It is my duty as a host to provide my guests with dishes they would enjoy. The offering of dessert to Lady Chara is not my effort to rekindle the past but to take into consideration the likes and dislikes of my hopeful allies to-be. I am merely exhibiting a conscientious demeanor best appropriate for discussions of this ilk. This is to prove my civility and my willingness to move past events that happened so long ago and which are, frankly, irrelevant to the here and now.”
He made it a point not to catch Chara’s line of sight, a simple avoidance, given how she was in midst of an intimate moment with her wine goblet. Her reticence was a small consolation, a nonverbal cue implying her conclusion to the overt hostilities lobbed in his direction. Having returned to her seat, she said what she meant and was comfortable allowing Lilica to lead the conversation. For now. Until another infraction of his would provoke her anew. “On the subject of Lord Rigas--the majority of the people were displeased with his rule. He was largely an absentee figure, delegating from Galeyn’s palace instead of mingling, and residing, here with us. His priorities did not lie with the D’Marian village. I but listened to the people’s complaints and gave them a platform by speaking their truth.” He pinched the tips of his silken gloves, allowing his fingers some breathing room.
“You cannot say I did not overthrow Lord Rigas without his knowledge. He agreed to my proposal, understanding and supporting the need for change. I respect him for taking the plunge, as it were, and realizing the peoples’ happiness outweighed his Rigas right to rule. He made the appropriate sacrifice. It is his methods with which I disagree.” He lifted the goblet to his lips, feeling, with every word and movement, a little more in control. “In fact, a reason, in part, for why I’ve scheduled this little soiree of ours is to inform you that I am not the sole party invested in apprehending Lord Rigas. As I’ve said, as a gesture of goodwill, I will not impinge on your territory if you see fit to protect him under Galeyn’s herald. But I advise you to discuss further measures with your Rigas brethren--for there is a vocal collective advocating for his arrest and execution. This is why it is imperative I receive the reasoning behind his actions. I have confidence in my ability to negotiate a turnaround in Rigas and public opinion, and make a case in favor of Lord Alster Rigas. I trust you will stand behind me in this matter. Ergo,” he tilted his head, passively observing the expressions on the faces of his guests, “it is beneficial to consider an alliance. Together, we will present a better case for his exoneration.”
“Thank you, Lord Canaveris,” Chara said dryly, the vim in her previous remarks since quelled, “but last I checked, I am a Rigas of influence and a leader in my own right. I can speak on Alster’s behalf without the addition of your sparkling rhetoric soothing the furor of the masses. I have been doing so for years.” The sudden smile that broke apart her lips was one of utter disdain. “Do you honestly believe this instance is the first and only one to call for Alster’s execution? To date, he’s been exiled twice and placed under house arrest--twice. No Rigas is bold enough to dispose of him for good. Even the late Lord Adalfieri realized his error in sending him off to die in Prince Messino’s war, deciding, instead, to use him and Lilica as pawns in his inane schemes. They merely want to ensure he is under their control.” She picked up her spoon and clattered it dismissively against the soup bowl. “Please do not waste my time conflating your importance and convincing me you matter, Lord Canaveris. It is obvious you do not.”
Aristide, to hide the impact of her words, laughed, more a polite chortle than a genuine display of humor. “Oh, Lady Chara. How you belittle, so. It is not advisable to burn bridges--for either of us. I’ve come to realize the error of my ways, and resolve to make amends for Elespeth and her husband. I only ask, in due time, for the honor of your pardon, as well. Your Majesty,” he bowed his head to Lilica, “if you must evaluate my trustworthiness, then please, do as you see fit. We shall reconvene at a later time. At dinner’s end, remind me to outfit you with a matching resonance stone, for ease of correspondence. Speaking of dinner,” he assembled a modicum of enthusiasm, leaning into his host persona, “yes, by all means, enjoy what we’ve prepared. There is no deficit of delicious food, with thanks in no small part to the Night Garden’s glorious bounty.”
Dinner, even for a man who reveled in pride among dinner parties, was a slog, and he wished it over as fervently as his guests did. Thankfully, the servants picked up on his context clues and hurried the courses along until they reached dessert. Chara, establishing eye contact for the first time since their argument, gathered a handful of profiteroles in her plate and ate them with shameless abandon. Her eyebrows lifted as though daring him to speak.
At dinner’s conclusion, Aristide, rising from his chair, presented Lilica with a cracked green stone, similar in appearance to original resonance stone that Chara had first obtained in Stella D’Mare. In his other hand, he held its companion. “Yes, do not hesitate to contact me, your Majesty. If you do decide to trust me, you will obtain a powerful ally. The Canaveris family is second to the Rigases in influence. Though we are far from our homeland, you will see that we have brought some useful elements of home with us. People take for granted the land upon which they stand. As earth mages--we do not. If the Rigases represent the firmament, we represent the foundation. We are architects and artisans, the workhorses...and are quite handy in building tunnels, as Lady Chara will attest. Her family used our services to create the Serpent’s den, among other, big-name projects.”
After Lilica bid her farewell, with Chara trailing behind, grunting something inaudible, Elespeth hung back, green eyes staring intently at the man she had no reason to like. He half expected her to pull out her sword and growl a threat or two. Instead...she gazed piteously at him. A far worse fate.
“You are mistaken, Elespeth. Every part of this had to do with winning her Majesty’s favor. I may use my heart, but I do not lead with my heart. And as I have never professed to be a leader, only a transition point, I am happy to accept your observation. I am an artist.” He smiled, firm and tight. “And most artists are broken.”
Once the trio departed in their carriage, Ari, after dismissing the servants for the night, returned to the dining area. Collapsing on his chair, he let out a world-weary sigh, reached for his goblet, and drank...but this time, not for the taste.
He didn’t know how long he sat, drinking, until a feminine voice called his name. As nobody at his estate ever called him ‘Lord Canaveris,’ he shot out of his temporary stupor, and caught sight of the Master Alchemist, who, observing him in such a state, could not help but affix him with a look of concern--of pity.
“Miss Nia? Intruding at this hour? Lazarus must be distracted.” He hauled himself into the chair, straightening his skewed form into a proper, straight-backed posture. “I would question your motives, seeing as you’re sneaking about my villa at an hour fit for assassins, but I see you are carrying a gift--so, while your execution is questionable, I am appreciative, nonetheless, of your thoughtfulness. I will most certainly drink it when I am better equipped to savor its flavor. Thank you.” Though drunk, he was still capable of rising to his feet and walking on his own. “Since you have come all this way, I must offer you something in return. We’ve some leftovers from dinner. I was entertaining a few guests, one of whom has a flammable temper. They did not partake in too much food, so you will be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands. Come,” he led the way towards the kitchens. “The servants have retired for the evening, but I am quite capable of compiling together a meal for you.”
Midway through his movement into another room, however, something encroached out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he came face to face with a bust of a woman, the ideal woman. Eyes of fire, eyes he once found so compelling, seared him with judgement. Her playful, plush mouth frowned at the corners, glowering her disapproval. A tick appeared between her lovely, manicured eyebrows. She resented him. Resented her creator. You do not matter. You are nothing. Rubble. Pebbles. Detritus. Dust.
He returned her lowly sentiments. I’m sick of you dominating me! He glared at the bust. Of always falling beneath you as you trample me underfoot. You will dominate me no longer!
Remembering his guest, who likely wondered why he had stopped to gawk at a bust, Ari swerved to face Nia, concealing the inner turbulence with an outer veneer of calm. “Ah; I’ve just remembered. I was supposed to purge a few statues in my collection today. As you see, I’ve limited room to display everything I’ve created, so I need to clear some space for other projects. Besides, there is a certain, albeit tragic, beauty in destroying what you love. Case in point.” Striding to the bust, Ari clamped his hand atop her head. Upon contact, numerous hairline cracks spidered from the crown and traveled downward, fragmenting the piece at a rate too fast to watch with the naked eye. In seconds, the entire structure collapsed into a pile of unrecognizable waste.
“That’s better,” he brushed the pulverized stone that gathered on his gloved hands. “Miss Nia, before we venture to the kitchen, would you care to help me dispose of several figures in my gallery? It will not take long at all. Surely, this will work up an appetite.”
Sure enough, when Elespeth returned from Aristide’s villa, Hadwin hung back against the wall, bundled for outside and ready to go, whether the she-warrior decided to join him or not. “That was right quick!” he told her as she approached. “What did Chara do to him? No, wait,” he stretched out a halting hand. “Let’s get some drinks in us first, and then spill the details of this disastrous dinner-party.”
They traversed a well-traveled path from the palace entrance to the adjacent village, a place he most frequently haunted for his proximity and convenience. It also helped that the drinking establishment brewed fine ales and wasn’t shy about their portion sizes. Osric’s place might have boasted good food, but if you were looking for a strong beverage for your money, this pub delivered on its promises.
Taking a seat up front by the bar, Hadwin slammed down some coin and ordered an ale for him and Elespeth. As he waited for the barkeep to fill up the tankards, he whipped out his pipe and lit until gray smoke streamed out from its bowl. “It’s on me, tonight,” he spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Y’know, for giving you a hard time before. And I agree, partly. Except it’s not that your beau doesn’t see the repercussions of his actions. He does, but plows ahead anyway, cuz he thinks the outcome’s worth the sacrifice. It’s his fatal flaw. Then, after he acts, he’s a shivering ball of guilt. Kinda missed that step this time, though. But whatever,” he blew out a puff of the pungent substance. “I’m off-duty tonight, Elly. Gets boring to meddle in the same repeating affairs all the goddamn time--so believe you me, I need the break, too.”
When they received their ales, Hadwin raised a brow at Elespeth’s reception to the drink--as in, she downed it not five seconds after it left the barkeep’s hands. “Damn, Elly,” he chuckled out of the side of his mouth. “Looks like you’re gonna burn a hole in my pocket tonight. Keep ‘em coming!” He called out to the barkeep as he slid a few more coins upon the counter.
As Elespeth delved into her story about the dinner, the faoladh leaned in, listening intently. “That’s what I’m talking about! Glad you see things my way, finally. I love looking at other peoples’ problems--s’how I learned that the shit I went through is just part of the human experience. Cuz you soon see that everyone is pretty damn miserable. We’re all going through shit; makes no difference. Bonus when it’s the well-adjusted ones who are hiding some fucked up, juicy secrets. And let me tell you,” he slugged down his tankard and deposited its empty vessel on the counter, “Lord Fancypants is packing...a real satisfying, lip-smacking secret, that is. Chara knows about it but she won’t say. And I’d tell you, but I wanna keep mum about it for now. Sorta want him on my good side. You say he’s a sculptor? Hm,” he idly chewed on the stem of his pipe. “Gonna have to pay him a visit and commission something. Think he could make a stone replica of Cwenha if I shower him with enough portraits? It’ll probably be good for him, to have a project. Shift his focus from our surly heartbreaker to the...currently deceased, but also surly heartbreaker.” He scooped the second tankard’s contents into his mouth. “Sounds like a good trade-off!”
“Ah--you’re right. It is rather late, isn’t it? And I just let myself right in. Guess I’m just full of poor judgment, tonight.” Nia smiled nervously to herself and scratched the back of her head. “My rhythms have all been a mess this past year; sometimes I’m up at night and sleeping during the day, and vice versa. Sometimes I’m not sleeping at all. Time starts to lose all meaning when that happens. And then I often forget that everyone else in the world is partaking in far more sensible patterns… but now I’m just rambling, aren’t I? Sorry to have alarmed you so. I’ve really got to stop taking people off guard.”
The Master Alchemist reached into her winter cloak, where she drew out two thin knives and set them on the table. “Truth be told, I would make one piss-poor assassin. I mean, I can hold my own, well-enough, but I can’t say I’ve got a knack for sneaking around and stealing lives under the cover of moonlight. Not my forte; and Locque has far better candidates for that than myself. But I guess I can’t expect you to just blindly believe that--or anything I say, for that matter. So,” Following that, she removed a third from her boot, and placed it down to join its twin weapons, and then spread her arms as if to indicate she was thereby void of anything that could harm him. “I’ll leave those here, where you can see them, if it puts your mind at ease. And if you’re at all afraid this concoction is some kind of poison or something,” she tapped the glass bottle with her fingernail, “then by all means, let’s crack it open tonight and I’ll take the first sip. Honestly, I don’t expect people to trust me--but I hope you can believe me when I say I really have no interest in burning bridges with those few people with whom I hold non-violent relations. They’re pretty few and far-between; I can count them on one hand!”
But on that note, realizing she had been too wrapped up in the thought of bearing a peaceable gift and failing to realize the hour and the manner in which she had intruded on him and his home, Nia figured it was probably best that she didn’t stay. Whatever was on his mind to drive him to drink in exces (and more notably, alone) was clearly heavy, and if he’d wanted company, he surely wouldn’t be alone… Yet the act of reciprocity was too strong a habit for him to waive, and although she hadn’t been invited before, it appeared that she was now. “I’m sorry to hear your dinner party didn’t go as you’d hoped it would,” she said, finally coming to understand why he seemed so defeated. “But by all means, Lord Canaveris, while I’m sure I have a reputation for having a voracious appetite, I didn’t stride into your home with the expectation that you entertain me. Not at all! Nor did I come to deliver this sorry excuse for spirits with the expectation that I get something in return. I hope you don’t think me to be that kind of person! Think of it as…” She paused. What was it? Admit it, Nia. You were bored; you wanted company. And you knew he wouldn’t turn you away. Flushing faintly at that guilty self-confession, the Master Alchemist thought no more of it and cleared her throat. “Locque certainly isn’t the type to say ‘thank you’. But, hell, what you did took a lot of courage, and it worked out to be in her favour. So someone ought to give you some well-deserved recognition for your cooperation… and I figured I’d be the best candidate. But…”
Aristide was already on his feet and leading her toward the kitchens. There was no polite way to refuse his hospitality, at this point; and she’d be a bold-faced liar were she ever to claim she wasn’t in the mood for something to eat. “If you insist… it is a real shame to put good food to waste.”
En route to his kitchens, however, the Canaveris lord paused to glimpse at one of the decorative busts that were scattered throughout his estate. He appeared distracted; as if something about this particular sculpture suddenly annoyed him. “You want to… destroy them? All these pieces of art that you created?” The Master Alchemist’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But, forgive my interjection… does that not seem like a bit of a waste? To be rid of something that took your time and talent and effort--the time you spent creating these works of art, you cannot get back. Would it not be more suitable to find them new homes? Allow them to decorate other rooms?” But whether or not Ari had considered that possibility, the Canaveris lord had clearly already made up his mind. She couldn’t help but watch with surprise as one of the sculptures crumbled to dust at his fingertips. All that work, those hours put into it… and it was reduced to nothing.
“Well,” she shrugged her shoulders, still confused, but figuring it was best to accept his wishes. Shrugging off her winter cloak, she hung it on the back of a chair. “If this makes you feel better… I’m happy to help. Fortunately, I also don’t need a heavy object to turn these things to dust.”
So, against her better judgment, Nia stepped up to one of the busts, touched the top of its head with her palms, and watched the carefully sculpted face and shoulders crumble. Not a miraculous feat; she was merely rendering the once solid piece of clay to another form it was capable of taking. But somehow, she hadn’t felt more like an asshole when she’d managed to impale Elespeth Rigas’s armor; this, somehow, felt worse. Destroying something that had very clearly been created with love and passion… it felt wrong, to her.”Lord Canaveris…” She took a single step back to look at what she had done, before glancing sidelong at the eager (and drunk) aristocrat. “Are you… sure about this?”
But Aristide was already up and destroying piece after piece with almost reckless abandon. Not only did he somehow find this necessary, but it almost seemed to bring him… dare she say, happiness? Relief? Whatever the reason, there was obviously something unmistakable cathartic about destroying the busts. So without another word, Nia went on to the next, and the next, until between the two of them, none were left standing in that general vicinity. It looked as though a hurricane had hit this single room in his exquisite abode: dust everywhere, spiraling in the air, clinging to her shoulders and hair, showering the ground like fine, grey snow. Quite possibly the most soundless destruction she’d ever witnessed. A profound emptiness took up the space where the lovely statues had once stood, and it most definitely felt as though there was something missing. Although… that was not necessarily a bad thing. Aristide certainly didn’t look as though it was. Rather, he looked as though he’d exercised ghosts from this room… and appeared all the better for it. Whatever the reason for this, it had been necessary.
“Well… you certainly have a lot of space and opportunity for remodeling. In every sense of the word.” Nia commented, and abruptly turned her head to cough into her sleeve. “Though… might I suggest we relocate until the dust settles? Literally, I mean.”
As he’d promise, Aristide led her down a corridor and to the kitchen, where lo and behold, the remnants of a nearly untouched grant meal still sat, waiting to be put away. “Well, this is depressing. Seems as though you prepared to impress, and your guests couldn’t really care less. I am sorry your soiree ended in such a lackluster fashion. You deserve better guests, really. Not that I am suggesting the mere likes of me is any better, but,” with a half-grin, she popped a profiterole into her mouth. “I’ll make sure your efforts don’t go to waste”. It had since warmed to room temperature and obviously was not as fresh as it had been earlier, but it was no less delicious. Certainly more high-class than what she was offered at Osric’s pub--not that the man’s food didn’t satisfy, but this brought back memories. Of days when it hadn’t been so uncommon for her to eat like this (when, of course, she had been permitted to eat).
“If you don’t mind my asking…” The Master Alchemist hesitated to fill her mouth again. It wasn’t apparent whether or not the artistic aristocrat was wanting or willing to talk, but no one drank alone late at night without reason. Something was on his mind--something, she guessed, that had occurred at this ill-fated dinner. And that she suspected was related to his rather sporadic insistence on eliminating the busts that decorated the room… It seemed rude not to lend an ear, if he wanted it. “I take it that whatever happened at this dinner you so graciously held was enough to encourage you to tip the bottle. Care to talk about it? I know, it’s hard to imagine that someone who talks as much as me might be capable of listening. But I’m known for being full of surprises.”
As she’d expected, the details Aristide provided her sparse, but it wasn’t difficult to piece those snippets together. An unfinished meal; taking to drinking to stop thinking. Destroying a handful of beautiful works of art which, she recently noticed, had all born the same face… Nia knew hurt when she saw it. Aristide Canaveris put up a respectable facade, a cool countenance that was astoundingly hard to break, even under pressure. But something had caused a fissure in that careful and calm aura that surrounded him. And she had a feeling the person capable of threatening to shatter him bore a striking resemblance to those statues. When he had no more words to share, the Master Alchemist pushed herself away from the counter. “Wait here,” she said, before disappearing around the corner. When she returned, she held two glass chalices in one hand, and her bottle of alchemically-altered spirits in the other. “Really, there’s no reason to save the taste of this stuff. It’s about as mediocre as they come; and I did promise to prove to you it wasn’t poison.”
Setting the glasses and bottle atop the counter, Nia uncorked the concoction and filled the two chalices with equal amounts of curious orange nectar. “So that you don’t have to drink alone.” She explained, and took that promised first sip out of solidarity. “See? Not poison. Not the best thing you’ll ever taste, but if you are looking to forget… well, this’ll help. For a little while.”
Taking another measured sip, she crossed one ankle in front of the other and leaned against the wooden kitchen island, where the food from earlier looked to have been prepared. “The thing about forgetting, though, in my experience… the harder you try to forget, the harder it is to forget. But I suppose that doesn’t stop us from trying, hm?” Nia flashed her winning smile and raised her glass. “I don’t know what you got out of destroying all of those pieces of your own artwork, Lord Canaveris. But I hope it helped. And I have to say, I am rather interested to see what you will sculpt next.”
“When I said I wanted to drink tonight, surely you didn’t think I only meant one drink.” Elespeth chided Hadwin, as she sought to refill her tankard. “It’s going to take more than that after the day I’ve had--the weeks I’ve had. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. But what do you mean, Canaveris has a secret? I mean… one beyond the obvious fact that Chara Rigas once broke his heart and he never got out of it. If he’s got something to hide that could affect the rest of us, you realize you can’t keep it to yourself, right? And neither can Chara, for that matter. Come to think of it…” The ex-knight furrowed her brows and frowned into her newly-filled mug of ale. “She threatened to reveal some ‘truth’ of his, and he called her on the fact that they had a pact he was keen on holding her to. I’m surprised Lilica didn’t demand more answers; I think she wanted to get out of there as much as we all did. Although, if it were pertinent… I suppose that isn’t something that Chara would keep from Lilica. Seems like she derives some pleasure in holding it over Aristide’s head… oh, who am I kidding? Of course she loves holding it over his head. This is Chara we’re talking about. Well… whatever.”
Elespeth took a long drink from her tankard. Her limbs and shoulders were already beginning to relax as the ale took effect. “Yeah, he’s a sculptor. Must’ve spent enough time staring at Chara’s face in years gone by to memorize it; the more you look at it, the more you realize it’s terrifyingly accurate. But… what are you talking about?” She shot Hadwin a look of suspicion mixed with confusion. “Why would you want a statue of Cwenha? If you’re thinking that would make Briery happy, I’d reconsider. Something about seeing the face and form of dead loved ones is just as likely to devastate someone as it is to make them happy. I don’t know… that I could ever look at my brother’s face, again. Not when the nightmares are only just starting to subside in favour of other nightmares.
“But anyway… I’d give the man some repose before you go commissioning him. I don’t much like him, but I know first-hand what it means to be despised by Chara Rigas. I think it’s safe to say he got what was coming to him.” But unlike Alster, who appeared to thrive only on revenge at this point in time, Elespeth hadn’t left the Canaveris villa feeling victorious. Even after everything that man had put her and her husband through… she was unable to feel anything but pity for him. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll accept your commission just to keep himself busy… although I’d still give that a second thought. Last I heard, Briery couldn’t much stand to look at the artwork that fans have gifted Cwenha, let alone some perfect look-alike.”
Elespeth trained her second helping of ale, and held her tankard high in the air to indicate she’d like a refill. “Not sure I want to make this a habit. Getting all up in other peoples’ business to feel better about my own problems. But I’ve got to say… I think it’s helping. Then again, so is the ale.” Glancing over her shoulder, she took note of a target drawn on one of the vacant back walls with clear indentations from projectiles. The ex-knight brightened with interest. “Care to go throw a few knives? Not like I can match Haraldur, but believe it or not, my distance accuracy is actually better when I’m drunk.”
She didn’t wait for an answer before scooping up her tankard and making her way to the other side of the room. None of this would solve her problems; none of this would smooth the wrinkles in her and Alster’s relationship. But tonight wasn’t about solving problems; it was about distractions. And she didn’t know any better company to provide that than Hadwin.
“I am not looking to destroy every piece of art I’ve created.” Walking away from the destroyed bust, he wiped his hands against his long coat, leaving desiccated smears on the fine blue fabric. “I have a few outdated works that are currently not in league with my vision. As they aren’t exactly portable, or easily tucked away in storage, it’s best to see this as an opportunity for decluttering. It should come as no surprise that I am often guilty of hoarding.” He flicked an offending stone-chip off his shoulder. “I would not feel comfortable donating this collection, anyhow. It is quite unremarkable. Not at all representative of my abilities. It is better to clean the slate and start anew. They do say beauty comes from ashes. So,” his soil-dark eyes winked at Nia conspiratorially, “let us create more ashes.”
For the next half hour, they traveled from room to room, with Aristide instructing Nia on which busts and statues were eligible to demolish. Not that it was difficult to determine the motif behind the undesirables weeding up his galleries, considering they all wore Chara’s eye-boring expression. Now that he took the time to observe her prevalence in his art, it shamed him, even in his drunk-addled state, to have another bear witness to the confrontation between the artist and his decades’ long obsession. However, he knew if he’d waited until sober, he wouldn’t have found the courage to scrub out the dark mark that stamped its signature upon his artistic pursuits since youth. Neither would he have found the courage to do it alone.
Chara’s unmistakable face duplicated in different shapes, different mediums. In one piece, she sat on a pillar, legs crossed, hand propped under her chin, passive eyes staring off into the distance. In marble relief, he’d captured her ennui, a look he often caught the Rigas woman donning when in her company. Pressing his hand upon her petrified chest, he cracked her eggshell white exterior like a geode, knowing that inside, the depth of feeling expressed on the surface would reveal nothing but a hollow husk, deprived of any glimmer of crystal.
After felling the mighty Chara Rigas, the diamond centerpiece among pearls, it became increasingly easier to break the necklace string that comprised the rest of his cursed oeuvre. With Nia’s assistance, they erased terracotta busts, rendered red-brown clay to its raw, base state, and smashed colorful porcelain creations, once glazed and painted to a shine, now reduced to mosaics on the floor. As he emptied the galleries of their visual noise, he refused to attribute an emotion behind the wreckage, aside from the emotion of necessity. For now, he would enjoy the physicality of incinerating stone and clay into silt and sand. What came from the earth inevitably returned to the earth. There was no tragedy in unshackling the artist from his depraved predilections, and therefore, nothing to mourn. He was free.
“This is an improvement.” Standing back to view his handiwork, Aristide wafted aside the clouds of dust hazing the air to better observe the aftermath. “So blissfully empty. Ah,” he smiled, pleased, “I daresay I can hear a faint echo.” He shook out his mane of inky hair, now dusted over in a layer of premature gray. “I second your suggestion, Miss Nia. We shall remove ourselves from this post-volcanic scene.” Fanning his coat of its excessive detritus, he circled back to the corridor that ended at the entrance to the kitchen. “I do believe I promised you a late supper.”
The kitchen, in addition to the same curious bioluminescent stones as seen in the dining area, was also lit by an untended fire ensconced in the hearth, its flames left to gradually wither and die. Though its fuel was nearly spent, the smoldering fire provided a significant improvement in warmth from the lingering draft of the previous rooms.
“There is soup left in the cauldron, bread in the larder, and stuffed mushrooms in the pot.” He rifled through the cabinets, removing a bowl, a plate, and a spoon. He ladled a hearty helping of warm, but not hot, carrot soup into the bowl, and offered it to Nia. “And--well, you’ve already acquainted yourself with dessert.” He nodded to the profiteroles dish from where she’d already snagged a few. “It is much my fault, really. The quality of one’s hospitality means little if the guests bear no regard or trust towards their host. I anticipated a tense evening, of course, but it superseded my expectations and...therein I suppose it explains my invested interest in wine, tonight. You are correct in your suppositions.” The melted cheese on the stuffed mushrooms had since cooled and hardened, but he scooped some into a plate and placed it beside the soup bowl. “My apologies for the lack of presentation,” he fished a brilliant, disk-shaped red stone from his pocket, settling the plate of mushrooms over its flat surface. Hovering his hand over the plate, the stone immediately glowed red with heat, and the cheese gradually regained its gooey consistency over the bed of mushrooms. He removed the plate from the heating stone and performed the same act for the soup bowl until the broth hissed and billowed out steam. “I know you are capable of producing a flame with your alchemy, but see this added gesture as a hapless host’s attempt to recover from his wounded pride. I would suggest we move to a more comfortable space, but seeing as it is currently combatting cold air and dust, it is not the most welcoming of venues as of present. Nonetheless,” he nodded to the food, “please enjoy.”
Amid her atrocious dining experience, perched over a countertop and feasting on leftovers like a common kitchen servant, he opted to answer the question she had asked him earlier. Given his erratic behavior, it behooved him to offer a suitable explanation. It was too late to save face; she not only caught him drunk, but also abetted in the repeated murder of Chara Rigas’s stone effigies. At this late stage, withholding from Nia seemed pointless.
“As I’ve mentioned, one of my guests is quite volatile in character. Paired with her outspoken nature, she has little interest in reaching resolutions. With her scorpion tail of a tongue, she likes to perpetuate conflict, heedless of who is stung.” He scrubbed the jeweled facets of his rings with a gloved finger, wiping off the accumulated dirt and buffing them to their original shine. “Overthrowing Lord Rigas has made me some detractors. A good share of them. Tonight’s dinner was to ease tensions with several in particular. But if I am honest...this woman has made it no secret how much she’s despised me over the years. I thought she might have changed. That we could have a civil discourse and move past our turbid history. It was a wrongful assumption, on my part. Tonight, she made her stance quite clear.”
Ari reached across the table to lift a goblet that was not there. Owing to his elevated heart-rate, compliments of the energy-rich task of destroying his most haunted works of art, he was starting to lose the effects of the wine. Before he could remedy his situation and gather more, Nia, anticipating his needs, ran off to the next room and returned with her homebrew mixture. “If you insist,” he accepted a chalice full of the orange spirit. “I would have preferred to save this for a special occasion, but it is your gift, and you know best what to do with it.” Waiting until after Nia took the first sip, Ari followed suit and sloshed a little into his mouth. “It is not a bad flavor, Miss Nia. It may not be fully realized as a palate cleanser, but I do taste hints of caramel and,” he took another sip, “is that cardamom? I do like a hint of spice. I know you were not looking for an assessment, and I am fairly impaired of judgement, but you’ve crafted a pleasant beverage, enough that I regret what I am about to do.” Tilting the chalice, he introduced more than several sips’ worth into his mouth. He stopped to allow the burning in his throat to subside, and repeated the process three more times. One other thing could be said for Nia’s alchemically-enhanced nectar: it was fast-acting!
“I am not trying to forget. It’s impossible to forget...as I stand here, imbibing your immensely powerful substance,” He chuckled dryly. The irony was not lost on him. “That woman defined my formative years...and yes,” he bowed his head in admittance; the alcohol had loosened his tongue! “The statues we destroyed...they were sculpted in her image. It is maddening, how much she dominates my memories, while she can move forward without sparing me a single thought. All that she has done...and she refuses to admit her wrongdoing. She won’t take responsibility. So while she roams free, guiltless, I’m still chained to the past, unable to remove the manacles she slapped on my wrists.” he stared at the smoldering hearthfire diminish to faint, glowing embers. “I don’t have the key; she ran away with it. Tonight marks an actualized attempt to escape. The statues are gone and the manacles,” he massaged his wrists, “are loosening. It’s the closest to free I’ve ever been.”
“I must sound so dramatic to you.” He guzzled another helping of Nia’s drink. “But it is difficult to express just how prominent a figure she was in my life. For one, she saved me from drowning as a child. I was indebted to her and...she took advantage of that fact. I happily did her bidding for decades because I wanted to prove my usefulness. To prove I’d been worth saving. Though it was obvious she viewed me as a loyal pet who would never betray her, or…” he hesitated in the analogy, “as a golem, existing merely to do the bidding of its creator, I stayed by her side, delusional in believing that she cared about me. In reality...I was but a distraction. A poor one, at best. Slave and master, under the guise of friends. Once she milked everything possible from our relationship, she turned around and...left. She left, without saying goodbye.”
“She pined for the love of another. Always. That absent man she so desired...I vowed to punish him for hurting her to the extent where she felt impelled to scapegoat me for his crimes. Everything that he did was my fault, for some reason. Over a decade later and...it seems fate granted me a golden opportunity to return the misdeliveries I’d endured in his name. It was not my primary goal to run him aground. I am not petty. But did I enjoy inflicting pain?” He swished the nectarine-colored remnants in his chalice. “Yes. For a time. Until he escaped his punishment. It does not matter, anymore. I learned, tonight...it is she I should have been confronting, all along. Not with words, no. She will never grant me the satisfaction of closure. Instead, I must purge her from my thoughts, my mind...my art. It is no longer sustainable to house her toxic presence in the most vulnerable reaches of my soul. So now--she is nothing. Now--she is dust.” Raising his eyes from the chalice, he recognized his audience, as though finally waking from a dream, from a trance. “My apologies, Miss Nia. It is an uncouth practice to unload my personal baggage onto your shoulders. I forget; I am the host, however much I fail to practice what I preach. I do hope I have not spoiled your appetite with my drunken rambling.”
“It’s not the quantity of drinks I’m commenting on, Elly,” Hadwin mused. “I’m just marveling on the fact that you got to this point, at all. It’s a rare spectacle. If memory serves, I’ve seen you properly drunk one time, and that was when you were solo drinking a bottle of wine on the lawn of the Rigas estate. You didn’t wear that wine well, so I’m left wondering how’re gonna turn out, tonight. For now, though, you’re golden. And I’ll toast to that,” he lifted his second tankard of ale and tapped it against the rim of Elespeth’s own. “Anyway, it’s as I said. Lord Fancypants has got a secret that could ruin his reputation. He’s fucking terrified of letting it leak out; thinks someone else will take advantage of the situation like Lady Chara did, all those years ago. Hells, you’re right; she’s still holding over his head.”
He ran a fingernail across one of the tankard’s four metal rings, scratching its dinged, tarnished surface. “Before our meeting with him a few weeks back, Lady Chara singled me out by throwing me the death glare to end all death glares. She knew my Sight could see past his bullshit and she didn’t want me to spill the details. If you’re one to see the good in our frosty blonde, then she’s showing her commitment to the pact. Or, conversely,” he dropped his hand on the table as if carrying a leaden ball too heavy to support, “she prefers to be the sole party responsible for laying it on the Canaveris whipping boy. Whatever the case, I backed down. So for now,” he pressed on his lips so tightly, they turned white, “I’m not saying a peep. It’s possible Lady Chara wields some power over me, still, from the oath of obedience she forced me to take in Stella D’Mare. You could try wrenching the truth outta her, but I guess she doesn’t see it as pertinent. Also,” he took another draw of his pipe, “she’s afraid you and Lilica will think the worst of her if you discover her twisted treatment of that poor sunnuvabitch.”
He noticed the visible confusion plying on Elespeth’s tipsy features when he mentioned a commission for a statue of the deceased Silver Fairy. Well, well...wasn’t he a little loose-lipped, tonight? And all from two ales and a half-smoked bowl of hashish? “Eh, thought it’d be a nice gesture. A rose-bush memorial is nice, but it’s a bush. A statue’s the closest thing we’ll get to seeing her alive, again,” if only she knew, he thought, “but yeah, I get that angle. Not sure I’d wanna see a life-size stone replica of my mam when I’ve already got her shadow lurking over there all the goddamned time,” he swept a hand to the far corner of the one-room establishment. “But you can’t deny it’ll give him something non-Chara related to ram his chisel into. Not like that, you pervert,” he pretended to look scandalized. “I see where your mind’s going!”
His golden eyes lit up like a lantern when Elespeth suggested they throw some daggers at a target. “Elly, I don’t need an invitation to play with knives. I’m in!” He shot to his feet and joined her by the pub's back wall. “Gotta say, I’m completely charmed by you right now. Never thought you could be a,” he gasped, “a fun drunk!”
Setting down his tankard and moving the stem of his pipe to one side of his mouth, Hadwin gathered the six knives embedded in the painted target and divvied them up between him and Elespeth, three apiece. “I’ve got better aim with my fists, but I know a thing or two about daggers; taught Ro that gutting technique she loves to perform on live people--though I realize that’s not something bragworthy. Ah, well.” He held the tip of the dagger with his thumb and forefinger, closing one eye to aim. “Let’s make this a true game. Winner dares the loser to do whatever they want. Within reason, of course,” he tutted, as though responding to Elespeth suggesting something risque. “And it’s gotta be in keeping with the fun, free-spiritedness of the evening. No serious requests. That’s boring, besides. If we’re in agreement, let’s do this. But Elly, I should warn you,” his mouth broadened into a shit-eating grin, “warrior training or no, I’ve got years of pub-game training over you, and I’m mates with the rice-man. You know, the guy who throws knives for a living. So just saying--I’ve got a fair chance of getting through this with my limbs intact.”
Frankly, Nia would have been perfectly happy with lukewarm soup, mushrooms tending towards being too dry, and bread that was beginning to grow stale. Certainly, she had experienced her share of fine food in her time, back in the days before she was no longer able to plant her feet on the ground for more than a few moments. Having grown up in Ilandria’s own illustrious palace (and alongside its very own prince, no less!), exquisite meals had been a given, and not a mere luxury. But that was one of many things that she had to come to terms with giving up when Ilandria no longer proved to be a safe place to dwell: good food, security, a comfortable bed, fine clothes… If running for your life from your own home did not present enough of a shock to your system, then falling into entirely new habits was often a breaking point. Fortunately, Nia had been too preoccupied with focusing on staying alive to be aware of that abrupt transition from an aristocratic lifestyle to that of a fugitive, but it didn’t mean she’d forgotten what she’d left behind.
Perhaps that, in part, was what drew her to Aristide Canaveris and his company. Not necessarily his access and predisposition to luxuries (although that was certainly a boon!) but the fact that he treated her the same as he would any guest of a more prestigious nature. It was not lost on the Master Alchemist that the sculptor took pride in his hospitality, and that was likely part of the reason he sought to continue amicable relations with the likes of her, but still, she couldn’t help but appreciate his gestures all the same. That he would find her worthy of fine liquor and a hot meal resonated with Nia, and ultimately, enticed her to ask after and listen to the man’s woes. Thus far, he had been good to her; it was the least she could do.
“You’re too kind, Lord Canaveris. It would suit me just fine to eat this food as it is, heated or not,” she assured him, though she had to admit… those mushrooms looked far more appetizing when the cheese had melted again, and the aroma of the soup swirled into the air, combating the stale scent of clay that had arisen from shattering the artist’s statues and statuettes. “Frankly, I’m not sure I’m worthy of your efforts. But neither will I allow them to go to waste--or for this fine meal to go to waste.”
Nia seized the opportunity to pick at the delicacies as Aristide surprisingly saw fit to indulge her with the story and reasoning behind his current mood, and his desire to destroy some of his works of art. She could have guessed that it might have had something to do with a woman who had once broken his heart, given that all of the statues now turned to dust had borne the same visages… but hearing him explain it aloud put emphasis on the impact this betrayal had on him. For such a composed person on the outside, it was rather hard to imagine that he had been nursing an open wound such as heartbreak for so long. “Really, Lord Canaveris, there is nothing about relationships that are not dramatic.” She assured him, brushing off his concern with a gesture of her free hand. She took a long sip of her adequate spirits before continuing. “Feelings in and of themselves are dramatic, whether we care to acknowledge that or not. If they weren’t, then they wouldn’t be feelings, and they wouldn’t impact us the way they do. Hells, we wouldn't have a need for this swill if we were not impacted by the dramatic, each and every day of our lives, am I right?”
Noting that his glass was once again empty, Nia took it upon herself to refill it. Not like alchemical alcohol would continue to be palatable for too long after it was opened. “It sounds as though this woman took you for quite a ride. Makes perfect sense why you wouldn’t want to look upon her face, anymore. I’m not exactly an expert on romance or relationships or what have you, but isn’t it a general consensus that the best way to rid yourself of those shackles is to shackle yourself to someone else? Sure, I mean, the face on those statues of yours was certainly lovely, but come on--even I’ve noticed that there is certainly no shortage of beautiful women in your settlement. Do you really mean to tell me that no one has caught your eye--or your heart--in the time since one heart-breaker wounded you, so? ...should I try to play match-maker? I’ve been told I’m good at it!” The Master Alchemist chuckled into her glass and winked. “Relax, I’m joking--if you want it to be a joke. Really, though, I shouldn’t be joking at all. It sounds as though you were put through more than any mortal is equipped to handle. That she took advantage of you when you so liberally offered your loyalty and affection… and that affected you. Because you, Lord Canaveris, are a kind person. And yes,” she smiled warmly, “I think at this point, I can say that with certainty. After all, you’ve put up with me on more than one occasion--and with a smile, at that!”
Draining her glass, Nia helped herself to a refill and put her snacking on pause to press her back to the counter and stared into the aromatic, amber liquid. “But one honest story deserves another, so if it makes you feel any less distraught that you’ve worn this woman’s shackles for so long, there’s a difference between being hopeful and vulnerable and just downright naive. So, quite a while ago, when I was younger and stupider and forced to flee from my home… I suppose I was desperate to find someone to trust. I was terrified all the time; I was exhausted, and uncertain, and I had no allies or friends. No one I could turn to for advice or to just listen. I missed my home, my family was gone--completely--and I wanted nothing more than to let my guard down and breathe again. In my travels, I happened to meet a man who I thought had been a friend to me; more than a friend, even. I felt safe with him. Thought he had my best interests in mind. Was so sure of myself and so eager to find the light in life again that I even decided it was safe to be intimate with him. I’m sure you’ve already gathered that that was a huge mistake.”
With her free hand, the Master Alchemist clutched at the starburst pendant around her neck. It wasn’t much in terms of jewelry; tarnished and shoddily crafted. Not at all beautiful. But she hadn’t taken it off since the day she put it around her neck. “The thing is, I was wanted--at the time, dead or alive. Not sure if those details have changed, but I don’t care to find out. And I suppose… he thought it was too risky to try and turn me in, alive, so…” Nia brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing a small yet visible vertical, pink scar across the side of her neck. It was easy to cover with her long locks of rich, chocolate hair; easy to forget about. “He waited until I was literally in the most vulnerable position I could be in to make his move. Can you believe my stupidity? Really, I’m not even sure I can blame it on my lack of experience with men and people in general; it was just plain, unadulterated stupidity. Of course someone who knew who I was and what I was worth would put on such a ruse to gain my trust, if only for the opportunity to turn me in. I wanted to believe otherwise--laughable, I know. Fortunately, I left that stupid girl behind years ago. I learned from my mistakes and learned to ally with the right people.”
It might have been a laughing matter, now, but it hadn’t been at the time. It was the closest to death that Nia Ardane had ever come. She’d been terrified; she’d been distraught, hopeless, and devastated. Hells, she really thought she’d developed feelings for that son of a bitch. It was a long time after the fact before she had so much as spoken to anyone, again. “So I understand having scars at someone else’s expense; mine is different from yours. No shackles, just a permanent reminder of my naive idiocy. I guess that’s my own fatal flaw. I enjoy spending time with people; I grow so bored without someone to talk to. Back then, everything just happened to fall into place at the right time that I almost lost my life because of it.” Nia dropped her pendant back against her chest and took a long drink from her glass. It was empty when she lowered it from her lips.
“But anyway, there is no need to apologize, Lord Canaveris. I certainly did not expect you to play host, tonight; not when you were clearly already obligated to do so with invited guests. I just waltzed in and imposed my presence on you. So if anyone should be apologizing, it is me. Believe me--it takes a lot more than tales of woe to kill my appetite.” With a grin, she emphasized her point by popping a small, stuffed mushroom into her mouth. The taste was superb, even if they were no longer fresh. She easily could have found a home in her stomach for the remainder of them, as well as that aromatic soup… but this was not Osric’s pub. And Aristide, though familiar with her penchant for having a voracious appetite, was not a bartender who was used to people stuffing their faces, completely unabashed. Just because she was no longer considered part of an aristocracy (and hadn’t been for a long time, really) did not mean she had the right to disrespect basic manners, completely.
Topping up Ari’s glass before he could ask, and then in turn topping up her own, Nia pushed away from the counter. “If you ask me, it sounds like you’ve taken the best first step to free yourself from the hold of this woman’s memory. You won’t have to look upon her face, anymore; so consider this the first day of your journey to freedom, Lord Aristide Canaveris. And that most certainly warrants some celebrating--the turning of a page, the title of a brand new chapter for you. So, dust or not, let’s take this to a location more fitting of celebration.”
Regardless of the dust, Nia led the way back to the sitting room where she had first found him. Though it sported far more dust than before, it was nothing a little bit of ambient light couldn’t solve. The messes could be dealt with, later. “Here--let’s warm this place up a bit.” Placing her glass temporarily on an end table, she knelt before the ornate albeit cold fireplace and took a handful of ashes in her hand. Not two seconds later, she blew them onto two waiting logs, which caught fire in an instant, showering the room with amber light to match the drinks in their glasses. “There--much better!” Standing, she wiped the remaining ashes from her hands onto her thighs. “Takes it from dreary to cozy in a matter of seconds, huh?”
What happened next, happened so fast that Nia hadn’t the time to think about what she was doing. Aristide, likely under the influence of her alcohol (which was probably stronger than was he was used to), had lost his footing, and had stumbled toward the hearth. The Master Alchemist only barely managed to grab him before he could fall into the fire or hit his head on the stone mantle. Her hand shot out, and grabbed him by the wrist--the bare wrist, as his sleeve fell back, and pulled him back into an upright position. “Whoa--! Easy. I should have warned you that my alchemical brews have a tendency to be a little more potent than your typical spirits…”
Only when he appeared steadier did she return her partially-gloved hands to her sides. If she had felt anything--if she had taken note of the abnormality in the composition of his mortal form, her face betrayed nothing but concern for the artistic aristocrat. “Are you well, Lord Canaveris? I realize I have kept you up until a rather ungodly hour--if you are ready to rest, then I am happy to take my leave. In case you are too polite to tell me to make myself scarce.”
“Okay--the last time I was drunk, I was desperately worrying over Alster. This time? I’m taking a break from worrying. Because worrying is all I’ve been fucking doing for weeks, Hadwin. So tonight… I’m not drinking for Alster. I'm drinking for me.” As if to make a point, Elespeth tilted her tankard to her lips and downed a good portion of her second helping of ale. “That’s the difference. I want to take my mind elsewhere, so here I am, foolishly following your lead in hopes that if I down enough of this ale, I’ll forget that I ever came here to avoid worrying in the first place.”
Raking a hand through her loose hair and relishing its release from its usual braid, the ex-knight rolled her shoulders back, feeling her tense muscles relax with the much needed help of alcohol. “Yeah, whatever Chara has on that guy… I think it’s enough to keep him from fucking with Alster, for a while. At least, after tonight, I don’t think we’re going to find any more trouble from him, and that’s what matters. Seems he does want to ally with Lilica… which is pretty wishful thinking when he’s already effectively allied with Locque. All I care about is that he keeps his petty squabbles and his hang-ups with Chara Rigas to himself, and far away from my marriage. To be honest, I don’t really care what Chara did to him.” She shrugged her indifference. “You fall for Chara Rigas, you shoulder the consequences. Don’t get me wrong, her run-in with Mollengard and her connection with Lilica seems to have knocked the ‘crazy’ out of her, a little… but I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised at Canaveris’s disdain for the Rigases, if he was screwed over by one. Unfortunately, he learned the hard way what it meant to wear your heart on your sleeve and let Chara lay claim to it.”
Without thinking too much of this idea to erect a statue of Cwenha (and not really caring; after all, he knew Briery far better than she did), Elespeth accepted his explanation and logic, simply because it wasn’t at all out-of-character for him to propose such an over-the-top idea. “Who knows? If you ask him when he’s in the right mood, he may agree to it. But--hey, I didn’t think it!” She argued, when he accused her of taking his words in a less than savoury fashion. “Do you really peg me as someone who spares a thought to who is screwing whom? Ugh; thanks for the imagery. You’re going to owe me enough drinks to get that mental image out of my mind!”
Making her way over to the mall, tankard still in hand, she drew out a couple of knives that were tucked into her belt. The tavern obviously knew better than to leave its own weapons lying around, with all of the murders that had taken place, and the ones sticking out of the target were hardly sharper than butter knives. “How is that even a game, Hadwin? All I have to do is get your drunk and you’ll think anything is a good idea. That’s hardly a dare. I’m the only one who would actually lose out… if I lost at all. Which I’m not going to; especially not with my own knives. So, stand aside.” The former Atvanian righted her posture and stood a fair distance away from the target. “And don’t be a sore loser when I win.”
She wasn’t wrong; Elespeth aim was pretty impeccable, as she more often than not hit the second or third ring from the center. But projectile weapons were still not her forte; she’d never been all too skilled with a bow, either. With four throws each (Hadwin using the knives provided, and she using two of the dull ones and two of her own), it came to a pretty close tie; except for one of Hadwin’s knives, that was half an inch closer to the center than her highest-scoring throw. At least, Hadwin insisted it was, but the woman who was so sure she’d win wasn’t going to let it go unquestioned.
“That’s hardly even half an inch--look, it’s just slightly tilted closer to the middle.” Elespeth argued, at this point having downed three solid ales. Her inebriation had yet to shake up her limbs, but her inhibitions had certainly lifted. “My throw was straighter! That should count for something--hey! You, there--come look at this.”
The ex-knight went so far as to pull an unsuspecting young man into the fray and pointed to the target on the wall. “Tell me, which knife is closer to the middle?”
“Ah…” The young man looked nervously between the woman and man who clearly had some kind of bet riding on the winner of this game. “They’re… both pretty close?”
“For the love of everything holy, you’re not on trial, here. Just tell us which knife wins.”
He hesitated, but after a beat, the stranger pointed to Hadwin’s knife. Elespeth exhaled in a hiss. “Well what the hell do you know!” She called after the frightened, retreating man, and sported a disgruntled pout. “Fine. It’s your game. But that doesn’t change what you promised earlier.” She slammed her empty tankard down in front of Hadwin. “You’re buying--and I need another one.”
Despite the disastrous dinner and the impromptu destruction of every art piece resembling Chara Rigas, Ari could not yet write the evening off as entirely soul-crushing. Through his observations, addled by drink, but not quite driven to incapacitation, he had taken a deeper notice and appreciation of Nia. Be it her good timing originally conceived of as awkward timing, her considerate nature, or both, she offered a soothing presence amid the tumultuous energy he was still attempting to banish from his villa. If not for the delicacy required to host the dinner party, Galeynian Queen, royal advisor, and wife of the former Rigas Head alike, he would have been happy to invite the easy-going Master Alchemist. Unfortunately, in doing so, there would arise a conflict of interest between the party he requested for a truce, and the party he’d already arranged for a truce. For that reason, he maintained the anonymity of the character who featured in his story of heartbreak, slavery, and betrayal.
Lady Chara...perhaps his determination to challenge the seat of power in Stella D’Mare started with his disdain for the Rigases, after all. Consistent was their collective disregard for outsiders and their tendency to treat people beneath their station as playthings. Alster Rigas might have been the exception, but Ari couldn’t trust in the family’s black sheep to survive the gauntlet of leadership without sacrificing the core tenets that set him apart from his Rigas brethren. More, if he ignored the concerns broached by the people, if he had not stepped forward to wrest control from the man too soft-hearted to sustain control, then he would have lost the opportunity to publicly humiliate the very Rigas responsible for Chara acting so bitterly toward him. Victory tasted sweet, but the flavor crumbled in his mouth the moment Alster had stretched out his palm and summoned the Serpent in a strange parallel to the long-ago day when he first awakened the beast in Stella D’Mare. It took a few days, a few weeks of reflection for Ari to realize, were it not for Alster’s antics from that fateful event, Chara never would have saved his life, and they never would have been friends...or however one would label their “relationship.” For decades, he had been redirecting his hate towards the wrong person, when it was Chara who deserved his ire.
Since day one, she always meant for him to stand as Alster’s proxy, the training bag full of sand, who existed only to receive her blows of frustration and her countless string of abuses over a crime he never committed. Under her wrathful company, he couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t experience a flare-up, nor could he remember a day when she didn’t ridicule him for it. Alas, she was the only person, the only woman, who could touch him without igniting his fears of rejection. The sensations of relief, visibility, and acceptance had to count for something. It felt good to be held. His fondest memories, the memories which persisted and saw themselves immortalized in stone (until now), were of when she set aside her ego and sought his comfort. His comfort. Not Alster’s. She rested her head on his shoulder, drew him close, and silently appreciated him. That small gesture was enough to overlook her fractious personality and remain loyally by her side. He would be whatever she needed, as long as she needed him.
Of course, she never truly needed him. He was a distraction...and nothing more.
“Ah--thank you, Miss Nia, but no thank you,” Ari said, declining the alchemist’s offer to play matchmaker. “Now that I have both the wisdom of clarity and hindsight, I do not believe I ever loved this woman. I merely wanted her acceptance. For her to recognize me as an equal. At the time, I may have regarded our togetherness as something ‘more,’ but I was young and naive.” He expressed a small bob of gratitude as Nia refilled his chalice. “No, I am content in shackling myself to a cause, rather than a person. I am not interested in a relationship if it requires shackles of any sort, be they metaphorical or physical. The Canaveris family does not expect me to marry or to breed. Thankfully, my brother passed on his progeny before he died. Seven little ones, healthy and bright-eyed. Our legacy is secure. You flatter me, though, Miss Nia.” He smiled before taking a sip of the burning liquid. He was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I assure you, there is nothing offputting about you that I find any need to ‘put up with,’ as you say. You’ve been nothing but pleasant and cooperative from the onset. I find a sense of ease conversing with you. It is such a breath of fresh air when allies do not present difficulties in being decent to each other. So,” he saluted by raising his chalice in the air, “thank you for your decency, Miss Nia. And for this alchemical beverage. I daresay it is taking swift effect.”
Although an agreeable torpor began to settle in his mind, the Canaveris lord was not yet incapable of listening to Nia’s own brush with a disastrous relationship. When she pulled the hair from the nape of her neck, revealing an unsightly scar inflicted by a man she thought was trustworthy, he stole a glimpse, but did not stare at it openly, preferring not to appear rude. “Oh, Miss Nia, what a horrible situation to befall you. How were you able to escape with your life? The fact that you were able to defend yourself, even in such a vulnerable position, means you are indeed, a survivor. Though I regret to hear how trusting in another led you astray...and nearly to your death. Evidently, we are both unlucky when it comes to placing our faith and loyalty in the wrong people. Even worse, you were forced to navigate the world on your own. From my limited experience, it is difficult to readjust when you are driven from your homeland. To that end, I can relate. But to do it without the support of your family...it is understandable why you seek stability and companionship.” Balancing his drink in one hand, he swept his opposite over his chest, emphasizing his hand’s placement on his heart as a genuine gesture, regardless of his low, drunken inhibitions. “Miss Nia, for as long as our alliance stands, you are more than welcome to stay and visit this villa. Please see it as a home when you need one.”
At her suggestion to celebrate his first night of freedom in a more appropriate locale, Ari nodded, pocketed his red heating stone, and took a few more sips of the nectarine spirit to keep it from splashing out of its containment whilst he walked. “To be honest, I do think I’ve about had my fill of celebrating tonight, but I am not one to leave a chalice unfinished. Yes, let us relocate to somewhere more festive.”
Despite it being his villa, he was the one to follow Nia into the sitting room. Despite the dying hearth being his responsibility to light and restoke, Nia reignited it into a full blaze. And despite being explicit in his statement about wanting not to be touched, she grabbed hold of him in an effort to stop him from falling towards the fire. Amid room to room travel, he hadn’t noticed the flare-up that occurred near his ankle, stiffening his posture and unsteadying his already tenuous balance. Stretching out his arms, he readied to pivot and brace for impact, but a helping hand, a literal hand, curled bare fingers around his bare wrist and prevented his clumsy descent. Normally, he would not hesitate to offer his thanks and gratitude for sparing him an accident with the flame, but he abandoned his manners in light of the most pressing concern. She had touched him. There was no denying the impact of her warmth on his skin, or the spongy pressure of each digit squeezing, pulling, securing him in place. As she withdrew, he gazed down at where her hand had been, as though he could see the outline, the print, branded and burned into his flesh. She knew. She knew. She knew!
What a fool he had been! In her presence, he let his guard down, a defense mechanism meant to protect his secret from leaking to others who could use that information to destroy him, to destroy his family...or to manipulate him into their bidding. What had he done!? He regained vestiges of his freedom not one hour ago, when in actuality, he had bounded out of the frying pan...and into the fire. Both figuratively--and almost literally. In fact, he would have preferred the fire! How did he forget that the Master Alchemist was loyal to Locque? Should he misstep, would she use the leverage against him? Did he, yet again, put his faith in the wrong person?
“Miss Nia.” He refused to look in her direction. He set the chalice atop the mantle; the majority of the precious nectar had splashed out of its containment and drenched his sleeve. “There is a detail of my story I’ve purposely omitted. The woman who claimed dominion over me...she was able to do so because she saw something she should not have. Instead of telling my family outright, fearing they would shelter me within the Canaveris estate for the rest of my life, I trusted she would keep my secret. She did...in exchange for my servitude. I do not wish to repeat history. I refuse to repeat history. I will not be bound.” Carefully, he turned to face her, burrowing his hands within the bell sleeves of his long-coat to conceal his nervous fidgeting...and the fact that one digit was flaring into stone. Although he stood directly in front of the fire, he shivered. “Out of good faith...I ask that you tell no one. No one. This includes Locque. Not that I present a threat to her, but say nothing, nonetheless. Against my better judgement,” he faltered, sighed, and swallowed his doubts, “I am willing to put my faith in you. I’ve done this only once, and it backfired. I pray this does not backfire a second time.” An undercurrent of sorrow clung to his entreaty, murmured more to himself than to the person he was addressing. He withdrew one hand from his sleeve, the hand not currently afflicted, and gestured to the doors. “My offer still stands. You are welcome here. However, I do believe it is time we parted ways. Good night, Miss Nia.” Stiffly, he shifted his position in favor of the fire, rotating the alchemist out of his periphery. “Safe travels.”
She did not venture far out of the open courtyard before a hulking form drifted out of the shadows and intercepted her, appearing like a statue come to life at the sound of intrusion. “I’m aware of what happened between you and Lord Canaveris.” Lazarus, stone eyes sparking with mistrust, crossed his burly arms and measured up--rather, measured down--the woman before her. “I know of what you’ve learned. I will tolerate your presence, Master Alchemist, if my Lord commands it, but if you violate his trust and cause him harm, then I will have no choice but to cause you harm. I will be watching. If we understand each other,” he moved aside, freeing Nia’s path to the exit, “then you are free to go.”
“You don’t realize it, but you gave me one helluva compliment. In so many words, you just called me fearless.” Hadwin lowered his knife to spit out his pipe, which had stopped streaming smoke. He overturned the bowl, dumping the ashes into a closeby tankard left abandoned and empty of ale. “Psh, you wouldn’t even have to get me drunk. I’ll do about anything. Doesn’t mean our little wager is rigged; it just means I’m flexible and can roll with the punches if I lose. Your win will still signify a win--and since you’re so convinced of your runaway victory, there’s nothing to worry about on your end, yeah?” With his knife-hand, he pointed at the two battle-ready weapons she drew from her belt. “‘Specially as you’re sort of cheating by wielding blades you’ve got a comfortable, familiar grip with. But I’m willing to overlook the technicality--because, as I’ve said,” he winked, “I’m flexible.”
To make it a fair game on his part, he dropped a tankard on the invisible line Elespeth had marked with her feet, ensuring neither of them would creep forward to close-in their distance and gain an advantage. More for his sake and less for hers, he put forth the effort as proof of good sportsmanship, seeing as the warrior valued fair-play over horseplay, and would be less inclined to contest his win on the grounds of cheating. Of course, it happened anyway. Even with dull blades, he was able to match her point for point, save for the last round, where he edged ahead of the game using a bit of a curve-blade. This did not sit well with her.
“I’ve got an eye for details, Elly. ‘Sides, I hold my liquor better than you do, so my judgment’s not clouded.” He traced his finger above the indentation of his blade, measuring it against her highest-scoring throw. “There’s nothing illegal about a cockeyed throw. Hells, I’m left-handed; all my throws are crooked.”
But, as Elespeth so valiantly demonstrated, she was a sore loser, and nothing short of introducing a stranger to delegate over the two scores would convince her otherwise. The young man, too sober to be fudging the alignment with his eyes, proved the clearest head available to judge the results of their game.
“Love ya, mate!” He called after the fleeing man. “Have a drink, on me! Speaking of drinks,” he turned back to Elespeth, tilting his head and stroking his chin in deliberation, “Oh sure, you’re gonna need one for what I’m planning on having you do. And another one after that, to help lick your wounds. Gotta be reasonably sloshed for this next bit. But I’ll let you know once you’ve had enough.”
Relocating to the bar, Hadwin bought them another round of ales. Halfway through his tankard, he leaned close to Elespeth and whispered his grand plan into her ear. “See that empty table behind us?” He tossed his head over his shoulder, for emphasis. “I want you to get up on that table and perform a song and dance for these lovely paying customers. And I mean it--do a little jig, sing a little ditty--whatever it is you know. Now, rest assured, I’m not gonna leave you completely in the lurch. I’m not cruel,” he aimed away from her ear to bark out a laugh, his explosive reaction suggesting otherwise. “I’ll be sure to join in. Give you some much-needed back-up. But...you’ve gotta be the one to initiate it. Go on,” he pressed a hand to her back, gently pushing her towards the veritable center of the bar. “Impress ‘em with your dulcet tones and your fancy footwork. I’m right behind you.”
“Oh--no, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal in hindsight. Certainly nothing that warrants pity, Lord Canaveris.” Nia brushed aside the issue of her ill-fated encounter with the one person who had come close to killing her. “Mostly idealist stupidity on my part. I guess I must just have a knack for survival and acted quickly enough. Got by with just a little scrape… only real thing that was truly wounded were my feelings, in the end. I couldn’t well just lay down and die: I made a promise to someone a long time ago that I would survive.” She neglected to mention that she hadn’t come out a survivor without turning the tables on her aggressor and killing him. Perhaps Ari gathered that, anyway; some things deserved to remain unsaid. “Was really hoping at that point in time that I wouldn’t be forced to struggle through this world that I barely knew, all alone. I never much fancied myself a nomad; definitely not my choice of lifestyle, it is simply what found me, given the circumstances. I was used to a lifestyle much like you lead, Lord Canaveris, and settling for sleeping under the stars and spending my days placing one foot in front of the other in hopes that I could find enough to eat to sustain yet another day of endless travel… it was not an easy transition. I suppose…” She scratched the back of her neck, and flashed a sheepish smile. “It explains my rather voracious appetite, these days. Especially with the work I do as a Master Alchemist; good work requires fasting. And I guess… it hasn’t really sunk in that I’ve finally found stability. That the running is over and I can eat whenever I want--well, to a degree. That most of the people in this kingdom have no real idea who I am, or that I’m wanted, or what I’m running from, and therefore aren’t a threat to me; even if they did know, I’ve got Locque’s protection. Weird, how none of this has registered. Must be the survivor in me. But…”
The Master Alchemist shifted her gaze from the glass in her hands to the Canaveris lord, at his kind--and rather unexpected--offer. “Lord Canaveris… I must say, that is beyond kind of you to offer. It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard words such as those. If I am being honest, I do want to find a home in Galeyn. It isn’t the same as where I came from; my real home. Vastly different in many ways, but what’s important is it is an opportunity to stop running. But--I wouldn’t dare impose on you to such a liberal extent. I realize that must sound hypocritical of me, considering how I invited myself into your home tonight…” She chuckled lightly and shrugged her shoulders. “I do very much appreciate your offer, though. I can tell it is genuine. As I’ve already said, you are a very kind man. But I would hate for you to grow weary of my presence. So for now, at least--I’ll stick to impromptu visits at ungodly hours. Sound good?” She winked and chuckled into her glass as she sipped her amber nectar and pushed away from the counter. “Come on--celebrating doesn’t need to be so taxing. Even just sitting in front of a warm fire to spite the cold outside counts, in my books.”
Had she not insisted on a change in scenery, a place where the two of them could take a load off of their somewhat unstable feet, perhaps this evening would have had a much happier ending. Perhaps it was the alcohol, running hot in her veins, or it could have been Aristide’s genuine words of welcome to her, but Nia felt more laid back than she had in quite some time. It was refreshing to have a friend in this generous aristocrat--and not only for his generosity. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but as he suggested, he did not seem to tire of her… well, that, or he was very well-practiced in suppressing dislike. Either way, it was a nice feeling to be welcomed to call a place ‘home’. No one, in the decade or so that she had been on the run, had ever come close to offering that. Not since that ill-fated relationship that had almost landed her dead.
She didn’t have to worry about that with Ari--if for no other reason, than because she was sure he would not dare risk Locque’s wrath.
But wasn’t there always a price to becoming too comfortable? Just when she’d thought this evening would turn out enjoyable, life had a way of turning that around very quickly. And what was worse was it wasn’t even really her fault, this time! Nia was no stranger for overstaying her welcome with promising new company, but this was most certainly the first time it had gone sour due to circumstances far, far, beyond her control. She hadn’t meant to mention anything, realizing right away that this was some scary, sore point for the cursed man. She’d have happily pretended she didn’t know anything at all, if it meant continuing this amicable relationship, but… he knew what she was. What she could do. And at this point, he’d realized there was no real way she couldn’t know.
“So this woman held it over your head like blackmail? I think you are right, then, Lord Canaveris. You didn’t really love her at all; you were just completely beholden him to her.” It was impossible not to utter those words without pity. This poor man had been afraid, all this time, that the woman he thought he’d loved would spill his secret. A secret that he intended to keep from the whole world--even his family, to some extent, at least that was how it sounded. Nia was no stranger to secrets, obviously, and it wasn’t difficult to understand why he might want to keep this small detail under wraps. So, then… why was she so surprised that this small revelation had completely ruined the atmosphere this evening had going for it?
Or, perhaps it was more along the lines of the fact that he seemed so sure history would repeat itself. That he looked at her and no longer saw Nia, the Master Alchemist, but the face of the woman who had kept him beholden for so long. She couldn’t negate the fact that for some reason… that kind of hurt.
“I already knew.” She confessed after a beat, the warmth of the fire and that sought-after buzz from the alcohol long since having faded into the background. “At least, I suspected something. The day that Rigas unleashed the Serpent and you appeared to have hurt your foot somewhat badly… since you didn’t seem to know, Master Alchemists can detect the composition of everything they touch. My gloves don’t really hinder that ability; dull it a little, maybe. Just as your gloves do, or the fabric of what you’re wearing. But I could tell something felt off, and when you were so aghast at my offer to check your injured foot, it further solidified that suspicion--no pun intended.” Nia tried to smile, but it didn’t seem like he was having it, right now. So it vanished. “I wasn’t sure what it was, to be exact, until now. And I get it; I understand your fear, your desire not to touch anyone. Curses… they’re damn tricky. Circulating through your body faster than blood, always moving, all the time. They never stay still which is why they’re so damn difficult to eradicate. That’s why it’ll affect your foot one moment… and your hand, the next.” She nodded to the hand he kept carefully concealed beneath his sleeve. “Wish I could say I could help you. Sadly, I don’t really deal in magic, and there’s nothing I can do about the curse--but if you’d like to stop turning to stone, at this given moment, I actually can help you with that.”
It was no use. Whatever camaraderie she’d thought existed between them had been extinguished like a flame in a downpour. He didn’t want her help; he didn’t want anything to do with her, except for her agreement to keep tight-lipped about. How the hell had this all fallen apart, so quickly? Not a half hour ago, he was offering to call this place a home, for her. Now… she was nothing but a threat, in his eyes. “I get it. You can’t trust me because I have allied with Locque.” Nia drew in a breath and sighed deeply. “I’ve got no one to blame but myself for that--but neither can I say I regret it. Locque was my reason to stop running. I’m under her protection, and no one and nothing can touch me if I don’t want it to. But if you think she knows the ins and the outs of every detail of my life, Lord Canaveris, you are mistaken. She doesn’t know that I am here, right now. She doesn’t know the socializing or cavorting I do when my presence isn’t required for her purposes. Not that I can think anything about your unique condition would be of any interest to her for any reason, but if she wanted to know, she would. She’s got a knack for seeing the weaker points in peoples’ psyche. The places where they’re hurting the most. So if you think your secret would change anything in that regard, then you’re wrong. And, furthermore, if you think that there is anyone around here to whom I might spread this information that I have no business knowing… well, then you give me more social credit than I deserve. Just because I like company and to talk peoples ears off doesn’t mean I’ve got many people who would care to listen.”
The problem, however, wasn’t her knowing. It was what other people who had known had done to him in the past. Aristide Canaveris had already been burned, once, and he didn’t care to continue to suffer the same fate over and over. Regardless of who she was and what she claimed, Nia was now as threatening to him as the woman who had first hurt him, simply for the fact that she knew. And there was nothing she could do to change that.
He wanted her gone, now. So she nodded her understanding, and moved to retrieve her winter cloak, where she’d draped it over a chair. “...I said one honest story deserves another. So even if this wasn’t part of the story you had decided to tell, it wouldn’t feel right of me to leave without reciprocating.” Fastening her cloak at her throat with a brooch, she slowly looked up from her task with a rather defeated smile. “I never told you my name. My full name, I mean. It’s Anetania Ardane. Of the Ardanes of Ilandria--best Master Alchemists that kingdom has ever seen… and then suffered at that kingdom’s hands when they were through with us. They know that I escaped, and they don’t like it. Though I suppose there isn’t much that you can do with this information, either.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and pushed her chocolate-coloured hair over her shoulder. “It doesn’t really mean anything, here. Ilandria is far away, and I’m under Locque’s protection. I’m sure the folks up at the palace have already figured out who I am, anyway. Too few of my kind around to hide behind anonymity, and I’ll be honest--I haven’t exactly been too careful. I don’t need to be; I’ve got that luxury. But… well, it still isn’t something that I willingly tell many people. Beyond the sorceress and her crew, you’re the first person to hear it from me, directly.”
Shaking her head, she adjusted the hood of her cloak as she made for the door. “Ah, you’re too polite, Lord Canaveris. Don’t worry, I can take a hint. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve overstayed my welcome. You’ve been more than fair to me, and I’ve enjoyed our short time together… but I wouldn’t think of returning for causing you so much discomfort and fear. I know all you can do is take my word for it, but I have no reason nor desire to exploit your secret. I’m only disappointed that there is not more I can do to help. In any case… I will not be so presumptive as to violate your space any longer. Do take care, Lord Canaveris.”
With one final nod, Nia left the same way she came in… but was stopped just short of leaving the villa’s grounds by a familiar, hulking figure. Of course, Aristide’s bodyguard would have clued in to his company sooner than later, was likely already well aware that she had not arrived as part of any invitation… but beyond that, it appeared that the statue-esque man was also aware of what had just transpired, in the past handful of moments. The Master Alchemist expelled a mournful sigh. “Must we really do with the threats, big man of clay? I’d kindly ask you to refrain from it. Because in turn, I might have to point out the fact that before you could harm me, I could very easily, very quickly, and very capably turn you into a pile of dust, until your Lord gets around to building you back up, again.” She rubbed the back of her neck, and adjusted the satchel at their hip. “Look, I have no reason or desire to go and rat on your Master. What would that gain me? You really think Locque cares that parts of his body occasionally turn to stone? Frankly, I didn’t even care to find out. That’s the problem with people of my like.” She held up one of her hands and stared at her gloved palm. “We’re always privy to way more than we care to know. Rest assured, your Lord’s secret is safe with me. And I doubt you’ll have to put up with my presence here, again.”
Side-stepping, Nia wandered out of the villa’s grounds and toward her horse that she had tied up nearby. It was beyond late; Osric’s tavern would likely be winding down for the night, but fortunately, she wasn’t too hungry after helping herself to the food Ari had offered. So with the sole comforting thought that she hadn’t yet burned bridges with her favourite tavern owner, she mounted her steed, and sought the first vacant inn she could find.
“Oh--hell no.”
Elespeth vehemently shook her head with a frown. Even drunk as she was, the proud former knight still had her limits--and her pride. “Forget that, Hadwin. Just because I might be a little drunk doesn’t mean that I am going to go and make a complete idiot of myself… You can’t beat me at enough knife-throwing or offer me enough ale to dance. Even Alster has a hard time getting me to do that. I don’t care what you care or care not to do to back me, I am not dancing. But maybe I will meet you halfway.”
Collecting her personal knives from where they were embedded in the wall, she tucked them back into her belt, and scoured the room in search of something specific. It finally caught her eye, strapped across the back of a man chatting up one of the bartenders. Crossing the room, she boldly tapped the man on the shoulder. “Excuse me--sorry to interrupt your conversation, but do you mind if I borrow that a moment?” The ex-Atvanian gestured to the lute at his back.
Understandably, the man appeared startled. “You want my lute? Why?”
“Just for a moment. Promise I’ll take care of it--this asshole here will even buy you another mug.” She smiled sweetly and gestured over her shoulder to Hadwin. “You’ll have it back before you know it.”
“Well, for a free drink… why not?” The stranger laughed and drew the lute from over his shoulder and handed it to Elespeth. “Be gentle with it; just fashioned it with some new strings this week.”
“Certainly. Thank you for your help.” With the lute in hand, Elespeth found an empty spot at the bar, which stood higher than any of the tables, and took a seat upon it. “Everyone-- can I please have your attention? Just a few minutes of your time. Thank you.” When all eyes were on her, she gestured to Hadwin. “I just lost a game to this son of a bitch who wanted me to sing and dance on one of these tables. But I figured instead of trampling a relatively clean piece of furniture, I’d just stick with the musical part. I’m from Atvany; I have a lot of memories of this place. Some good… some bad. I thought I’d share one of the good ones. It’s a song my brother taught me when I was younger. You’ll have to excuse that I am very out of practice and not much of a singer, but… this is what I have.”
Taking a breath, she cradled the lute against her shoulder, took a breath, and hesitantly plucked at the distantly familiar strings. Elespeth hadn’t touched a musical instrument since her glory days in Atvany, but her fingers remembered their places, and her voice remembered the tune and the words. A plucky melody, with hesitant lyrics; she was certainly no Cwenha, but it was genuine, and uplifting. Easy to sing and to remember. After going over three versus and the refrain several times, she finally put the instrument down and looked up, only slightly embarrassed at her spectacle.
No one applauded, at first, but the owner of the lute stood up from his stool and filled in the void silence with his own testament to the music. “Now that’s the kind of unrefined uplifting this place needs, right now! Perfect song for an otherwise dreary winter evening.” He said with a grin. “Sounds easy enough to play. Why don’t I do that and you focus on the words? Hell--let’s all get in on this! The kingdom needs more unabashed singing.”
Elespeth happily handed the instrument back to its owner, who began to play with far more finesse than she did, but no one seemed to care. “Well… why not?” She began the song anew, and by the second verse, nearly all of the tavern joined in. A cacophony of unrefined, albeit uplifting, singing.
Entertained by her vehement recoil more than the prospect of seeing her dance, Hadwin sputtered another laugh. Her expression couldn’t look sourer if he’d squeezed an entire lime into her mouth and made her swallow! “I figured. You didn’t even have to say anything; you should take a look at your face! Well,” he stretched his arms over his head and let out a faux yawn of effort, “thought I’d give it a shot. Again, I’m flexible.” A sudden pop carried its sickening noise between them; he’d dislocated his shoulder and cracked it into place, in an unwanted demonstration of his ‘flexibility.’ “I’ll meet you halfway if it means you’re gonna get up and perform something for us.”
Remaining seated in place, his eyes trailed after her movements as she toured the room, searching for an accompaniment to join in her routine. Landing her attention on a musician, she convinced him to temporarily part with his lute in exchange for an ale that, naturally, Hadwin would be providing. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling but didn’t complain or protest. As the financer and organizer of their bar-time misadventure, the onus fell on him to play the part of moneybags. After tonight, he would need to reel in his generosity and be a little stingier with his hard-earned hush-money fund. For now...it was worth a lighter change-purse if he’d get to witness Elespeth actually hanging loose, for once.
Lute in hand, the warrior who, far as he was aware, professed to have no musical talent whatsoever, strode to the center of the room and announced her reasoning behind the music-related interruption. Hadwin, the aforementioned ‘asshole’ and ‘son of a bitch,’ accepted his title with relish and grinned at the crowd’s collective glances when Elespeth singled him out. As one chord twanged a strained note, the bar patrons snapped their attention back to the reluctant bard and her faltering song. At first unsteady and cautious, Elespeth’s fingers and her voice began to synchronize, resulting in an unpolished, but endearing ballad that hearkened people to listen. The melody borrowed a popular chord progression, easy to follow, and thus, easy to enjoy. While not a masterpiece composition by any means, that was the point. It was warm, it was accessible. It was familiar. And most importantly, it brought people comfort. After the completion of her song, and following the lute-owner’s favorable review, the faoladh stood and clapped riotously, quickly stirring the crowd to applause. “Got a real crowd-pleaser on your hands, Elly!” Bounding out of his corner, he alighted to Elespeth’s side. “I said I’d join you. I’ve got a handle on the lyrics. Let’s go, everyone!” In a sentiment that echoed the lute-owner, Hadwin, raising his hands as though to conduct a chorus, lent his voice to Elespeth’s song.
Being no stranger to pub sing-alongs, many of which he instigated, his deep, resonant sound reflected on years of experience. As expected of the faoladh, it was a voice capable of filling a room, confident, in control, and folksy in its purposeful gruff and guttural flavor. Soon, everyone was contributing their own unique timbre and pitch: low and high, airy and dense. All a little clumsy, a little uncoordinated. But that was also the point. The song was meant for everyone, and there was nothing exclusive or privileged about it.
At the conclusion of its third recitation, Hadwin, amid the hoots and hollers of the crowd, sidled close to Elespeth and elbowed her knowingly. “See, wasn’t so bad, yeah? The booze helped, sure, but the rest of it was all you...with some nudging from yours truly. Well,” he slapped her happily on the back, “I’m pleased with the results of our wager. Have two ales on me,” he flipped a coin into her open palm. “Glad you made the right decision and came out with me tonight. Learned something valuable about you; when it comes down to it, you’ve got the capacity to kick it and have fun. So let’s have a bit more fun before we retire, hmm?” Edging free of Elespeth’s orbit, he hailed the lute-owner, and, like he did for her, offered the man a silver coin. “That’ll cover the cost of an ale and more, if you’re so inclined to drink yourself under the table tonight. See this as something of an advance. I think this crowd wants to keep going, and Elly here’s inspired me to croon out a ballad or two. Whaddaya say?!” He yelled his inquiry to the patrons. “Wanna have another go at it!?” The majority answered in an enthusiastic affirmative. “Now, I’ve got a homeland I miss a fair deal. Oh hells do we love our drinking songs in Collcreagh, and each is more absurd than the last. Real downers, too, if you listen to the lyrics hard enough. But, in the spirit of this evening, I’ve got a few that are worthy of trailing after Elly’s footsteps, if you care to hear ‘em and sing ‘em with me!”
For the next half hour, Hadwin sang and taught the receptive crowd a panoply of Collcreaghian songs, ranging from the simple, to nonsense words and tongue twisters, to ones that utilized onomatopoeic sounds and ones that required stomping, clapping, and specific hand gestures. To ensure Elespeth was not yet off the hook, he often pulled her into the fray to sing or to gesture along with everyone else. In a sense, depending on where one ranked flailing arm movements and intermittent feet shuffling, he had gotten her to dance.
Finishing off his “set” of songs, Hadwin, satisfied by his contribution, passed the torch to other eager participants who wanted to stand in the middle of the room and perform solo. As he returned to the bar, he discovered his charge had gotten herself soundly drunk.
“Ok, so it looks like you’ve reached your threshold, Elly,” he plopped on the stool beside her. “It’s time to ride it out. Nothing more for you to drink but the music--which, gotta say, has got my feet thrumming! Look at this revolution you’ve started. ‘Bout time these Galeynians had a spot of levity in their lives, before things go to shit!”
For another half hour, they absorbed the merriment, the lilt of the lute blending with litanies of song, one after the next. The faoladh, always raring for a party, popped in and out of the impromptu dance floor, a space made by pushing a few empty tables aside. Unfortunately, with most good things, the hour eventually petered out to its natural end. The lute-owner retired for the evening and the people either took note and shuffled out, or returned to their prior activities of drinking, chatting, and eating. “Ah, now’s a time as any to hightail it to the palace.” Hadwin drained the last of his ale and placed it on the counter, adding on the table a few coppers for payment. “It’s getting late, besides, and tomorrow’s gonna fuck us over with business as usual.”
Bidding their farewells, they left the cozy establishment and set out into the cold, sobering night. Though it was a short walk to the palace entrance, by the time they passed their chilled bodies through the doors and spilled out into the hallway, the effects of the alcohol had thinned, such that Elespeth, while still drunk, no longer required Hadwin’s bolstering arm to stay balanced. Regardless of her improving condition, he accompanied her to the bed-chambers she and Alster once shared.
“Hit me up anytime you want a round two, Elly.” He landed a playful punch on her shoulder. “Hah, I can’t believe you’re now the one I consider when I wanna look for a row at the pub. Who’d’ve thought? You can actually be,” he mock gasped, “more than a stick in the mud! I think that magic’s electrified your personality a bit. Given it a nice good boost-up or recharge. Well,” he stepped from her door and into the hallway, “time to hunker down and slap on our serious faces. See you when I see you!” For once, he gently clicked Elespeth’s door shut before heading down the hallway, leaving her to sleep off the alcohol circulating in her system.
In no small part, the ale eased Elespeth into a rare state of relaxation, transporting her to sleep almost as soon as she settled on the bed. Though the quality of her alcohol-induced slumber would not last long, it certainly helped in plunging her into a deeper state of unconsciousness.
Amid the dream realms, Alster Rigas waited for his wife to manifest in their shared sanctum. Beneath the flowering wisteria tree, he sat, bound to its spot and thus, bound to earth through the threads of Elespeth’s soul. This aspect of Alster differed from his physical counterpart, for this Alster represented Elespeth’s reality and thus, encompassed the person she, as well as others on the earthly realms, knew him to be. The Alster of the dream realms belonged to her, in love and faith. Naturally, his detached spirit, having been expelled from its link to the physical, gravitated to her orbit and burrowed within the comforts and familiarity of her world. Of their world. She was, after all, his anchor.
A golden shimmer appeared several feet ahead of him. As the shimmer took shape, Alster stood unobtrusively to the side, not wanting to startle her out of the dream during the vulnerable transition of consciousness. Once materialized in full, he timidly approached the golden shimmer which had assumed the form of Elespeth.
“Elespeth.” His gentle call was like the whisper in the wind, but she had heard. She faced him and their eyes met. “El,” he drew forward, but she didn’t move, her visage twisted in confusion, suspicion, and doubt. She didn’t believe in him, and for good reason. On earth, he damaged their relationship. Nevermind that his physical counterpart acted as a separate entity; it was still him. They were his thoughts, his feelings. His anger. But the person inhabiting his body did not represent him as a whole. There was an essential piece missing. Without it, Alster Rigas existed as little more than disparate parts, operating independently of each other. There was no cohesion, and no cohesion meant no hope for self-unification.
Despite the schism he’d undergone, he needed to reach Elespeth and convince her that the incomplete being stowing away in her dreamscape was not a mirage but the core of the man she loved. In a bid to reassure her, he lowered his head and arms, opened himself, bare and exposed, and sang a few notes of the song she shared at the pub.
“I wish I could have been there in person,” he smiled sadly. “To see you perform. You were like a folk-hero, rallying morale and inspiring hope with your modest but heartfelt song. It, too, brought me some solace, so...thank you.” His gaze shifted to her hand, to the absence of a wedding band on her finger. “You’re right to keep it off, Elespeth. For what I’ve done, for what I continue to do...I can’t express in words how much I...for everything. I’m so sorry. If you leave this plane carrying nothing else with you to the waking world, please know this; I am saved because of you. This place we created,” he indicated their surroundings, “preserves my spirit. The essential part of my spirit that is connected to you. I’m still here, El. The person you’re afraid you lost. I’m housed in your soul, protected from dissolving into darkness because the love still holds. I may be disengaged from my physical form, but I’m not disengaged from you. My spirit recognizes you as...as, well, home. Please excuse my squatting,” he quirked the slightest of smiles for his attempt at a joke, “but I’ve been evicted from my own body. I know you tire of my explanations, my convoluted excuses, but I beg you to listen as I try to make sense of what has happened—and what needs to be done to correct this anomaly.”
He invited Elespeth to sit with him at the base of the wisteria tree. Its gnarled, moss-cushioned roots provided a natural and comfortable bench on which to rest. “When you awakened me from forced hibernation, you awakened all parts of me, but I had not yet reformed as one whole being. I was loosely bundled, attached as if by weak magnets in danger of losing their polarity in the slightest cosmic disturbance. I resolved to return home, body and all, as soon as possible, afraid that if I waited for a complete reformation to take place in the ether-realms, I would be gone awhile, or experience further complications. I am of earth, after all. It is where I belong and where I thought I’d receive the best and quickest mode of recovery. Unfortunately, the stress of dimensional travel to the material plane fragmented my soul to a greater degree. Nothing had been lost but everything was...loose. Free of gravity and slowly spiraling into space. The aspect most connected to the earth—me—“ he pointed to his chest, “tried to rekindle our connection to the material plane, but I failed. Isolated as I was in the sanctuary, and with Tivia largely unconscious and convalescing, I couldn’t reach out to the people who could help me most. I asked to see you, but Gardeners told me everyone was busy. But I know the truth.” He averted his eyes, staring at a purple petal swirling near his feet. “You were angry with me, and I am squarely to blame. For betraying your trust and…” he trailed off, too ashamed to mention the death she suffered on his account. “You didn’t want to see me, so out of respect for your wishes, I stopped asking and...I suppose that’s when I began to feel myself slipping. Drifting...far, far away. I gave into my loneliness and longed to escape to somewhere that...that didn’t hurt so much. Without anything to grab hold to, it was so easy to...let go.”
Plucking the petal off the ground, he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, feeling nothing tangible. Were he still linked via his corporeal self, his unconscious mind would be able to identify certain dream stimuli as an interaction to something tactile and fire the appropriate synapses to respond. “During this fragmentation process, a dominant force seized the gaping vacancies growing ever larger in my soul. A force strong enough to overcome the schism, at risk of pushing away the unnecessary. In the name of revenge, I was deemed unnecessary, and was effectively expunged from my own existence. I’m still here because I took refuge in your soul, and it is here I’ll remain until I can figure out how to put myself back together again. Fortunately, I have a plan.” He dropped the petal and turned to Elespeth. “My body currently resides in the ether-realms, but it will have to return to earth. As it is, the body is weak and requires nourishment and nutrition. The Night Garden provides the quickest route to its recovery, so it--he--I--we,” he sighed, frustrated by the pronouns, “will reappear in Galeyn. When it does,” a line of determination hardened around his sorrowed eyes, “I want you to restrain my magic and imprison me. If there’s a barrier between me and my magic, I can’t travel to the ether-realms. I’ll be bound to the earthly plane, restricted of movement...and at everyone’s mercy. I give you full permission to punish me however you see fit...until I’m well again, and all parts of me are whole. Then, when I am myself...you can punish me for real.”
“Well, I’m not a musician. Nor am I particularly musically talented in any way.” It wasn’t without some modicum of relief that the crowd seemed to take over the musical spectacle with gusto, egged on by Hadwin who had replaced her at the forefront of the ‘stage’. As soon as the former knight was off the hook, so to speak, she happily resumed sipping on ale, nowhere near drunk enough not to feel a little bit embarrassed. “But you got what you wanted… with the exception of dancing. Like I said, even Alster can hardly get me to do that. Consider my lost bet to you fulfilled, wolf. But you only got that much because you came through on your promise to get me drunk.”
It wasn’t as though she sat out on the merry-making, however. The previously quiet tavern was now alight with voices and others choosing to move their feet and bodies in dances, and the atmosphere was too contagious not to smile and clap to the music. Even Hadwin’s rusty songs from Collcreagh were crowd-pleasers, and, Elespeth had to admit, particularly catchy. So while her moment in the spotlight was (mercifully) short-lived, the former knight tapped her foot and her tankard and indulged the faoladh, as well as the musician with the lute, as they continued to ride on this rare moment of merry-making.
As the night went on, and the ex-Atvanian lost count of the amount of alcohol she’d put into her body, however, those thoughts that had once drifted far from her husband and his current situation gradually began to come full circle. Unlike her, Alster had a few musical bones in his body, and a singing voice that boasted practice and training. Music had never been something that inspired particular thoughts and feelings in the once knight, until the Rigas mage became a part of her life. Now, it was impossible not to have him cross her mind when a melody perforated the air. And eventually, what had begun as a light-hearted (and slightly competitive) evening slowly began to grow more and more melancholy. Alster might have liked this… Elespeth couldn’t help but think as she sipped on her ale. This was the sort of event that would surely have brought him a little bit of joy in this dark and trying time. And despite that it wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t physically walking this plane of existence, and that it would have been impossible to bring him along as a result, she couldn’t help but begin to feel guilty that she had enjoyed herself without him.
Hadwin must have taken note of her gradual shift in mood, when she had gone from chatty to significantly more quiet after some time, and at last suggested that they call it a night when the rest of the tavern had also calmed down. Or, perhaps it had more to do with the fact she had been resting her head on her arms across the table, and very well looked as though she might pass out at any moment. “I’m fine,” she whined with a furrow between her brows. “I’m just tired. I only stopped drinking because you stopped refilling!” Of course, she didn’t look as though she had much of an inclination to lift her tankard to her lips, even if it were full. “I’m having a good time. I told you I can be fun. I’m not ready to leave yet.”
There wasn’t much Hadwin could do, short of picking her up and hauling her ass out of the building, so they stayed a while longer, while the place was still alive. Finally, when it had all but begun to clear out, the slightly more sober ex-knight conceded and agreed to call it a night, leaning somewhat heavily on the faoladh for support as they left the establishment and made their way back to the palace. “I already told you I can be fun.” She said with a sour face, but her eyes were faraway--and it wasn’t just that glaze-over from excessively drinking alcohol. “Especially when I am determined to have fun. You just underestimated me and wrote me off as boring because unlike you, I happen to take responsibility very seriously. Nothing to do with the damned magic, thank you very much. But…” A sigh passed her lips, and finally, she went against exactly what she had planned for that evening… and let her husband consume her thoughts. “As ridiculous as it sounds… I feel guilty. That Alster wasn’t there. That was just the kind of thing that would dig him out of a dull mood; he’s the musical one, not me. It isn’t fair. Even when I go out of my way to get him off my mind… I really can’t. Well… it is what it is.”
Raking a hand through her hair, she shrugged her shoulders and cast one final glance at her unlikely drinking partner. “As much as I don’t want to make a habit of this… maybe I’ll hit you up the next time I need to drink. Turns out that it isn’t nearly so depressing if you aren’t doing it alone.”
Leaving him to retire for the night, Elespeh closed the door behind her and didn’t even bother to undress before collapsing on the oversized bed. Far too big for one person… too lonely. But she was out cold before she could think about it too much.
It wasn’t uncommon for nighttime drinking to inspire particularly vivid dreams, but there was something particularly realistic about this landscape that made the former knight suspicious--especially when the image of her husband manifested. She had dreamed of Alster, before, and had done so since his return to the physical realm. But in none of her dreams had he made eye contact with her or initiated conversation: as if her dream image of her husband reflected the very detached persona he presented in real life. But this Alster, in this place that was becoming more familiar by the minute, reminded her of the Alster she’d fallen in love with… and soon, it made sense as to why.
“...that song. You… heard?” Suspicion drained from Elespeth’s features, and were replaced with confusion. “But you weren’t there…” And there it was; that guilt that carried itself from her waking state into her sleep. I wish I could have been there. Hadn’t she thought he would enjoy it? That it was just the atmosphere he’d need to lift his spirits? To think, she had gone to forget about him… “...you should have been there. I wouldn’t have had to go with Hadwin.” She said quietly, and not without a sad smile. “Of course, I probably wouldn’t have picked up a lute, if you’d been there. I just happened to lose a bet that I’d never intended to make in the first place… and you’re the one with actual musical talent.”
She looked down at her hand which, in her dream state, was still barren of the ring she’d removed from it. The guilt at the pit of her stomach intensified. “I was… angry. And I was desperate to stop being angry, because I thought that nothing I could possibly do would matter. I thought that taking it off would give me more agency, or at least a reprieve from worrying for you, Alster, but I… I shouldn’t have taken it off at all. Hadwin called me out on it, too…” She touched her bare finger. “I’m just… I’m angry, and I’m scared, and I’m overwhelmed, because I don’t know what is happening to you. And on top of that, we are about to surrender this kingdom to a powerful sorceress with extremely questionable intentions, and you aren’t here. You are one of our most powerful players, and you aren’t here with us when we need you most…”
But now it was apparent that his withdrawal from humanity wasn’t entirely his decision--and that there was far more to it than some tunnel-vision for revenge. Taking a seat beneath the wisteria tree that she finally recognized as their mutual safe haven, Elespeth did what she should have done to start with and lent an ear as Alster explained exactly what was going on. “This is… my fault. Because I was angry with you, I kept my distance… because I thought that would be for the best. I needed distance once I knew you were safe because I didn’t want to take my anger out on you and say things that I would later regret… but I made it worse. This is all happening because of me. Because when I reached out, it was too late.”
Elespeth buried her face in her hands. It was a truth lingering in the periphery of her conscious mind that she had been avoiding--the idea that not only was she helpless to help Alster, but she was also the cause of his current absence. And if that weren’t enough, knowing how this had all happened because of her and because of her own absence and negligence, his proposition for returning and mending the fragmented parts of his spirit made her feel a whole lot worse. “Imprison you? How will that help, Alster? Wasn’t it because you felt imprisoned last time that this happened at all? How do you know that won’t make it worse? I can’t… I cannot hurt you. No matter what version of you I’m seeing…”
Much though she hated to admit it, his reasoning was nonetheless sound… and it didn’t appear as though there were an alternative. “What if shutting you away from your own magic prevents you from being able to integrate? What if you’re… stuck where you are, and the vengeful part of you takes over permanently? That person, Alster… the person in your body right now, wherever it is, is not you. That person will do anything to seek revenge on Locque… even if it means cutting through others to get to her. I’m… I’m afraid.” She dropped her hands and met his eyes with the sadness of her own verdant gaze. “I don’t want to lose you. To only see you when I’m sleeping… we all need you back, Alster. I’m tired of sleeping alone.”
It only felt like a handful of moments that they’d been speaking; like she had only just shut her eyes. But suddenly, the dreamscape began to fade, and Alster along with it, and the next thing Elespeth knew, she was staring at the high-ceiling above her bed, with sunlight streaming through her windows and piercing her eyes like daggers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered a headache to that extent; obviously repercussions of her rather liberal bout of drinking the night before. It hurt just to sit up, but as much as she wanted to close the blinds and shut herself away from the light until it subsided, the details of her dream--no, not a dream. Her reconnection with Alster was still fresh in her mind, but as to how long that would be the case remained to be seen. Dreams were easily forgotten, the subconscious mind shutting out and disposing of what it determined was trivial information.
Alster, the Night Garden… they would need a way to cut off his access to magic. Similar to the shackle that Teselin used to suppress her own magic, but something told that a trinket wouldn’t be enough. Not if a very powerful and very capable caster did not want to be shut off from his own magic… What were the chances any of the rooms--even a cell, in the palace--severed all magical channels, similar to those prisons underground in Stella D’Mare?
And, if they weren’t… then how difficult would it be to fashion a room in such a way?
With Elespeth investigating Alster’s case, Teselin and Hadwin were currently taking on what was arguably a much bigger issue. Early the next morning, the faoladh received a message via the resonance stone from the Master Alchemist, stating that Locque had agreed to meet with them that evening. It was incredibly short notice, but given that it was a take it or leave it situation, he and Teselin were quick to agree. Whether or not it meant Elespeth would be able to attend as promised back-up, it might well be their one and only opportunity, so they didn’t inform the Rigas woman until after the fact. Although she was clearly hungover from the night before, and it seemed as though there was something more pressing on her mind, they were surprised to find her agreement in accompanying them when darkness fell. They were to meet on the outskirts of the kingdom, just east of the D’Marian settlement, at exactly midnight. No weapons--to which, of course, Elespeth had said ‘fuck that’ and refused to leave without her sword.
Having no other choice but to take that risk, the trio departed when darkness fell, and gathered in agreed-upon meeting spot with only themselves and their horses (one for Elespeth and one for Hadwin and Teselin; bringing a carriage and a driver would have violated the agreement of who was to be present). It was not quite midnight when they found a clearing to stop, all three of them tightly bundled against the winter cold. There had been no specific location predetermined, but the lot of them expected that it wouldn’t be difficult for Locque to find them… especially if she had the wolves with her.
“When does she plan on showing up?” It was moments to midnight, as indicated by the position of the stars and the moon in the sky. Whether it was due to the cold, or whatever had put Elespeth in a tense state of mind, the former knight was pacing in her own footsteps in the ankle-deep snow. “If this turns out to be some kind of trap… no. No, she will regret it if she pulls that, tonight. If I have ever not been in the mood for that kind of crap, then tonight is that night.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.” Teselin, who was also on edge (though slightly less so than Elespeth) tried to reassure the ex-knight. “I don’t think it’s a trap; Locque wouldn’t risk that. Although… I could see her calling it off if she knows you brought your sword, Elespeth. The terms were clear…”
“Not even midnight, and already you’re suspecting foul play? Someone must be up past their bedtime.”
The familiar voice caused them all to spin on their heels in the powder-white snow. No one had heard the Master Alchemist approach; even Hadwin hadn’t smelled her presence until she was right there. But someone like her did not have the power of teleportation… which could only mean that although it was Nia Ardane who stood before them, Locque was nearby. “Although, I have to say, the little one there has a point. We specifically requested no weapons, Miss Knight. I’ll kindly ask you to remove your sword and leave it far out of reach for the time being.”
“Your sorceress can attack us without lifting a finger. Before I’d even have a chance to draw my weapon, anyway.” Elespeth countered, immediately on the defense. “We are far from the palace and any such safety. Teselin and Hadwin are unarmed. You cannot expect us to meet you on such good faith that your irrational ‘leader’ would play nice.”
“Sure, I understand your precautions. But conditions are conditions.” Nia shrugged her shoulders and held her arms out to indicate this was out of her hands. “She sent me here to negotiate; so here I am, negotiating. You lot wanted this meeting, not Locque. Terms are terms. If you can’t part with your blade, then I’m afraid we are all wasting our time.”
Although the Rigas woman was far from pleased, after exchanging glances with Teselin and Hadwin, it was clear that although she felt this was a horrible idea, she was outnumbered… and it had been her insistence to accompany them at all. So it was with an exasperated sigh that she turned away from the small company, walked several feet in the opposite direction, and deposited her sword and sheath at the base of a tree.
“Perfect; your cooperation is greatly appreciated.” Nia smiled winningly at Hadwin and Teselin. “It’ll just be a moment, then. Don’t go away!” Spinning around, Nia retreated in the other direction, and began to walk away; as opposed to vanishing into thin air, she gradually vanished into the darkness.
“I hope you’re sure about this.” Elespeth said to the others as soon as they were left alone again. Her hand rested at the side of her hip where she usually felt the handle of her shortsword. “Because I sure as hell am not.”
“Please--don’t blame yourself.” Bereft of sensory information, Alster placed a hand of comfort atop Elespeth’s, regardless. He might not feel her response, but perhaps the vestiges of his spirit could soothe the snags of her restless aura. “If I had known how important it was to reestablish contact with other people, I would have put forth a concentrated effort to reach you. Unfortunately, I didn’t know, nor could rightly explain, what was going on until too late. I thought that simply returning to earth would be enough to revitalize my corporeal presence. I assured myself, assured others, that I would recover just by realigning my energy with the material realm’s frequencies. To eat, to sleep, to move about, to rediscover sensation and smell and taste. But,” he shook his head, “to bridge the gulf that formed during my involuntary travels through the ether, I needed a better reason to care about my homeworld. Something that extended beyond surface-level. No, the irony is not lost on me. To truly feel the ground beneath my feet, I needed to seek the intangibles. To experience fellowship and love. They are components that transcend the physical realm and yet, invariably tie me to this realm. Because the earth is not my anchor to the material plane, I was unable to properly tether my soul to it. That’s why I--the aspect you see before you, anyhow--am with you in our dreamscape. I connect to earth through our bond.” His voice softened. “Through you. As it has been since we first spilled blood for each other. The fact that we can keep persevering is the miracle I’ll gladly fight to preserve.”
When the topic switched to discussions on his dark alter-ego, his speech turned from hopeful to somber. “If only I could tell you that the person you’ve been interacting with, the one questing for revenge, isn’t me, but,” his entire form sank, burdened by a gravity he could not perceive as a soul remnant without a body, “it is me. The me I so carefully try to hide from the world. I do want revenge, Elespeth. I want it more than words can properly express. The person who inhabits my body is manipulative and goal-oriented to a terrible fault. This is the same person who summoned the Serpent to further an agenda. The same person who would leave you, panicked and alone, coldly reasoning that the ends justify the means. The only difference between then and now is that we’ve split apart, and I can’t offset or balance my alter ego’s revenge scheme if I’m unable to reunite our broken pieces. The only method through which we can converge is by restricting his movements and his magic. With nowhere to go, his resolve will weaken, and our soul will begin to coalesce whole. That is my assertion. I know you don’t want to hurt me, but,” resignation replaced his dejected slouch, buoying up to a position of resolve, “I won’t hurt you, either. This also extends to my dark alter-ego. He can’t hurt you; to hurt you is to hurt him--us. Therefore, you are the best candidate to subdue me. See if you can ask Isidor for his assistance. He might be able to craft an anti-magic talisman that you could get close enough to attach to my alter-ego.”
Like an old mural weathered by the sun and the elements, the vivid picture of their shared dreamscape began to flake off in chunks and fade. “After I return and the worst is over, I’ll make it up to you...somehow.” His luminous eyes reflected her fear, her worry, her overwhelming sense of loss and anger, but in them, they also glinted with promise. “Please remember, Elespeth. I love you. Let no other circumstances convince you otherwise, ok? My true feelings won’t change. If you need me, I’ll be here, waiting.” He leaned forward for a kiss, but the dream sighed from him before they could make contact, and Elespeth’s consciousness departed the embrace of his spirit.
Not pleased to receive a call from the resonance stone so damned early in the morning, Hadwin, who usually slept in wolf-skin, popped and cracked into his human counterpart and, naked, answered the infernal buzzing from the table. The faoladh didn’t typically suffer from headaches after a night of drinking, and last night was no exception. In consideration of his charge, he acted responsibly and imbibed only a modest amount (for him). But headache or not, he was not immune to the aftermath effect: dry mouth, dehydration, grogginess, and sensitivity to light and sound: all things that assailed his head at dawn, in succession. Despite his hangups over the rude awakening, he responded to the stone, a little less good-natured than normal, but nonetheless receptive to the message.
“Hey, scamp.” After the message had been relayed, and both receiver and recipient ended the magic link, Hadwin jostled Teselin awake from her bed. As he didn’t boast any bed chambers of his own (and really, for all his indispensable contributions to the Galeynian monarchy and her allies, he should have the largest suite in the palace!), he alternated between spending the night with the summoner or with Briery and the Missing Links. “Looks like you got your wish. Nia bagged us an audience with the woman of mystery,herself. Jury’s out on whether she convinced my sisters to join, but having Ro’s ear is a negotiation point I expect them to take seriously...unless little sis decided to blow me off, which is very possible. Anyway,” he exhaled noisily, “we’re headed out late tonight. Outside the D’Marian village. Actually, our meeting spot to be is in bad taste.” A grimace pulled down one side of his mouth, wearing away whatever levity remained in his humorous eyes. “East of the D’Marian village is where Cwenha died. It can’t be they closed their eyes and threw a dart at a map. Too coincidental of a shot. I can take a guess who chose the spot, that’s for sure.”
They informed the queen and her advisor about their late-night rendezvous, but both decided to wait until Elespeth was clear of her hangover before approaching to share the details. With everyone in agreement (albeit reluctant agreement), Hadwin, Teselin, and Elespeth, as per their specific instructions, set off from the palace alone. No entourage, no weapons--bullheaded warrior notwithstanding--and no army crouching in the woods, poised to ambush. Although Nia’s message did not specify where to meet east of the D’Marian village, as the directions “east” and “village” were not accurate designators by any means, Hadwin rose to the occasion and chose to stand several yards from where Cwenha’s murder had occurred. After all, what better place to speak peace and understanding than on the site where his sister, aided by Locque, spilled blood?
Whilst Elespeth paced, making impatient indentations in the snow, Hadwin lit his pipe and brushed against a tree for support, sporting an outward, unruffled attitude, despite the uncertainty of the hour. It served as his default state of being, one not devoid of care but devoid of unnecessary anxiety. Anything could happen, true, but just because he parked near a tree smoking a pipe didn’t mean he was not keeping vigilant for smells, rustles in the night, or a shift in energy that could only be explained as magical activity.
Despite his alertness, Hadwin was taken aback by the sudden appearance of Nia, a materialization that undermined his sharpest animal senses. Though startled, he hid his reaction behind a puff of smoke and a casual sidestep from the tree.
“Hm, sneaking around, I see.” A low tsking sound ticked off his tongue. “What’s the point in masking your presence, scent included, if not to get the drop on us? There’s the option to just, I don’t know, approach. Seems counterproductive to stalk us as though we’re your prey. Sure, Elly brought her sword,” he flung his hand to where she was depositing it beside a tree, “but it’s not like you can blame her when you’ve got the higher ground anyway. The terms are much for us as they are for you. Tit-for-tat. We’ve shown our hand. If your lady would be so kind as to return the favor and show us her face—faces...whatever face she fancies,” he amended, “that’ll be grand. And I ain’t just puffing out smoke, either.” For good measure, he withdrew his pipe. “I love meeting new people, so I have it in me to be amicable. Hells, I’m honestly buzzing with excitement right now! If we don’t behave, we don’t get to meet your lady, so I don’t wanna blow it. How’s that for cooperation?”
With the Master Alchemist retreating--normally, and not by some vanishing act--the trio was privy to the requisite sounds and smells of their present company, no longer barred from the knowledge of their whereabouts. Including Nia, Hadwin counted three approaching figures. As they entered the clearing, he took note of two silhouettes flanking the Master Alchemist. Keen night-vision wasn’t enough to get a read on the woman whose appearance seemed to shift in the slightest breeze, from brunette to red hair, angular to round-faced, pointed to snub-nosed, medium to short stature. Locque presented as ever-phasic, like the moon in its stages: new and crescent, gibbous and full.
Beside her, Rowen stood, her dark, cherubic features a complement to Locque’s deific aesthetic. Arms crossed over her chest, she glowered, but not at Hadwin: over his head, at something in the forest; something haunted, that only she could see. Owing to her Sight, she was seldom able to make direct eye contact, preferring her periphery paired with her other senses. By way of her cocked head, favored ear trained in his direction, he had her full attention.
“Ah, Locque! We meet at last!” Depositing the burned-out pipe in his pocket, he broke into a wide grin. “For how elusive you are, I was beginning to think you were a collective of people operating under one united name. When you peel back the origins of a legendary figure, you often find that there’s more than one man--or woman--under the cowl. I mean, you are a woman of many faces, so I’m not entirely wrong.” His gold eyes flicked to Rowen, smile softening. “Heya, squirt. Looks like you’ve come into your own since the time you gutted me in Hospiria. Got yourself good practice. Eh,” he patted his stomach, “real sorry it didn’t stick. Maybe you’ll get lucky next time, yeah? Which brings me to what I wanted to discuss; excuse my prelude, Tes,” he patted the summoner’s shoulder, who, out of worry for his life, stuck to his side like a barnacle to the underside of the ship. The proximity didn’t escape Rowen’s observation. Her eyes flashed.
“When we surrender, and hand the kingdom over to you,” he nodded at Locque, “it’s under the condition that no one affiliated with Galeyn will be harmed by you and your retinue. Color me concerned, but Ro here might have some hangups about this arrangement. As you’re profoundly aware, me and her, we’ve got a little feud going on, and it’s a violent one. If we get into fisticuffs or worse, the snowball effect’s gonna roll downhill and engulf everything our two factions are working so hard to achieve. I don’t want that, and fuck, I’m not looking to fight you, either, Ro.” A stab of regret seemed to puncture his lungs, for how his usually gruff voice was replaced with air. “If you’ve found your niche staying with Locque, and granted, you stop trying to do me in, or other folks I give a shit about, then I won’t get in your way. This is gonna sound so saccharine, coming from me, but I’ve only wanted the best for you. Yeah, I fucked up and set a bad example by going on a revenge-killing spree, and I ain’t saying I don’t deserve your resentment for abandoning you, but kid, don’t fuck this up for yourself, either. Not like I did. You’ve got a powerful ally in Locque. If she’s got your back, then you’re gonna stay protected. You’ll survive, and I’ll survive, and we can just go on, move on, with other people who can give us what we need. I couldn’t give you what you needed, but maybe she can.”
His discerning gaze fell on Locque. Though he could not detect the shades and wisps of fear on her motley of faces, let alone the cracks of human nature lingering deep beneath the facade, he wasn’t ignorant of the fact that something of a relationship had developed between Rowen and Locque, spanning from their summer-time encounter in Braighdath, to now. In her company, his sister appeared safe and understood, perhaps even cared for like family. It was the whole reason he wished to see Locque and Rowen in the same vicinity together; to judge for himself if their alliance had satisfied a business need, or an emotional need. “Are you looking out for her? I’d like to think that’s the case. Maybe you could succeed where I failed, yeah? Feel free to correct me if I’m reading too much into the situation, but if it means Ro found a pack, like I did, then I wanna be right. Cuz then it means I’m not the only one who got a second chance, and I’d be fucking floored to hear that a bit of luck headed her way, too. Dead or alive, I guess there’s a still a part of me who won’t stop being a big brother. Take it or leave it, but I’m appealing for you lot not to try and kill me.”
During the faoladh’s heartfelt speech, a rarity among the likes of the disingenuine confidence-man, Rowen, to whom his words were especially directed, pinched her lips, but said nothing. Hadwin threw her an encouraging smile. “I know you hate being put on the spot, so you don’t have to say nothing.” He turned to Teselin and gently nudged her forward. “But Tes here would like to open up a dialogue, have a little chit-chat.”
It was anyone’s guess as to how much longer they would have to wait before the sorceress decided to make her appearance. The ball was entirely in Locque’s park, and there was nothing more that the faoladh, the young summoner, and the warrior could do but to wait for her compliance and cooperation, should she find the terms acceptable. Silence ensued as they watched the Master Alchemist vanish into the darkness, and Teselin couldn’t help but hold her breath, not knowing in the slightest what to expect when Locque chose to show herself.
To her great relief (and everyone else’s), when at last the sorceress appeared, no traps were sprung, no assassins emerged from the darkness to suggest that this was at all a trap. The only plausible assassin present was Rowen, but aside from the young faoladh, Nia was the only other who accompanied the witch with the ever changing face. It did not appear as though the opposing party of three was impelled to attack; rather, they seemed just as interested in a civil and peaceful rendez-vous as the party from the palace. As to how Locque had convinced Rowen to play nice, however, was anyone’s guess, and Hadwin was quick to question his sister and Locque’s motives. Neither of them had much of a chance to respond through his rapid-fire questions. It gave Teselin cause to worry that the interrogation would put a bad taste in the other party’s mouth. However, the sorceress and her two entourages patiently waited for the faoladh to run out of breath and actually pause long enough to receive an answer. Neither Rowen nor Nia spoke up before the ever-changing sorceress.
“Rowen has been allied with me for some time, and by extension, has been sheltered by my protection.” Locque’s voice was nothing like Teselin expected. It didn’t have much of an individual tone, but rather, a multitude of tones, high and low, all amalgamated into one. Just as her appearance was ever changing, so, too, were the notes in her words. But aside from its decidedly eerie nature… she was calm. Not only calm, but sounded bored. Like she didn’t want to be here, and thought that speaking with Hadwin was a clear waste of time. “We have seen eye to eye on a great deal of matters. But she has also been transparent in those areas where we do now share perspective. My goals and my intentions are directly related to Galeyn and its people. To disarm those who once threw me out, and to make it clear that I am home, and I am not going anywhere. Whatever unresolved issues remain between you and your sister… those are between the two of you.” Her prismatic eyes flicked from Rowen to Hadwin and back again. “That is where my involvement diverges from Rowen’s interests. You are a citizen affiliate of Galeyn, but moreover, you are this girl’s brother. I offer to you the same thing I offered to Rowen, and that is agency and freedom to work out whatever it is between you, whether that means reconciling or killing one another off. But if you so choose the latter, I ask that it is not at the expense of anyone else. Upon surrender, I intend to keep my promise.”
“So your so-called ‘protection’ extends to anyone who isn’t Hadwin. Because his sister already has dibs to do him in, and you won’t disappoint her.” Elespeth boldly surmised, looking so far from impressed she might as well have sucked a lemon. “Is that what you’re telling us in so many words?”
Locque only barely glanced in Elespeth’s direction. As if the former knight hadn’t so much as crossed her mind once, since she had temporarily seized control of her mind and forced her to commit murder last spring. Frankly… she probably hadn’t crossed her mind. “I owe it to Rowen to respect her decisions. She has been loyal thus far and carried along the necessary aspects of my plan. She is, of course, welcome to remain by my side, such as what I have offered to Anetania.” She vaguely gestured to the Master Alchemist.
“Touching, but… to be clear, we’re not exactly on a first-name basis yet.” Nia interrupted in a harsh whisper at the mention of her full name (Locque had never really been apt to use her moniker), though the witch hardly seemed to take notice.
“There is always a place for your sister if she feels her vendetta has been sated or put to rest, and she is ready to lead a more peaceful existence. But I cannot, nor would I, seek to change her mind if she decides otherwise.” She went on, focusing on Hadwin one more time. “Rowen’s path is her own, and if it happens to converge with mine, then all the better. If not… then I must respect her decision to diverge. It is neither for me nor for you to decide; only her. We both understand the implications that that would mean loyalty would be broken, but that is the ebb and flow of life ever-changing. Rowen has a choice, and it is up to her when and how she decides to make that choice. However…” Locque folded her hands in front of her. “You did not incite this meeting, armed--despite being asked to forgo weapons--to discuss your tumultuous relationship with your sisters. In fact, you did not incite this meeting at all. If my facts are straight…” She nodded to Teselin. “It was she who showed interest.”
Of course, the moment she was free to speak, to finally confront the woman she had been hoping to meet since the revelation that she, too, was a summoner… Teselin suddenly found herself at a terrible loss for words. Her questions were all jumbled in her mind, had all congealed into a mass of curiosity and apprehension that just didn’t know how to sort itself out. All eyes on her, the young summoner struggled with an uneasy silence, until she finally managed the most basic of inquiries: the best place she could think to start. “Do you… have a static form?”
It likely wasn’t the first time Locque had been faced with that very question. She did not appear in any way offended by it; she hardly flinched. “I have no real memory of my true appearance. I’ve worn too many faces and forms over the years. However… would it suit you more were I to stand before you as something more tangible?”
“...I think I’d feel less dizzy.” Teselin was ashamed to confess, her mind still reeling. Was this within her capabilities? Could she make herself look and sound like whatever she wanted, at any given moment? ...moreover, was there a chance that she, too, might someday completely forget herself?
To her great relief, the ever-changing being before her finally settled into a single form that did not give her a headache behind her eyes: an average-looking woman with equally average brown hair, and a nondescript countenance. Completely forgettable, she might go as far to say, at first glance. “When I choose to settle for a while, this is what I prefer to look like.” The sorceress ventured to explain. “Just like anyone else you might see in passing, and for whom you would hardly spare another thought. It has done wonders when it comes to laying low. To passing as Braighdathian, Galeynian… anything I like.”
Before Teselin could think better of it, she blurted out, “That sounds… sad. That you don’t really know how tall you are. The colour of your hair or eyes… what about your voice? Is your voice your own?”
“No. It is also fabricated. But you cannot miss what you do not remember; and with options at my fingertips, I have no reasons to feel sad. Teselin.” Locque spoke her name like she knew her; or, at least, like she knew more than the girl was comfortable with her knowing. “I am interested to know what spurred your decision to meet with me.”
There were so many reasons. Reasons that were were own, reasons that she shared with her other allies… and only now that she was posed with this question did she realize she hadn’t thought any of it through, not nearly enough. Finally, when she took a step forward, hands clutching her winter cloak at her neck, she gave the most honest and all-encompassing truth that she possibly could. After all, she owed Locque that much, given that the sorceress had been truthful and transparent with them. “I just… want to understand. Why do you want Galeyn, the place and the people who rejected you so long ago? Why did you choose a path of violence to make your way here, only to preach that you now seek peace? I’m sorry--I don’t mean to question you or criticize you. I cannot do either of those things when I just don’t understand the why behind it all.”
Locque did not respond right away. The silence that engulfed the collective party of six was almost nauseating; Elespeth felt herself sweating in her boots, both Rowen and Hadwin looked poised to either run or attack, and both of them were equally likely to do both of those things. Nia worried the pendant on her neck, pressing it so firmly between her fingers it looked as though she were at risk of puncturing her skin on the starburst’s sharp edges. Even Teselin was holding her breath, wondering if at any moment, she had or would over steep some invisible line that would lead to dire and deadly consequences. To her (and everyone else’s) great surprise and relief, the sorceress answered with a non-provoking question of her own. “Teselin, I hope you will indulge me a moment… but since is it clear that my methods both confuse you and do not sit well within your moral framework, allow me to ask you this: what would you have done?” The sorceress tilted her head. “I have not told you my story, but I anticipate that with the inevitable return of Alster Rigas, the lot of you are already aware. So I want to know, had it been you… what would you have done? And how would you have gone about it?”
“I… I honestly don’t know that I have an answer. I know what it means and what it feels like to be chased away…” That sickening memory of the village set ablaze as a result of her errant magic crossed her mind. And then, running from Apelrade… “But… those places were never my home. However, if they were, I don’t know that I’d want to ever go back to a place that spurned me. Or that I’d ever want to see the people who turned their backs on me. If it were me, I would want to find a new place to belong. And new people. In fact… that is, more or less, what I did. I found a new family. And with them,” She flashed a grateful glance at Hadwin, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Anywhere is home.”
“And I completely understand the trajectory of your path. But what if I were to tell you, Teselin, that I once did just that… only to lose my new home and my new family all over again? In a far more traumatic, violent, and tragic way?”
Of course… Hadn’t Alster referred to something along those lines? That Locque had saved a man who had then made a plea on her behalf that Galeyn would revoke her exile? A heartfelt reciprocation of kindness… that had gone terribly wrong, and that had shattered the already broken woman who had once been a Gardener. If that had been Teselin--what would she have done? If it had been Hadwin she lost? She had already claimed countless lives merely fearing for the faoladh’s life--and he hadn’t even died! What could she expect of herself if she lost him as suddenly and as tragically as Locque had lost someone to whom she had grown close? ...and was she really in any position to question the sorceress’s reaction, when she knew well that she was just as capable of destruction? “Locque… I am the last person who can reasonably deny you what you suffered. Your feelings are valid; the anger you must still feel is very real, and it is understandable. Galeyn is a peaceful kingdom that seeks to hide the fact it is hiding a history of bloody handprints. But… I just don’t understand what you seek to gain. From a kingdom that turned you away. From people who have hurt you. Yet you have been seeking to reclaim what you have lost for a long time, but I just can’t help but wonder… is it worth it? To rule a place where the people will never really, fully, trust you? To leave more tragedies in your wake as you pave your path at the expense of others? Is it really a desire for a peaceful life that drives you, or is it… entitlement? Taking back what you believe the world took from you?”
“Locque--please accept my apology.” Nia interrupted before Teselin could go, and bowed her head. “I knew the girl was curious; it hadn’t crossed my mind that her questions would be quite so shamelessly prying. I shouldn’t have agreed to arrange this.”
The witch hardly paid the Master Alchemist any heed. Her now brown eyes were fixed curiously on Teselin. If the young summoner didn’t know better, she thought they might have suddenly grown… sad. “I’ll be honest, Teselin. I wanted to meet you, because I have never met another who was like… me. But now that we are face to face… it is hard to look upon you. You…” Locque took a breath and exhaled slowly. “You remind me too much of myself. The person I used to be. The person who defenselessly allowed the world to crush her. It makes me afraid for you, and what lies ahead. For what you are living now… do you honestly think it will last? And do you think your friends--your ‘family’--can protect you from it?”
At last, she dropped her hands to her sides and took a step back. “I am glad that we have spoken. But I do not wish to prolong this assembly any longer. It puts all of us at risk.” As to what sort of ‘risks’ she was referring to remained unspecified. What was clear was that the timeless summoner had made up her mind; and there was no changing it.
“Well. Thank you, then, for… sort of complying to our requests.” Nia stepped forward with a winning smile. “I found this went rather well, don’t you think? Far better than I anticipated. But, little one,” she arched a brow specifically in Tes’s direction. “You’re a little too liberal with your curiosity. Be careful with that; might get you hurt, someday. Lucky for you… there doesn’t seem to be any hard feelings.” She waved, just as Locque and Rowen turned their backs to leave. “Well--goodnight, sleep well, and all that!” The Master Alchemist was not far behind her allies as she followed them back into the darkness of the forest.
If Locque expressed disinterest in answering Hadwin’s inquiries, then the feeling was entirely mutual. At first, he was on board, impressed by her fluidity in donning hundreds of appearances and vocal textures, but as the novelty wore off, the faoladh was quick to conclude that, stripped of her bells and whistles, the formidable sorceress bored him. Magic did not a personality make, and her...everything was so stilted, so devoid of interest, so dull, that he could feel his brain ooze from his ears with each spoken word. Granted, her pitch, at once impossibly high and impossibly low, grated at his sensitive ears such that it marveled him how Rowen could stand, unaffected! Even if she decided never to harm another soul on Galeynian soil, she’d be inflicting harm simply by her oration. Two minutes of her droll speech would bring her reluctant citizens to tears!
Is that why you stick with her, Ro? Amid Locque’s wordy explanation, he casually observed his sister, positioned not beside Locque, but several steps behind; her stooped form nestled close to Locque like she were the lee side of a hill, sheltering the weary from a blustery storm. Because she’s not wishy-washy, like me? You’re able to rely on her, close as you’d dare rely on anyone.
“Gotcha,” he responded, following the sorceress’s stilted conclusion. “It’s the answer I expected, but you can’t slam me for trying to wriggle the target off my back. So even if I swore in as an adopted citizen of Galeyn, my life’s preservation is a no-go? Better put that in writing, then. Call it the Kavanagh clause, if you will; make it clear I’m out of the deal, so Queen Lilica doesn’t cry foul over your ‘harm none’ guarantee. Though, you don’t seem to care if the truce goes sour, hm? Got a laissez-faire approach that’s great for layabouts like yours truly. Interesting to see how it’ll translate in a monarchical setting. But I digress.” He looped his thumbs around his belt and leaned on one foot, adopting a casual pose that directly contrasted with the guarded stances of his comrades.
“Rather admirable you’re respecting my sister’s wishes; in fact, I’m relieved to find out I’m not protected under our arrangement to-be. The fact that you’re giving her a choice speaks volumes. Takes a load off my feet, too. It’s confirmation that you’re not exploiting her for your goals; that you’re willing to let everything go to hell for her chance to stick it to me. And they say there’s only darkness in you!” He released a pleased chuckle, certain the others thought him crazy for having the audacity to laugh in front of Locque with a familiarity deemed inappropriate. “At least my death won’t be in vain. Not when I see how clearly you validate Ro, despite her questionable hobbies. Well, now that that’s settled,” he laid a hand over Teselin’s shoulder, offering stability as well as moral support, “thank you kindly for humoring the jester. I’ve said my bit. Now it’s time for the main event.” Bending to the summoner’s diminutive height, he whispered into her ear. “I got you, ok? And I won’t let go.”
From Locque’s side, Rowen, overhearing her brother’s whispers of encouragement, bristled. To ensure she didn’t launch into a premature attack, he watched her movements closely. Teselin, whether or not from Hadwin’s attempts to bolster her, summoned the courage to broach the hot topic of the evening, the whole reason for their clandestine gathering. The witch, who stopped cataloguing through her selection of masks and stuck to one look, one tone, also shed some of her indifference in favor of listening to Teselin’s probing questions. Hadwin had to give the faceless woman credit for allowing the young summoner a chance to ask about her motivations without retaliation-kicking her into a black hole, but, unsurprisingly, she deflected those questions by twisting the conversation back into her interviewee’s face. He wanted to laugh anew at the cheap trick Locque pulled. If they weren’t already walking on eggshells around the woman, he surely would have called her out on her bullshit, and insist--nicely--that she dignify them with a real response. For someone who said whatever the hell he wanted half the time, he found it extremely difficult to hold his tongue. In that vein, he could understand why Alster ended up taking a few million trips around the sun. She didn’t like being coaxed into a reply, especially when the subject touched on something so personal. Hadwin, anticipating a bad reaction, covertly pressed on Teselin’s foot, his code for “stop.” Fortunately, the precaution wasn’t necessary. Baffling him, and likely Elespeth, Locque expressed genuine sorrow over the young, idealistic Teselin.
“I’ll go ahead and answer your rhetorical question, since you’re so concerned Tes will turn out to be like you.” Hadwin spread out his hands, a disarming gesture to disarm his counterargument. “Nothing lasts. Nothing. It goes both ways. As sure as the good times get trampled underfoot, so do the shit times, too. Some people can’t get rid of their shit, so they wipe it on others and say this is the way of life and shit is all there is. If I’m shit-covered, you gotta be shit-covered, too. But this ain’t nothing Tes can’t handle, and I’ll make sure of it, for as long as I last. It ain’t gonna go to shit.”
“It already has,” a quiet rumble issued from the reticent girl to Locque’s right. “That’s your problem, Hadwin. That’s always been your problem. You’re quick to jump at a solution, but it’s a hack job. You put a few wooden planks over a hole in the ground and call it fixed. You lead people on, sweetening them with hope and promises of being there, but it’s all a lie, and you’re not there.” Rowen’s dark eyes pivoted towards the summoner. “I’m also afraid for you, Teselin. It’s too late; your downfall is with him. Look at Apelrade. Would that have happened if he wasn’t involved? Family won’t save you, because family is what will destroy you. So do me a favor--do yourself a favor--and let me run that bastard through when the time comes.”
Rendered speechless from the retort, Hadwin watched as his baby sister turned her back on him, trailing Locque and Nia into the darkness whence they came. “Well,” he faced Teselin and Elespeth, throwing his shoulders into a shrug so exaggerated, violent pops tore at his sockets, causing him to shiver from the recoil, “we didn’t die, so...yeah, I’d say I agree with Nia. All things considered, it went smoothly. Did we get what we wanted? Not really. But the odds were against us, anyway.” Kneading his shoulders into place, he rummaged inside his coat, yanking out a silver flask and chugging the contents in one swig. “Let’s bugger-off from this place, yeah? I can feel Cwenha’s ghost squaring down on me.”
Unusual for the talkative faoladh, he said nothing as they prepared their night steeds and set-off on the winter roads to the palace. Upon their return, he gave a rather dispirited good night to Elespeth, thinking better than to invite her for another night of drinking when his current mood didn’t desire merriment but a black-out state of inebriation. Despite his overwhelming need for an escape, he didn’t leave to seek out his intoxicating company. Rowen’s words may have affected him, but they had nothing on how Teselin was feeling. To depart from the distraught summoner, and for a fix, no less, really would solidify his status as a scumbag. “She’s right, you know,” he said as they traversed the empty hallways en route to her bed-chambers. Before parting ways with Elespeth, they collectively decided to wait until morning to inform Lilica and Chara of their fateful—and fruitless—encounter with the witch. “Rowen, that is. I don’t solve problems. I find opportunities...not really the same thing. She’s got good reason to want me dead.” As they reached the locked doors of Teselin’s chambers, he fumbled for the key and slid it into the mechanism. A roaring fireplace, stoked to life by the palace attendants, awaited them inside.
“After our mam died, I swore to shred the two shepherds responsible. Even then, I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that she chose her death, and the shepherds were just the pawns to get her there.” He shrugged away his winter outerwear and piled them on the ground, not bothering to hang them properly. “Ro, she knew what I was up to--begged me not to go. I told her to fuck off--probably said some other choice words--and I went anyway. When I returned, deed done, she saw through me, into my head, at that dark mark forever etched in my impressive list of wrongdoings, and she screamed. That kid hardly speaks above a whisper and here she was, bellowing as if I pressed a hot brand to her skin.” Striding over the hearth, he caught sight of an iron poker, one he vaguely remembered throwing at Bronwyn on the night of Apelrade’s destruction. Another fine mess he contributed to making. “What I did was the last straw for her. Following that...event, she froze me out. Wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me anywhere near. It concerned me, cuz she hadn’t opened to anyone else but me. I was her only thread connecting her to the world outside her own head and I screwed it up.” Though he continued to address Teselin, his attention was to the licks of flame fighting aggressively for dominance over a tower of logs; the only thing keeping them alive.
“When chief exiled me from the clan, on Rowen’s recommendation, I didn’t feel betrayed. Felt kind of relieved, actually. She wouldn’t have to deal with me, or relive the trauma every time she looked into my eyes. It’s no wonder she took to murdering. I was the closest she had to a guardian, a role model, and right there, in her formative years, she second-hand witnessed me eviscerate two shepherds in the messiest fucking fashion. There was no restoring our relationship after that point.” He picked up a piece of bark that had fallen out of the hearth and hurdled it into the fire. It blew up in a temporary shower of sparks. “Ro isn’t one to speak her thoughts aloud too often. Or her feelings. Tonight...well I expect she told me what she always wanted to tell me and never could. In part, anyway. At least I can say Locque’s got some investment in her self-preservation, because she and I, we’re through. Won’t see eye-to-eye ever again. Guess I was a bit in denial, still, but now the denial’s all cleared up. And now I know what I have to do, going forward.”
If she goes after you, kill her. The tumbling fire crackled his command, and it stung him as sure as a bullwhip lashing at his hindquarters. Kill her to stay alive. Kill her...for Teselin.
“Shit.” He spun from the hearth and stalked to the pile of his winter clothes, desperately checking his pockets for his pipe. Dislodged and free, he grabbed a loose stick from the fire, lit one end, and puffed the pipe until it was smoldering and evacuating its pungent smoke. “Didn’t mean to go all dark on you like that, scamp. Not when you’re so obviously in a rough place, too.” He blew the sweet and musky herb from his mouth into the hearth, sparing Teselin the haze that would linger for hours in its aftermath. “I wouldn’t want to force reassurances on your shoulders. We don’t know what the future will bring. What will happen. How it’ll change us. But Locque’s not the authority on your supposed trajectory. She may claim you’re both alike, but you’re not her doppelganger. You’ve got a personality and circumstances all your own. Nothing’s gonna play out exactly the same. And damn it if I’m not gonna be around this time. Because I will. I owe it to Rowen and I owe it to you. I owe it to Cwenha and Briery and everyone else who fucking lost because they knew me.”
Setting down his pipe near the hearth, Hadwin joined Teselin on the edge of the bed where she sat. “Maybe it won’t be enough. Family or friends or what have you. Maybe they’ll make it worse. Or, consequently, they’ll make it better. It’s all a gamble from here on out. Speaking of,” he met her dark eyes, and the fear swimming in them, “do you still have that card? The one I gave you? Six of spades; it’s a guarantee you’re gonna make it out to see the end. But I won’t lie and say it’s going to be smooth sailing. It’ll get choppy for a while. We’re in midst of the storm, in all its shitty glory. Through this shit-storm...I’m gonna need you, too, kid, alright?” He wrapped an arm around the summoner, who felt colder than usual, and slid her into a hug, his skin, in contrast, hot from proximity to the fire. “We’ll do this right. As a team.”
