Chapter 68: Insubordination
Bit of a breeze this evening.
The sun has abandoned you and with its departure the heat of the desert is rapidly giving way to a desperate, biting cold. It wraps itself around you, doing its best to claw through your thick cloak to the leather, cloth and finally flesh beneath it.
The darkness and sharp cold of the new born night neatly reflects your own state. Trapped between undesirable courses, the twisting dunes that stretch before match perfectly your own barren thoughts.
To fight, to flee, to surrender, this choice and the prospects of ruin that it brings, it casts a shifting shadow over your mind.
The shadow of desperation.
The shadow of fear.
The shadow of failure.
The shadow of-
Ah, to hell with it. No one ever attained anything by fixating on what could wrong.
Best to just assume you will succeed and go from there, right?
Push for what you know you want, push for what you know you need.
“Alright,” you answer quietly, perhaps a little unsure at first.
“Hmmm?” King Finnbheara answers, “Alright what?”
“Alright,” you repeat yourself, a little louder now, “We will submit to your tests.”
The decision is made now, you are committed and that makes everything else just so much easier.
“Marvelous,” he replies, raising an arm.
He shouts a number of quick orders to his people, nothing you can understand though, their language is unlike anything you have come across yet. Not that you pay him much mind, no, you are still busy working out the details of your plan.
You will not fight here.
That would be beyond stupid as your line has already been compromised.
It is true that you may be able to drive back the King and his fellows, you might even be able to defeat his column of cavalry provided Berty can hit enough of them with the mortars but you would lose people in what would be an entirely pointless battle.
You are better than that, smarter than that, so you will cooperate for now.
You glance over your shoulder at the Old Man, he is all smiles at the moment, but then his mind is not quite his own. The trio of fey creatures sway slowly around him, maintaining their distance. You strongly doubt he will approve of your decision when they finally let him go and you desperately hope he does not lash out at you.
That is another battle you hope to avoid but one problem at a time, one life-threatening, demanding, frustrating problem at a time...
If you survive Finnbheara's attention with mind and body intact then, and only then, will you worry about the Old Man.
You briefly consider threatening Finnbheara, or at the very least taking a hard line with him.
After all, it worked for Berty and the Old Man might actually approve, and yet...
No, that will not serve your purposes. You want to strike an alliance with these beings, you want their help when it comes to fighting the Watcher and the other threats to the Kingdom.
No, you will not be abrasive, you will not be demanding, you will do the reasonable thing, you will do the expected thing.
Almost.
You clear your throat, once more catching the King's attention, “We have conditions though.”
“Conditions?” the King inquires, thoroughly amused, “What sorts of conditions?”
“First,” you begin, “We will require an oath of silence from you and your people. We will submit to your scans but if you do not find ties between us and the Watcher, the Dark or those that hold ill will toward Albrecht's Kingdom. Then you will say nothing to anyone, ever, understood?”
He nods intently, “That should not be a problem. We are only after allies and slaves of the Watcher. My people will swear your oath.”
He turns from you back to his people.
Hmmm, bit rude that.
You clear your throat again, “I am not done.”
“Really,” he speaks, slight irritation creeping into his tone, “What else?”
“I want your word that you will allow everyone that passes your tests to proceed unmolested to the main army,” he turns and nods as you speak, “You will not directly or indirectly interfere with any of my people so long as they pass.”
You wait for him to repeat your words, “I will not directly or indirectly interfere with any of your people so long as they pass, and-” he adds with a sweet smile, “Neither shall any under my command.”
“Good,” you grin, “One more thing. You will personally conduct the scans of my companions and myself in private.”
He beams brightly as he surveys your group, “Well, now that is a request that it would be my absolute pleasure to carry out.”
“Berty will, of course, act as chaperone,” you are quick to add which deflates the King a little.
“For the best a' everyone no doubt!” Berty chimes in, dramatically waving his blade.
The eternal serenity of the King is for a moment broken as he does his best to bore a hole through your tactician with his gaze, he exhales slowly, “Aye, that would probably be for the best. Cropper! Be a good lad and set up my tent, this may take a while.”
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You are not sure why, but when Finn, and he now insists you call him Finn, said tent you just assumed he meant some small, ratty thing like what you have been using for the last several years.
A small, canvas enclosure only just capable of keeping out the wind and rain.
Really, you should have known better.
What kind of King would settle for such a thing?
No, Finn's tent is something far more magnificent. Far more imposing.
Walls of red satin, a roof of white silk, grand chairs, thrones essentially, of solid oak with cushions of crimson velvet and one of the largest, finest, tables you have ever seen.
It is at this table that you are all seated. You sit to Finn's right and your better half sits to his left. Beside you sits Lyssa and beside her sits Berty. Finally the girls sit next to them, Biliku on your end and Uttu across from her.
Nine is still safely in your pack, now at Berty's side. Your tactician readily accepted the burden of caring for her. You had hoped to hide her from the King but his through scans eventually revealed her location.
Thankfully he agreed that it is best not to wake her prematurely and further agreed to leave her in your care. His reasoning was sound, whether she will work for good or ill in the future, she is not currently an ally or servant of the Watcher and so she is not
his problem.
You suspect that he is as thankful for that excuse as you are. You doubt he would know what to do with her if he got her.
Nine was not the only thing that Finn's scans revealed, however he readily agreed to speak of these matters in private.
All told while he is naturally very distracting he has not been that unreasonable. Small miracles you guess...
As for your presence at this table, you and your allies are currently waiting for dinner.
Finn was kind enough to offer you something while you wait for his people to finish with your own men and you do have a great deal to talk about as well.
Berty was also quite kind. He
kindly reminded the King of his oath, he
kindly reminded the King that none of you would be eating or drinking anything the King could give you.
Finn to his credit, did not protest and assured your tactician that he had no intention of feeding you the food of his people. Still, you wonder what the King would have given you and what effect it may have had to make Berty so terribly insistent.
A shame you can not recall much of anything about Finn's people, perhaps you will have to have a long talk with Berty when this is over. As you mull over the idea your lazy gaze is drawn to the edge of the great table and you focus in on the delicate and stunning inlays in its surface.
All along its edges an intricate tale unfolds, tiny men and beasts of metal move, acting out the same screens time and time again. At the foot of the table, hunters and hounds of inlaid silver chase after great beasts of gold and copper. They bring the beasts to battle and cut them down. Servants of brass and iron set to work bleeding, cutting and curing them. Then finally, in one magnificent procession they carry them, along with fat plates of fruit, nuts, and fish of every description toward a grand banquet of flowing quicksilver at the head of the table.
The section directly in front of you details a mere fraction of the procession. A roasted boar, a half dozen pike and a plate of plums twice the size of the 'man' carrying it march past your gaze. Over and over, they follow the same pattern, disappearing at the end of your panel and reappearing on the other side, back at their beginnings.
The illusions woven into this table are absolutely magnificent, entrancing in their complexity. The mage in you is completely consumed in the task of discovering just how they were created, and how they continue to function on their own. Thaïs and Finn are running over the details, no one is watching you and so you indulge your curiosity a little.
You focus on the little man with the plums, peering as closely as you can without drawing attention to yourself and he does something that almost makes you jump to your feet in surprise.
He stops in his endless parade, he turns to face you, the tiny steel dots of his eyes locking onto your own green eyes, and he mouths the words...
'Kill me'.
“Something wrong Derryth?” Lyssa asks when she notices the look of stunned horror that sweeps onto your face.
“Finn?” you begin, “This may be an odd question but the images carved into this table, are they alive?”
“Well, that really depends on your definition of 'alive', doesn't it?” the King answers soothingly.
Not really the answer you were looking for, you press him a little, “Well, are they sentient?”
He does not answer right away, “Derryth, they are barely above the level of beasts. They kill, they steal, they do not show proper respect, they are, and were, animals and so, like base, useless beasts they were given a purpose.”
A great many fine words to say very little of actual meaning, so you insist, “Were they people or are they constructs? Do they know they are trapped on the table's surface? Do they want out?”
You fix your gaze on the King, he snorts, “Fine, they were people, but they are no longer people. They know they are trapped for this is a punishment and it would not serve well if they did not,” he raps on the table, “And no doubt they want out but that is not to be their fate. Happy?”
Not really, no, you have a few more questions, “What did they do?”
“They hurt my people,” he answers coldly, “Or tried to.”
“So this table is a prison then?” your better half interjects.
“Very much so,” the King responds, “I would advise simple ignoring them. If they do not think they can get an audience they will go back to their labour.”
Admittedly, you can not really pass judgment on the King though you do find the idea of eating on top of a prison to be a bit off-putting.
You push for more answers, “What precisely did they do? And what would it cost to free them?”
The King, clearly done with the subject, answers briefly, “None of your business my dear lady and it would cost a princely sum to free them all.”
Hmmm, you suppose it really is not your problem though perhaps you could trade for the release of these prisoners of wood and metal. You doubt you will get more information from the King though and it is completely possible that these beings deserve the fate they have been given.
Dinner comes shortly after, it is light and simple, comprised of common dishes to be found in the Kingdom. All of it is thoroughly mundane though Berty insists on inspecting each dish before any of you try it. You are not sure if he does it out of concern for your well being or a desire to secure the best of everything for himself as he packs away several plates full by the time the rest of you begin.
Dinner passes to drinks and then to proper conversation and Finn's concerns.
He decides to simply list them all calmly, almost casually, he enumerates all the little things you have been so afraid of getting out, “Where to begin? Nine, your amalgamated archmage; Lyssa, the former necromancer; your extensive dealings with Morpheus and Sparassidae; Nephila; Nanshe and her 'Golden Empire'-” he sighs, “Such a list of allies, such interesting arrangements, honestly, given the company you keep I think it would only be natural to assume that you serve the Dark. At the very least, that you serve one of the Dark Gods, and yet- and yet you do not, do you?”
“We do not serve the Dark,” you answer as one, “Or any god, dark or otherwise.”
He holds your gaze and then that of your partner, he nods slowly, sipping on his ale, “I know. Our methods are ancient and while they are not infallible they would be able to detect
that, at least. Still, your choice of companions leave something to be desired.”
“Who do you mean?” you both inquire.
“Let us begin with the Fallen Lords,” he closes his eyes, shaking his head, “All
three of them.”
You decide to begin with Nine, by far the easier case to defend, “She is not a Fallen Lord, she is not of the Dark.”
You can not know that, even as you say it your mind reminds you of that fact. Rather it is something you feel, an understanding that comes long before reason and lingers well after its parting.
A work of intuition, the same thing that has seen you carry her, care for her, protect her for months now.
“She is dangerous,” the King answers softly.
“She is,” Thaïs acknowledges readily, “She is very dangerous. Still-”
You pick up the threads of her thought, passing the meaning of your thoughts with a single shared nod, “She is one of us. She is not a Fallen Lord and she is not of the Dark.”
The King shrugs, “As I said earlier when the issue first arose. I have no intention of taking her from you. Frankly, she would be far more trouble than I would ever willingly court. I merely warn-”
Thaïs does not let him finish, “And we thank you for your concern but she is our responsibility.”
He laughs at that, “Your 'responsibility,' you realize that with both Culwyeh and Ravanna's knowledge she is quite possibly the third or fourth powerful being in existence? Each of the Fallen Lords that went into her making was a terrifying-” he pauses, mindful of what he saw in your minds, “I am not telling you a thing you do not already know, am I? You were there, in her mind, hell, you have done more to empower her than anyone else.”
“We have done more to fix her,” you insist, “Than anyone else. She is one of us and she is our responsibility.”
He smiles solemnly, “May your loyalty be repaid a thousand fold,” he bows slightly, “As for the other Fallen Lord.”
Lyssa finally chimes in, “Not our fault.”
“Yes,” the King pours himself a new drink deep, earthy and dark, “I know, don't worry, I am not accusing you of anything. Though...” he raises the drink to his lips, savoring it, “Others will not be so understanding...”
You know he means Mazzarin, though he never mentions the Great Windbag's name and in truth maybe you do owe the archmage an apology. Keeping Faceless did not exactly turn out the way you thought it would but it did not end horribly either.
Sure, Faceless threatened the lives of everyone you hold dear but he was good to his, or her as the case may be, word. The former Fallen Lord subdued your enemies and left your allies alive if a little worse for wear.
“Well, we did not willingly free Faceless,” you remind the King, pouring yourself a glass as you do so, “If Mazzarin wishes to punish us for not throwing our lives away there is precious little we can do about it.”
The King tilts his head, taking in your of cool confidence, “He does not scare you does he?”
You shrug and glance at your partner, she shrugs and answers, letting you finish your drink, “Not particularly.”
The King blinks in disbelief, “He could kill you in a second.”
“Yes,” you acknowledge after lowering your drink, “But the way we see it is like so, if the old bastard kills us then we win.”
“What?” The King presses you, grinning in spite of himself, "Please explain, my dear lady."
Berty begins to laugh.
Thaïs elaborates, “He is so much more powerful than us that there is little we can do to stop him. Killing us would be absolutely trivial for him but it would also clearly demonstrate that he is not the Champion of the Light he claims to be.”
The King shakes his head in slowly, still grinning, “So if he kills you...”
“We win,” you conclude triumphantly, “And he would
know it, to the very marrow of his bones, to the very end of his years, he would
know that his existence is meaningless.”
The King blinks again, “You would be
dead.”
Berty takes a deep wheezing breath, desperate for air though he can't stop chuckling.
“We would win,” you answer together.
“I-” Finn begins to laugh.
Berty cuts in, “Now you see why I stick with them.”
Finn nods vigorously, doing his best to master himself, “Yes, I am beginning to understand, Berty,” the King, still laughing, throws his hands up, “They are as mad as you are! The rest of my concerns? Forget them! You are just like Berty, half mad and a servant to no one! I only hope that you do not get yourselves killed before you can achieve something infinitely entertaining!”
Someone whistles from well beyond the entrance of the tent, Finn gracefully pushes back from the table and rises, “Ah, that would be Cropper. One moment please.”
When Finn returns it is with a stack of paper, he sorts through the pages muttering here and there as be paces around the back of the tent. When he finally sits he delivers the results of his followers' tests on your men, “The Seekers are clear of any connection to the Watcher or the Dark and they do not wish any particular ill to befall Albrecht's Kingdom. They may not be innocent in the strictest terms of the word but according to our pact we shall keep their secrets and allow them to travel on their way in peace. The same can be said for your mercenaries, the former Legionaires are all without any hidden allegiances and the dwarves you are directly employing have no ties to the Watcher, the Dark or anyone seeking to destroy the Kingdom. Your Royal Escort however is compromised, about a third of them serve the Watcher and I will need to detain them, I am sorry.”
Well, that is a bit of a blow but it is better to find out now rather than later. One less batch of traitors to deal with you suppose, though now you are more than a little concerned about what will greet you when you reach the main army. If the Watcher's people have managed to enslave members of the King's own guard then how many more in the military have already fallen?
If you can not trust your own allies then that makes an alliance with Finn's people all the more important, you take this moment to broach the subject, “Of course you may take them. That was our agreement after all, but there is another matter we would like to discuss as well.”
Arms folded behind his back he grins and motions for you to continue.
“By my count, there are at least five factions involved in this struggle but only two of them are not hostile to Light and to Dwarven Kingdom-” he does not let you finish, instead raising a single hand.
It seems the King knows exactly what you intend to ask, “You are, of course, referring to my people and your own. No doubt you seek to propose an alliance, correct?”
“Yes, quite,” your partner informs him in your stead.
“I see no real problem with that,” he replies, “I can only speak for myself, mind you, not all of my people but as I am in command here that should be more than sufficient. Our first order of business should be to establish a means of communication.”
Well, this is going well! You even have an idea about how to communicate effectively, “Yes, and I think I have a solution. Cropper mentioned that the horn in his possession is able to call out to your host over vast distances. Would that be sufficient to our needs?”
Finn stokes his chin, “Yes- yes it might be. So long as my host is within a day's travel, by foot, we should be able to hear the horn and respond promptly,” he grins and calls to his man, “Cropper, I know you are lurking out there boy! Get in here! I have a task for you!”
No sooner are the words from the King's lips than the Hunter bounds into the tent, “Mi'lord,” he bows slightly, likely the smallest token of respect he could get away with, “What do you need me doing?”
The Hare Hunter smiles innocently at his lord.
The King will have none of it, “You know damn well what I need done,” he replies with a exaggerated grunt, feigned annoyance that does a poor job of concealing his fondness for the Hunter. You suspect this is a bit of a ritual for the two of them, “How much of our conversation have you been listening to?”
“Hardly any at all,” Cropper reassures his Lord, “Only that you will be wanting me to escort Cousin Derry, Cousin Taide and Cosuin Lys for a time.”
“And what do you think of our plan,” the amused King enquires.
“Sounds like a good bit of fun!” Hare Hunter answers with a wink, “Fallen Lords, an' necromancers, an' demons, oh my!” he breaks into manic laughter, “Good fun Cousins! Good fun!”
“Alright, alright,” the King waves him off, the twinkle in his eye at odds with the scowl on his face, “Go prepare, or pester someone else for a moment, unless you want me to call for the Laignach Faelad.”
You are not sure what a 'Laignach Faelad' is, or are, however the threat, even put forward in jest, has a marked effect on Cropper.
His ears go flat, and the confidence runs out of him for a moment, “Ah, Mi'lord, you don't need to be doing that, you do not need to be doing that at all. I will see to my things and I shall be ready when needed!” he bows to the King, then to each of you and quickly backs out of the chamber.
Finn breaks the silence with a hearty laugh that strokes your ear, “Dear boy, that Cropper. Mind, he can get into a bit of trouble if not supervised but I doubt it will be a concern for you. From what I have seen of your minds you will, no doubt, get along beautifully. ”
This really has gone quite well for you, you have secured an ally for the Kingdom and ferreted out the Watcher's spies in your own ranks while the King has proven reasonable all things considered.
There remains but one final matter, “Finn,” he smirks at the familiarity with which you address him, “We would like to give you a gift on behalf of the Kingdom as a show of good faith. It is our understanding that you have a good eye for horses and we would like to gift you our carriage and team, the finest in the Kingdom we have been told.”
He beams, a perfect grin on his fine face, “I would be honoured to receive such a gift,” he frowns, “Ah, only amongst my people such favours are always repaid. I wish to give you a gift in honour of your gift to me. Simply name your heart's desire and it shall be yours.”
You take a moment to confer with your colleagues and then you make your decision.
----------------------------------------
“He is going to attack you as soon as he gets loose. Surely you must realize that by this point?” it is touching that Finn is so concerned with your safety but you are not sure you believe him.
You tell him as much, “The Old Man may rage, he may resent us, but I really doubt he would cross the Crown by attempting to murder the 'Heroes' of the Kingdom.”
The King snorts, “He is a mage Derryth, he is a mage that has been humiliated several times in the last few hours, all in full view of his followers, he
will attack you. Now, he
may wait for a better time to do it but it is a certainty from what my people tell me of his mind.”
“What is your recommendation then?” Thaïs asks.
He smiles warmly, “Come with me, I will personally protect you from all harm.”
You shake your heads, answering together, “Not going to happen and do not forget your oath.”
He shrugs sheepishly, “I had to try at least once.”
“What else you got you old bastard?” Berty chimes in.
“Alright, if I can not move you then we shall neutralize the threat. We collar them,” the King answers confidently, he whistles to his people and four large chests are brought forth. He cracks the first open, it is filled with metal bands, runes carved along their surface. He directs four more of his people toward the Old Man, as he explains, “He is not going to want me to do this so a little extra persuasion may be called for.”
He strides up to the mage, “On your knees please.”
“Finn-” you begin, he ignores you.
“Finn!” you try again.
“Derryth,” he calls back over his shoulder, “You made me swear that those of you that passed the test would reach the main army unharmed. I can not keep that oath if the Seekers attack you as soon as I am over the horizon. I will keep my word, even in spite of you.”
Great...
The Old Man smiles at him, it is a dead thing, sharp, mean, and a fitting match for his eyes.
Finn, repeats the order, “On your knees, please.”
The Old Man's arms tense, his body strains.
“Don't let him loose,” the King instructs his people as three more of them join the circle around the mage. Ten of them now and it is all they can do to force the mage to comply.
The edge disappears from the Old Man's smile, “Yes... Yes my Lord.”
He drops to his knees.
You wish you could do something for him but short of attacking Finn's people you are at a loss as to what you could actually do.
“
Something has been bothering me,” your disembodied officer remarks.
“Now might not be the best time-” you begin to inform her before your better half cuts you off.
“What?” your partner inquires quietly.
You give Thaïs an annoyed glance.
She flashes you a smile that could light the world, “We can not do anything to prevent this from happening,” she reminds you, gesturing at the mages and Finn's host, “If something is bothering Caoilainn perhaps we can help her, Dear. Caoilainn, please continue.”
Caoilainn pushes on with that little piece of encouragement, her tone uncertain, “
Well, you remember that recording in your necklaces?”
“Of course we do,” you answer, that was one of the most amusing things you have seen lately and you doubt you will ever forget it.
You also make a mental note to never cheat the Brothers Dietfried...
“Is something the matter?” Berty whispers from behind you, your pack and Nine still securely fastened to his back.
“They are just talking to Caoilainn,” Lyssa answers from beside him.
“Right, tell her 'hi' for me!” he shouts a bit too loudly, drawing a glance from Finn and his followers several meters ahead of you.
Lyssa elbows him, “She can hear you just fine Berty.”
“Right! Of course!” he cups his hands over his mouth, “Hi Keelin!”
“Don't shout,” she prods him again, “You will draw attention.”
The two fall to good-natured arguing while you return your attention to Caoilainn, “What about that message?”
“
Well... I am no expert on magic,” she begins.
“No shit,” you laugh.
You can
feel her annoyance, “
If you don't want to hear what I have to say...”
“No, no please continue,” Thaïs reassures her, “We want to know.”
“We really do,” you add, “Please.”
“
Alright,”she once more take up her thought, “
So in the message Mazzarin said he was 'coming' and that was what? A hour ago? Three?”
“Ah, about two and a half maybe,” you hazard a guess absentmindedly, splitting your attention between your current discussion and the ceremony playing out before you. You wonder just what Finn hopes to do with that metal band, “What are you getting at?” you ask your officer.
She takes a deep breath and finally articulates her point, “
Well, do you think it was a bluff or is he actually coming?”
“Bluff,” you answer.
“Bluff,” Thaïs responds moments later in complete agreement, “There is no telling how old that message is, nor is there any way of-”
Lyssa stops dead behind you, he argument with Berty coming to a crashing halt.
Finn, his arms raised, the metal band extended, pauses. His attention instantly diverted.
Every mage and magical being in the entire camp freezes in that moment. None dare even to breath.
And you know why.
You can feel it too.
To the north, moving fast, far faster than anything should be able to.
He is coming.
Your eyes scanning the darkness around you, you wearily remark, “Well, this will be fun...”
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Paperwork.
So much bloody paperwork.
Tax decrees, labour contracts to rebuild the city, criminal proceedings, military expeditions, and of course the Brannons.
Always the Brannons.
They pester him endlessly, at every hour of the day.
So really, it was to be expected.
Eventually it had to happen.
It was just a small fire.
A warning.
How was he to know how very flamable Ardan Brannon's hair would be?
The young man did not die.
So that will save him a little paperwork at least.
It should also motivate the rest of his subordinates a little.
Fire tends to have that effect he finds.
Maybe they will even leave him alone for a few days, let him work on something he wishes to do, maybe, oh he can only hope! Maybe, he will even get to practice a little magic! It has been so damn long since he has been able to work on his spells...
“Governor! Governor!” a nasal voice calls out into his unlit chambers, “Governor! Are you awake!”
Damn...
It is early evening, the sun yielding up its last rays,
of course he is still awake. He is sitting alone in the dark because
he wants to be alone, is that such a terribly difficult concept to grasp?
He will need to check on the boy in a few hours, then he has errands to run and will not have another chance to mediate for at least six days.
The door creaks open.
The light that spills in completes the destruction of his ritual.
This does little to improve his temper.
The tiny figure of Cleary Brannon fits comfortably within the door frame. The light from the hallway beyond serving to clearly define the contours of Cleary's form and it also makes the young man a very tempting target.
For the briefest of seconds he considers lobbing a fireball at the young man.
But that would be largely futile.
Oh, he would kill Cleary for a certainty and then he would be free of interruptions from his 'assistant' for a time, but then he would need to deal with Cleary's father...
And his six uncles...
And his twelve brothers...
And his forty seven cousins...
And all of that would only be a minor branch of the clan...
The Brannons are like weeds and they have had a grand time filling the garden that is Alric's Empire.
He should just burn the whole thing down, level it and start again.
Which would require
a lot of work...
So instead he settles for making Cleary
think a fireball is headed his way.
That nasally little scream almost makes this all worth while and in the dim light of his private chamber the Great Mage Mazzarin smiles.
That is better, now he just has to-
The third ring on his left index finger begins to hum.
A low, sustained buzzing.
He rises and makes for the door.
Pushing past the prone Cleary he gives the man a single swift kick in the stomach.
“Terribly sorry about that Cleary, did not see you there,” he steps over the writhing Brannon shouting at the top of his lungs, “Boy! Boy, come here now!”
“Yes, Master?” Emrys' head pops into the hallway from his chamber, “Is something the matter?”
“We are leaving boy! Gather your things and meet me on the roof in three minutes,” the Great Mage informs his apprentice as he ducks into his personal armoury and sorts through his staves.
“Where are we going Master?” The Boy asks, excited at the prospect of adventure.
“To the South!” the Great Mage declares, dramatically plucking a cobalt staff from its place on the wall. He spins the iron capped staff in his hand, good weight, durable, something for the field rather than the Palace.
“To- to the south?” Cleary weakly repeats as he staggers to his feet and slides along the wall clinging to the doorway of Mazzarin's armoury, the magics in place preventing his entry, “Why? Ah- when? Now? When will you- Ah- How long will you be gone? What should I tell uncle?”
The Mage considers his 'assistant', then answers, “I have been called to action! A plea, a prayer for help cast across a failing wind. I must go to rescue and redeem. I will be back when I am back and you may tell your uncle all of that or none of it, I do not much care.”
“I should, ah, I should go with you,” Cleary feebly protests.
“You are not needed,” Mazzarin once more turns his back on the young man, “I have the Boy to carry my things.”
“Yes, well,” Cleary shakes his head, “That is not quite what I meant. You could perhaps use my help? I am not without talent, I-”
Mazzarin hums to himself, picking out cloaks and mantles.
“Are you listening to me Governor?” Cleary asks hesitantly.
No answer.
“Governor?” the Brannon repeats his question.
An awkward silence falls around Cleary then, he balls his fists, “I- Ah- Damn it! You are supposed to train me! Uncle said you would train me! Don't fucking ignore me!”
Don't ignore him?
Alright.
Cleary screams and falls as his mind is once more enveloped in flames and visions of his own end.
Mazzarin strides over to the fallen Brannon, leans over him and sighs, “The Boy figured out how to neutralize that spell the second time I used it on him and he hardly even screamed either. I can teach you nothing, young man, if you will not teach yourself.”
The Great Mage winds up and kicks Cleary once more in the stomach, “Terribly sorry about that Cleary, I did not see you there,” he steps over the screaming Brannon and makes for the door.
Emrys is already waiting, ready to go, it warms his heart that the Boy is so prompt.
He calls back over his shoulder as he snuffs out the lights in the apartment, plunging his 'assistant', his 'student', the Brannon, into the dark, “And I never will see you Cleary, not until you show me there is
something there to see.
Meditate on that and await my return.”
Cleary sobs in the dark, his mind ablaze, while Mazzarin, whistling, closes the door.
-----------------------------------------
Horns fill the air moments before blinding chartreuse light dominates your sight.
Mazzarin is here and you hope you will not regret summoning him.
“Give me one reason!” his voice booms, “One reason why I should not kill you incompetents!”
Well, this is starting out beautifully.
“Because you like us so much,” you reply without thinking.
Probably not the best time for sarcasm but to hell with it. There is just something about these pompous archmages that gets under your skin.
You hope you won't be like that when you become an archmage.
Though at the moment you would probably be willing to settle for simply living long enough to become an archmage.
“Was that a joke?” the furious voice of Mazzarin demands.
Your vision begins to return, standing less than half a metre from you is Mazzarin himself and a youth you have not met before.
The youth nods slightly, “Good evening Ma'am.”
“Polite kid,” you gesture at the boy and return his slight bob, “Good evening, my name is Derryth and this is Thaïs.”
Thaïs echoes your greeting, “Good evening, to you both.”
He extends a hand, shuffling around an armful of tomes as he does so, "My name is Emrys."
You shake it as you list off the names of your other companions, "That is Berty, Lyssa and the two girls your age are-" as you move to introduce Biliku and Uttu they squeek and make a break for it, "Huh, well that was Biliku and Uttu. Wonder what got into them?"
The Great Mage's scowl deepens as these niceties play out. He must not like the fact that you are ignoring him which merely makes you want to drag this out longer.
Sadly he does not let you, “Yes, yes,” he waves off the pleasantries, “'Good evening', I suppose. Now tell me why I should not kill you all?”
“Alright,” you begin, your annoyance clear, “How about this. We are about the only people actually trying to prevent the fall of the Kingdom and the resurrection of the Watcher. How is that for a reason?”
Mazzarin glares at you.
You don't drop your gaze, you won't give the old bastard the satisfaction.
It is the youth that breaks the silence, “That sounds like a good reason, Master.”
'Bless that Boy', you think.
“We have already neutralized the Watcher's military forces in the North,” your better half works to strengthen your case, “We are currently marching on Stoneheim to raise the Watcher's siege of the city.”
The Great Mage grunts, “Alright, I suppose that is a start but I am through taking risks with you two. You will give me Nine, now.”
“Like hell we will,” you respond without a second thought.
He ignores your protests, “Where is she. You have until the count of three before I simply take the information from you.”
“They don't have her,” Berty answers from behind you.
He has backed away from the rest of your group, the pack still securely on his back.
“Really,” the annoyed Archmage answers, “Then where is she, little man? Do not tell me she escaped as well.”
“I have her,” your tactician answers, “But you aren't getting her.”
Mazzarin blinks twice, “Do you have even the slightest idea who you are talking to?”
“Do you?” Berty spits back, a self-confident grin spreading over his face as his right hand grips his knife.
You really hope that Berty knows what he is doing.
Mazzarin laughs, “Well, you are a brave one little man. When you get to hell you will have the honour of telling all that you fell to the Great Mage, Mazzarin, himself.”
Mazzarin begins to channel, pulling down an absurd amount of power as if it were nothing.
You do not think that the Archmage is going to be gentle.
“Stop!” Finn shouts, he has taken several steps away from the Old Man, though his people are still working hard to contain the Seekers and most of your own men.
“King Finnbheara?” the archmage asks as he spins on his heel. For the first time he takes in the entirety of the situation he has inserted himself into.
He sees the King and his host.
He sees the Seekers and the Old Man on his knees.
He sees your mercenaries, incapacitated by Finn's folk.
And he asks the only question one could ask, “What the hell is going on here?”
“A lot,” you reply.
“I can see that,” the Archmage mutters, “Finnbheara, what are you doing to that man.”
“Binding him,” the King answers, “But that matters little now, with you here that is.”
Mazzarin launches into his orders, “I want a full report of your host's activities since I summoned you and I want a full explanation of what you are doing here with these two and their people.”
“Both of which I will give you,” the King answers, “But not if you attack that man.”
“Why?” Mazzarin asks with a sigh, clearly near the end of his patience.
“If you attack that man, if you intend to kill him, then you will need to first kill me,” the King answers with an startling degree of serenity all things considered.
“Finnbheara, are you honestly attempting to threaten me?” Mazzarin has not stopped channeling but he has slowed somewhat.
“Not threatening, no,” the King maintains his composure, “That would imply that I have the power to stop you but I am promising you that if you attack Berty I will attack you along with all my host. We will perish, from the highest of us to the lowest and you will not receive your reports as a result.”
Suicide by Mazzarin? Who would have thought Finn had it in him? Maybe the two of you are not all that different?
“You would turn on me?” the Mage points at Berty, “You would betray your oath to me for that man?”
“Not betray, I would be honouring an oath,” the King corrects him, “And you know how I can be about oaths.”
Mazzarin glares at the King, glares at Berty, glares at the pair of you, “Fine! Your tent!” he points at Finn, “Two minutes from now and I expect a full report!”
Mazzarin storms toward the grand tent, once he disappears from sight Finn exhales loudly, “Fucking hell,” he doubles over, “Berty, we are even.”
Berty for his part finally lets the self-confident grin run from his face and for the first time since meeting him you can feel the fear radiating off him.
His legs give out and he drops in the sand, “Damn Derry, that is- I never thought I would say it but that was a bit too much excitement for me. You want your pack back?”
“You better hold on to it,” you answer, “At least while Mazzarin is around.”
“Right, right,” he nods weakly, “I can do that.”
With Mazzarin momentarily out of the way Finn returns his focus to the Old Man, “I think we can all agree we have enough to worry about at the moment without these slavers getting loose.”
Finn places the metal band upon the Old Man's brow and it constricts, biting into the mage's flesh.
The runes glow, vibrant green and deep red. They must be active.
The King of the Tuatha Dé holds the Old Man's gaze and speaks calmly but loud enough for all to hear, “Now, I am going to explain how this works for you. That band contains enough magic energy to reduce your head to smoke and ash. If you try to remove it, you will die, if you try to subvert it, you will die, and finally,” he returns to the chests and opens the second one, producing a smooth, marbled stone, green and white, “If the owner of this control gem wishes it, you will die. All it will take is a thought, a single second, and anywhere in this world or any other,
you will die. Understood?”
The Old Man nods but that sharp edge has returned to his face.
Finn, unfazed, continues, “All of your people will be fitted with similar bands, all of your slaves will also be fitted with these bands,” he considers one of the robed figures, unconcealed disgust written on his face, “Though frankly it would be a blessing for them to die in this way. The owner of this gem will be able to detonate any of the bands or all of them at will. Understand?”
The Old Man nods, a halting, jerky motion.
“Good,” Finn turns back to you, “Derryth, catch!”
He tosses the gem to you and you quickly palm it.
He turns back to the Old Man and his Seekers, “She is in charge. Obey her and when next we meet I may decide to free you. Betray her, attack her, or her people, and you will likely all fall. Is that understood.”
The Seekers nod, their guardians nod, the Old Man nods. His dark eyes filled with hatred and rage.
The King returns to your side, whispering in your ear as he does so, “Those bands will only respond to that gem if they are within fifty metres of it. Don't tell them that though,” he winks and smiles, then passes you by. As he does so you can hear him mutter, “This is going to be so much fun...”
He disappears into the tent following after with the Great Mage and his apprentice. The youth is quick and quiet as you only now realize he has gone. Of course, Mazzarin does have a way of commanding everyone's attention...
You examine the gem, hell, this will make things interesting.
You had hoped to avoid such unpleasantness but perhaps that was simply too much to hope for given the clear tension between Finn's host and the Seekers.
Although...
A small part of you is a little amused that for once you are not the one wearing the collar but rather the one holding the leash...
“Derryth!” the Old Man calls to you, furious, “How dare you! How dare you turn us over to those- those things! We should have slaughtered their advance party and-”
You do not say a thing to the man, you merely pull the gem from your pocket. He goes pale and silent in the same moment.
Hmmm, effective. Very effective.
It seems that this is to be your first taste of complete power over another and you think you can understand why all the demon lords and archmages you have met are so keen on behaving this way.
This power, it makes everything so much easier.
But should it be easy?
That is the question, isn't it?
You consider the Old Man and you consider the gem. You could give it to him. It would 'free' him, if only a little, though it would also give him even more control over his own people.
Alternatively, you could hold on to the stone. You doubt the Seekers would try anything while you hold the fate of their entire Circle in the literal palm of your hand. If the Seekers and the Old Man really are a threat then this is likely the best security you could ask for.
In the silence of the desert night, you make your choice and live with the consequences.
With the final formalities taken care of and Finn's fears allayed the Host departs with amazing speed to the sound of horses and horns. Your carriage departs with them and a third of the Royal Army's soldiers as well, all bound in chains, dragged behind the tireless horses of the Tuatha Dé.
You do not envy their fates.
Mazzarin also seems ready to leave but not for the south. He informs you that he is headed north once more. It seems that from Finn's reports the Great Mage has determined that the Watcher is not currently a threat worthy of his time. He seems willing to let you, the dwarves and Finn's host deal with the problem for the moment.
As Mazzarin prepares to depart an idea does occur to you. Mazzarin still owes you a favour, you could call it in now and force him to help you stop the Watcher.
The help of the most powerful mage in the world could make a massive difference but if you did call in the favour you would lose any claim you have to the Great Mage's time and resources.
It might be a worthwhile trade but you only have a few moments to decide.
---------------------------------------
“Well, that is not great,” Berty is forced to admit.
Yeah, that is definitely one way to put it.
Your scouts returned ten minutes ago and what they had to tell you has snuffed out whatever feelings of optimism you may have had.
They began with the good news, from what they can tell Stoneheim still stands and the Royal Army has not been wiped out yet.
That is all...
The main body of the army is trapped within its own fortifications. Pinned there by a large cultist force that supposedly 'rose from the desert sands themselves'.
The panicked reports of your scouts suggest that the cultists are not 'natural', they do not move like normal dwarves, they do not act as normal dwarves, they are faster, stronger and have a much higher capacity for pain.
These things, and you have a fairly good idea what exactly they are, ambushed the army on its approach to Stoneheim and managed to push it back to the nearest oasis. Reinhard has managed to hold the oasis though and fortifications have been constructed to help hold back the cultists.
Unfortunately Seinsheim's army was separated from the main body and driven further to the west than the rest of the army. They are currently being harassed by a sizable ghôlish force that seems to be cooperating with the rebels, though your scouts can not be sure if they really are in league with one another.
At the very least the two forces, cultist and ghôlish, are giving each other a wide berth and that is having much the same effects as a proper alliance would. Both enemy forces are hammering your people and preventing them from consolidating.
The undead still seem to be concentrated around Stoneheim and have not moved against any of the other forces in the area as far as your people can tell.
That makes sense from what you know of the city and the needs of the necromancers. They need bodies to replace the armies you have destroyed and the crypts under Stoneheim probably house tens of thousands of them.
If they can get into the city then it would only be a matter of time before they can replace their lost numbers.
You need to find some way to link up with either or both of the forces.
You need to find some way to defeat or drive off the cultist and ghôlish forces.
Finally, you need to reach Stoneheim and raise the siege.
It won't be easy but then you knew that going in.
1. You gave Finn your carriage and horses and he wishes to give you a gift in return but he does not know what you would like. After some time discussing the issue you have narrowed down your optios somewhat. What did you ask for in return?
A) You ask for the services of the Laignach Faelad. You have been informed that they are peerless warriors with the ability to change their shape into that of monstrous wolves. Finn has agreed to lend you their services but he warns you that they are quite ferocious and they have interesting preferences when it comes to food. He does not elaborate.
B) You ask for the aid of his Faoladh. He will grant you a pair of them. They are also shapeshifters, much like the Laignach Faelad but they are of a more mild temperament. You have been told that they are guardians and protectors, capable of taking on the form of the wolf to act as scouts and guardians of the land. Finn will introduce you to a couple of them and will ask them to aid your cause.
C) You ask for a pack of Cú Sídh, the fairy dogs that Finn uses for hunting. He gives them to you with his blessing though he reminds you that they are very clever and that you can not treat them like any normal hounds.
D) Finn has also offered to introduce you to the Merrows of the southwestern Province at a time of your choosing. You have heard that they are quite wealthy and they could make for capable allies though they would be of little help in the middle of a desert half a continent away.
E) Wealth, simple and universal if you do not want to worry about Aos Sí magic and tricks. The gift he would give you would likely be generous, anything less would be rude.
F) Magic, you wish to learn something of the ways of Finn's people. You choose to focus on learning (all F choices are counted together, if this choice wins the most popular variant will be chosen):
i. Healing Magic in the tradition of Miach. Herbs, incantations and direct 'touch' based healing.
ii. Healing Magic in the tradition of Dian Cécht. A tradition with an emphasis on surgery and prosthesis.
iii. Curses and rhyme from Cairpre. To starve, rob, and rend miserable your enemies over time.
iv. Sorcery from Figol, to rain fire on your enemies and sap their strength.
v. Witchcraft from Dianann, to raise up the earth and confuse your enemies' senses.
vi. Charms and the spells that go with them. Finn will give you three large tomes to aid in your mastery of them.
vii. Shapshifting from Cropper. He will show you how to alter your form though your options may be a bit limited.
G)
freeform – perhaps you want something else. Ask me and I will tell you if it is within Finn's power.
2. In an interesting departure from the norm you have found yourself holding absolute power over another. The Seekers are bound to serve or die so long as you hold that gem but perhaps you should not keep such power. You choose to:
A) Give the gem to the Old Man. You wish to show him that you have no intention of forcing his service and you know what it is like to be at the mercy of another.
B) You hold on to the gem. You do not trust the Old Man not to betray you and that gem is a useful way of forcing his loyalty.
C)
Keep the stone but try to convince him you are not the enemy.
D)
freeform
3. Mazzarin is leaving once more. He does not seem terribly concerned about the Watcher's army in the south but you could call in your final favour to make him help you.
A) You use up your final favour to ask Mazzarin to help you save the Kingdom. Part of you thinks he is hoping for just this outcome though.
B) You hold on to your favour and let him leave. You will save the Kingdom without his help and that favour is priceless.
C)
Appeal to his character.
D)
freeform
4. Plan of Action: Given the situation in the south you need to find a way to join up with one of the fragments of the Royal Army. You then need to drive off the enemy and push on to the city. The question is how? [There are two ways to handle this. You can either pick a broad direction and let the characters formulate a plan, to the best of their ability, as they go or you can pick the freeform option and give me a detailed plan on what you want to do. I have purposely kept the premade options fairly general but the characters will do the best they (read: I) can. I suspect most people will want to really get into the details though so those will be provided in the mechanics post.]
A) i. You will focus on fighting through the cultist army to join up with the main body of the Kingdom's forces. From what your scouts can tell you, you will be dealing primarily with spider demon hybrids similar to what you encountered under Muirthemne. The Goddess must have passed this knowledge on to her followers and they are making full use of it. You will have to hope that Seinsheim and his people can manage without help.
ii. You will focus on fighting the ghôls and driving them off. They are the weaker force and if you can link up with Seinsheim's people then you can move to help the rest of the army after that. Hopefully Reinhard, if he still lives, will be able to handle the cultists until you arrive.
iii. Let Mazzarin deal with it. With the greatest archmage to ever live on your side this should be simple, just stay out of his way and let him claim all the glory...
iv.
Nevill's Plan
B)
freeform – I suspect this will be the most popular choice. You scouts have prepared reports for you, rough maps, troop locations, that sort of thing. Using those you should be able to come up with an in-depth plan to deal with the situation which, ideally, with increase your odds.