Fable - Ask The Toll

The men from the town, peering out from their vantage, saw Alistair's waving arm and heard his shout. When the sound of battle with the Mad Legion had faded, their hearts had been filled with a cautious hope; when the final silence following the battle with Redoran came about the periphery of Bluecott, that hope swelled. Seeing now the victorious Dreadlords cast a wave of elation that ran from the foremost of the men back to their wives and their children behind them, and hurriedly did some of these men leap into action, coming through the ruined barricade and beginning their rush toward Alistair to help in whatever manner they could.

Redoran, distant from the helping hands on approach from Bluecott, looked up to Alistair as said in a croaking voice, "You could have become...so much more...under Velkath's leadership..."

And Kristen, more distant still, breathed out in pure elation the breath she had been holding when Zinnia gave sign of her, relatively, stable well-being. "We did! Yes, Zinnia, we did. He is down."

The question of Zinnia's transformation lingered about, subtle as a spider the size of a cat dangling from the corner of a room, but now was not the time for it—that Zinnia was well was good enough. And so Kristen, acting during what she hoped was still the grogginess of coming round from unconsciousness, adjusted Zinnia's hood as much as she could while smoothing her hair, all done as a seeming matter of course. Soon, a more fitting time would come to speak on the strange transformation. But for now...

Kristen glanced back over her shoulder, and then looked back down to Zinnia, "Now, I must see to it that he receives the punishment he deserves."

One of an ancient and terrible severity, dating back to the earliest days of House Pirian.

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

"In his grave," Redoran said hoarsely to Alistair. Woefully, his eyes trailing off to one side, as if in search of a fleeting future that was now certain to never come, he added, "And there, his leadership...unbreakable and strong...will remain."

By then Kristen, with assurance from Zinnia that she would be alright, had walked back to Redoran's proximity. Some dozen men from Bluecott had gathered round, but all, presently, kept their distance as the Dreadlord and Initiate stood over the fallen noble. Kristen glanced to Alistair, in him finding yet more strength to bolster her resolve, for what needed to be done would not be easy.

Kristen turned her gaze down to Redoran then. He looked up at her, and then away again. "Look at me," she demanded. Redoran did not, preferring instead to stare sidelong off into the distance. Stern and dignified, Kristen said, "A man looks into the face of what he has done, and what comes of it, fearlessly."

At last Redoran, shamed by the words of his younger cousin, turned his gaze back upon her.

"Whereas it is evident," Kristen began, "in the great and horrifying carnage you have wrought upon Fort Velkath, upon Selmack, and upon Bluecott, in your abuse of dark and heinous magic gained through means undoubtedly foul, in your utter perversion of House Pirian's four noble tenets of Prosperity, Charity, Humility, and Pride, and in your complete lack of remorse for all these wicked deeds, it is without question that your egregious crimes are without compare, and that these crimes threaten to bring copious and conspicuous disgrace upon House Pirian. Therefore I, Kristen Lucretia Pirian, in order that honor may be appropriately restored to the House of Pirian, sentence you, Redoran Pirian, to the ancient punishment prescribed by our progenitor, Lady Isolde, to the very worst of our kin, and so join you in their loathsome number forever. That punishment, to be carried out in Vel Numera..."

She spoke the word; indeed, the very source of how a facet of her own Divine Magic had taken form.

"Crucifixion."

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the day after, the sight of Vel Numera, that Pirian held land, would greet them. Until then, another night under the calm stars would fill the interim. Yet while the stars above, sparkling with all their distant luminescence, had about them that calm and tranquility, only a deceptive veneer of the same could be found among the company of Kristen, Alistair, Zinnia, Lothar, and Redoran. Redoran was duly restrained, and kept bound in the wagon on loan from the Bluecott villagers, yet for Kristen his very presence spoke to the grim task awaiting her in Vel Numera. In truth, she dreaded it, and her heart withered at the thought of executing a man who was family, even in spite of all the horrendous and vile things which he had done to deserve such an execution.

But there was another thing which loomed, up till now unspoken, among the troop of Anirians.

Zinnia had gone to gather some firewood, and so she was departed from the camp site and now well out of earshot. Kristen, after seeing to the needs of her horse, took the opportunity then to approach Alistair, her expression laden with the worry of uncertainty.

"Alistair," she said, speaking quietly even though such was hardly necessary. She spoke slowly as well, having uncharacteristic difficulty in finding the words. "I think...we ought speak...with Zinnia."

Her lips roiled uncomfortably.

"About what happened back in Bluecott. Her wings...and her horns."

And what that might mean.

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Bless Alistair. Bless him. His was a mind detached from his Anirian upbringing, one concerned with practicality over sentiment.

Kristen held a hand curled into a small and anxious fist over her breast, giving a subtle weight to her plea. "I do not think our fellow Anirians will see it that way. If the Academy, or the Guard, or simply the wrong Anirian, finds out about Zinnia...then I fear she will be in grave danger."




Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Certainly, Zinnia had nothing to fear from herself and from Alistair. Neither would breathe a word of it, and they would as Alistair said cover for anything the Bluecott villagers might say, if they did see something and speak wild tales.

But Kristen's worry went quite deeper than that.

"If...if the Academy thinks that she is not human...they'll kill her." Anxiety gripped at her brow, and bid her to nibble at her lip. "I do not know what happened back in Bluecott. I do not even know if Zinnia herself knows. But, maybe it would be good to simply...reassure her. To tell her that, from us, she need not feel any danger."

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Gods, what a point about Bull and Edric. What they may have had in form, they lacked in essence. But that was what the Academy, and Vel Anir at large, was concerned about: form. A cruel inversion of what ought be, that men of such loathsome kind were to be admitted into the fold yet Zinnia denied it.

In short time, Zinnia returned. Almost did it amount to a tragedy for Kristen's ear to hear the good spirits in her voice, knowing well what subject she and Alistair now intended to bring up. But it needed to be done, and what impetus there was left for it decreed that tonight was that night, lest it lapse forever in the unspoken.

Kristen steeled herself, and then walked over slowly.

"Zinnia, please do not take fright, but...we must speak briefly about Bluecott."

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Kristen could always trust Alistair to be direct and to the point, even in such difficult matters as these. That he said it, about the horns, took some of the stress off of Kristen, for that she was grateful.

"I just...we just," she corrected herself, "would like you to know that you are one of us, Zinnia. This is so, and nothing will ever give doubt to this truth."





Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Of all the words at her vast disposal, Kristen, as soon as she saw Zinnia's brow furrowing, knew that she had selected the wrong one for the task.

Instinctively, she reached out in the effort to touch Zinnia's shoulders in a reassuring and pleading gesture, but she restrained herself, her hands hovering halfway.

"No, Zinnia, no, precisely the opposite! We trust you. Merely did we want to allay any—"

Was this the right way to express this? Or would she upset Zinnia further? How delicate, this matter!

"—fears you might have."

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

Gods, it was all going wrong! An earnest attempt to help and reassure, amounting to little more than plunging the dagger of pain and distress further into Zinnia's chest.

Alistair stepped in, solid as a stone against the powerful tides of emotion flowing forth from Zinnia. And that was what she needed right now—stability. Much more difficult was it for Kristen to act as Alistair did, to be as calm as him, yet she gave herself over entirely to the effort.

"We only want what is best for you, Zinnia."

Kristen wasn't so sure Zinnia would be able Alistair's question, especially if she only knew as much about her horns and her wings and her transformation as they did. If it was all they could do to simply keep Zinnia's secret, to speak no further of it, then that would have to be the way in which they could help—at least until some better option presented itself in the future.

Alistair Krixus Zinnia

How frightening! To have those things which Zinnia described suddenly and without warning begin to happen! It didn't seem to be some manifestation of magic, as it was different in character entirely from the usual magic Zinnia displayed. Eyes changing color certainly was a very commonplace effect of magic, but all the rest of it? No, in total it did speak to something different. Something not Zinnia nor Kristen nor Alistair knew.

Kristen's heart all but broke when Zinnia said that she, that she, was sorry. "You needn't apologize for anything." After all, had it not been Zinnia's transformation which proved to be a pivotal edge in the fight against Redoran? The lot of them were expended after the battle with the Legion, barely holding themselves together. Could the result have been terribly against their favor if Zinnia had not these...features...with which to aid her, and by extension the team as a whole, in the struggle?

Alistair, as though he were solving an equation or formula, suggested a remedy. One that at first glance had some merit, but...

"If such illusory magic is detected, though, it would be disastrous," Kristen said. Who knew which Proctors were especially adept at seeing through illusions? Even if it was just one, still it would only be a matter of time, what with said illusion acting essentially like a lighthouse in the dark to said Proctor's attuned senses.

"I do not think, at this juncture, there is anything we can do..."

Zinnia herself seemed to have come up with the best solution—the hood and a head full of hair. Simple and effective, it had worked so far. Yet it was crucial, very much so, that she did not "slip up" in the future...in front of the wrong people.

Zinnia Alistair Krixus