Fable - Ask A Royal Execution

[Fieravene]

Fiera smirked lightly to herself, pretending not to notice sudden tremble of the table. She reached for her wine and took a sip, "I should think so. You won't find raw crystals like these anywhere else. The ones you find in the merchant lines are detritus, low grade, tampered with. I prefer to take my crystals directly from the source."

Of course, that required time and effort. Elbion's Foarde of Maesters spared plenty of expenses on that very endeavor to ensure their ingredients and resources were of the finest quality. Such things didn't tend to trickle down to the lower echelons of the Mage society there.

"How's your dinner?"

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris frowned into his napkin. He had been under the impression that unrefined crystals were prone to explode. Another lie to attribute to the Foard of Maestere. Or Fieravene simply had little to no regard for the risks.​

​

Probably both.​

​

“I see, I see,” he aimlessly replied. It was not as if he had ever been flush with enough crystals to make such meaningful analysis.​

​

Fieravene asked his thoughts on the dinner, and he glanced around for a moment, searching vainly for an answer that might be written somewhere.​

​

“Oh, it’s, ah... Quite good. Yes,” he replied. “You do seem to be doing well for yourself here in Amol-Kalit...”​

 

[Fieravene]

"Do I?" she'd never had much eye for what doing well meant in a human-centric world. Doing well in the Underdark was something else entirely. Fiera cast a languid glance about the place, finding that she had cared very little for the state of the home to be paid to her in exchange for her first mission for Gerra. She'd defined neither value nor status of prestige, and yet here she was.

In the home of a former Prince of Annuakat. Bachelore Prince no less.

"I suppose. I've no mind for homes ... haven't kept one in quite some time. I much prefer the life of a vagabond, but I've become addicted to the coffee here," she smirked.

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris glanced to his right, then to his left. Acknowledging first the rest of the terrace, with its view of Annuakat's splendid noble district, and then the entrance to the mansion they had just walked out of.​

​

"Uh, yes," he replied. "You do."​

​

How little stock Fieravene put in material wealth, and yet it seemed heaped at her feet. Gaheris supposed the saying was true: if all you wanted was money, you would never have enough. Prosperity had a way of finding the people who didn't make it their sole objective in life.​

​

Fucking assholes.​

​

He inelegantly sawed at his duck. "Well, if you ever tire of the coffee around here, I'll be happy to take this... Home off your hands."​

 

[Fieravene]

The elf lofted a brow at his sawing, wondering if that was how he went about his business with dead bodies. Odd, he seemed so exacting and careful about his selection - only to hack away at them like that? That wasn't quite right.

She took a small bite and chewed over a slow smile of mirth. Oh but he was jealous. Had Gerra not set him up with silks and tapestries in the palace?

"Hmm," she picked up her wine glass and gently gave it a swill, "you're more than welcome to join me here, if you like. Plenty of room..." in my bed. She sipped.

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris looked rather like an animal caught in a trap mere moments before the kill. Wide-eyed, confused. Not even enough time for terror. But it was a brief moment anyway. Then he remembered to swallow the piece of duck he'd been chewing on.​

​

"Oh, well, I..." he spoke too quickly and trailed off, recollecting his thoughts for a moment. His brow furrowed - a sure sign of thoughts recollected.​

​

"Are you... Serious?"​

 

[Fieravene]

The other brow larked upwards to join the first. Fieravene gave a delicate batting of her lashes as if his question of her certainty were ridiculous, "Of course. It'll give the help something to do while I'm away on missions. Lately I've been abroad more than I have been home."

A light snort, she downed the rest of her wine and went in for another bite of duck, "Unless you find extended stretches of solitude unfavorable?"

Interspersed by short bouts of not-solitude...

 

[Gaheris]

The help? Right, the servants. There must have been a small flock of them around here, the few he'd seen coming in and the one attending on them aside. Nobody had a mansion without a strike team of servants to keep it in order. And as far as he understood, servants always hated their masters.​

​

Which was to say nothing of how they felt towards doting on people who weren't their employer - who weren't paying them for their undervalued services.​

​

Maybe Fieravene could keep them in line because she was, to put it delicately, moonlighting as a spectral shadow assassin for the Emperor. Gaheris lacked that kind of flair being that he was, to put it indelicately, an undertaker.​

​

"Yes, actually. Quite unfavorable," Gaheris said nodding, himself unaware of the lie he just told. "Wouldn't want to intrude, I mean."​

 

[Fieravene]

"Nonsense," she waved his concern of intrusion off, "I much prefer having company. I have my own solitude on my missions; long journeys that aren't often companion inclusive. Rest assured," a wane smile emerged from behind her wine glass, "I am more than happy to keep you company here whenever I am around."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris frowned faintly. "That can't be enjoyable."​

​

Of course, he meant the process of traveling itself. Not that the traveling was being done alone. Long journeys (or 'missions' as she ominously referred to them) were always sweaty, uncomfortable ordeals no matter who Gaheris happened to travel with.​

​

He glanced away, then back to Fieravene, when she mentioned being quite happy to keep him company.​

​

"Oh. You are...?"​

 

[Fieravene]

Wasn't he a barrel of delight. The man seemed to find distaste in the most curious of things.

"I quite enjoy my adventures, actually. I revel in traveling to new lands and experiencing different cultures. Such great variety across the lands of the Overbright."

Fiera cut the last of her duck and took another bite, making a noise of appreciation for the rich flavor of her meal. She moved on to the freshly baked bread, taking up a piece in both hands and tearing off a corner to nibble on.

At his question she chuckled under her breath, "So surprised, Gaheris," a pointed look of interest followed, "of course I am."

 

[Gaheris]

The Overbright sounded like some peculiar local term, but Gaheris did not dwell on it long. There was a look of pointed interest to consider, which he did by blinking stupidly.​

​

"That is," he ventured, slowly, working his jaw as if previously unfamiliar with the words, "Good to hear."​

​

Smooth. Like sandpaper. Gaheris noticed he had been white-knuckling each of his utensils, and forced himself to relax his grip.​

​

He cleared his throat. "Are there many places you have not been already?"​

 

[Fieravene]

Good to hear.

There now, that wasn't so hard.

Another bite of bread. Fiera considered the many places she had been in her many years alive. It was difficult to remember them all without looking to her recorded entries in the book of her life.

"For certain there are countless places," she replied over a small sigh, "if there aren't, I suppose the world is rather smaller than it feels." There was a moment to think on what journeys she had not yet taken and let her gaze leave his face to look off into the distance, "I've not seen much of the Allir Reach or the Taagi Baara Steppes to the north of it. That whole mass of land a great unknown to me."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris looked thoughtful, even has he continued with his duck. Bread he had in spades. Duck was the rarity here.​

“You’ve seen one burgh or farming hamlet in the Reach, you’ve seen them all,” Gaheris mused, sounding almost embittered by the fact. “I can’t say much for the Steppes.”​

Suffice to say, steppes were steppes because they lacked anything else of note for civilization to thrive. Sure, there were the centaurs, but... They were not a friendly lot.​

“If those are your blind spots, then it certainly sounds like you’ve already seen the best of this little world.”​

Alright, maybe a little bread. Against all notions of decorum and conduct, he broke off a piece of it with his hands. And then, quite scandalously, dipped it in the sauce that had come with the duck.​

Such was the savage mannerisms befitting a member of the Red Guild.​

 

[Fieravene]

Fieravene watched him with his bread, a curious gleam to her eyes. The methods of propriety did not escape her. She knew, immediately, what he did was downright punishable by the higher courts of the Underdark for the mere notion of low-life barbarity. Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, where the codes of the Royals had been beaten into her memory, she watched on in disgust.

But the expression on her face was nothing short of pleasant simply for the fact that what he did disgusted the memory of what she had once been so terribly much. Take that, Dahldeara.

"Is that so?" His words hardly made her interest in those places any less. If nothing else, it made them more. Fieravene had a habit of stumbling upon hidden places of intrigue in the most unsuspecting settings. Getting tied up in the Court of Centaurs would seem half bad, if you asked her.

"What about you, where is it you would like most to be?"

 

[Gaheris]

"By my reckoning, yes," Gaheris clarified, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.​

​

He reached for the wine now, growing more and more complacent with each morsel of fine dining. With enough good food, drugs and deceptions were hardly necessary. And there was a fact that would dawn on Gaheris only much later.​

​

"Somewhere temperate, civilized," he answered, effortlessly ruling out great swathes of the known world with but two words. Gaheris fiddled idly with his glass. "Peaceable. Quiet, too."​

​

There were days where not a square inch of any given continent seemed to be without its share of woes. It just so happened there were some spots where the woes were not life-threatening cataclysms, rampant disease, warlords, banditry, Naga massacres, or Blight Orc expeditions.​

​

Gaheris found himself attracted to such spots.​

​

As long as they weren't too hot.​

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...Or cold.​

​

He sighed, wistfully. "If you know a place, let me know."​

 

[Fieravene]

Here she'd been expecting him to list a coastal city in the tropics where nobles were known to vacation. Apparently not. Mimicking the man, Fiera tore a piece of bread and slowly swiped in through the duck sauce before popping it into her mouth.

Mm.

"Nothing comes to mind," said the elf over a grin, "but I'll keep an eye out for you."

The last piece of duck disappeared from the plate and Fiera leaned to refill her wine glass, "Room for dessert?"

 

[Gaheris]

He returned his usual feeble smile. "I appreciate it. Truly."​

​

Gaheris glanced down and noticed that he had, at some point, largely cleaned his plate. Well, good. That was polite in most places - even a desert hellscape like this one.​

​

Dessert was a subject he had heard alluded to many times, but never partook. Not as a formal part of a meal, anyway. Incredible. He had finally risen to the top of the social ladder. His father would be so proud to see him now. Or perhaps he would yell racial slurs at Fieravene instead.​

​

"Dessert, you say?" He echoed, once again dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "I... Suppose if you're offering..."​

 

[Fieravene]

"I'm certain the chef will be elated to produce a dessert," Fiera waved the attendant over, "what is on the menu for the evening's dessert?"

The attendant bowed to them, "The Chef has prepared a lovely Almond and Rose Kheer. Will the Lady partake this evening?"

"Oh, I suppose. One for our guest and a half portion for myself."

"As the Lady commands," collecting the empty dishes, he swept off.

"Sweets aren't my thing," the elf commented, running her pinky over a pointed brow, "but the local almonds are rather delicious. Now," she took up her wine again, "if you see fit to join me here, there are several guest suites to choose from in the western wing of the manor. I should prefer if you keep your business with the dead out of the home. I don't need any more hapless souls wandering about here."

 

[Gaheris]

A rose what? He supposed a pastry would be considered foreign to the Kaliti. Whatever. Life was supposedly full of surprises. This could be one more. Better a kheer than a dragon. He leaned awkwardly to one side when a servant came to collect his dishes, as if attempting to put himself out of the way.​

​

He quirked his mouth pensively.​

​

"No promises," he said, reaching for his own wine glass, then pausing. "I mean, regarding whether I'll... Move here. The dead thing... Yes, obviously I would oblige."​

​

He drank.​

 

[Fieravene]

"Good," Fiera's smile had left her, but not for his words. She seemed to be captured by a fleeting train of thought, "...oh both accounts. Promise is such a strong word."

Dessert arrived, presented in two small crystal bowls. Kheer was a savory rice pudding, this one flavored with almonds and rose, topped with fresh rose petals and almond slices.

Fiera took her half portion in hand and leaned back in her chair, casually tasting it with a sigh.

"How long do you expect to be here in Gerra's employ?"

 

[Gaheris]

Porridge with flowers? No, there was rice in this. And nuts. Rice porridge. With flowers and nuts. The marvels of fine dining would never cease, truly. Gaheris tested the substance with his spoon (the correct spoon, as there were no competitors), but did not try to eat it just yet.​

​

"Until the money dries up, I suspect," he replied. "Or until his Eminence no longer requires my services."​

​

It was Amol-Kalit. There was no telling what would come first.​

 

[Fieravene]

"I wonder which will come first..." Fiera muttered, her tone suggesting that it was an inevitable outcome. Not that she cared to See into the future like some dragons she knew, but the likelihood of this Empire lasting very long wasn't high. Fiera felt giving it a half century was being more than generous.

"How would you do it?" a small spoonful of dessert lingered before her face, sitting humbly beneath a scrutinizing red gaze, "Run an Empire that is."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris sampled the kheer with detectable skepticism. His brow furrowed, either in consideration of the question or the texture of the dish. Flowers were not a typical part of any journeyman necromancer's diet.​

​

'Very poorly' was the expected answer, but Gaheris forced himself to answer somewhat seriously.​

​

"Delegation, I think," he said, after swallowing. "Parcel out as much as I can to the experts and locals; mind my own business."​

​

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, even though there was nothing to wipe away.​

​

"Why? Are you cultivating... Imperial ambitions?"​

 

[Fieravene]

The spoonful of kheer finally found its mark and she chewed thoughtfully on it a moment. The chef had yet to disappoint her and this time she was happy to say his reputation would continue. The dark elf made a noise of approval - not too sweet, a little bit savory, and a dash of je ne sais quoi.

"So ... what Gerra is doing now," at least so far as she could tell. His collection of Viziers and heads of state all seemed perfectly well suited to their stations and perfectly happy to be leading their parts. "Hm," she said, swiping another small spoonful with a bit more almond this time, "it's a good method but somehow it always ends in treachery. This time will hardly be any different."

Prove her wrong, a challenge she always afforded herself.

"My ambitions are hardly so gainful - I much prefer to be a bystander to the game. You run one Empire you've run them all, sadly. It's much more interesting on the sidelines than it is on the throne."