Private Tales Alive Twice

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

VEL YUNA​

Marris Verdane stood outside his small and dilapidated house on a winter's morning. He had just then come back from gathering raw firewood from the surrounding forest, and now, axe in hand, he had begun the work of splitting the logs into smaller pieces. He placed a new log upright on the tree stump.

"Where the hell is that damn woman," he grumbled to himself as he dragged the back of his hand across his brow.

He spoke, as he always did in accusations of this sort, of his wife, Gertrude Verdane. But his wife was many years dead by now, and Marris, much to the perennial worry of his fellow Vel Yunans, did not seem to notice or acknowledge this fact. Indeed, he had always been...a queer one about the village. Sometimes he spoke aloud to people who were not there. Sometimes he mistook long time "friends", enemies, and acquaintances for other people...some of them actually real people. He was an uncleanly man, especially now in his old age, and very much so after the death of Gertrude, the deaths of his sons, and the further estrangement from the villagers of Vel Yuna that followed. His beard and hair grew long and unkempt, and his erratic nature worsened over time.

He did love one thing, though: his granddaughter, Soleil Verdane. He kept telling anyone and everyone who would lend him an ear how proud he was of her, how the best thing that could've ever happened to her was her magic and her being shuttled away to become a Dreadlord. She was going to do Vel Anir well, he always said, well indeed, yes siree.

A dog, not one that Marris owned, but a bitch that the Vel Yunans collectively fed, and one who had recently bore some pups, came sniffing around Marris and his stump.

"Git," said Marris to the dog. Then he swung his axe down and split the log, and shoved the pieces off. He was about to grab another log, but the bitch kept near, friendly and with its tail wagging. She did not git.

"I SAID GIT!" And Marris hauled off and kicked the dog in its jaw, and the dog gave out a pitiful yelp and scampered away quickly.

Marris placed the new log on the tree stump. But he heard, then, someone approaching from behind.

Marris sighed in annoyance and turned around, and he said to this person so approaching: "Yeah? What do you want?"

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

IN THE HALLS OF VEL AERELOS
VEL ANIR
MANY DAYS BEFORE​

At last, after what Heller likely may have found an interminable waiting, the door opened, and in came Vigilite Jon Rennick. The room belonged to neither man, but for the purpose of this meeting, they would use it.

"Apologies for the wait," said Rennick, meaning none of it. Precisely did he, and any other Vigilite worth his salt, show at the exact time when he meant to.

He went then to the seat across from Heller. The table at which they sat was a large one, meant of course for conferences between Councilors, dignitaries, envoys from afar, nobility, all of which would have many attendants in their talks. But it would be these two men, and their secret purpose, for today.

"I am a man who prizes brevity," said Rennick, "so I will come right to it."

And he leaned a touch forward in his chair.

"The Vigilite have need of your...specific talents, Dreadlord Heller."

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

"The Vigilite do, do they?" Heller's smile was small, but it held all the crookedness in that small action. It was not the first time someone wanted him for his unique talent. To play the hands of gods, such a feat was at his discretion of granting. It always came down to price, and if the Vigilite were in need of his assistance, then perhaps he better consider working with them.

He was slouched in his chair, as that was the only way he could sit comfortably while waiting in this room. Heller didn't bother readjusting to sitting upright, to appear as if this business was important.

"Right then, let's hear it."

Risen Soleil Verdane

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

Vigilite Rennick offered a wan smile, and then said, "There's just...one little complication."

He clapped his hands and the door to the meeting room opened. Armed and armored men could be seen on the outside on either side of the door, evidently those in the employ of Rennick and who served as his bludgeons, when such a bludgeoning was called for. No such action was needed here, and those men merely stood sentinel outside the room. Indeed a different man came in, one dressed similarly to Rennick in a dark uniform, perhaps a Vigilite underling or apprentice. This man had but one purpose though: he carried a thick sack, which he placed upon the table between Rennick and Heller, and then he left, and he shut the door behind him.

Rennick did the honors, and untied the cord from the throat of the sack. He opened it wide, and showed the contents to Heller.

Inside the sack...was sand. Merely sand. And a Pendant of a strange kind, of a dark amber color and crystalline in its apparent composition. It rested atop the sand.

"Not the usual material you might be used to working with, I would assume."

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

Heller was waiting for the punch line.

When one came, it didn't satisfy nor tickle him. Instead, Dreadlord Heller's gaze narrowed as his face echoed the thoughts of unamused incredulity. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

The pendant intrigued him, but he was far too annoyed to admit that. If anything, he wanted to kick the sack, wondering if it would spill out onto the floor and reveal more treasures. It reminded him of the stories told from the Savannah, of the forgotten ruins found in Amol Kalit. Tales that always had the message of treasure and luxuries to be found. Rivers of sand calling waiting to trap a passerby and pull them into their deep pits of grains.

"I've seen enough sand in the past two years in the Empire." And then his frown deepened some more, on his feet in one graceful move. "Are you sending me back there? After you hauled me all they way back into Vel Anir..." To be here to grant this favour asked of him? Kian Heller barked out a dry laugh and shook his head. "My talents are suited to bones and corpses, mate. Call me back here when you have that."

Heller started for the door.

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

Vigilite Rennick, as still he sat in his seat, said as Heller made for the door, "It used to be a girl. An Initiate, in truth."

Now he turned his head just so to fully look at the Dreadlord.

"And isn't it an agreeable thing, Kian, to have friends who can open many doors—more than just that one before you?" Rennick puckered his lips and gave a small and nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "You can leave, if that's your pleasure. The Vigilite will merely have to entrust this task, and the boons that come with it, to another. Someone, dare I say, clever enough to work with more than just bones and corpses."


Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

He froze. Tensed and all quiet burning, a threat that it could erupt, as he turned around to meet Rennick's gaze and plastered on a smile that gave no humble warmth. It was poisonous, just as his voice was laced with a bitterness that conveyed his patience for this conversation.

"Alright, I'll bite. What happened to the girl? The Pendant cursed her?" Heller's scoff wasn't anything light. It was sharp and pointed, and the man crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. "She was a sweet, young Initiate that deserves to live. She had so much potential for Vel Anir, she needs to be brought back to the living at all costs?"

His attitude stemmed from the sheer lunacy that the Vigilite would choose someone else. Of course, the thought of the Vigilite already reaching out to other necromancers was very possible, and perhaps their lack of effort or skill had landed them to sending three Initiates to retrieve him from Amol Kalit.

They even held patience when he had to attend another matter that only someone of his skillset could manage.

"Don't be cute and pretend I am not your only answer. You want my help, then the Vigilite better be prepared to get on their knees and kiss my feet."

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

Rennick responded with just that small smile of his.

"If you would like to know how deep this goes, then have a seat, and I'll inform you."

The smile faded, and he elaborated with all seriousness.

"You'll be one of the very few people who know, but you will be bound in this secrecy." Rennick flicked his eyes to the door upon which Heller leaned. "Believe me when I say: that door separates two very different futures for you, Kian."

He could leave now, and things for him would proceed as they were.

Or he could stay.

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

He'll bite again.

Slowly, Heller crossed back to the seat he had abandoned, pulling it out some more so that he could lounge lazily in the small seat again. His arms crossed again, resting on his torso as his dark gaze fixed Rennick with an indescribable expression.

"Secrets of the deep dark aren't always good and true. So you must have a reason to bring back a girl... and I bet her return will piss off a great number of people." At this, Heller smiled. It was boyish, but it also gave away that he found the very idea to be amusing. "Life back in Vel Anir seems to be too quiet, so I think you're a lucky sod when I say this: You've got me intrigued."

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

...and I bet her return will piss off a great number of people.

"It might," Rennick conceded. Beyond the Vigilite's immediate plan, the fate of the Initiate—should Heller succeed—was undetermined.

You've got me intrigued.

Rennick gave a little nod, mayhap one that was a bit appreciative. And so it would be, then: the Vigilite had found their man.

"Let's begin with the Initiate—the girl. Her name was Soleil Verdane. This Initiate, not particularly remarkable, died an unremarkable death. In a treasonous action she endangered the lives of many Guardsmen right here in Vel Anir, and she was put down by a fellow Initiate, one Zinnia St. Kolbe. Hardly a unique story, the death of an Initiate, even if one considers the treason involved.

"Except for one curious thing. She, before her slaying, confessed to the murder of Caeso Diemut."

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

The names were unfamiliar to him, proving that he truly had been gone too long if he hadn't found any Initiates and their names to be recongisable. His furrowed brows said as much; his expression unmoved even as treason and the threat upon Guardsmen were uttered, Heller couldn't connect to the information being told.

Until the name Diemut.

"Diemut?" A noble house, minor, but he knew they produced wine better tasting than the goon poured from cheap boxes. "Hold your horses..." His face turned to a frown, eyes distant as memory recalled to him. "I heard reports all the way in the Empire there was a body hung outside the Elven Quarter. I heard the name Diemut then..."

Kian lifted his gaze, peering through his lashes and keeping quiet a moment before he continued. "What will you get out of bringing her back? To lock her up for the confession she gave?" There was more. This secret, this admission, it wasn't deep enough to strike something in Heller. There had to be more to this, more to than just recording an official confession.

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

"For her to remain dead would be a fitting sentence, if it was only murder."

Rennick entwined his hands together, and pointed both his index fingers at Heller.

"But you are aware of the incident with the Elven Quarter. Maybe you've also heard of the civil unrest that came with it. Skillful maneuvering ensured that the pot didn't boil over, yet still this speaks to the gravity of this situation if it is not handled carefully. And this is only one aspect of the sensitivity of the matter."

His hands descended down to his lap.

"Sabien Diemut, former Head of House Diemut and father of Caeso, disappeared from Vel Anir shortly after the Elven Quarter incident—Sabien, and nearly half of House Diemut along with him. They took the mass of House Diemut's wealth in their flight, left the remaining Diemuts—as well as House Virak—baffled, and they disappeared cleanly enough that we don't know where they have gone, all of which indicates premeditation. Worse, we don't know why they have done this, or what they could be up to now in foreign lands."

Rennick drew in a breath through his nose.

"This is more than one Initiate murdering another. Caeso Diemut's murder, the intentional unrest caused by framing the elves, and Sabien's flight are beyond coincidence. I don't have all the pieces."

And he nodded his head to the sack of sand.

"But I know who has at least one crucial piece."

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

He was never one to be too invested in the lives of nobles, despite being one. The Hellers that served the Sirls were put to work, manning the number of prisons, but Kian himself had a higher calling.

A calling that the Vigilite were interested in.

His brows shot up, surprised that this was how much deeper it went. That the sack of sand of a girl wasn't to be returned because she was a deadly asset, but an asset with potential information. The instances were not adding up, leaving Heller just as clueless as the Vigilite sitting opposite from him. "I haven't heard anything during my time in the Empire about the Diemuts..." but who was gong to trust an Anirian in their lands, honestly.

"This all sounds like a shit show... but all you need from me is to bring back the girl." It wasn't a question of reassurance, Heller knew that was all that was asked of him, but learning all this new information made him want to... extend more than just his magical talent. "Hang in tight, give me two days mate, and I will see about bringing this girl back to life..."

A wry smile curved his lips. "Where did she die? I'll start there."

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

The Empire. Elbion. Alliria. Kress-forsaken Malakath, even. Sabien and the expatriate Diemuts could be anywhere, and, if they intended treason and sedition from afar, then Rennick wanted to know, and he wanted to know yesterday.

Two days, however, would be the best bargain he was likely to get. He'd take it.

He stood from his seat. "An Anirian Guard garrison complex, here in the city. One 'Captain Murrick' is still stationed there; he was present on the day of her death. I'll impress upon him the importance of acquiescing to your every demand, and then I will give you your space to work, Dreadlord Heller."



Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

"Well then," He sighed, stretching his legs and his arms to a point that a yawn escaped him, "best get going then. I've got a grave to make and babysit."

And the timing was important. Heller was appreciative that Rennick would speak to the Captain. It would make things easier for Heller to tell said Captain to make sure the other Guards fucked off while he worked. Any disturbance while his spell and magicks were afoot, the one responsible was in for a gruesome time.

A brush of death would be the least of anyone's worries.

"I'm going to need transport. Suppose that isn't too difficult for you to organise, hey mate?"

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

That small smile from Rennick once more—a persistent feature of his character no doubt.

"One of the many benefits of our newfound friendship."

* * * * *

VEL ANIR
THE GARRISON COMPLEX​

Captain Murrick seemed a touch nervous when Rennick introduced himself and Heller, and he seemed a touch more nervous when Rennick briefly explained their business. Mainly, that he wanted Murrick to direct them to the exact spot where Initiate Soleil Verdane died, and for all the Guardsmen to clear the complex for the day.

Murrick complied. Because of course he did, he didn't have a choice. Guardsmen filed past Rennick and Heller and Murrick as they went through the complex halls, the order to vacate the premises for the day disseminated and acted upon with characteristic Anirian diligence.

Murrick led the Dreadlord and the Vigilite (along with his underling who carried the sack of sand that once was Soleil) out to the training ground. On all four sides was the ground enclosed by the walls of the complex, and Murrick's own office was right along the northern side looking down upon the dirt. Murrick's office window had been recently repaired, and the fresh glass caught a glint of the sun.

The Captain directed the three men to the spot, and then Rennick dismissed him.

And then Rennick would say to Heller, "Inform me when you have something of note, good or bad. And if you require anything else, I'll get it for you."

With a nod to his underling, the sack of sand was placed on the ground, and Heller would be given his space.

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

Kian Heller had always found a simple shovel to be such an odd tool. Magnificent for it's intended purpose, but bloody hells was it unbalanced to shit. Even with that thought, Heller knew it would still serve as a decent weapon should this resurrection turn sour.

He was glad for the crisp and overcast day, as he would have some time to dig out a grave.

"You got that file?" Heller looked to Rennick's underling, and the poor lad looked as if he merely wanted to take a quick moment to breathe after carting around the sack of sand. The young man exhaled loudly before shrugging off his pack and fishing for the file Heller had requested.

Taking it, he only offered a nod in thanks and watched as the other male left.

Now alone, Heller opened it and searched through the papers for Soleil Verdane's height. Perhaps he skimmed a little of the Proctor's notes and reports, his brow raising at the perfect Dreadlord to be she would have made.

He tucked the file away into his own pack, left slumped in a pile beside a sleeping roll.

The new five hours, the day turned dark. Torches were brought and left to illuminate his work, and by that time Heller was barely seen over the edge of the hole he had dug up. Sweat dripped from his being, shirt and jackets discarded a couple hours ago, but the grave was now near ready. Before throwing the shovel back up to the levelled ground, he made sure to put in footholds to climb out, and from the deep grave Heller pulled himself to emerge.

Sweat, dirt, and a face full of weary. There was a darkness to this tableau, as if the entire atmosphere was now heightening in preparation for something. But Heller worked with determination. He enjoyed this.

All he needed was two days.

He was a man of dirt, of magic that was misunderstood by many. With death as his canvas and life his brush, Kian Heller was an artist.

The sand was poured into the grave, that Pendant clutched into his hand. With a knife, Kian sliced through his palm enough that blood would pool towards the amber. Clutching it tight, blood drying and sticking, he would then drop the soaked pendant's amber to the sand. His magic fed life and healing to his shallow wound, for he did not want the pain of infection as he shovelled the dirt back to fill the rest of the grave.

Timing was everything. At each hour, Heller would bleed again, and whisper the name Soleil Verdane.

He would speak to her spirit for a day, luring her back to the place her life ended. Offering her the chance to rise again.

Heller barely slept. He had with him a book to help pass the time, and at some moment before dawn broke and dusk claimed the skies, he would read aloud to keep Soleil focused on returning. Perhaps she was intrigued by the story of a saintly man in Epressa. Or the tale of a mountain splitting in the region called Campania.

By the second night, the air felt thick and thin all the same.

The hour of rising would near, all he needed was his blood to turn cold. Then, and only then, would he know she had returned.

And then, he would help dig her out.

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

In the cool night air would evidence come that not all Heller's efforts ended in vain.

The tug and pull of his magic Heller likely already knew, those intangible strings, linking the mortal world with the immortal beyond, each subtly plucked at his command, like a lyrist playing a favorite tune for an adoring ear. The whisper of the name Soleil Verdane, repeated and infused with his magic, brought on that ever so vague feeling; one who sat by candlelight at the midnight hour, feeling in slow ascendance the perturbing notion of being watched, only to glance around and find nothing and no one there, could attest to this very feeling Heller so often acquainted himself with.

Some doors were only ever meant to open one way. But for those who hazarded life and soul and sanity with the deep secrets of being, hidden hinges upon which said doors might swing anew could be discovered.

And while Heller's blood did not turn cold, as he expected, two things, divined from his actions, stood out.

First, there came from the grave he had dug the powerful sense (powerful, at least, for those attuned to detect it) of a presence, of being watched, of someone there. It was a thing able to be grasped and unable to be grasped. There and not there. As the common adage went: so close, and yet so far. The Pendant, freshly soaked with blood (but of the wrong kind), seemed very much the anchor of all this; and perhaps the girl whose name was whispered every hour was the ship to which that anchor was attached.

And second, there came to Heller, like the last crumbling images and sensations of a dream fleeing from wakefulness, an ephemeral notion. An idea. A sense. Of something fatherly. No. Older. Not a father. Older than that. The father of a father. A lone figure. Somewhere.

Somewhere.

Who shared the same blood. The same blood. The same blood.

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

Heller was beginning to believe that Soleil Verdane was a stubborn girl.

Her presence came and went, as if she were a free roaming spirit out to spite him. Nonetheless, Heller knew how to look at the picture and see what was not working.

This had been where she had died, bringing her back here at this spot would mean less panic when she comes into her own flesh and body. It meant it was a familiar place to be...

That was not the reason for the disturbance.

"Tsk, tsk, Soleil." Heller chastised, frowning as he reached for the file. He had read it over and over, sometimes scanning right over some parts, but he knew what was wrong. His blood was not enough. It meant Soleil wanted even more reason to return, and that was when the true price to his talents come into play. It was a good thing he was a Dreadlord, to not think of the emotional part to killing, but the practical.

Within the hour, Heller had summoned Rennick to him, along with a horse ready for travel to Vel Yuna.

"Have you heard of Marris Verdane, Rennick? I hope we are not too attached to him."

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

And now the two men, mounted and riding through the streets of Vel Anir, discussed the matter at hand.

"He exists only as ink to me," said Rennick, somewhat poetically saying that he'd only read about him.

But, if what the Dreadlord implied was accurate, they might be meeting him. Soon.

Rennick did not question Heller. He did not need to. All he said in response was:

"If he cannot be persuaded to come with us willingly, then I will arrange for an accusation which will give me leave to bring him by force."


Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

"Oh, I believe I would have such a compelling case to make." Kian Heller smiled, and it wasn't one of pure intentions. When he needed something from any of the prisoners in their cells, he learned a few tricks.

"Besides. All I require is a little blood. This Initiate you want to bring back seems to make a habit in making demands... or at least, wants to be convinced to return." In other words, a spirit he had not dealt with. If the call to her family's bloodline wouldn't bring her back, then Heller was going to need more blood...

But he wasn't going to get it from death row prisoners.

He would have to take Marris Verdane's life to bring back Soleil. Would the Vigilite be willing to go that far?

The same blood.

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

This Initiate you want to bring back seems to make a habit in making demands... or at least, wants to be convinced to return.

Though Rennick would never admit it, such a notion as this went far beyond his ken—even frightened him, to some extent. Vel Anir had long ago killed its gods, and Rennick was of the obstinate persuasion that something as paltry as a simple republic would not be able to resurrect them, despite its efforts, however meager or vigorous, to that effect. Dead gods stayed dead, so Rennick believed, because for the gods to perish meant the collapse of the entire edifice. The sham was revealed. Belief, divinity, afterlife, a heaven or a hell, all of it stood unveiled as a useless fiction. All that remained was the void. The unknowable dark. Life was a fluke, a brief pause in an eternity of nothing.

In this way Rennick was as Anirian as he could be.

So the idea of this Initiate, this Verdane girl, Soleil, or to be more precise, Kian's description of her after her death as...wanting something, being something, existing still when she ought not to...he didn't know what to make of it. He easily believed she could think and feel and be once life surged again in her body (if that pile of sand could be called such), because she'd be back on Arethil, living again, not dead. How could she do any of that in the godless void following death? It...well, such a notion would mean the collapse of his entire edifice of disbelief.

All this he kept from his face and his voice.

"The needs of the state supersede those of the individual," he said, speaking a truth that every Anirian who came of age to be conscripted into the Guard knew. "The only question is how cooperative Marris will be."

Either honeyed words will be enough, or iron shackles and brute strength will make him capitulate.

* * * * *

VEL YUNA​

"I SAID GIT!" And Marris hauled off and kicked the dog in its jaw, and the dog gave out a pitiful yelp and scampered away quickly.

Marris placed the new log on the tree stump. But he heard, then, someone approaching from behind.

Marris sighed in annoyance and turned around, and he said to this person (no, not one, but two, as he now saw) so approaching: "Yeah? What do you want?"

Kian Heller

 

[Kian Heller]

Vel Yuna had been a place Heller had visited only a few times in his years as an Initiate of the Academy. Each time had been sneak around and break a few rules, but he eventually found himself omitting from all debauchery when he realised there was more to do and work on to become a decent Dreadlord. Perhaps he had a lot to thank with Vel Yuna, for it showed him who could be better, and who would scrape the bottom of the line and get themselves killed by graduation.

But the home of Marris never gave Heller any of those memories to look back on.

He came here as a Dreadlord, on a Vigilite mission, and to ask for blood to bring back a key witness to many unexplained things that went on. Even as Marris turned to give himself and Rennick an unwelcomed expression by way of greeting, Heller put on a charming smile that had gotten him in trouble plenty of times.

"We are here to discuss your grand daughter. May we take up a moment of your time, Mr Verdane?" Heller kept a respectful distance between himself and the man. He stared at the older man, wondering what similarities he shared with Initiate Verdane. "I am Kian Heller, a Dreadlord tasked to work on this case..." He looked to Rennick, leaving introductions of himself all on him.