Zael, going off of Herrim's word, decided to meet Yuna and her class as they were coming back in through the city gates in the morning. And yes, Professor Madoeka's class was returning, right on time. Zael's eye passed over the lot of them, and yet he did not see her.
"
Zael Castomir."
The voice came from his blind side. He snapped his head to the right and he saw her. Jenna Siris, she who had betrayed him in the Blackwood when he had his duel with Caeso. She who had delivered him right into Proctor Kimble's hands.
Before he could say anything, she said, "Come with me, or you will never see the girl named
Yuna Fairweather again."
And what choice did he have? He went with her, his face stern, but his heart full of anger and fear.
* * * * *
Jenna led Zael out through the gates of
Elbion, and out along the Cairou River they went. A morning fog shrouded the banks of the river and all before them. A gray day, there above a flat blanket of clouds, and so was the progress of the sun's march hidden from view. Yet they walked for a long time. Neither Zael nor Jenna said anything to one another, but Zael could almost feel the self-assured pride radiating off of Jenna—it was the very same when she had revealed her treachery in the Blackwood.
All sign of civilization came after some time to cease, as if left behind in the lingering fog. After a slight incline, down they went again, down into a dell where a small bit of runoff water from the river formed a little waterfall on the rocks and a lake.
There, sitting on a rock beside the lake, was Armeus Kimble. He had his arms crossed, and held in his hand something which could not be fully seen—blocked by the sleeve of his robe.
"Zael...Castomir..." he said once Jenna came to his side and Zael stood before him. "You seem to require my attention again."
"What have you done?"
Kimble ignored the question. "In a way, I quite enjoy this dynamic we share. Though I have...other
projects—" and here he and Jenna shared a knowing look with one another, "—you are by far of the most
keen interest to me."
"We've already talked about your record." Every Initiate ever placed under Kimble's direct supervision, broken down and remade. He was proud of that, proud of being a master of "breaking people".
"We have," said Kimble. "I had Jenna bring you here so that we could, instead, talk about something
else previously discussed. Our wager."
"It's still on," Zael said, and yet those words tasted like the foulest lie in his mouth even as he said them.
"Is it? Because," he huffed out a rare laugh, "well, I will admit, I thought you
were dead. Another corpse added to the pyre outside of Vel Kastula. But...you are not."
"I'm not dyin till I see you go first."
"Charming," Kimble said. "Yet, here is our tiny problem with the wager as it stands...you aren't in
Vel Anir. You aren't fighting." Another of those rare laughs. "I never would have thought I would see the day. The pup, Zael Castomir, of all people, laying down his sword."
"I ain't layin nothin down. Vel Kastula didn't go well for the Rogues—you know that. Didn't go well for them, and for me included." Then Zael shot a venomous look to Jenna and said with bitter sarcasm,
"Maybe you could have helped me get back on my feet faster, with those tender mercies of yours."
Jenna just smiled faintly. "A shame. I enjoy seeing you in misery."
Kimble held up a hand to silence them both and spoke, "Regardless. I have heard nothing from my sources in the Rogues' outfit that they have any further designs in Elbion. So that begs the question, Zael...what are you doing here? Hm?"
And now Kimble stood. "You needn't answer that. Instead, let's cut straight to it, shall we? We have a wager, you and I, a wager that requires you to be present in Vel Anir. It's
your fight, Zael, you chose it yourself, but...it seems as though you need just a little bit of encouragement."
Kimble displayed openly what he held in his hand: a small pouch.
"This method I have borrowed from my old friend Proctor Malaneaux."
"You son of a bitch."
Kimble untied the pouch.
"I believe you will have some familiarity with it. He used it to great effect on Initiate Sieglilly."
From the pouch Kimble produced a severed little finger, and held it up clear for Zael to see.
"You goddamn son of a bitch."
"This girl, Yuna, has nine fingers left." He tossed the severed digit to Zael. "You had best hope you don't require my attention another nine times. But if you
are so concerned for her, or if you merely want our wager to be over, all you need to do is one thing."
Zael, leashing his anger behind the barrier of his teeth, said tautly,
"And what's that?"
"Admit that I am right. Admit, Zael, that the old way is best."
"I'll see you burn before then."
"And still with the impertinence. The source of your rage is simple, Zael. You changed, and I never did. I am and will forever be a Dreadlord, sworn to the service of Vel Anir, even if Vel Anir itself is ailing under a poisonous, upstart regime; I seek to put Vel Anir back onto the correct course, the same course that it has been on for hundreds of years. This is what loyalty means. But you? What even are you now, Zael? What are you other than a dog whose master changes as the seasons do? And you have convinced yourself that it is more dignified to be such a dog rather than a honed
weapon in service to the mightiest nation
Arethil has ever known."
Zael had to leave now. Before he did something foolish.
"I ain't ever admittin that, so I'm headed south."
"Good..." said Kimble. And then he added, "Stenn is alive, you know. Yes. Yes, he made it out of Vel Kastula, the slippery eel. He'll be planning another campaign. Soon. I think you would do well to be there. And if not for yourself, then certainly for the girl of whom you are so fond."
"When Stenn is knockin on the gates of Vel Anir itself, I hope to see you there. I wouldn't want you to miss me winnin our wager."
Kimble merely smirked. "I'm never too far."
* * * * *
And so Zael departed from the dell, his mind aflame. For much of the walk back to Elbion all he could entertain were murderous fantasies of slaying both Kimble and Jenna in a hideous variety of ways. Fittingly, as the fog lifted and the clouds scattered enough to reveal hints of sunlight, Zael's thoughts became more clear. He was decided.
He was going to find and kill Kimble, at long last.
But he knew he couldn't do it alone. He'd known that ever since the Blackwood—both times. If he had tried it down in the dell he would have been slain on the spot; he was just no match for Kimble all by himself. So what to do? The only people he knew on this sort of level in Elbion were Gier and Herrim, and while they would certainly be invested in rescuing Yuna, they also didn't know just who they would be going up against. He didn't want to involve them. Who else, then? Zael had done a pretty damn good job of burning all the bridges he once had in Vel Anir by going Rogue. Take Kristen, for example. While she would surely be eager to rescue Yuna, she with an equal measure of sureness wouldn't be too keen on working with him to do it. So who then, someone from Gilram's Rogues? Gaage would've been Zael's first choice, easy. But his brother was out of the fight; he wanted to leave all that behind, and Zael respected that, having done more or less the same in Elbion himself.
Edric? He hadn't even seen him since Graduation. So who? Who?
As Zael approached Elbion, it came to him.
There was one man whom Zael had spoken to about Kimble. The very man who told him that Kimble hadn't been slain by Gilram after all. He was the only man who would give a damn about Yuna
and might just be willing to work with him to finally see Kimble dead—because Kimble had done him plenty of wrong too. The one problem, however, was that last Zael knew, this man was in jail...and the last time they had met, he greeted him with a punch to the stomach. They were committed to it back then, before things got...complicated for them both.
But he was the only man in whom Zael could place any trust.
He was all Zael had.
One last hope for one last mission down south.
Sable Pembroke
