Private Tales Breaking the Silence

[Zinnia]

Everything so far was straightforward and simple. Get to the Falwood portal stone, use it to get to Cerak At'Thul, meet with the contact, and proceed from there. It was supposed to be a simple ransom exchange to retrieve some unfortunate Anirian envoy that had gotten captured at sea, so the plan was fairly obvious. Ordinarily Vel Anir didn't really negotiate with pirates, but the envoy in question happened to know the right people for his disappearance to be paid attention to. Not so important that the Guard had deemed such a kidnapping worthy of any full-fledged Dreadlord, of course. Instead the mission had been turned over to the Academy. Initiates should be able to handle such an exchange, those in charge had decided. Two, specifically, should be enough.

Zinnia had been travelling mostly in awkward silence as she and her selected partner for the mission had been traipsing ever deeper into the Falwood. The map was easy enough to follow, and working with Proctor Snicket on scouting (he hadn't been very happy about her sneaking off during ranger duty, so he'd taken it upon himself to give Zinnia remedial courses) had given her the practical experience she needed to, well, follow roads and landmarks. Really, it wasn't all that hard.

The only thing that had made any of this difficult so far was her company. Caeso Diemut. Not exactly the friendliest guy in the world, yet Zinnia had initially had a mixture of dread and excitement when she'd been called down to Snicket's office for the mission briefing. Any chance to get closer to one of her brothers or sisters, right? Plus she...well, she still felt bad about the whole Friendsgiving debacle. Certainly she'd have the chance to show him that she wasn't a bumbling, incompetent fool. Hopefully. Ohboy.

"Um...sh-shouldn't take much l-longer now..." Zinnia said aloud for no other reason than to fill the air as the cart continued to be drawn down the road. In the back was a small chest of gold, a kind of heavy thing wrapped in canvas and rope so as to not draw undue attention. She was thankful that they hadn't been made to make the journey on foot, though they were drawing near to the point that they'd have to dismount soon. The portal stone wasn't so easily accessible, unfortunately. "Then off to C-Cerak At'Thul at last, ahaha..."

A weak laugh capped off the statement. Gods, she was bad at this.

 

[Caeso Diemut]

There was no shortage of vexation to be found on this mission, was there? The further Caeso thought on it, the deeper its depths went.

First, the minor quibble of using a Portal Stone. No one, no one, actually liked having to use Portal Stones—save perhaps Kristen Pirian with her religious delusions concerning the wretched devices. Travel via a Portal Stone had an intangible eerieness throughout the duration. Something you could never get used to, only endure. In a way, Caeso would've preferred spending even tenfold the amount of time in the Box. For at least in those claustrophobic confines all was known and understood.

But this unease and aversion to using a Portal Stone was insignificant compared to the source of this mission. What had gone wrong, one might ask. Well, one of our Anirian envoys was captured and is being held for ransom. So that means therefore that we are to assault whatever unfortunate ship or prison he is being kept in and teach these Cerak savages a lesson, yes? No, as a matter of fact, the Republic's genius plan is to trust scofflaws and pay the ransom. Surely you jest.

Then, of course, there was the one final thing about this mission.

Zinnia.

Torture, so far as Caeso understood, was supposed to have been banned from the Academy. Yet the Academy insisted, apparently, on having Zinnia—yes, the same Zinnia that has always been, the shy, stuttering girl who wilted in the face of the slightest social occasion—accompany him on this mission. Yes, this mission of all missions. A mission where the capstone was to be negotiation, not battle. Somehow Caeso would have trusted her more on a task that was just a straight engagement versus a clear foe. Despite what doubts might be inspired by her meek personality, one did not survive the Academy for as long as she had without being possessed of some meritorious capability.

Mayhap the assignment of Zinnia to this mission was completely intentional. Mayhap it was meant to be an opportunity for her to shore up what scraps of confidence she might actually have. Time would tell, and Caeso, as it so happened, would be the first witness.

The cart rolled along the southern road. Caeso was sat on the driver's platform beside Zinnia, the reins in his hands. Their travel packs and the chest full of ransom gold were in the back. No rattling of metal came from the chest, for its interior had been stuffed with cushioning cloth. The Cerak pirates were probably a lot like feral hounds, salivating at the mere sound of clinking coins like dogs at the smell of meat.

"Cerak At'Thul..." Caeso said. "A persistant thorn in the side of Arethil at large. Yet here we are: instead of making war upon them, as would only be right, we are making deals with them."

He glanced over.

"What does it say about our stature? That a nation as mighty as Vel Anir would dignify Cerak so, allowing them a chance at the negotiation table as if they are worthy of such?"

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Discomfort was not usually something so starkly tangible, especially radiating off another person, but, well, Caeso was a master of making such things clear just by his body language. Maybe that aura would finally be dispelled once they were on the other side of the portal. At least he was attempting to make conversation now, right? That or monologuing aloud. He was a noble, Zinnia wouldn't have put it past him.

"I h-heard that s-some new pirate 'lord' h-has st-started whipping a lot of the l-local crews and g-gangs into a more organized f-fleet as of l-late." Zinnia explained in reply, only really having caught a few tidbits from a conversation she'd overheard (eavesdropped on) between Proctors Snicket and D'Amour. "The R-republic is already sp-spread so thin l-lately that they d-didn't want to g-go through the trouble of starting an all out w-war with Cerak over a s-simple envoy..."

It seemed a simple enough explanation, but...

"B-but! You're, um...p-probably right...it doesn't look very g-good..." She finished. Good save, Zinnia, that'll sure earn his approval...
The end of the road was a matter of meters in front of them by now. Zinnia stood and hopped into the back of the cart, beginning the process of ensuring that everything they needed was indeed there. Once they were through that portal there was no telling what might go wrong. Best to make sure everything was right.

 

[Caeso Diemut]

A new pirate lord. Hmpf. Some parts of the world were replete with primitive despots, ready at first opportunity to seize power by the heavy end of a truncheon. Caeso had his views on strength, force, and the application thereof, but there was a difference between lords and warlords. The former could be respected, the latter hardly.

"Perhaps the true problem isn't that the Republic is spread out, but that there is a Republic at all," Caeso mused as he pulled back on the reins and brought the cart to a stop.

An Anirian minder was already there waiting to watch over the cart and the horses for them while they were away, and Caeso tipped him a nod. The minder, with a large brimmed hat to block the sun and a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth, tipped a nod back.

Caeso stood in the driver's platform and stepped back over onto the back of the cart as well. He grabbed his travel pack.

"On foot we go."

Yet another point in favor of his distaste for Portal Stones. Save for Belgrath (how on Arethil the dwarves could stand it was beyond him), no one could bear living close to one, nor armies to garrison and attempt to control one.

His pack shouldered, Caeso gave the chest of gold a test lift. And again the sheer weight of it was shocking to his sensibilities. He snorted.

"What a fine day to be a scofflaw."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

With a confident nod, Zinnia finished gathering their things in the back of the cart. This was to be a cake walk, surely, yet her nerves were still collecting into a ball in her gut. She glanced back at Caeso. He was calm enough that he was able to continue his criticisms of their government. Must've been nice to have that sort of gusto.

"Did you p-prefer the old ways, Caeso?" She asked him, genuinely curious as she grabbed her things and stepped from the cart.

She watched him struggle with the chest. Understandable, it was an awkward, cumbersome thing. She'd been the one to load it up in the first place, so she might as well take it now. She swung her own bag around her front side and moved for the chest.

"Here, l-let me."

Swiftly, carefully, Zinnia loosened a couple of the ropes wrapped around the box, then shifted the thing tallways. Kneeling with it behind her back, she slipped her arms through the makeshift straps, then grunted a moment as she stood up. Phew, got it.

She looked to Caeso with a smile.
"W-what would you have V-Vel Anir be?"

 

[Caeso Diemut]

Caeso was prepared to haul the chest up and toss it onto his shoulder but, to his mild surprise, Zinnia volunteered. To his not so mild surprise, she managed to get the envoy's heavy ransom onto her back. Perhaps underneath her cloaks Zinnia had grown into a musculature that was wholly belied by her slim stature. The Academy certainly made no concessions on its physical demands for the fairer sex. And nor should there be, in Caeso's opinion, for Vel Anir's enemies would make no special exceptions for female warriors.

He jumped down from the cart. Started the walk alongside Zinnia along the rough path toward the Falwood Portal Stone.

Delighted that she would ask, Caeso was ready enough to provide his answer to her questions: "The old ways have to their credit centuries of prosperity and success. Monarchy, as once we had, may serve well in limited circumstances, yet, as the Empire is finding out for themselves with the continued lapse of their Emperor, the success of the nation depends solely on the caliber of the man who wears the crown. A system of oligarchy, wherein power is in the hands of an elite few, is best. Though it is to my chagrin that I must admit that the Republic fits this definition, my solace rests in the fact that the elected body of Parliament can only by chance be capable, for it lacks the distinguished lineage and refinement to be found amongst the nobility."

He sidestepped a stone in the path and continued.

"What glories have eluded us, Zinnia, for having been born in our present age! Our forebears lived lives where Anirians by and large were dedicated to patriotism, secure in their place and honorably content in their prescribed duties, and had foremost in mind what was greater than themselves. And what have we now? Our lands are in shambles, rebellions and secessions and disloyalty rampant. The common man has designs on power he was never fit for, and through his avaricious and misguided ambitions cares little for the damage he will cause through his ineptitude. And worst of all, Zinnia: a great number of my own fellow nobles are by clear evidence lax and lazy, derelict of their duties and unworthy of their birthrights, shirking the responsibilities entrusted to them by their lineage in favor of complacency and decadence. There is no more sorry a sight than a nobleman, a noblewoman, having abandoned all sense of duty and caring not for the prestige which comes from its adept fulfillment."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Caeso spoke of much. He seemed to have already had a lot of this well thought out, it seemed, and that earned something of a surprised blink from Zinnia. She'd would have thought that he'd have brushed her off, given his usual attitude of superiority. While admittedly some of what he'd said went over her head, Zinnia was somehow glad he was willing to share as much as he did.

Zinnia trailed Caeso as he spoke and tried her best to absorb what he was telling her, careful not to trip over some stray root or vine. The Falwood was not so treacherous as the Ixchel Wilds, but its terrain was not friendly to humanity either. This was, after all, elfhome.

"I...don't know m-much about the Empire, b-but I have h-heard that the k-king here didn't have much p-power, even before the revolution...so, m-maybe there, at least, you're r-right." She began, trying her best to articulate as proficiently as Caeso could. She hadn't the privileged upbringing he did; the commoner's tongue was all she really knew. All she had was what she observed, and what was in her heart. A few weeks ago she would have yielded and just gave a simple "I see." Now she wanted to dig deeper with the noble boy, both her peer and superior. "D-do...do you really think Anirians were cont-t-tent in their p-places before? Th-that they served for honor, or d-duty? I th-think it was...no, I know it was out of f-fear."

Zinnia breathed. Her beliefs were coming to life as she spoke them. She'd never really thought about any of this too deeply before, but now she had to, and the words were surprising herself.

"Fear b-breeds resentment, Caeso." That much she knew; it was something she had to fight every day. "Th-that's why the rebellion happened, right? Th-the people couldn't t-take being c-crushed under the weight of the old w-ways anymore. The Lua-n-nas, the Pirians, and even y-your family, the Viraks saw th-that much, d-didn't they? Isn't th-that why they fought with the r-rebels? And why the l-loyalists failed..."

She increased her stride to catch up to Caeso, looking up at him from beneath the lip of her hood, bangs dangling over one eye.
"Th-things are ch-changing. Everything is n-new. Of c-course everything is a m-mess...but, isn't that our j-job? To fix it? You es-s-specially...to l-learn from your p-predecessor's mistakes, and make Vel Anir b-better than they could?"

Ooh, yes, "predecessor!" That was a fancy noble word, right? She'd seen it in a textbook! She couldn't help but smile a bit, proud of speaking up and not completely butchering it. Then she immediately got hit with a wave of anxiety as she realized she'd just spoken back to Caeso. Oh, gods, who knew the disgust that was coming back her way any moment...

 

[Caeso Diemut]

Caeso walked along the wild path toward the Falwood Portal Stone with a heartened vigor. Certainly this was a lively surprise from a most unexpected corner. Who would have thought it? Zinnia, of all people, being the one with whom Caeso could engage in a healthy exchange of enjoyable argumentation? She had the spine that Mieri lacked, not immediately crumbling to hyperbolic shows of emotion. She had the forbearance that Zael wanted for, not throwing away all discourse and resorting straight to physical force to make her points. And she had the civility that Kristen would do well to aspire to, not engaging in accusatory tones and indignant expressions but instead keeping keen and level.

Yes. A surprise indeed, practically starved as he was to engage in discussions of this sort.

He would respond in kind: civil and respectful.

"On your lattermost point, we are agreed. What follies we endure in this present age are indeed squarely the fault of my predecessors—which is to say, not merely my forebears of House Diemut, but of all the nobility in general that have allowed complacency to rule, and worse, for it to become outright corruption and decadence."

He stepped over a small hole, some creature's abandoned burrow most like, in the path.

"Yet on the Revolution and its causes we differ. A reading of any reliable text of history speaks not to fear and abuse of the populace, but instead to their great triumphs in service to our state—and indeed, far from some cruel tyranny the likes of Molthal are we. Even so, the people and their sentiments, I would argue, had little if anything to do with the Revolution. Rather, it was the insolence of Talus Morid and the honeyed words he whispered to a good many Guardsmen whose ambitions outstripped their talents; this, of course, along with the shrewd and shameless timing of springing their nefarious plot on the city while it was still reeling from the catastrophic Tide of the Dead."

He sighed.

"Caught so, what were we nobles to do, Luanas and Pirians and Viraks and all the rest? Had we not surrendered, that fiendish Butcher would have salivated at the chance to behead us all."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Wha--huh? Well, this was surprising. Rather than chewing Zinnia out, Caeso seemed intent on actually...exchanging ideas? This was unexpected. Not unwelcome, by any means, just...unexpected. Zinnia kept in lockstep with the noble lad as best she could, still navigating the wooded terrain as best she could without falling face first and getting a mouthful of dirt and thorns.

She nodded as he explained his shocking consensus with her assessment that the noble houses had become ineffectual in the final years before the revolution, but her brow furrowed as he began to expand on his previous takes. She'd spent a lot of time reading the past few years, and she was smart enough to know that not everything she read stacked up.

"Caeso...I w-won't lie, I'm f-fairly certain q-quite a bit of Anirian history was wr-written by the houses. It's k-kind of...well, b-brimming with propaganda. How's that l-line go? 'H-history is written b-by the victors?'" She pointed out, keeping her tone just as calm and respectful as he had. "I kn-know that C-Captain Morid had a lot to d-do with sparking the r-revolution, but...didn't House L-Luana also do a l-lot of the legwork? And the Pirians h-had been calling for reform f-for years..."

Zinnia shook her head. Politics were above her. She didn't really understand the inner workings of the Revolution, nor the larger parts that the Great Houses played in its success, but she knew that it wasn't nothing. Surely one man did not orchestrate the entire thing, and if he did then why hadn't he instated himself as some sort of new monarch? Maybe Caeso knew more of that than she did. Instead, she'd speak of what she actually had knowledge of.
"I d-don't really know exactly how the R-Revolution went down. Wh-what I do know is what I've s-seen. The upper mid-d-dle class folks, and th-those upwards from them, they m-might have that 'pride' and 's-service' you spoke of, b-but people like m-me? The l-lower class? Even from St. Kolbe's Orphanage, I r-remember I could s-see the fear, the b-bitterness they had for the b-boots that stepped on th-them."

She hefted the chest on her back. Based on the terrain, it wouldn't be much longer before they reached the portal stone.
"At the v-very least, you can't deny th-that the Academy, our home, has be-c-come a lot more...well, wh-what it should be. Ap-p-propriate, I guess?"

 

[Caeso Diemut]

There was plenty more to rebut, plenty of opportunities to further their exchange with counterpoints. He was already tracking a few in his mind as he listened, keeping a tally with keywords as any seasoned orator would do.

Yet it all fell to the wayside when Zinnia mentioned that she had come from an orphanage. For Caeso it was the first time hearing of this—and, likely enough, he was but one of a small number who did, if not the only Initiate. Knowing it affected him more deeply than he could have anticipated. Within him, unreconciled, were the unconscious emotions he felt of his own family. His brother, Quinctus, specifically.

Caeso was quiet for a bit too long after she finished. Walking along, his face one of a slowly solidifying stoicism, it might have been easy to think that some rage was being suppressed, that a rebuttal through clenched teeth was coming.

This was not the case. Caeso spoke in a measured, almost mournful, tone.

"There is much to say about the Academy of old, and the Academy that we have today. Much to disagree on. Yet the one change I believe we will find complete concordance is the openness, now, for Initiates to remain in contact with their families."

He glanced over.

"You have my condolences for your loss, Zinnia. To be raised in an orphanage, one's family stripped away by cruel fate...I cannot imagine it."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

The long silence did indeed make Zinnia nervous at first. In the old days of the Academy, speaking up was heavily discouraged. Those of superior station to you were always correct, even when they weren't. To talk back was to embrace punishment. Perhaps a backhand if you were lucky, the box or some other cruel punishment if you weren't.

Flinching after voicing one's opinion was only natural for many an initiate, and Zinnia knew that Caeso was above her. By all rights, he could have turned and struck her, shouted her down for her insolence; maybe his initial nicety was a fluke, and now he was preparing to lash out.

Such an outburst never came, however. Caeso sounded...sad. Calm still, just kind of down. Zinnia met his glance. She spared him a slight smile. There was a heart beneath that arrogant exterior of his.
"I...th-thank you, Caeso. T-truly. But it's okay..." She murmured back, softly touching the noble's arm if for no other reason than to reassure him. "I n-never knew my 'real' family. The caret-takers at St. Kolbe's told me a w-woman left me there as a n-newborn. So...I guess I don't know what I'm m-missing."

Another smile worked its way across Zinnia's lips. When the Academy representatives came to scout her after the caretakers had observed her budding powers back then, she'd realized she was finally getting what so many other kids had gotten: someone who wanted her. Or many someones, in this case. The people in charge of all Vel Anir wanted her! That brought warmth and comfort to her heart back then, and it still managed to now.

"The Academy is my h-home. The p-proctors are l-like my parents, and the initiates are all my b-brothers and sisters, j-just like the proctors say. I gained a f-family when the Academy took me in, a g-great big one!"

Zinnia's attention shifted as something of an obelisk appeared in her peripheral vision, a great slab of rune-covered stone.

"Ah, I s-see the portal stone up ah-head. Almost t-time to go."

 

[Caeso Diemut]

Despite Zinnia's (rather surprising) positive attitude about her circumstances, to Caeso there was inescapably a sadness, like small and subtle cracks in the foundation of a great structure, beneath it. Mayhap Zinnia did not feel this way. Or mayhap she did in her most vulnerable hours, those which often came to one in the darkness of a restless night. Regardless, Caeso himself judged a sadness in the circumstances, and that sadness was this: that the Academy should even be a home to her, and those within a family. It was to him a poor surrogate for the real thing, and one, upon graduation, which would dissolve in her hands and leave her with nothing.

Yet...what happened to Zinnia...being left there on the steps of St. Kolbe's orphanage...was it not unlike what was happening to children across the Republic now? All of them willfully being given up to the Academy?

Caeso did not pursue this troubling thought any further. Zinnia pointed out the Portal Stone ahead, and it was a welcome intrusion.

As Caeso approached the clearing, his boots stepping onto the desolate ground surrounding the Stone, he said, "Would that these Portal Stones weren't so...disagreeable to the senses. Yet I suppose this is the price, the trade of comfort for convenience."

The faster they got this over with, the better.

Caeso crouched down and examined the runes at the base of the Stone. It was a simple class, Functionality of Portal Stones, and one whose lessons weren't used often, but you were glad to know them when you needed them. He spotted the rune for Cerak At'Thul and depressed it and stood up again.

A rueful smile. "Time to deliver those pirate their profits."

This was a task most unbefitting of two Dreadlord Initiates, yet here they were. Yes, the faster they got this over with, the better—and it wasn't just for the fact of the Portal Stone's alien nature.

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

No response from Caeso on the topic of Zinnia's view of family was to be expected. She knew most of the other initiates likely wouldn't agree with the way she saw it, but that was okay. In any case, duty called, and that was plenty excuse to drop the conversation.

Not needing a portal key was a huge boon for this mission. At the very least it meant that they wouldn't be stranded in Cerak should some wily pickpocket target the clear and obvious outlanders. Zinnia readied herself as best she could as Caeso activated the runes.

"R-right. Here we--"

And the world fell away to blackness. Perhaps a fifteen second span passed, the rushing noise and sensation filling Zinnia's senses as space itself folded to accommodate the duo's travel. When light finally rushed back into Zinnia's vision it was alongside the scent of salt on the air and the ocean's spray kissing her skin.

Immediately, Zinnia doubled over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the sandy ground beneath her. Gods, she'd forgotten how disorienting travel via portal stone was. Caeso had every right to hate it, in spite of how much more convenient it generally was.

She spit a few times to clear her palette, taking a swig from her canteen as she stood. Their surroundings were altogether unfamiliar to Zinnia. Thin strips of land under a dark gray sky. Dark, roiling ocean waters stretching in every direction beyond. Patches of beach grasses lined the rocky crags and pale, sandy beaches around them, and tide pools contained microcosms of life.

"So...th-this is the Black Bay, then..." Zinnia surmised, still getting her bearings. "It should just b-be a sh-short distance south of here to g-get to Cerak."

 

[Caeso Diemut]

Otherness.

This was, in a word, the best way Caeso could describe the feeling of Portal Stone travel. Plenty of adjectives could insert themselves in front of the word, a fair number of them vying for the number one spot right next to it, but otherness was at the core of the experience. Being in someplace other than Arethil, being in some body other than one's own even. Comfort (that being, all of the things in mortal, understandable life which one took for an immutable constant) traded for convenience indeed.

Once Arethil slammed back into his senses, Caeso stumbled, falling to one knee and clutching at his forehead. He blinked rapidly, feeling as though he had been whirling about in a frenzy underwater, drowning, and had only by chance found the surface and plunged up through it for air. He heard Zinnia vomit somewhere close by, and for this he faulted her nothing. Unbelieveably, some people found Portal Stone travel to be pleasant. They were a different breed, those among that number.

Caeso stood. Even the grayness of the sky and the bleakness of the craggy land about them were welcome sights.

"Then let us be off."

Not even a dozen steps into forward motion did the thought now intrude on him: "This makes for an odd job for a pair of Dreadlord Initiates, does it not? Something, I propose, which could have easily been relegated to a party of Republic officials and a small detachment of Guardsmen."

He shifted his jaw.

"Perhaps it is expected that the scofflaws will not behave themselves."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Hmm...maybe there was cause for concern after all, now that Caeso mentioned it. Just as before the duo had been lobbed through the fabric of Arethil, Zinnia hauled up the ransom package and trudged after Caeso.
"M-maybe...or maybe it's also p-possible that not everyone in C-Cerak is under the n-new lord's command?" She supposed. Truth be told, she didn't have much of an idea of how the power structure in the Black Bay functioned. "So...I g-guess some wouldn't be under any ob-bligation to 'behave'..."

Waves crashed against the shoreline, spewing the ocean's salty spray skyward. Through the lingering fog that clung to the isles it wasn't yet possible to make out the city proper, sans the ominous silhouette of the black fortress itself.
"I g-guess if ever there was a t-time to strategize, it would be n-now."

 

[Caeso Diemut]

Neither did any Anirian really know the hierarchy of the Cerak and the Black Bay, how it shifted and changed with the rise and fall of this warlord and that. There was the dark elf Alarak who occupied the Black Fortress but, pah, it was likely that not even the native Cerakers knew if he was still alive or dead.

"Who knows what savagery these pirates will be inclined toward."

Though perhaps it would come to be his and Zinnia's lot to find out.

Caeso looked up toward the towers of the looming Black Fortress as they walked across the broken land. "Would that we could strategize—outside of generalities, at any rate. It seems to me that, should negotiations turn from talk to force, we the two of us shall have to be ready for swift improvisation."

Caeso glanced over and rapped his gloved knuckles against the chest of gold Zinnia carried.

"As much of a disgrace as it is to have Anirian fortunes fall into the hands of loathsome scofflaws, if it comes to it, our primary concern is only the extraction of the envoy." He huffed, an amused sound from his nose, and smirked, "With any luck, the Cerakers might be too busy fighting amongst themselves for their share of the gold were it to be spilled out upon the ground."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

"Ah...improv...r-right..." Zinnia replied hesitantly. She had wished that whatever Caeso had to offer might be more substantial than that, but ultimately he was right. There was no accounting for what a bunch of foreign, professional pirates might do should things go south.

"H-here's hoping that all goes as p-planned." She added with a weak smile. Gods...she just had to be useful. That was all she wanted. Useful and competent. She needed this to go well. She breathed, taking in the salty sea breeze as ocean spray continued to mist the two of them.

Her eyes fell upon the ramshackle city that awaited them and her gut churned. Perhaps it would be best just to watch her footing the rest of the way.

---

"Ramshackle" didn't even cover the half of it. Cerak was truly a hodgepodge of every scrap of driftwood and forsaken iron that the locals could find, cobbled together into a barnacle encrusted ghetto of patchwork buildings and shacks. Several buildings seemed to have taken remains of wrecked ships and incorporated them directly into the architecture. A bow here, a stern there, more figureheads than she cared to count.

As she and Caeso traipsed the dock-streets of the city proper, the fortress still looming ahead, she couldn't help but feel terribly out of place. The inhabitants were as grizzled and varied as the buildings they inhabited, and the two initiates were far too clean to possibly fit in. Assuredly the chest they lugged along didn't aid at all in keeping a low profile. She could feel the eyes of the rogues around them on their backs.

"Ohhh...I d-don't like this, Caeso. W-why'd the drop point h-have to be the f-foot of the actual fortress?" Zinnia fretted, asking a mostly rhetorical question. Her follow up question was much less rhetorical as she avoided eye contact with a particularly surly looking local. "And why d-do you think we haven't been assaulted alr-ready?"

 

[Caeso Diemut]

What glory all Anirians inherited could never be more evident than when walking through the absolute destitution that was Cerak, this place forsaken even by whatever foul gods the denizens of the Black Bay cared to worship. Zinnia, who knew but the orphanage before the Academy, was still far better off than the people infesting this place. And Caeso felt not one ounce of pity for them, these Cerakers in their hovels. All of it was deserved. They, the scum which blighted the name of Mankind, had here in Cerak the punishment of their own design, taking as they did to piracy and barbarism of all sorts.

Zinnia fretted, but kept her composure—such as it was—together.

In a low voice, the better not to be overheard by the locals, he replied, "I do not doubt that these savages have wanton violence on their minds."

Indeed, it seemed with each step closer to the foot of the infamous fortress of Cerak At'Thul, the more likely it was to Caeso that this so-called negotiation would not end without weapons being drawn.

Another man, slightly beyond the surly looking local who had been sizing up Zinnia and the chest she carried, stepped oh-so-casually out in front of them and came to a lackadaisical stop. He whistled, looking at the chest himself. Then said to Caeso, "Making the lass carry the heavy booty. What's the matter? Your arms tuckered out, big guy?"

Caeso narrowed his brow. "Where we come from," he lightly tapped the chest with the back of his hand, "this is considered light. Now step aside, this business is not for you."

The man smiled impertinently, then sauntered out of the way and to the other side of the path, "generously" allowing them to pass.

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Zinnia had no doubt that was true either. Wanton violence and a quick, easy, small fortune. All any of the veritable horde of privateers had to do was pry it out of the hands of two seemingly vulnerable youths. This was a fact that Zinnia was painfully aware of.

One thug in particular did finally make a move, though he seemed to take the verbally confrontational route rather than just attacking them. Odd. It was like there was something at play holding each of the pirates to some modicum of discipline.

Zinnia thought to stand up for herself, but Caeso stood pushed back in her stead. She'd have hazarded a smile if she weren't so hyper alert at their surroundings. Instead she just gulped and began to trudge forward along the planked street again. Intuitively she knew, this rogue would try to pull something. Sure enough, she felt resistance pull on the end of the trunk the moment she moved passed the man.

She wheeled about, already reaching for the handle of her hammer and expecting a fight to be about to start, but--

"Whaddya think ye be doin', cur? Tryin' ta muscle in on the Lord Admiral's stake?"

A green skinned woman with pointed ears and tusk-like teeth jutting up from her bottom jaw--an orc?--had already swept up next to the man, pressing a wicked, curved dagger to his jugular. Across the street, a towering man with a wild mane of hair and a grim looking face, wielding what looked like an entire anchor slung over his shoulder began to step towards the group as well.

"Wh--no, Nadia, I just--"

"Jes' wha? Thought ye'd take a cut o' what ain't yers? Mebbe ol' Toombs here outta break those sticky fingers o' yers, then nex' time ye won't be so quick ta grabbin' when ye been expressly told not ta."

With a whimpering squeal the rogue turned and ran, bolting down the street and around a corner, out of sight. Zinnia exhaled, now realizing she'd been holding her breath through that whole confrontation. By now the anchor wielding man--Toombs, apparently--had come to silently loom over Zinnia and the others as well.

"Right. Les get the two a ye where yer 'eaded. And I'll have NO MORE SHENANIGANS OUTTA THE LOT O' YA! Less ye want the Lord Admiral ta 'ear aboot it!" The woman hollered out, cupping a hand to her mouth as she did. Visibly, many of the observing pirates seemed to either fearfully or reluctantly go about their business.

Just who were these people?!

 

[Caeso Diemut]

"A semblance of order," Caeso mused confidentially to Zinnia, leaning down just slightly to do so. "Who would have thought?"

The order was, of course, based on the naked threat of force rather than it being implicit, as was the case in civilized parts of Arethil, but this was perhaps the best that they could expect. Mayhap Nadia here, displaying more so than her human counterparts a propensity for said order rather uncommon to her warlike orcish kind, could see them to this "Lord Admiral" and they—gasp—might actually be done with this business without any further attempts upon their persons.

Though with the way Nadia's apparent henchman, Toombs, was looming large behind Zinnia, plenty of doubt was still available for the skeptical mind to clutch and hold.

Nevertheless.

"Nadia, was it?" Caeso said to the orc. "We have been sent on behalf of the Republic of Vel Anir—"

Still that word tasted dirty in his mouth: Republic.

"—to deliver the ransom for the release of our captured envoy. Show us, then, the way to him, that we may finalize this business."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Zinnia hazarded a weak smile in response to Caeso's jest. If anxiety wasn't gripping her heart so tightly she might have humored him with a stifled laugh, but her mind was preoccupied with the stress of being in this place. Even with their new escorts Zinnia didn't feel like she could relax; sure, she had the behemoth of a man, Toombs, now supposedly guarding her rear, but she certainly couldn't trust him not to try to smash her with that anchor weapon the moment he felt like it.

The wallflower envied Caeso's confidence. She wished she could replicate that sort of gusto in situations like these, but that was easier thought than done. Still, Zinnia admired that he was able to steel his nerves so easily. It was something to strive for.

Nadia had no such struggle. She nodded and began to lead the group down the dock-street with a swagger, twirling that ferocious looking dagger all the way. If she hadn't already made it clear that she wasn't the Lord Admiral, Zinnia would have guessed that she owned the place.

"Aye, tha's me." Nadia replied over her shoulder, notably not reciprocating any kind of request for introductions. "I ken who ya are. 'S obvious by tha way ye dress, how ye walk, how ye carry yerselves--not ta mention havin' a haul like that in plain view in Cerak o' all bloody places."

The orcess paused briefly and glanced back expectantly.
"Ye comin' er wha? Would expect yer kind to ken it ain't smart to keep local royalty waitin'." She shot a wicked, shit-eating grin at Caeso with her last statement.

 

[Caeso Diemut]

"Royalty has held no sway over our kind for centuries," Caeso said proudly, and in such a way that made his words more a stab at the domesticated Anirian Royal Family more than any slight against the awaiting Lord Admiral. Those were the days. Kress, was it not a shame that he was saying that at his age? Yet even so, he felt personally wronged by the Republic, that some misbegotten gang of traitors should steal from him and the nobility at large their just birthrights.

Nevertheless, it was time to follow Nadia and see this Lord Admiral for themselves. Caeso glanced over to Zinnia. Charitably speaking, one could say that she was acutely alert of their surroundings, a caution staying her next move.

"Let us be done with this," he said to her as a way of mild encouragement and prompting. Like as not her arms were getting more than a little fatigued by now, and despite the circumstance of dropping this chest at the feet of this surely despicable Admiral it would be a relief, Caeso imagined, to be rid of the weight.

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

"Feh..." The orcess spat. Whatever bluster Caeso was trying to present Nadia with was lost on her. These were Ceraki pirates. Their concerns were on matters much more grounded than the politics of some far flung nation state.

Zinnia was indeed on high alert. None could say that she was unobservant, that much was certain. Her ears pricked at every unfamiliar scuffle, every creak of the dock-streets' boards, while her eyes darted to and fro in search of anything that might threaten her or her companion. She could never place why she got like this, especially in open spaces, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Caeso's prodding pulled her back into focus. She hefted the chest.
"R-right." The girl affirmed. So on they went, orcish rogue leading and demi-giant in tow, on to the Black Fortress of Cerak At'Thul...

---

Ominous, sickening radiance emanated from the dark architecture of Cerak At'Thul. Now that they stood at the base of the place it was easy to sense that the rumors were true: unease filled one to their very core just being in the presence of the Black Fortress. The blackest clouds hung permanently overhead, a constant reminder of the looming dread. What was this place even constructed of? Obsidian?

Nadia had thrown up some sort of signal with a tattered cloth as the group had approached, a lantern in a port above the main gate flashing its acknowledgment.
"Ye'll go nae further, Anirians. The Lord Admiral cometh."

The heavy, iron gate lurched as the souls within activated whatever foul contraption that lifted the thing. Whale tallow candles lined the walls within, their dim flickering visible as the gate screeched upwards. A grim, menacing figure began its approach.

A hulking man, not taller than Toombs but just as broad, hobbled forward. A heavy, brown, leather coat and tricorn hat adorned him, notably higher quality than most of the rags the other pirates wore but still shredded at one arm. The reason for that damage was obvious as the figure stepped into the overcast light of day: a massive crab claw seemed to have taken the place of the man's right arm, and his hobbling gait was produced by a similarly carcine appendage that served almost like a peg left leg. Though his face was mostly obscured by a thick, black, braided beard and mustache, one could still see that the figure's skin was deathly pale, like sickly sea foam. Eyes like ghostly lanterns peaked out from sunken, dour pits on the man's face, which stared their hollow hatred at the two initiates.

"All hands! Lord Admiral Dominic 'Ironsides' Foresend on deck! Kneel, ye whelps, before the Undying! The Immortal! The Master of Blades! The--"

"That's enough of yer prattlin' on, Nadia," A voice like a headstone being dragged over gravel interrupted the orcess. The Admiral spoke, and goes crew listened. He snapped his fingers and a gaunt looking man in haggard, once-fine vestments was dragged out in chains - their hostage. "Our guests came to parley. Let's not drag this on, shall we?"

All the while, Zinnia clung anxiously to the chest. Anything could go wrong at any moment. She looked to Caeso for guidance, searching for whatever glimmer of confidence she could glean from him.

 

[Caeso Diemut]

What bemusement Caeso had over how Cerak At'Thul was even allowed its continued existence, how it was not simply wiped out by the Anirian Navy (or Kress even the Cortosans), was put to rest the minute he gazed upon the awful Black Fortress before them. Day in and day out for the past decade he had been surrounded by magic of all kinds, yet this...this was something different. This earned the description of unnatural. This laid claim to the word dread in a way that Dreadlords as a whole simply could not. The Black Fortress was not merely a blight upon the land, but a blight upon his eyes, seeping into his soul like a slow and ceaseless drip of poison and madness and horror.

All Caeso wanted to do was to have Zinnia drop the gold at the Lord Admiral's feet and get to running back to the Portal Stone, with or without the envoy. How in Anirius's name could Nadia even stand to be here, to live here? Had she and all the rest of her ilk simply become inured to this oppressive, sinister aura? Had they their souls carved from their bodies and existed only as husks imitating life?

Never mind it. The gates were opening. The parley would be done with soon enough, and Caeso could put this forsaken place behind him for good.

What he couldn't possibly expect was who came walking out of those staunch iron gates.

"Dominic...?" he murmured to himself, knowing the name but not knowing in full all the context behind it. But it came to him quickly. Dominic 'Ironsides' Foresend, self-styled "Master of the Blades" at one point, burgeoning pirate warlord, presumed dead at the Battle of the Blades...now apparently very much alive and with a promotion to boot.

The Admiral came out and spoke his brusque piece. Out of the corner of his eye Caeso saw Zinnia's glance, and he looked sidelong to her (and he wondered just how much of an effect this cursed place had on her as well). Nevertheless, dread from the Fortress and surprise from the Admiral aside, he mustered a noble voice, an Anirian voice, a Dreadlord's voice.

"Admiral," said Caeso. "The Republic of Vel Anir has seen fit to deliver the ransom demanded for the safe return of our envoy. We are here to conduct that business."

Zinnia

 

[Zinnia]

Deathly, hollow eyes gazed impatiently down at Caeso. The Lord Admiral was nothing short of a behemoth in whatever state of existence he'd been cast into. He seemed either annoyed or starkly unimpressed with Caeso's display of bravado, perhaps both. There was some degree of derision to be seen in his glare, a hateful intensity that belied the cool, ghostly blue of his eyes.

Zinnia wanted to get as far away from this man, from this place as possible. She might've been impressed with how much malice was radiating off of both the fort and its lord if not for how it made her gut churn.

"Aye, that ye have. Get on with it, then. What does the mighty Anirian nation offer the ol' Master of Blades for all the good will an' hospitality he's shown yer sniveling lil whelp of an envoy?" Dominic rasped, eyes rotating in those empty sockets to focus on Zinnia. She swallowed, a dry lump sticking in her throat.

Zinnia approached cautiously and set the chest down gingerly at the feet of the Lord Admiral's imposing figure.

"Open it, wench." He snapped at Zinnia. She jolted, but complied, shakily producing a key and unlocking the chains that wrapped around the chest after undoing the cloth that shrouded it. The moment the lock was off Dominic kicked the lid with his crablike leg, knocking it open. His cold gaze took in the sight of the glimmering gold within it. His expression did not change.

"A fine start." He growled. "Where's the rest of it?"

Zinnia froze, eyes shot wide, then she looked to Caeso for answers she knew he wouldn't have.