Fable - Ask Escaping The Past

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Kazar

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He wasn’t born into it. He wasn’t driven by deep-seeded nationalism and pride. He did it because of his elderly adoptive parents that still lived in tents out in the desert. He did it because he was good at it. Great, in fact. His actions allowed him to climb up the ranks and defend against the greatest threats to Amol Kalit’s borders.

And yet he could never forget that day when the God Emperor so easily cast aside those that were the most loyal to him. He revealed he was nothing but a mortal, a mortal with emotions and ties that ran deep and clouded his judgement. That fateful day had left a crater in Amol Kalit, but also in Kaz's faith.

Kaz had been considered a deserter, and he knew his actions would bring swift retribution. He could only hope that the power vacuum left behind in the Emperor’s wake would allow enough chaos to give him a way out.

The former soldier had been traveling light and often, making his way across the Liadain continent to distance himself from the Empire. His travels took him to the outskirts of Maraan where he moved as a sellsword. His tall and imposing frame ensured that no one questioned his trade, and he hoped to pick up work to buy himself passage further away from here.

The trading town was bustling and lively with people from all across Arethil. Kaz had left behind his Imperial armor, now adorned in simple leather armor and a hooded cloak that shielded the lower hemisphere of his face. He sat near a trading stall as he sharpened the edge of his blade, the sword he used as a soldier. It was the only remnant he carried from his days, but only another Imperial that knew him would recognize it.
 
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It wasn't particularily often deserters were of much concern to him. It wasn't particularily often they had any, either, but throughout the duress that had come after Drakormir, it seemed that had changed. To make it all the more concerning was this was not just some frustrated soldier - this was one of his captains, one he was fond of as well.

Kaz was not someone the Vizier knew on much of a personal level like one such as Al'Daim, but he knew well his merits and the accomplishments that elevated him within the ranks of the Empire. He was useful. But now he was also dangerous. There were many things someone like himself would be privy to that Ashuanar was simply not prepared to have riding off into the wrong hands. He was fortunate to have learned of his abandoning, rather than just being assumed dead after the events of the Great Ones. He'd received word well after the fact, and chose to take up the chase alone to save time.

Racing out into the desert, he was reminded of a previous betrayal, one far closer to him and one that still stung. It seemed almost fitting when the trail led him to Maraan. That time too, this place had been involved.

As ever, he wore the white robes of his tribe, plain as they were, but while within the borders of the Empire he brandished his golden armband proudly, here he hid it. It would be an immediate giveaway, and worked just fine whether it could be seen or not. There were swords hung from his hip, and his polearm was left behind in the stable with his steed. Like this, he could make his way through the commotion of the streets more or less unnoticed - just another traveler. And under this guise he scoured the city, asking individuals and shopkeepers quick and sometimes general questions while he sought the vagabond. It was hard to find any information that was useful, but he did hear of a rather large individual having gone "that way," one particular shop keep said with a pointed finger.

So Ashuanar carried on, and maintained an inconspicious demeanour. And as he made his way, through the sounds of the hurried crowds, he heard the rasp of a stone against steel. His eyes looked for the sound with an unwitting curiousity.


 
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While Kaz was focused on his work, his eyes constantly scanned for those around him. He took in sight of the gaits and strides of others, the subtle gossip, the little inconsequential things that would all be filed away for later. The bleating of goats and the clucking of chickens was joined by the shrill sound of the whetstone grinding against the edge of an Imperial blade.

He glanced up again to see a man haphazardly pointing at him, and his eyes flicked over to the figure that followed. Kaz didn’t move from where he was, noting the proud posture, the assortment of weapons and the face coverings he knew all too well. The man moved with a collected poise, grace and authority that Kaz recognized even in his disguise. He would have followed that man into any battle, bound by loyalty from the times they had shed blood together. They had been there on that fateful day in the fight against Drakormir, though Kaz and the other Imperials had remained behind.

Kaz silently sat there as his gaze remained fixed on the other man, allowing him to approach. He knew he was recognized - Ashuanar would be able to pick Kaz out anywhere.

While there was trepidation, regrets and many other emotions upon seeing the man, nothing manifested on his face. He grazed across the edge of his blade one more time before a free hand reached up to lower the cloak wrapped around his face.

“Have you come to slay me?” He asked quietly, the icy baritone cutting through the desert heat. Kaz wasn’t entirely surprised to find the Vizier here. The Empire operated swiftly. How could a Vizier ever understand his reasons for leaving? How could a Vizier ever understand the fallacies of believing a man to be a God when he so explicitly displayed it was not so?

 
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It seemed that his haste had paid off, for as the crowd between became lesser, set before him he found his quarry. Kaz was certainly a hard man to miss, but more than this there were... feelings. It was no small thing to raise your blade side by side with another. This forged ties that were difficult to break, and produced a familiarity that would be difficult to replicate. That was Kaz, no doubt about it. When Ashuanar came even nearer and the man had shed himself his hood it was made more certain only to the eye.

His foot scuffed as he came to a halt. Yes there were others around them, but for a moment it seemed quieter. Solemn.

“Have you come to slay me?"

Stern eyes peered out at the man, but there was also curiousity in them. Kaz had seen him coming, lifted his veil to him, and not for a second did he even hint at a desire to flee. These were hardly the markers of a deserter. There was far more going on here than fear of duty and death.

"You and I both know why I've come..." he spoke with a quiet grief in his voice, a resigned indifference.

But there was no move to strike, no hand reaching for a sword or utterances of magic. No signal to any who might be lying in wait. Ashuanar, though fully prepared to do so, had not yet decided.

"Tell me, first..."
he started, "why are you here?"


 
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Kaz could see nothing but Ashuanar’s eyes, the rest of his face adorned in alabaster wrappings. The part giant sat up straight, and he made no move to get up or run. The citizens and the bustling cities blurred into an abstract as Kaz gazed at the Vizier. There were unspoken words, memories of battle, the forging of an Empire, the sting of betrayal all churning at once. When Ashuanar spoke, Kaz could sense almost a defeated tone in the inflection. It was subtle, and it was almost not intentional, but it was there.

Kaz did know why the man was here. The Empire was generous to those that were loyal, but retribution was swift to those that stepped out of line. Where was that line with the Emperor having abandoned the throne? Kaz said nothing to the initial statement.

The second question caught him by surprise. Kaz’s gaze flicked over to the Vizier’s hands, watching for any movements towards his weapons. He had seen the man in combat enough to know the subtle intricacies of his demeanor when he was about to attack. None of that was present. There was nothing but the weight of his words and a thick tension that saw the Vizier conflicted.

Though surprised, Kaz made no mention of it, his mind filing through the many reasons that drove him to this.

“I fought for you, Ash- Vizier,” He corrected himself. Despite his desertion, he would still give the man the same respect and loyalty he always had, “I never questioned it. I never had reasons to. But what I saw that day when Drakormir laid waste to our people and lands, I can never forget. What the Emperor did to his Viziers is not a slight I can accept.”

Kaz shook his head, gazing into his eyes with defiance and fire, “Strike me down if you must. I would follow you to the depths of Hell if you asked, but I cannot do it in the name of a god that is..” His jaw tightened slightly as he considered the next words, words that could very well get him executed, “...merely a mortal.”

 
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As his former subordinate recounted the events of that day, Ashuanar's eyes drifted off into the surround. He saw not those who were moving about, but instead he saw ash. He saw fire, and blood, and death. The scars that were made that day ran as deep into the hearts of those who were there as the chasm that was left upon Arethil herself. He remembered well the tragedy of Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk's demise, and the horror his final breath brought forth.

With fiery rage the God-Emperor lashed out against those who'd have served him in undying faith. Kiia Sidra, the priestess, left wounded and desperate under the weight of his rage. Then Medja, stricken grievously, maliciously. Were she any less than she was she'd have died that day. And then there was he, Vizier of the Sun, wielder of the iron might of the whole of the Empire... left powerless and paused in the face of such calamity. Yea, his words stirred remorse in the midst of Gerra's anger, but only after the foul deeds had been done, the sins committed, the transgression made complete.

The wounds of the flesh may have been mended, but the scars of the soul still bled.

First only his dark, brown eyes turned to look upon Kaz for a moment, and studied him with sensitivity. Then, in a show of mutual respect he too, plainly and casually, lifted his hand and removed his head covering. Long brown hair fell over his shoulders and framed the angles of his face. His olive skin was warmed by the sun, and on his lips he wore a frown. His eyes cast down as he considered all that had been said, and all the reasons why.

Then he lifted his gaze to meet Kaz's again, and he took a calculated step forward and asked, "so who then do you serve if not Gerra," another step, and he halted, "who then will you draw blood for if not he?"


 
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He observed the Vizier as he looked away, but he knew the man was still listening. While Kazar hadn’t been standing near him or the Emperor that day, he could make out what happened. He had seen something in Ashuanar that day that he had never see before - defeat. It reared its ugly head for a long while before the man reeled it back and focused on the task at hand. It was the way of things. Emotions had no place on the battlefield.

And yet, as Ashuanar gazed off in the distance, Kazar could see the reflections of a thousand cuts grazing across his psyche in his eyes. It manifested in the way he tensed the slightest bit, the way the fingers twitched just a little and almost curled to fists, the way the unwavering resolve cracked just for a moment.

Kazar spoke nothing of it, but he didn’t tear his gaze away, quietly studying the other man. He had expected Ashuanar to come here to simply carry out the penalty for desertion and nothing more. As he saw him now, even with only the eyes revealed, a thousand stories and words unspoken echoed.

The part giant watched as the Vizier turned towards him again and removed the face coverings. Though hardened by battle, Kazar recognized the tell tale beautiful and angled visage of an Abtati. The remnants of pain lingered hauntingly, and Kazar knew right then that the day had been far worse for the Vizier than it could ever have been for himself.

Kazar didn’t move as Ashuanar took steps forth. He remained seated, blade still in hand though it rested simply across his lap.

“For you,” He stated flatly, the baritone of his voice betraying a sliver of pain, “If you ask me to return to fight in the name of someone that has abandoned his people in their time of need. For you, if you ask me to return to fight knowing my heart will not be in it. For you, if you ask me to return to fight for a faith I have already abandoned.”

His eyes narrowed as he gave the man a hard look, “I will return for you. But if you wish for the same captain you had before, you will be better served slaying me here.”

 
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"I do not seek the same captain," he replied with a slow and softened tone.

There was a calm in the air. Kaz's words carried grief. He, like the Vizier, had been wounded in ways no warrior should be condemned to suffer. Their faith had been shaken, and in Ashuanar's case, hung in uncertainty - even doubt. He wondered if his opinion had fallen as far as Kaz's had, if now he no longer truly saw his Emperor as a god.

In any event, the Vizier's agendas were now far different than his former captain would remember.

"Return not for the sake of Gerra, or even I," he began as he lifted his covering to his head once more, and with the same casual demeanour as before he started wrapping his countenance again, turning and stepping away, "for as the god-emperor bids his leave on yet another quest, there is a stirring at the very heart of the Empire."

He finished and turned back to Kaz with a far more familiar chill in his eyes, "return not for what is, but for what should have been... for what will be."


 
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Not the same captain? The words ran through his mind and there was visible confusion on his normally stoic face. He heard what the man said next, the sentences doing nothing to relieve his confusion. The words were borderline heresy, and just months ago they would have never been uttered. Yet here was a Vizier speaking so boldly and also cryptically at the same time.

Kazar watched him put his wrappings back on and step back. A quick glance told him that they had drawn curious glances their way. At this point the former Imperial decided he was unlikely to cross blades with the Vizier. He finally rose from where he sat, sheathing his sword at his hip.

“I don’t know you to speak in riddles,” He stated as he fell into step next to the other man, encouraging a walk towards somewhere more private. Kazar hadn’t heard about what had happened since the Emperor’s departure.

“You speak with certainty and doubt at once,” He spoke quietly, his gaze trained ahead the entire time. It was obvious that the Vizier at least had Kazar curious. While he was firm in his beliefs, he knew it was significant for someone like Ashuanar to hint at beliefs towards anything but the Emperor.

Ashuanar
 
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