Open Chronicles From the Ashes

[Gylfi Runarsson]

"A pleasure," He said, dryly, "You wasted no time in leaving. Are you off in any particular direction? Perhaps we will accompany you. These roads are dangerous."

His tone was void of suggestion and instead sounded as if he was stating facts- as if she had no say in the matter. To the young Anirian, she did not.

He slowed his horse to match her pace and looked behind him. Duvain was there, as was a child that Yves did not notice before. How curious. Beyond them were two columns of smoke now. They would certainly draw attention. He desired to put as much distance between them and this fief as soon as possible.

Then, there was this woman. Belkey's guest. He was curious about her sudden appearance at the manor, but he was also fond of her appearance.

There were times for such thoughts but now was not such a time. Twice in a day, Duvain laid waste to a considerable number of people. The dwindling streaks of sun that colored the sky were faint now. It would soon be completely dark.

He looked back down at Isabeau.

"The roads become even more dangerous at night."

 

[Rob Yew]

Nightfall plodded along beside Yves' horse. The village burned behind them, the scent of smoke still heavy on the air.

Duvain remained silent, keeping his own counsel while the lordling chatted with the blind woman as if they were at a market fair.

 

[Selene Avar]

Their ride was a silent one. The small force of Anirian Knights knowing well that Selene was not the chatty type. They moved quickly, their horses pushing themselves as they made for the first plume of smoke that she had found in the distance.

When the sight of the burnt out Keep fell upon them the silence was broken.

A few of the Knights chattered amongst themselves, some let out curses and one even offered a prayer. Selene remained silent, her eyes instead focusing on the scorch marks around the fortress itself.

She recognized the place, and she knew whom had once ruled here. Selene had never much liked Baron Reichling, the man had been a bit too liberal with his hands. More than once she'd nearly killed him herself, there was no doubt it had been done by someone else's hands now. She lingered for a moment, peering at the Keep as she once again closed her eyes.

The Dreadlord allowed the flows of magic to envelope her, and once again in the distance she felt soft ripples erupting through the quiet. Her eyes snapped open once more. "We continue."

Hesitation hung in the air, then one of the Knights spoke.

"Mistress, shouldn't we check for survivors?"​

The Keep was not completely obliterated, though certainly burnt out. She supposed someone could still live, but the truth was she cared little of they did. Her lips thinned, and then she pulled on the reigns of her horse to turn the beast in the right direction.

"We are not here for survivors." The Dreadlord said as she continued on.

 

[Isabeau]

The meaning of what the young lord was saying and not say didn’t fall on deaf ears, and yet she didn’t make any expression other than the calm mannerism.

“Yes, you could say that.” A pause in her reply as she gave an expression relief, it could be an act, to throw him off of the fact she didn't want them to know what she truly knew, or maybe she was very relieved by the offer, it would be something he would never know.

“Perhaps, it would be wise to take you up on such a generous offer, I thank you for that . . .” She didn’t ask for his name nor will she ask for his name, only the dead know things and she wasn’t going to be one of them.

Gabby’s ears would twitch and move a bit, as if she was listening to their conversation or she could be hearing something else, who really knows what horses really get up to in their odd little heads.

Issy, did take note that of the other sounds of hooves and something else, she had remembered a small voice, taking a shot in the dark.

“If the young lad, wishes to ride in the cart, I do not mind.” The cart was full of boxes of vials, jars and bottles of ointments, and things an obvious herbalist would have, there was also supplies of food, clothes and blankets. It was clear she had been on the road quite a while. It still had room for a small person to curl up and sleep.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Thus, Hansel rode in the cart.

Yves, as always, lead for most of the trip. He had briefly mentioned riding to a bigger town, about half a week's ride away from Baron Reichling's keep. Yves accounted for Isabeau's slower pace and expected the trip to be longer than expected.

He was right to expect a delayed journey. After about five days of traveling, they arrived at a bustling town. The traveling itself was uneventful. For the most part, Yves was silent. Duvain as well. Occasionally there was conversation, but nothing of substance was said. Though, it did seem that Hansel grew fond of Isabeau and Gabby.

Yves recalled that caravans often passed through this area. He felt at ease and also that he may finally lower his guard somewhat. Surely word of their actions would spread, but he did not expect the rumors to arrive at the town before their business there was concluded.

"We should have no problem finding an inn. Perhaps we can eat and I can finally bathe without any-" He paused to find the right wording, "-complications."

He looked down at Isabeau and became lost in thought. He recalled Fana, and how the now-dead maid's hair was quite similar to Isabeau's.

"My instincts are telling me otherwise, but you would be free to leave if that is what you desire."

 

[Selene Avar]

They came upon the village a short while later, her lips pressing thin even further as she surveyed the ruins of burn out houses.

Her eyes swept over the ashes in careful examination, lingering for a second on the larger buildings which still held some small amount of flame. Her expression tightened as she slipped off her horse, eyes wandering further as she searched.

None of the Anirian Knights followed her, either too afraid or simply knowing better.

The Dreadlord paid them no attention, wandering through the village for a shortwhile as she gently prodded flames and ashes with her own senses. Eventually she returned to the others, fingers tight and expression a mask of stone.

One of the Knights, the one of highest rank turned his horse towards her.

"Is something wrong, Ma'am."​

Selene remained quiet for a moment as she peered around the burned out village, her tongue flicking over her teeth for just a moment as though she had the taste of ash in her mouth. Then, as she wandered back over to her horse and mounted the saddle she spoke. "There's more than one."

She did not know how many, nor who the others were, but she was confident in her words.

There was something missing here. Something she did not see, something she had not been told about.

 

[Isabeau]

Isabeau, would find herself calm and collected, only giving out information that she didn’t think was really anything important.

The spirits did find her though, while they traveled, they’d float close to her ear, telling secrets and begging for release from the plane in which they found themselves. She’d simply keep quiet, as she couldn’t reveal to her fellow companion’s that she had this gift.

It made her heart hurt, but then again, how was she to help them, if she too was like one of them. Gabby wasn’t used to the spirits and occasionally, she’d stomp the ground, or shake her head, Isabeau simply made excuse that Gabby was growing tired.

Hansel was sweet and so innocent and so she enjoyed hearing about his stories even Gabby wasn’t bothered by the child riding upon her back for some distances, the equine loved the attention he gave by brushing her mane.

Relief filled her as they finally reached a village in which she had orders from, now as the fellow spoke, she wondered if it would be that easy, to walk away. She didn’t trust it, and maybe there was a bit of curiosity to see where this would all go, as well poor Hansel someone had to be there for this little one.

A nod was given to Yves, first comment then she spoke.

“I thank you for that, but unfortunately I find myself lack coin, it seems my last client, was unable to pay for his items.” A brief sigh. “So, I once again, must trespass on your hospitality a little more, if that’s alright?” Then gestured to her cart.

“Of course, until I sell my other wares.”

A gentle voice whispered within her ear at the same time a breeze made her locks dance in the air, the noises from the village, made it hard for her to understand the message the spirit was desperate to tell her.

Issy, showed no expression of alarm but a simple smile that was etched upon her pink lips, the smells of the village surrounded her in away she could tell what was going on, and perhaps the best place to stay. Her stomach made a soft growl sound, as it protested the fact it was empty and needed to be satisfied soon.

“Pardon.” A warm blush appeared to her alabaster cheeks.

 

[Rob Yew]

Duvain kept to himself for the five days it took them to reach the walled town of Wieseburg, when he spoke at length it was only to Hansel, who he showed the proper way to care for armor, though he did not let the boy touch his strange, crossguardless sword.

"It is not a thing for you," he said, eyes faraway and tinged with some foreign emotion.

When at last they arrived outside the walls, Yves and Isabeau continued their talk, but Duvain kept his eyes upon the gate guards.

"Halt there," said the first of the four burghers. "What business do you-" and then he saw Nightfall. "That horse's got a horn on his head."

"Decorative," rasped Duvain.

A second burgher squinted at Duvain from beneath his kettle helm. "Gray-on-white, you a Tenebrus Knight?"

Duvain frowned. The first burgher scratched his head, "A Tenebrus Knight, what're you on about Josepp?"

"A knightly order, Tomus. Loyal to the king. Got a sepulcore."

"Sepulcher," Duvain corrected absently.

"A sepulcher, in Vel Tenebria. That's why the name, Tenebrus. Read about it in a book."

Tomus stared at Josepp, shocked. "You can read?"

"Aye that's why I'm a serjeant and you're just a burgher, now isn't it. Gotta read. What if them's lot had papers."

Now Tomus frowned, clearly he hadn't given this subject much thought.

Muscles in Duvain's jaw twitched as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Secretive orders became surprisingly less secretive when they invited scholars into the meeting place to write a history about them. "Sepulcher of Kings" had made waves with the nobility. So much so that apparently even literate town burghers knew of it.

"I am a Tenebrian and I am here on business."

"Apologies sir, right away. Them too?"

Duvain paused, looking at Hans, Isabeau, and Yves for a moment, then "Yes."

They entered without further trouble. Duvain declined to answer any of Hans' questions about the Tenebrus Knights with a "not now."

In due course, Yves directed them toward one of the larger inns, known as the Sleeping Swan. They stabled their animals and eventually settled around a table inside the inn. Duvain rested his helmet in front of him and sent Hans to buy them some food.

 

[Selene Avar]

Night had well fallen when Selene and her entourage arrived at the city gates. Rain was beginning to fall from the sky, small droplets that peppering her as they torchlights of the town came closer and closer.

Selene hated the rain.

Above the night sky was absolutely filled with gray and black clouds. They crashed together in a great raucous, the rain slowly picking up. It would be a bad storm. Lightning erupted in the sky as the horse she rode came to a stop directly before the two gate guards.

For a moment the two said nothing, instead staring at the group. One looked at Selene, the other seemed to gleam at the pristine white armor of the men at her back.

"Kressim! First a Tenebrian and now a gaggle of Anirian Knights."
​

Selene's head snapped towards the man that had spoken, her lips thinning and her expression made of marble. Her eyes glared at the man coldly as she spoke. "Tenebrian?"

The tone of her voice was enough to send a chill down any mans spine.

"A-a-Yes ma'am. A Tenebrus Knight passed through the gates on business, just a few hours ago."​

Selene's stomach churned, fingers tightened on her reigns. The file had been missing too much information. In the back of her mind she wondered if this was a set up, if House Virak was trying to get her killed. Had they found out?

No. Impossible. This was just more politics. They hadn't told her because they hadn't known.

The Dreadlord stared daggers at the man, her eyes flickering with a strange red light. Lips thinned for a moment and then she continued to speak.

"Who was he traveling with? This Knight." The man stammered for a moment, then told Selene the Knight had been with another man, a woman, and a child. She lingered for just a moment, then motioned to the Anirian Knight to her right. "Alert the City Watch, close all the gates, and get men on the roofs."

The Knight nodded, and spurned his horse through the gate. Selene looked towards the two Guards, speaking as she clicked her teeth and trotted her mount into the town. "Keep your tongues tied, and this gate closed."

Her prey was here, and they would not escape.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

It was not mere circumstance that took the party to the Sleeping Swan.

Yves' empty eyes watched Hansel's back as he was sent away to buy food. His gaze then shifted to Duvain. Their eyes met, and the Dreadlords merely stared at each other. There were many secrets between them, many things they did not say to each other. Yves was young. Hardened, yet not to the extent that Duvain was. The lordling looked away first, now to Isabeau.

He agreed to keep Isabeau with them. He entertained himself with the thought that the four of them could appear as a family, but the fantasy was a fleeting one. No such peace would find Yves. Hansel returned and told Duvain that food would be served to the table when it was prepared for them.

Yves laid his palms flat on the table and rose to his feet. "I'll pay for the lodging. Pardon me."

Before they could acknowledge him, he swiftly turned and walked away. He navigated through the crowded inn and finally reached the bar. The inn itself was lively and warm. Yves scanned for the innkeeper and waved him down.

"Devan," Yves addressed the bald, bearded innkeeper, "I told you I'd return, my friend."

"Lord Yves," Devan's beard shifted. A smile curled under the thick layer of facial hair. "You come and go so suddenly."

Yves nodded, "I'd like to rent two more rooms. As close to mine as possible."

The innkeeper contemplatively stroked his beard, "Aye, no problem there. Your room has been untouched since you left four weeks ago."

The lordling slid Devan four silver coins and smiled, "As always, thank you."

With that, he returned to the table. Yves did not blame his companions for eating without him. He too was quite hungry. He watched as Hansel ate his fill and wondered what kind of food the peasant boy was used to eating. He wondered if his and Duvain's actions orphaned him. He wondered why the young lad so willingly followed them.

He pushed the thoughts aside, for he did not want to spoil the meal.

"The rooms are rented. Our fine lady has her own. Hansel and Duvain will be sharing one." He smiled at the boy.

The rest of the meal was spent in relative silence. Yves finished particularly quickly. He stood, and found a set of stairs which lead to a spacious hallway. There were many doors, each leading to quite comfortable rooms. Yves turned left after climbing the stairs and found his room at the end of the hall.

The room was simple and quite empty. He locked the door behind him. He stood in the closed doorway in the corner of the room. In the adjacent corner was the bed, with a chest at the foot of the bed frame. Without wasting any more time, Yves approached the chest and pushed it aside. He then slid his fingers under the loose flooring and lifted the wood from its place. It came apart easily, as it was designed to. Removing the loose flooring revealed a large leather sack. With little effort, Yves lifted the sack from its hole. He recalled having Devan install this compartment.

He laid the contents of the leather sack out on the bed. He let out a deep sigh of relief as a full set of armor laid before him. Yet tainting the beautiful plate were the drab colors of House Oudin. He recalled being sent away from the Oudin estate, like a tool that outlived its usefulness.

Give the child to The Academy. In return, House Oudin's standing will improve.

The terms were quite simple. He understood why his family sent him away, but he would never forgive it.

Outside, the sun retreated from the sky. In its absence, the sky grew darker. As each minute passed, deeper hues of darkness painted the night sky one stroke at a time. Bright stars speckled the sky. It was quite clear. Lessat and Pneria were clearly visible, as was the rest of the night sky. It was almost peaceful to Yves.

That peace, however, was fleeting.

 

[Isabeau]

The senses that were untouched by malformity were heightened in a way that Issy, could almost picture what was around her. It did help that occasionally, a spirit, would find her and explain certain things.

She remained quiet the time they moved from the front gate toward the stables, then the Inn, it was normal for Gabby to accompany her into the inn, but Issy thought it best to give her companion a break, and allow her equine friend to be pampered in the stables by those who knew what they were doing.

The moment Isabeau with a slight bit of help, by Hansel made her way into the inn and seated herself, she was flooded by aromas and sounds that triggered some memories that she’d rather have forgotten. It was as if they had a mind of their own and refused to go away, they began to flash here and there, like old black and white film.

Issy, small not yet turned four laying upon the cold stone floor, her cheeks stained by salty tears from being locked in total darkness, not understanding truly why this was happening, other then the word freak echoing in her small ears.

Her memories continued liked these, heart breaking and yet character building perhaps, as if it weren’t for such events, she would have never honed her gift and understand more than most would in a lifetime. It was surprising to some, that despite such harshness, she remained the way she was, calm, kind, and collected.

She hadn’t even heard when the other Lord sent Hansel to retrieve nourishment for all of them. Issy, only snapped out of the darkness of her own memories by hearing the young lords voice, as he excused himself from the table to hand the lodging. A nod of the head was given to acknowledge him, before she’d turn her head back to Hansel who was back with food.

A warm expression appeared as she could hear how proud the lad was at how he had successfully completed such an important task. He also fussed a little over Issy, which could be at times annoying but adorable and she thanked him for it, though once again assuring the young lad that she was alright and capable of doing certain things on her own.

She’d gently ran her fingers through Hansel’s hair giving those locks of his a quick scruffing, her way of teasing him. Issy would then go about nibbling on her meal and taking sips from the warm tea that gently glided down her throat which was a little sore from the ride and weather outside.

“I thank you for that.” She replied to Yves the same warm expression she gave Hansel just a bit earlier when he returned. Indeed, she remained quiet taking in the tastes of her different meats and cheeses, it was well cooked though the chicken was drier for her liking but then again chicken was that sort of meat, that gave everyone problems.

The rest was delicious and her stomach was very satisfied, she’d turn her head toward Yves again as he excused himself, a nod again was given, but then she had a thought, it was a foolish thought, but it was a thought she kept to herself as her hand moved over the key that was left for her.

What was the chamber number again, oh yes, she remembered? Issy excused herself and asked if Hansel would help her to her chamber to freshen up. Hansel agreed with an eager jump from his seat, of course, he’d snag one more bite of food before taking Issy by the hand and guiding her through the crowd of people, then up the stairs.

After a moment with Hansel’s help, they made it to her chamber door, and little more help she was in. Isabeau thanked the young lad with a gentle scruff of his hair and pat before sending him off to go and finish his meal.

She’d shut her door behind her and gently rest against it.

“Isabeau, what have you gotten yourself into.” Whispered to herself letting out a soft sigh.

“Nothing good it seems, Miss.” A somewhat masculine voice tickled her ear. She arched a brow as she could feel the hair on her arms stand up and a chill ran down her spine. It was obvious what she was dealing with.

She began to feel her way around the room searching for a chair or bed to sit on.

“Is it now?” She replied.

“Yes, try two steps to your right, you’ll find the bed.” The spirit stated as it moved around her now. She took the advice and indeed found the bed and seated herself on it.

“Before I ask you what you mean by such a comment, whom do I have the pleasure in talking too?” Isabeau asked. Now, Issy had no clue if the walls were thick or thin, as she at times forgot about how this would sound or look if someone could hear or see her.

Not everyone could hear spirits, let alone talk to them and so if a person saw or heard her, they’d think she was crazy as she’d appear to be talking to herself. When In fact she wasn’t.

“Oh, just a humble servant at your service, M’lady, well. . . As much as I can be.” A low laugh came from the entity. The conversation would continue, like this for a bit as she found out, how this fellow was a guard once, but found a tragic demise.

 

[Rob Yew]

Still in his armor, helmet resting on the table, Duvain enjoyed the taste of hot, seasoned food. Much better than the stringy game or hard bread which proved their fare upon the road. Not that he cared overmuch for food.

The dreadlord leaned back in his chair in the more shadowed corner and watched the rest of the room through a half-lidded stare as he took a sip of what Hans had brought back.

Mead.

It was good. They must have a beekeeper in the town.

“Well done, boy.”

Hans just nodded, fingers playing across the small and well-worn child’s lute that he had brought with him, plucking the strings to make them give out a melancholic tune.

 

[Selene Avar]

To Selene's surprise, the City Watch proved to be at least somewhat competent. Not a one of them let word leak of what was going on nor why the gates were being closed, and most of them did not even dare ask her a question.

The only one that she explained to herself to was the Master of the Watch, a man with a rather large beard and a scar across his chin. Supposedly he was a veteran of the Border Wars and served alongside the Guard against Raiders, though Selene gave the talk no credence.

It didn't matter.

A short few moments was all it took before the Gates of the City had been closed and the Watch was deployed all over the small town. Quiet questions were asked, and within an hour Selene had information about a Knight and his companions traveling through the middle of the city towards a Tavern.

Another thirty minutes and she had the name of that Tavern.

It all worked out surprisingly well, so well in fact that Selene felt every sense of danger possible tickling down her spine.

She couldn't help but doubt the validity of the information, and if it was true...well, it was all just too easy. Fingers twitched as she stood in the square just beyond the Tavern, and then she motioned to her Knights. "Spread out among the alleys surrounding, You with the steel song bow on the roof."

Steel song bows were a fascinating Anirian Invention. Weapons of war that were created by failed Dreadlords of the Fourth Level. Each of them were made of steel and imbued with a magic that made the string easier to pull. The force they could exert was enough to punch through solid stone walls, though the difficulty in crafting them meant they were only awarded to a select few.

She was lucky to have a single Knight with one.

"Where will you go, Ma'am?"

Selene stayed quiet for a moment, then flashed the man a smile. "I'm going to go have a chat."

A pause hung in the air for a moment, then she continued.

"Put an arrow through the heart of anyone wearing gray armor." Those were the final words Selene offered the Knights before she motioned them away and headed directly down the street. A few minutes later she stood before the Tavern, scowling in disgust at the thought of lowering herself to entering a common room.

With the moment of hesitation passed Selene pushed the door open, entering the raucous sounds of the tavern.

No one reacted when she stepped inside, no one even batted an eye. To the commoners inside she was simply another passerby, and certainly not the strangest within the last few hours. Selene ignored them, scanning the rooms every nook and cranny until she spotted her very obvious prey.

He still wore his armor, the heavy plate causing him to stick out like a sore thumb. With him was a small boy, likely the one she had learned about earlier. Lips thinned for a brief moment, and then she crossed the tavern towards the table.

Then, without a single word she sat herself down opposite the man.

 

[Rob Yew]

The sweet taste of amber mead was soured by a sudden sensation that set the hairs on Duvain’s nape on end.

“Boy... go get the horses.”

No sooner did the confused Hans leave the table and disappear toward the stables than did the door snap open and a hard eyed woman with hair the color of blood entered. Her eyes met his and she made straight toward him, sitting opposite him without a word.

Flagon still at his lips, Duvain took his time wetting his throat with the sweet mead, then slowly set it down.

He did not smile.

“Selene the Scarlet,” he rasped in a smoke-husked voice. “How fares House Virak?”

 

[Selene Avar]

"It stands." She kept the rage she felt at the moment completely hidden behind a veil of stone.

They had not told her who she was hunting, the file had been vague, far too vague. Now that she sat in front of him she recognized this man, just as he recognized her. She could flay all of House Virak alive in that moment.

Without even a second thought.

"The King will be displeased, Duvain" Few Dreadlords in the last one hundred years had sworn to the King. It was a dangerous thing to do, especially when one was as powerful as the man before her. Politics was central to all parts of life in Vel Anir. There was a reason she had chosen Virak. "Your decisions as of late will certainly paint him in a poor light."

There was no doubt in her mind the man either already knew that, or certainly didn't care.

Perhaps something could be made of this. Something for herself.

 

[Rob Yew]

“Will they?” he asked flatly, tone bored, green gaze flicking briefly to the hilt of the crossguardless sword that rested against the table, then back to Selene.

“And what do you know of my... decisions?”

A golden haired boy taken from a country estate, the family taking care of him murdered. The village burned. A baron executed, his keep scorched and smoked out like a beehive. And a curious sword recovered from distant Belgrath.

What indeed.

 

[Selene Avar]

She watched as his eyes flicked to the sword. Her gaze was carefully fixated on him, every twitched of his face, every crook of his finger, all of it. Selene watched the man like a hawk. She knew how dangerous he was, and there would be no chances.

They could both annihilate the other if either of them were caught off guard, and Selene would not be the one that gave the first inch. "Precious little."

The Dreadlord cooed.

"But a dead Baron will be enough for them to display your corpse in the Square." That was where all the dishonored dead ended up; Anir Square. Those who were executed, those who were paraded before the commoners as an example.

They had both watched more than one execution take place there. A macabre display left over from less civil times.

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Yves soon descended the stairs, oddly dressed in his set of armor. His helmet was tucked under his arm. There was no logical reason to don the armor so late, but Yves did wish to surprise his traveling companion. He hadn't looked Duvain's way as he approached. Instead, he fiddled with straps either too loose or tight. As he approached his seat, he found it to be filled. Blue eyes finally looked up, taking in the feminine figure. He remained calm, but his eyes darted between the woman and Duvain. He did not know where to settle his eyes.

Silently, he placed his helmet down and sat between Duvain and the woman. He brought an armored hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe a spontaneous headache. Thoughts raced through his head, questions mostly. His hand ran down his face, pulling his eyelids. He stared at the woman, annoyed. He was almost completely sure of her identity. Yves wondered if she was alone. He let his hand rest on the table. He played with the torse on his helmet, colored yellow and brown, indicative of House Oudin.

"Fucking hell," He mumbled, and looked to the woman, "You've poor timing."

 

[Rob Yew]

“Mayhap,” Duvain grunted, shrugging.

And then Yves arrived. The third dreadlord wore his armor now, sun and earth tabard a brilliant splotch of color compared to Duvain’s gray-on-white or Selene’s simple boiled leather jerkin.

The balance of power had shifted.

But she might still try it. People could be oh so desperate.

“Well, Scarlet...”

The chair creaked as Duvain leaned forward.

“Doth thou feelest favored?”

 

[Isabeau]

Issy, continued to speak with her flesh impaired companion as he went into further detail of his life in the village. She’d move here and there about the chamber getting use to things and only stopping at the small dresser that had a little water basin and pitcher to clean her face with.

She picked the metal pitcher up gently poured the cool water within the also metal basin and began to splash her face, the clear cool liquid would cascade down her skin and make a soft splash sound as it reconnected with its family within the bowl.

“I don’t think that matter’s luv, you’re just going to get dirty again.” The guard stated in a very bored manner. Isabeau abruptly stopped what she was doing, her hands remained in the clear liquid.

“What do you mean dirty . . . again?” Her brow raised as she turned her head to the side.

“I mean, most likely there is going to be a fight soon, with them closing the gates n all, and that means they are looking for someone, well that lady knight is. . .” The guard stopped for a moment, Issy could tell he was in a deep thought, before he continued.

“Anyway, whom ever it is they are looking for, they are obviously of great importance, and those types never give up without a fight, then that always ends with half of the village burned down, and lots of dead bodies.” Isabeau’s stomach knotted in a way that made her sick. The flash backs of the previous village echoed in her ear, the outward appearance of Isabeau’s didn’t show a hint of panic, but inside that wasn’t the case.

Issy did entertain the thought that just maybe, that the person this Lady knight was looking for, wasn’t her riding companions, but she knew better. A deep breath that she had held in for that short of a moment was finally freed as she exhaled quietly.

“I see.” She replied pulling her hands out of the water and drying them with the small cloth resting beside the bowl. She turned on her heels and faced the direction of where the spirit was speaking.

“Do you happen to know anything else?” She asked.

A breeze of cold air swirled now around her, goosebumps formed on her skin and her hair prickled from the eeriness of the situation. The guard was obviously too close for comfort as he spoke in Issy’s ear.

“Oh, that this whole place is being watched, and the Devil has found her playmates downstairs.” The bile threatened to exit from her throat and out her mouth, from the emotions the spirit had invoked upon her. The feeling slowly went away as did the disembodied voice of the guard.

Issy wondered how much did her traveling companions know and for that matter should she even warn if they didn’t, what she knew? The dilemma that they all found themselves in was indeed complicated and it also had a lot of questions surround the situation.

If she went down those stairs, would it be wise. The other two had spared her, yes, because they thought her a witness or maybe something else, she didn’t want to know, also she never asked their names, in good reason.

She parted her lips in another deep breath and a whisper of a slight prayer floated into the air. Isabeau headed out of her chamber closing the door behind her and headed slowly down the stairs. The fact she didn’t have Gabby with her was a curse and a blessing. The equine companion helped her get around faster in areas she wasn’t familiar with, but it was best she wasn’t here now, Issy didn’t want anything to happen to her.

Isabeau made her way down the stairs and then remained quiet as she tried to figure out the surroundings once more, After a time Hanzel’s presence never appeared, that made her question where he is, hmmm there were a few ideas that floated in her pretty little head.

The sounds were louder toward her right and more clustered together, even the smells were abundant in that direction, which led her to believe that the bar was most likely over there and so the direction in where she was sitting was somewhere to the left.

She began to slowly make her way, where she thought the table of her companion’s would be at, of course, an occasional sorry would spill from her lips as she bumped into a few people on her way, soon by miracle and a few mistakes that led to one her pinched bottom, a drink spilled on her shoe and very pissed of wife, she found her table.

The spirit really hadn’t needed to tell her that there was stranger sitting at the table now, as the atmosphere that surround this woman wasn’t pleasant. The air seemed to fight from turning to a deadly frost that would engulf everyone near her. She didn’t know if she should interrupt or just sit down and so she found an empty seat and seated herself down, where she hoped closer to her riding companions, then the stranger but really that depended on certain things, now didn’t it?

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene kept her mask completely intact as the other man sat himself at the table. Only the smallest flickering glance was needed to tell who he was. It was not often that Nobles gave up their children to the Dreadlords, not those with talent anyway, and when it did happen word spread quickly. The scion of House Oudin was known to most Dreadlords, at least those who paid attention to the politics of the city.

The colors on his helmet were not what reminded Selene of who this man was though, it was his face. She remembered him from their time shared at The Academy. They had trained together more than once, even shared a meal in the common halls. He had not been a particularly adept student, but there had been an edge to him. A hidden rage that was not held by many others. Something that spoke to his future.

Selene remembered that well.

She was not surprised to see him sitting at the other man's side.

When Duvain leaned forward, Selene forced a smile onto her face. The question he spoke was one she had already mulled over in her head half a dozen times before he even finished speaking. Though the smile was the only answer she gave before a woman suddenly interrupted them and sat herself down at the table opposite Yves.

For just a brief moment she pursed her lips, peering at the woman with curiosity. Neither man seemed to react to her, so that marked her as the other traveling companion. Which meant the boy...yes.

The boy was the one she’d passed on her way out the door. The forced smile she had offered Duvain earned a genuine crook.

”Was it you or him that killed the Baron?” Selene asked as she offered her attention to Yves, hand briefly brushing over his. He looked older than she remembered, more haggard now, though there was less weight on his shoulders.

Funny that.

”Did he scream as he died?” She mused out loud, almost as if mulling the joy in that thought. ”Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Her gaze drifted back towards Duvain. ”You know who I am, what I am. Both of you do.”

Even among the Dreadlords Selene held a reputation for being utterly ruthless and ambitious. She did not make friends, she did not care for others, and most importantly she always set herself first. Hearsay of disappearances swirled around her, talks of entanglements with nobles, and dozens of other rumors had followed her since the academy. Since the first student that had rivaled her suddenly went missing one the night.

”I am ambitious. Not suicidal.” She could kill Duvain. She could kill Yves. She could not kill them both. Not without ensuring her own death.

The Dreadlord slowly pushed herself up from her chair, hands lingering on the table for just a few seconds as she peered down at the sitting trio. ”Perhaps we’ll see each other again soon.”

 

[Rob Yew]

The blind herbalist joined them at the table. Duvain paid her a single glance, noting her for what she was and what she might be.

Collateral damage.

Selene spoke as she stood to leave, Duvain nodded, tapping his finger on the table idly.

“You made your choice when you walked through the door.”

The woman was not suicidal and she seldom ever operated by herself, which was why Duvain could not allow her to leave. And they all knew it.

“Yves.”

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

A sickening chill went up Yves' spine as her hand touched his. Strange, considering the gentleness of her touch and the unnatural warmth it radiated, which he could feel through the plated gauntlet. She talked, then rose.

Perhaps we'll see each other again soon, He repeated the words in his head. He most certainly hoped he did not see her again, ever. She was almost pleasant at one time. They met when he was still fresh in The Academy, and even again later as his training became more personalized. It felt as if he always watched her back as she progressed farther and farther ahead. She was talented, driven. So driven. Her ambition was rarely found in the students at The Academy.

His thoughts were interrupted as Duvain spoke- called his name out. He cast a stoic gaze across him to Isabeau, then looked up at Selene. His blue eyes, normally pale and appearing lifeless, suddenly possessed a vibrant glow. They shimmered as the interior lighting hit them; his now clear and colorful blue eyes seemed to glow. He suddenly rose to his feet, knocking his chair onto the floor in the process. It drew heads and raised a slight murmur. One could feel as the air became dense around Yves. The tavern was momentarily still before magic erupted from Yves. In a burst of shimmering blueish-silver particles, the Dreadlord conjured three swords around his body. The incorporeal blades hovered in the air, seemingly humming from the high concentration of condensed magic forming the immaterial blades.

It was an extremely rare manifestation of House Oudin's trademark magic. Typically, users could summon a single blade or other type of weapon to wield, and they would be limited to that. However, Yves was born gifted. A gift that was mercilessly honed at The Academy. Now, the weapon they sharpened pointed at one of their own.

He lashed out with his gloved right hand, reaching over the table with the intention to seize her throat. The three swords shifted in the air, angling downwards, points directed at the crimson-haired Dreadlord.

 

[Selene Avar]

There was not even a second of hesitation.

Selene knew that these two men could kill her just as surely as she could kill them. They were dangerous, skilled, and ruthless. There was no holding back against them, no thinking that they might spare her just because they had similar experiences.

None of that.

She was ready to kill them just as surely as they were ready to kill her. The moment Duvain spoke magic welled within her just as it welled within Yves. Power, the barest glint of red in her eye.

Swords appeared behind Yves, a technique she recognized from their time at the academy. His hand began to move, but by then it was already too late.

Selene could not hesitate. She could not hold back.

Not even to spare those innocents within her reach.

As Yves reached out for her, as his blades stabbed closer, the earth beneath Selene shattered. Wooden floors broke into thousands of tiny pieces and the earth below exploded outward. A wall of magma erupted from the broken ground. It splashed outward, encircling Selene until she disappeared behind it's veil.

Then it burst outward in a lash of molten earth.

 

[Isabeau]

Issy, didn’t react at first by the questions that the woman spat out, it was obvious she was some sort of law, regardless Isabeau had already known about what these men had done. She stood slowly to play the roll shocked.

Seconds, it just takes seconds to save a person’s life, if fate gives you that chance, and they did for Issy, it was mere moment a voice brushed her ear and a plan was hatched, she’d take a step but it looked as if she had tripped hitting the ground with a loud OOF, or so it seemed that way. The voice in her head, told her to crawl, quickly.

Yes, Issy did just that, and in the same amount of time she heard the crackle of energy and coldness flow through the air from the young lords’ fingers and the gut-wrenching dredge fill the area. She took in a deep breath to shake off the feeling as she had no time to stop, if she wanted to survive.

The wooden floor kissed her fingers as she moved her way with help of a disembodied voice toward whatever direction she was going, to only stop under a table as she heard the loud moan and crack of the floor boards break and then the ground shake as the earth gave birth to a horrible smell of vile gas’s and sulfur that flooded the air.

Issy placed the back of her long sleeved arm over her nose to use the cloth to mask the smell and prevent her from inhaling anymore of the odors, soon the coughing came from other patron’s then screams, as the lava spew toward its target but splashing some of those poor victims that are caught in the way. The sweet but foul odor of flesh being burned off the bone also mixed in the air and Issy’s heart dropped in her chest.

The voice with more alarm in its tone told her to move faster snapping her out of the emotions that froze her in fear. She began to move again, twisting her way around the commotion of people beginning to try and run, by miracle and it’s not said lightly she made her way behind the bar.

Perhaps, the spirit gave her wings, or perhaps it was just because no one was really paying attention and time was just a figure of thought, right? Issy, stopped as to see if she heard the tender behind the bar, but there was no one there, maybe he or she was out in the front with panic, the voice again guided her to a rug, her fingers felt along the floor to the soiled fabric and gently moved about it stopping upon a large bulge underneath, quickly she flipped the fabric up and felt around and found the cold metal of a handle.

A trapped door? She thought as she moved and began to pull on it, in the loud noise of what was going on many wouldn’t have noticed or heard the loud moan and creek of a wooden door opening and the loud thwack of the door being thrown to the side.

She began to feel around and with voice guidance try and make herself down what was being told to her stairs. Isabeau’s hands touching both the narrow cold surface of stone walls as she kept her balance moving down the stairs.

Hopefully tonight was not the night Issy join’s the spirit realm, and a soft whisper as she left. “Good luck.” Is all she left among the horror’s that continue in above her.