Fable - Ask Grains of Death and Sand

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Agreed." Came Vittoria's final say.

Heller looked between them all and laughed. "Well, if you really wanted to, just come along and see what she wants. Maybe if you use your pleases and thank yous, Medja would be lenient." His snark had nothing against King's, but there had been a shift in his expression.

Vittoria clicked her tongue, but began to move and exit the building.

They were in another street now, looking for a better way of moving unseen. Vittoria noted the rooftops were flat from here on out, and suggested they climb up and travel that course. It would be easier to go unnoticed, but the stone roofing also held the heat of the sun's glare. When heights were too tall for Marcia, Vittoria wordlessly offered to give the Initiate a boost. Even Heller offered a hand a few times, but the jump between buildings proved difficult in some areas.

All the while, the quartet were unaware someone was following their path, unseen, but as accurate as they were lethal.

Their orders were to bring in the Anirians. All four of them.

 

[Marcia]

The plan to traverse the rest of the town by rooftop was agreeable, even if it meant that the sun had become their enemy instead. Ultimately, Marcia would survive being the incredible lobster-faced Initiate for a few days if it meant the mission's success.

The priority above all.

It was seen in action rather than words. They would never bring up that they worked together well as a trio despite the hatred Marcia felt for them, a feeling that was likely mutual, if not in a more demeaning manner from Larrainth and D'Amour's end. To sabotage one another was to sabotage the task at hand, which was unthinkable to anybody who desired to be the best.

Outside of the parameters of a mission? Well, that was different.

So she would use Vittoria's aid to help scale walls, for no reason other than it was faster and cost less stamina than scrabbling up them herself.

Marcia stopped for a few moments, allowing a small respite to drink from a waterskin. Their exposure to the blazing sun presented a new kind of risk that wasn't so obvious as to bear knives at their backs. She crouched down, a sheen of sweat present on her luminescent brow that the girl wiped at with the back of her hand.

"Fuck. I'd kill for a bit of cloud cover right now," she murmured to herself more than anybody.

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

Gods, was this fool of a Dreadlord grating. He was a healer, wasn't he? That meant he couldn't have been a higher level than Fourth, yet he had a mouth like an Archon.

"By all means, Heller, keep talking like that. You're positively rushing headlong towards court marshal territory, and I would happily wrest the position of commanding officer from you," King taunted the man before walking out.

From then on it was duty first as the quartet moved mostly in silence. What King wouldn't have given to trade his powers for Evangeline's at this point. Amplification was still useful, but half of the applications it had made far too much noise. Eva would have had the whole group halfway back to Vel Anir by now with her Acceleration.

King leapt onto the next roof, pausing only because he'd heard Marcia come to a halt.
"You know most of the Kaliti wear head coverings for practical purposes, right?"

He couldn't help but get a jab in at her.

"Come on, we don't have the luxury of pausing."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria frowned.

Heller looked at her, frowning also. "What?"

She looked to Marcia, then to King. "Something feels off..." Then she turned her frame slightly so that her peripherals changed scope. "Are we being followed? It has been awfully quiet, and there is no sound of a reinforcement of guards running through the streets. Surely we caused enough alarm for them to call for assistance?"

Heller stared at her, his thoughts now seeing what she was getting to.

"Well, fuck me." He grimaced. "You're right. They should be scouring this city for us... like they had in Ragash."

Vittoria gave a quick look to their surroundings before walking towards the edge of the building. "We must keep moving then. That is enough rest."

But before she could start to move, figures appeared on the roofs of neighbouring buildings, even the one right before them. They appeared as if from thin air, and Vittoria scowled. She could end them all with the help of King, but they spoke to Heller.

"Time to turn yourselves in, or our mistress will not return what it is you most value."

Heller's jaw locked. It was unknown what that may be, but it was clear there was a pull for him to obey.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia shot an intense look of disdain back at D'Amour, her mouth opening to say something unkind and likely expletive-laden before she was cut off by Larrainth and Heller's conversation, which seemed far more prudent than her loathing.

How none of them had noticed the complete lack of urgency from the local guards could be called into question later; Vittoria (unfortunately) had a good fucking point.

And then it was too late.

Her hand instinctively moved to her belt as their hidden pursuers made themselves known, fingers trailing on the hilt of her dagger in preparation for violence to erupt. However, her hand was stayed by the apparent negotiation happening between them and Heller, who seemed conflicted by whatever leverage they had. Fan-fucking-tastic.

The girl looked to Vittoria, her eyes expectant as if demanding to know what the Academy's favourite sadist was fucking waiting for. It would figure that the only time she'd want to see the sudden separation of flesh was the one time it wasn't immediately happening.

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

Realization seemed to dawn on every member of the party, too late.
"Aye, let's g--" King agreed with Vittoria right in time for the Kaliti reinforcements to arrive. "Shhhit."
His rapier and sword-breaker were out in a flash, but the group was surrounded on all sides. The assassins--"Hands," as Evangeline had so thoughtfully informed King--spoke to Heller, and Vittoria seemed to hesitate. Marcia took exception, if her expression was anything to go off of. If Vittoria wasn't leaping into action, that meant she likely thought there was something to be gained from diplomacy, however fake it was. King agreed...information could prove useful.

"Heller...Get explaining. Now." King said, his tone low and even. "Or perhaps these kind 'Hands' will do it for you."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Power laced through her at the ready, but Vittoria waited a moment as the intruders spoke to Heller first. None had made a move to harm the Anirians either, and it was on those calculations that Vittoria did not destroy the very foundations the Kaliti were perched upon.
Heller took a step forward, hailing himself as the speaker of the group after shaking his head at King.
"Like I was trying to explain earlier, I have business here. Let me deal with it, and I will return to Vel An—"

"We have our own orders, Heller." Vittoria cut him off to remind him that there were three willful and determined Initiates that would do their best to return and complete their mission satisfactorily.

"Right... well, if you want me to see your mistress, then I am afraid these gnats must come along. As soon as my business has concluded, I want her word that I am free to travel back to Vel Anir and answer my summons."

Vittoria took another breath in, her magic already spreading to the space beneath the boots of every Hand in sight. If they refused, then she would eliminate their obstruction.

After a moment, one of the Hands nodded, and the speaker called out. "She will see you all." Then motioned for the Anirians to follow.

"Stand down, Larrainth. Best keep your manners where we are headed next."

 

[Rahma]

"Good advice!" a voice agreed with Heller from among the Kaliti assailants. Dark, jackal-like ears flicked irritably atop a head of white hair as an ostentatiously dressed man walked to the front of the group. His expression took on a cocky smile, fangs glinting brightly within. "Keep your manners, keep your heads, kids."

 

[Medja]

ALABYAD PALACE - RAGASH​

---

Medja waited patiently in the large, well-kept meeting room overlooking her garden. News of the Anirians' capture had reached her some time ago, and now it was only a matter of awaiting their delivery. The Dreadlord known as Heller had not managed to escape...that alone was good enough news to bring the regent some degree of calm.

The safety of the man's compatriots was not immediately important to her, but Heller's cooperation was. If that meant sparing their lives--or using them as bartering tokens, if need be--then so be it.

In time, the same Quartz whom had been keeping Medja informed of the situation before appeared at her feet once again, kneeling in reverence.

"Mistress...pardon my intrusion. Your guests have arrived."

A smile curled across her lips.
"Very good. See them in, if you would."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria's narrowed stare never lessened in their intensity since arriving at this palace.

Heller lead the group, his walk swaggering and confident, as if he walked these halls before and was no longer simply a guest. Before him, a Hand guided them to the hall in which their patron would receive them, and at the rear of their party, armed soldiers.

Nothing was going to stop this meeting from happening.

Herself, Marcia, and King were unharmed. Tension rippled between the Initiates, but she knew it to be the fact their mission was now off track with this obligation Heller had to deal with.

Before the double doors before them opened to permit them entrance, she cut a glance to Marcia, unspoken between them that should anything happen, they were still a team. To King, her hand went to take his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Heller was grinning the moment they entered the room, looking to their host. He paused before her at a respectable distance, bowing at the waist. "You certainly have good timing. I was so close to returning home... Now... let us cut to the chase. What is it you would like me to assist with, Your Grace?"

Vittoria dipped into a well poised curtsy the moment she heard the use of honorifics. Respect was advantageous after all. "Bow or curtsy." She whispered to the others.

 

[Marcia]

Everything was unravelling into a clusterfuck of spectacular proportions; the only saving grace found in the thin veneer of cooperation between the Initiates and their hosts.

Marcia, unlike in the realms of the Academy, where her propensity to get into a corridor fight was unmatched, had remained silent the entire time. She could only imagine this was a relief to Larrainth and D'Amour, who would likely have been thankful never to have heard her speak again on principle.

This wasn't a corridor in the Academy but a palace within a foreign nation, where taut collaboration begged for formalities rather than violence.

The disadvantage of being the physical runt of the Initiates was now a boon, her small stature and otherwise unremarkable nature willing her to blend into the background in comparison to her regal compatriots, who were more likely to draw attention with their well-bred features signifying them of creatures of importance. Of course, Heller was why they were now here, captives by any other name until his business was concluded. As such, hopefully, none of the Initiates would be required to participate further than formalities.

In all circumstances, she complied with Vittoria's guidance and opted to bow to the waist instead, remaining silent and impassive as she did.

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

To have even allowed this to happen, to be captured like this...what a disgrace. It would have been bad enough if it were just King alone that had been subjected to this failure, but Vittoria had to be dragged along with, and Marcia had to be witness to it. He would have been sick with embarrassment if not for the fact they were being thrown before the Lioness of Liadain herself.

King nodded his recognition of Vittoria's order and bowed deeply as their quartet was given audience before Medja. It felt like he was in front of Archon Galleus all over again, but this time he did not have the luxury of being able to escape or the comfort of knowing that she was an ally.

He remained silent, his teeth grit and fists balled tight, praying silently that Heller didn't somehow fuck this up for all of them.

 

[Medja]

Before the four Anirians the very picture of Kaliti beauty and power awaited. She hung in the air before the grand balcony at the edge of the room as though she were weightless, her feet dangling several inches above the floor. Medja turned in the air and her emerald eyes fell upon her guests, a low, simmering blaze in her irises that exuded a luminescent glow.

The woman folded her arms across her chest and leaned her chin thoughtfully across the back of a hand. She floated forward and rounded a large, ornate chair, built like a small throne, and sat upon its cushion.

"Heller...we meet again," she spoke in clear Anirian, her voice tinged with a clear but dignified Kaliti accent. "I would not presume to speak so familiarly with me. Your quick exit from Ragash proper was concerning, to say the least, but now I find that you've led a group of novice Anirian war mages to my doorstep. Some might view this as an act of treachery, or even aggression..."

The regent's fingers began to dance as though she were playing them across the keys of a piano, and a pair of massive, stone fists, wreathed in gold and emeralds, began to hover and move by Medja's sides. One squeezed its fingers tight into a fist, clenching and writhing, while the other rolled its fingers in sequence as though it was eagerly seeking to seize something in its grasp.

"Before I was willing to do business with you on...relatively even terms, Heller. Now, I am uncertain of our standing," she said flatly, her eyes glowing brighter. "Explain yourselves. Now."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria stood back to her full height, her eyes piercing the back of Heller's well kept head of hair. None of the Initiates would speak for him, not until they were asked what their place here was.

Heller chuckled, and Vittoria's hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Vel Anir calls me home. Their summons come in the form of three Initiates, yes, but the insult is there that they think I could be handled by the lot of them." Heller dropped his smile, looking up at the woman.

Vittoria still did not know who she was, but knew that King had some knowledge of the Empire better than most Initiates in their class.

"They follow rules. Their orders were to return me home, and as soon as my business here with you is concluded, then I will be on my way back home to answer my summons. Better three Initiates than an army. Remember, Your Grace, I am that valuable of a piece on any board. Vel Anir would bring their worst to your doorstep if I am harmed."

Vittoria tried to keep herself from snorting. How could... what had his file hailed him? A Reaper? How could one such as him pose anything important to Vel Anir?

"Our standings, as of now, is peaceful. If you may brief me in what it is you would like me to do for you, Empress, then I will see to it straight away. Initiate Marcia, just how long left until you are to deliver me back home? I daresay you three planned for some delays, no? Would have been wise to if my father instructed you to."

Heller. Vittoria's brows knitted furiously together. Kian Heller was the son of General Heller, the name above all their missives concerning this mission. Vassal house to House Sirl, and dedicated to their jobs in one of the largest prisons of Vel Anir.

Heller was right. If they did not make it back home within a month from now, House Sirl may send worse.

 

[Marcia]

Well, that was an entrance.

Marcia had anticipated that somebody Fabien 'King' D'Amour described as the 'Queen Bitch of Amol-Kalit' would be more than willing to insult the trio of Initiates at will; emotionally, she was even bracing for it.

So when it was Heller, one of their own whose tongue turned barbed, Marcia had to fight the will to slowly turn her head and stare at the back of his head until it hopefully burst into flames. Had she witnessed the Dreadlord's timorous form when Larrainth had been evading the guards on his behalf, she might have been apoplectic with fury. However, as it was, she hadn't and so merely simmered, her sun-ravaged pink face disguising the bulk of her frustration.

Of course, then he addressed her. No, not her peers who held the grace and decorum to do so, but her. Great. Sublime. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"A month," she replied, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, all of her effort being placed into remaining stoic and unattached and not adding 'you fucking dick' to the end of her sentence.

 

[Medja]

The regent's eyebrow quirked and a finger flicked. One of the floating stone hands flew lazily towards Heller, a finger outstretched. It ran an elongated nail along his jawline, pausing to tilt his chin upwards roughly at the end of its trail.

"Indeed...so important that your home nation let you go missing in the first place, and sent only novices to retrieve you," she mused. Her own fingers curled inwards, and the stone hand latched its nails around Heller's neck. "Your standing within your Anirian noble house is not lost on me, Fair Healer, but know well that the Empress of Amol-Kalit is no fool. If either I or my faithful Hands uncover foul play there will be quite dire consequences for your lot, I promise you that."

Her smoldering eyes fell now upon Marcia. Medja could sense the anger radiating from the girl, even without her prodigious magic.
"A month, child, may not be enough. The scope of this work runs deep."

She relaxed back into her seat and made a beckoning motion with her fingers. The stone hand released Heller and floated back to her side.

"Tell me, children: are you familiar with the rise and fall of the entity known as Drakormir?" she waited a moment, then smiled. "I grant you permission to speak."

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

King let a moment more pass, then cleared his throat.

"The...abomination, that sundered Liadain and brought Elbion to ruin, your Grace?"

King was lucky that Evangeline was so knowledgeable, and that she insisted that her younger brother remained informed as well. The tremors of Drakormir's supposed wake had been felt all the way out in Vel Anir, and intelligence reports had spoken of the corpse of a massive dragon outside a thoroughly devastated Elbion. The details were...hazy, unfortunately, and much of the event had been shrouded in propaganda and legend.

He looked somewhat nervously to Vittoria and Marcia, hoping they might be able to help in some capacity.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

It appeared that Vittoria was not as familiar with the entity, but her sharp look to King as he spoke was one of recollection. Oh, that catastrophe. Even still, she was not so well versed in the recounting of it.

But Heller looked impressed, turning to look over his shoulder to the boy and nodding with surprise.

"The dragon." Vittoria supplied, standing still and not giving away the lack of her familiarity. "The largest beast of Arethil, was it not, Your Grace?" She even looked to Marcia, trying to determine whether her classmate had any inkling of knowing as much as King seemed to know on the subject.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia's jaw flexed, the crush of teeth causing the shape of the girl's face to change. She loathed everything about this, hated being a captive audience to a foreigner, hated Heller's useless cunt face, and especially hated that her companions for this misery came in the form of D'Amour and Larrainth.

The girl didn't give a shit if a dragon was about to tap dance into the room wearing a gown and a sleeping cap; she wanted out. The mission took priority.

"If time is a pressing matter, then perhaps it would be prudent if you could tell us what exactly you require from Dreadlord Heller without the need for a history lesson."

It was amazing how Marcia could speak so clearly with her rigid jaw.

"Your Grace."

 

[Medja]

So, the Anirians did not have their collective heads quite so far up their own arses as to let their youth be ignorant to the greatest disaster of the current age. That, at least, was a start.

"Indeed, children. Drakormir the Dread, Sunderer of Liadain..." she began before the red-headed imp of a girl spoke. Her eyes snapped over to her.

"Context, dear, is important. Your people are so often blind to their surroundings, concerning themselves only with the little games your so-called 'noble houses' play among themselves. But then, you are a Dreadlord novice, are you not? A living weapon, taught not to think, but to kill?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain as she glared daggers into the girl. She made a dismissive gesture at Marcia after a fashion, glancing away as she did.

"You serve your purpose well, weapon. Speak no more, and let your betters do the thinking for you."

With a sigh, she returned her gaze to the others.
"The Great Dragon perished shortly after it rose, at the hands of the demigod, my predecessor, Gerra of Molthal. though Drakormir perished years ago, its presence is still felt. The beast's spawn still teem beneath the earth, and they spread an illness the likes of which no scholar nor healer in these lands have ever before witnessed: dragonrot," she explained as succinctly as she could, measuring her words carefully as she did. "That disease is why Heller is here. My Hands tell me that he, unlike any other healer, can for some reason cure dragonrot. I must know if this is true, and if so, I must know by what means."

 

[Kian Heller]

Heller took the risk in his crooked smile as he gave a firm nod to the Empress. "I had no doubts in your Hands to find out Anirian classified information. Doubt the children would know either." He turned to meet each of their eyes, reining in his mirth after catching Marcia's eye.

They called him the Reaper when he was just a boy, an Initiate with the Academy, and part of an unstoppable team. Even when something should had killed his squadmates, they still stood tall and bravely, and they continued on. Heller had kept them alive, but that did not mean they had not been touched by death.

He could always bring them back, but the laws of nature always like to give a punishment for abusing the balance. No matter that a young Kian Heller would leech the life from their enemies to source it back into a fallen friend, it turned out after too many resurrections, his magic began to loose it's godlike power.

In his third year as Dreadlord, a year into the Revolution, Heller lost an entire squad. They had been called the Unsung Victory, a squad of fifteen to carry out obligations as covert operatives. They were lethal. They were efficient. They were unstoppable.

One gamble, and he lost them all.

The man that stood before them all gave no indication of having suffered such a loss. Instead, he drew his gaze up to the Empress once again. "There is a price to pay for my services. One coin cannot buy... Such a price cannot be named until I assess this... dragonrot." His tone was serious, not at all here to bargain, but stand assured. "Tell me, Empress, how many necromancers have looked upon this rotting wound?"

 

[Medja]

"Nor should you. I do not employ those who cannot perform," Medja assured him. The two nations had been spying on each other for quite literally as long as the young Empire had existed. Ava Gilleth had preceded Medja as the former Vizier of Stars and had done a passing job as such. When she absconded, however, Gerra rightfully seated Medja in her place. The webs that the Smiter wove were far more meticulous than those of her predecessor's.

The Reaper spoke of rewards, and Medja cast a dismissive gesture in his direction.
"The person who finds a proper cure would be rewarded far beyond simple gold, Anirian, you can be certain of that."

Medja was aware that Heller knew precisely whom he was dealing with. Why else would he be so willing? The Second Great Sage of Geomancy, the Empress Regent of Amol-Kalit, the Mistress of a Thousand Hands, was not known to be stingy in rewarding those who served her properly.

Then Heller finally chose to sink his teeth into the meat of the matter. Good. It was night time.

"A few among the Cabal of Amenthes, yes," she intoned, speaking of the sect of blood and death mages that operated prominently out of Annuakat. "The disease, so far as my informants can tell, is an evolution of the Draconic Plague. Though, without Darkormir to exert its control over those afflicted, it is simply running wild...much like its misbegotten offspring. None of the old, proven treatments have any effect."

 

[Kian Heller]

The Draconic Plague. Kian's jaw twitched at the mention, knowing there was no known cure but only temporary treatments. He frowned the moment the Empress mentioned the treatments held no effect on this rot, and he knew this would be a difficult case. Sighing, he turned to look at the Initiates again. Perhaps he should send them away, but they each held a countenance that promised they will remain just to ensure their orders were taken seriously.

"I would like to see their reports. See what they have attempted, where they went wrong." He stared at the Empress a beat, clearing his throat. "Please, if you may, Empress."

But he knew what healing he would need to do. He would have to count on his ability, one he still was unsure if it was blessed or cursed by a god of death or life. The cost could be too much for him, it could leech on his very own life, and Kress did he know how many lives he stole life's essence from to keep himself alive and thriving.

"I will keep the Initiates as my aides. They will be under my care and protection as long as I am here. Would be a good teaching moment for them."

He caught Larrainth's gaze, and to his credit, he did not flinch from her steeled stared. Tread carefully, that was what they all needed to do, especially with this dragonrot.

 

[Medja]

Medja sighed and reclined into her seat.
"You will all be kept under close watch. As long as you all remain within sight and respect Imperial law, you will be treated as my guests. Should you betray me, know that there is not a corner of Arethil you can retreat to where I cannot destroy you," she stated matter-of-factly.

It was not a threat, merely a fact. The offer that came with it was one rarely extended to anyone, let alone foreigners who had only recently been trespassing.

"I will permit you to work with the cabal as well as the other healers whom have attempted to cure the sickness already. They will provide you with their documentation. You will begin your work on the morrow."

Medja switched the legs she had crossed and leaned against one side of her seat.

"Now...while you still have my audience: is there anything else?"

 

[Kian Heller]

Tomorrow.

Heller's expression did not turn into anything other than his usual crooked smile, rather making others annoyed to see it than his true thoughts and feelings. "Bright and early. Wouldn't want to put any further delay on this." He turned his smile into something charming, but he knew the Empress wouldn't be fooled by a boyish smile.

Turning to the Initiates, he appraised them with lifted brows.

"Any requests, children?"