Dreadlords How Many Dead Men

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"Ha! Nothing so macabre." Duncan said with a shake of his head as he began to place the candles around the room. Positioning each one as an intricate part of an unseen pattern.

"Don't get me wrong, I read a book on necromancy once." Meaning he remembered every page and spell within, just as Adra would have. A gift that the two of them shared, though utilized in vastly different means. "But working with bodies?"

Duncan made a face. He'd always been somewhat sensitive to smells.

"This is something else." He told her. "Time, as we know, is an irreproachable danger to those who can touch the strings of magic."

The Dreadlord said as he placed the final candle. "Those who attempt to stop, reverse, or quicken it's tethers are met with the unenviable fate of being wiped utterly from existence."

This was something nearly every sorcerer, wizard, mage, or otherwise knew. Those who had any semblance of self preservation stayed well away from such machinations lest the laws of nature itself come crashing down with force.

"However, a year ago, I read a paper from a Professor at Elbion. It was long, and very dry, but the gist of it was simple; we cannot touch time, but we can look through it." Duncan said with a grin, completely unaware of the others closing in on them. "He claims through the use of this spell, one is able to create a window to the past. Mind you, in very narrow circumstances, with some very careful tuning."

Which was why they had searched the city, and why they needed to find exactly the right spot. "If he is correct, then we will be able to see what happened here in Vel Orath for ourselves."
 
Time.

Something not even the Dreadlords of Vel Anir dared to mess with. While they pushed the limits of the many facets of magic, Adra had not known a single Dreadlord, or any other mage beyond Vel Anir, to test that which was linked with the forbidden thread.

In that vein, she found herself frowning while Duncan explained himself.

"Duncan..." Adra paused with three candles still in her grasp, having also missed the sounds of those others on approach for her sudden wariness of the situation, "are you certain this is a good idea? It was just a paper. A theory, right?"

She would have almost preferred it was necromancy.
 
A University...? Anirian territories were so closely associated with the Academy that one could easily forget it was far from the only institution out there. Henk hadn't known Orath to have one, but then he hadn't known much about Orath in general, not until he'd begun looking into the more recent discrepancies here.

"A coincidence, I'm sure." Henk offered sarcastically at the fact it still stood. No, it had been affected. That much was clear as they entered the massive building, much of the inside every bit as coated with glass as the ruined city surrounding it. Whatever had razed Orath had indeed hit this University, but something had safeguarded it from the same level of annihilation that the rest of the city faced, and he sincerely doubted it was merely the craftsmanship.

"If there is something left to salvage from this city..." Henk muttered as he attempted to pull open the drawer on a desk, only for it to shatter under the slightest bit of tension. "It would be in here. We should hope to find it first, lest we learn what 'it' is before we're prepared." The dread in his voice was a gift from a rather prominent string of bad luck on recent missions. Lords above, he wished he had one mission where something didn't want his head.

Henk deferred to Perrine, who seemed to know much more about this place than he did. It wasn't long before they found the staircase leading to the second level of the University. Henk shared in Fain's unease, however. He too felt something amiss, a strange feeling that they weren't alone in this behemoth relic.

"Do you feel that?" He muttered ahead of him, turning his head to look back at Fain. "Something still lurks here..."
 
She was not too sure what she would have found out here, but something that persisted, that survived all of this... it would be a start to her investigations. Even a glimmer would be enough to work with, to heal the magic and test her theories.

Perrine furrowed her brows, frowning at Henk's question and the alertness it demanded from it.
"Tread carefully." She did not forget that Henk's magic was greater than her own, but it would be a last resort for her to use the harmful side of her own magicks. Let them believe she was just a Healer for now. "If the anomalies were similar to your reading on my tests, then perhaps we could theorise we are most definitely not alone here."

The Healer made to palm her knives, a choice of weapon that made many scoff at her in the past, but they had not seen a Healer trained with something sharp before.

"After you." She shrugged at Henk, as if to say 'You are the one with the better magic, after all.'
 
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"Well, a proven theory!" According to the paper anyway.

There was always a chance that the good Professor had been lying, but Duncan did not think it likely. The research had nearly seen him fired from his position, and from what he understood the academic community still thought him either a fool, a danger, or an all around kook.

Duncan thought otherwise though, and here they had a unique opportunity to do something that they as Dreadlord's did not often have the chance to do; break open a piece of Arcanic Science. "Trust me Adra."

He said as he opened his hands for the remaining candles.

"If I didn't feel confident in this, I would not have brought you." The Rogue Dreadlord assured her. "He was said to be the most powerful mage of his era in an age where even our Archons would have struggled to stand tall."

Duncan said, not able to hide the enthusiasm and excitement in his voice. Always having had a fascination with the old histories and so caught up within them now that he still did not hear their approaching guests. "Aren't you curious about seeing just what he did?"
 
Adra watched her old comrade with concern evident in her gaze. Concern for him. For herself. For the structure within which they stood. For the gumption he held at tempting such fate.

"I did not earn a 4th Level title for being curious," her answer arrived over a small, wilted smirk, "but your curiosity is infectious, apparently." She was, admittedly, now curious about whether or not he - or rather, they - would be breaking any magical laws today.

She handed over the candles, "Just... be careful."

Adra stood back, closed her eyes over a silent prayer and apology to her husband, Jodeth Eden, should things go awry.

"What do you need me to do?"
 
Interestingly, the second level of the old University had fared better than the first, perhaps owing to it's elevation. Whereas the ground floor was nearly entirely encased in coats of thick glass, only traces of the clear, hardened material littered the walls and floors above.

Indeed, this level of the building felt frozen in time, everything was left as it had been the day that Orath met its untimely fate. Papers still lay strewn about the halls, doors hung ajar, and within those rooms, desks sat with drawers half opened as their owners had scrambled to collect their belongings and flee.

Likely a fruitless effort.

What was most curious, however, was the scent that hit his nose. This entire city had smelled of nothing, no scent escaped the glass tomb encompassing the wreckage left behind of Orath. Now, however, the smoky tones of burning candles found his nostrils. Holding up a hand as he realized what the smell was, Henk turned to lead Perrine down a hall to the left, pressing his body to hug the wall as he stepped lighter, slinking towards the smell.

There, at the end of the hall, he heard voices through an open room, the sounds of footsteps moving about. A man and woman... maybe two? He couldn't tell from here.

Turning his head to Perrine, he muttered.

"Let's get closer... don't make a move unless they see us."

Perrine Urahil Adra Eden
 
She was glad for Henk being there to take lead, directing her on where to step as they crept and advanced towards the source of voices. Perrine was quiet, deathly quiet, as her own senses picked up on the smell of candle wax. She knew it well, having spent many hours painting in candlelight when her muse was too strong to put down.

"...the most powerful mage of his era in an age where even our Archons would have struggled to stand tall." A male voice stopped the two Dreadlords just shy of the doorway.

Her pale eyes stared at the back of Henk's head, ready to do as he instructed. To run or to confront?
 
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A wide grin spread across Duncan's lips as he grabbed the last of the candles from Adra. A giddiness carrying through them as he quickly began to place them, forming the odd ritual circle on the ground. ”Careful is my middle name, Adra, you know that.”

The Rogue told her with a grin.

He certainly hadn't made it through the Academy by being daring and dangerous. His magic had been all but ‘useless’ until Gilram had begun to show him it's proper use. Back then he'd managed to survive both Proctor's and peers mostly through…well, avoiding any sort of danger he could.

”All you have to do is watch.” He told her as he picked out a piece of chalk and began to quickly scrawl some runes. ”I wanted both of use here so we could catch every detail.”

He explained as he drew the final line. The magic almost instantly sparking. Candles catching flame, runes beginning to glow, and the air growing thick with a sense of power. The ritual sparking as Duncan stood and slowly began to back up, the air slowly beginning to spin and twirl, drawing In upon itself as lines of arcana drew upon themselves in an ever increasing ball of light.

The strength of the magic growing and growing at an almost impossible pace, becoming almost oppressive until suddenly it exploded outward in a great burst. Casting wide and far and bursting through the walls, dreadlords, and anything else near. The very air shifting and changing as suddenly the whole world around them was suddenly transformed. Creating not a window in time, but casting a veil of it over their every surrounding.

Duncan's eyes growing wide as suddenly the study they found themselves standing in was no longer ancient and covered in dust, but bright, sunny, and new. Where there had been no door there now was one, and where the desk had once been empty, now there sat a man. His fingers scribbling away carefully at a piece of paper.

An echo, nothing more, but the man they had come to see. ”This…”

Duncan said swallowing as the door was suddenly thrown open, a man storming inside clutching a strange black square. His steps leading him directly to-and then through as he charged the Archon.

“ARE YOU MADE WUDRICK?!” The man demanded in his booming voice. “How…how could you make this damned thing?”

He questioned in his rage. Duncan staring at the scene utterly enraptured.
 
Growing up at the Academy certainly dulled a Dreadlord to the dangers of the world, and though Adra could look death in the face without flinching it did not mean she wasn't afraid. What Duncan was doing set her nerves alight and her eyes pinning. This was magic that bordered on breaking those sacred laws and not for the first time in her short life did she find herself frozen in place as it unfolded before her eyes.

"Duncan..." she breathed as she watched, wide-eyed, the spectral scene unfold before, around, and through them both. A time of the world past overlapping the present as eddies of magic ether swirled around the spell area. Adra found herself standing to the side of the former Archon's desk, gaze slipping down to look at the man with anxious wonder.

They were watching history unfold but for some reason something didn't feel right about it. Felt like imminent danger, and not the kind she was prepared to face.

"Duncan something's wrong..."
 
Henk pressed himself to the wall directly beside the ajar door that the voices seemed to emanate from, quietly signaling Perrine to take the opposite side. He wasn't itching for a fight if they could avoid it, and barging in without knowing who or what they were dealing with was a quick way to end up dead. With Perri in position, Henk slowly reached out and pushed the door further open, peeking inside from around the doorframe.

Two of them. Human, a man and a woman. Henk didn't recognize them, but the possibility that they were rogue Dreadlords was impossible to rule out. The room itself looked to be a small office, or perhaps a classroom, and an odd circle of candles burned quietly on the floor, wax running down to the hardwood slowly as the male drew runes connecting the candles to one another.

Furrowing his brow, Henk gestured with a hand for Perrine to hold off. Whatever ritual these two were performing, there was no telling the adverse effects a sudden interruption could have. Magic so old as this looked was volatile and unpredictable; Orath had suffered enough.

The air in the room beyond the door looked to warp and twist, the very fabric of reality bending at the will of whatever old power the man inside had just invoked as the distortion grew like a tumor on flesh. Even if they had intervened, it was unlikely they could have stopped what came next.

It was a violent blast, or at least it felt like one. The sudden explosion of energy as it became too much for one room to contain was both deafening and silent all at once: a wave large enough to envelop the entirety of the old glassed building they were in. But it did not destroy-- Instead, it cast itself over their reality like a blanket, warping the world around them into something different, something familiar and yet foreign.

Henk could only let his mouth hang agape as he watched the shift happen, not quite able to comprehend what had happened.

The hallway Henk and Perrine stood in was no longer dark and empty, but lit by magelight on either wall, with a man storming towards them carrying a small opaque object, red in the face with anger.

"Sir, you can't--!"

Stepping in front of the man to stop him from barging in on two potentially dangerous people, the words die cold in Henk's throat as he walks straight through him, passing through as though he were a ghost and continuing into the room. The Dreadlord turned around, speechless and exposed.

"What...?"
 
Perrine gasped, pressing herself against the wall she hid behind as the spectral memory walked on past herself and Henk. It was hard not to hide the terror in her eyes, and instinctively cower.

And then the memory raised their voice, her panic suddenly pausing and waning... the Proctor gathered herself in a matter of seconds and chanced looking around the doorway in which the man entered the room. The office was unlike anything she imagined of a place brought to ruin, and then her eyes found two persons inside.

Stiffening, Perrine's hand reached towards Henk and ushered him to look also.
 
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"Wudrick, this will kill everyone here. You can't, the magic is simply too-"

"Rethink your tone, Aldwin. Remember who you are speaking to." As soon as the Archon spoke, the man who had come storming inside the room seemed to pale. Some of the indignation in his face fell away, and he became far more alarmed. His arguments with his superior continuing as he spoke of how dangerous the Archon was doing actually was.
Duncan watched with utter fascination, barely hearing Adra as seemed utterly transfixed on the sight before of them. He didn't even notice Henk opening the 'door', nor Perrine as the two of them witnessed the scene unfold right alongside them.

"Utterly fascinating...I thought it would be a window, not..." As he spoke, the Archon slowly stood from his desk.

"Aldwin. I assure you, I would not do this if I did not think it was safe." The Archon said as he moved around the desk and towards the other man. "We lay on the step stones of the Falwood, we must protect ourselves, and with this spell that protection will come from the Falwood itself."

Duncan perked up, eyes narrowing as the Archon grabbed his companion's shoulder and walked towards the door. "Come, I will show you the proofs."

He continued, stepping through Duncan again and heading towards the door. "Adra, we have to fo-"

As he turned, Duncan noticed the two figures in the doorway. For a brief moment he thought them a part of the magic, but his eidetic memory clicked into place in an instant. He recognized both figures, of course. One for her family name, and the other because of a simpleton he'd taken a liking to.

"Ah." The Dreadlord said, glancing at Adra for a brief moment, and then simply walking forward to follow after the Archon. "Well, the more the merrier."

Duncan said, as if they were not on the same side. "Henk, Perrine, come along. This will prove to be exceptionally educational."

The Dreadlord said, bursting forward and heading directly towards the door. Intending on moving between the two loyalist Dreadlords, and simply following after the Archon and Aldwin. Far more interested in solving a mystery, than any petty squable.
 
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And that... that was just like Duncan, wasn't it?

Adra's eyes bugged as she noticed they were not alone for the first time. When did those people get here and just how long had they been there? Who were they?

"Henk, Perrine, come along. This will prove to be exceptionally educational."

She stood for several moments, dumbfounded by it all. He knew them? Both of them? Had he invited them out without saying anything? Adra's mouth gaped just slightly as she tried to find the words to say that would not immediately set suspicions.

A shrug was offered to them, her hands lightly gesturing at her comrade and the ghost he presently intended to chase after, "You've arrived just in time it seems..."
 
It wasn't until the conversation between the two men grew heated and contentious that Henk realized exactly what he was looking at. The one who'd stormed through him, Aldwin, could not see or hear him because he was not truly here; This was a memory, a point in time being replayed before their very eyes.

Henk had a guess as to what these memories would lead them to.

There was no avoiding being spotted by the two rogues now, and while Henk's hand did find his hip on instinct, the male of the pair seemed just as puzzled as they were. Looking at him from the front, there was something familiar about him...

"Henk, Perrine, come along."

The Dreadlord felt his brows pull towards his nose as the rogue summoned up their names as if they were friends and briskly walked past them to follow the ghosts of memory without a word further. Henk found himself stepping aside, eyes heavy on Duncan's back as he slipped out the door. Yes, he did recall the man now, though he hadn't seen him in some time.

"You've arrived just in time it seems..."

Henk turned to look at the woman now, slowly releasing his grip on his weapon. "Yes." He sighed. "It would certainly seem that way, wouldn't it?"

Neither of these outliers seemed particularly itchy for a fight, and given the circumstances, Henk couldn't claim he sought one either. Turning back to follow Duncan, he nodded to Perrine.

"We can worry about them later. I think we're going to want to see what Duncan has uncovered here."
 
Perrine recognised the man inside the room, and it was in that same moment he saw herself and Henk that memory came to remind her of the Proctor. She stiffened upon realisation, stunned to see a ghost from a past she was tight lipped about walking towards her, but he spoke in invitation for herself and Henk to follow.

It was Henk's voice that brought her back to her present.

She looked to him, brows furrowing, but nodded as she quickly joined Henk trailing after the old Proctor and his companion. Perrine's gaze never left the back of the ex Proctor's head, and soon found herself opening her mouth to speak.


"Who are those two in the memory?"
The Healer showed no indication that she wished to fight, or be hostile. It was not like her to initiate an attack, but her curiosities of being out here and picked up on their presence was now able to figure out what had brought these two to this dead city.
 
"You always did have such a curious mind, Perrine." Duncan said, practically beaming at the words as he lead the small party down the magnificent hallway and after the two long-lost Dreadlords.

As they made their way, the hallowed and haunted halls of glass presented themselves now completely differently. Instead of crystal, there now was stone. Instead of darkness, now they were greeted with the light of the sun and a thousand brilliant glowing lanterns.

The inside of the building had held a strange sort of beauty before, but now the old Anirian architecture was restored. The splendor of ages passed directly on display as they made their way back down the stairs and towards the exit. Tagging right along behind the Archon and Aldwin.

"These men, are those responsible for what happened here in Vel Orath." There was an intensity to his voice, a mixture of curiosity and complete conviction. It was obvious Duncan had become utterly enthralled with what they were witnessing. "First Level Dreadlord Aldwin Termose, and Archon Wudrick Morreth."

It had taken him years to find the name. Searching libraries, record halls, and even old family bibles. When he had finally found it, the source had come not from Vel Anir; but the Elves. "Perhaps the most powerful of us to ever live. He who shattered Edea of the Crystal Lakes."

The story was known to every Dreadlord, taught both as a lesson of the capabilities of man, and the dangers magics could create. It was a fight that lasted for days, ravaged both the Falwood and the Fields of Vel Anir. Whole armies were wiped out. Thousands were lost, and in truth neither side could say who was truly at fault.

It had not been known that Wudrick was the same man who had felled Vel Orath and brought Edea to heel, and that revelation alone would have let Duncan sail into academic fame had he published a paper on it.

But it simply wasn't enough.

The doors of the manor swung open, sunlight now casting down in the once gloomy city. People milled to and fro, their manner of dress strange and far less ostentatious than would be seen on the streets of Vel Anir today. As the two Dreadlords and their followers moved outside, the people shifted to let the Archon move through the crowd.

As he did, they offered their welcome, their praise, and their genuine adoration. Though not all spoke, most offered their complements and thanks. As they always did.
 
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Relieved, if not pleased, to continue to be as overlooked now as she was at the Academy, Adra maintained her reticence as she followed after Duncan, just ahead of the two strangers. Though strangers only to her, Duncan had served as a Proctor for some years after their graduation but before ... everything else. He knew their names, recognized their faces. Might she have made a good Proctor?

History classes were rather undervalued in their time.

Much like the history they now walked through. Now witnessed. Adra turned her attention and senses instead to the ghostly scene unfolding before them while Duncan managed their ... guests.
 
Edea of the Crystal Lakes.

Henk had heard the tale just as any other Dreadlord, but to think they were witnessing the inner workings of such a legendary and tragic story in real time was a bit numbing to the mind. And yet, there was no doubt to be had. Henk need merely look around him, at the seemingly restored halls of the building they'd seen glassed and ruined, to the thriving city beyond the manor doors as they opened up ahead of him.

Were he not in the company of those aligned against him, Henk would be every bit as enthralled as Duncan and Perrine. It was difficult not to be, even with the rogues' presence.

Yet the year behind Henk had made him wary. The shimmering beauty of the lanterns and the intricate splendor of the forgotten Anirian architecture lifted him up just as much as the reality of who they were with, and what they were witnessing the prelude to, chained him back down. Nevertheless, he found himself somewhat agape with wonder.

"Wudruck... The lost Archon. Even for you Duncan, this is..."

Ambitious. Duncan had always been hungry for the unknown, even as a Proctor. In his teachings, he would not stop at that which he knew, but would instead pose questions beyond, encouraging the Initiates to seek out new truths. That he'd made such a fantastical discovery, of all people, didn't surprise Henk in the slightest.

They exited out into the streets, weaving through crowds of people who once were, figures who spoke and smiled and walked, but may as well have been ghosts. Though it was them who may as well have been the spirits, phasing through any who touched them, invisible to the eye.

"To what end?" He found the question he sought to ask. "You've found the knowledge. What does witnessing what comes next offer us, when so many would do anything to avoid watching such horror in their lifetime?"

A stupid query, he knew even as it left his lips.

Vel Anir, and all touched by it, rarely bothered with the 'why'.
 
Moreth...

The stories told to her when she had been at the Academy were vague, familiar, but she did not voice it now. No need for another lesson on history, not when a memory of this history was unfolding before her.

Two individuals were the cause of all this destruction. How they had managed such a feat, and why? Perrine was glad that Henk was more talkative out of them both, but that meant she was able to listen, and to observe.

She witnessed the people of Vel Orath notice and acknowledge the Archon, giving the impression that in this point in time, he had been well liked. There were smiles, and everyone greeted him as if they spoke more than one sentence together in their life.


"Remind me again, what is it they were known for besides Vel Orath?" She sounded like she was an Initiate again, her hand twitching at her side as if she were to shoot it up in the air as she asked her question to her old Proctor. "What they did to garner such attention from the people?"
 
"The only way to learn from history, is to understand it, Henk." Duncan answered the question as though he would have any student in his classroom. There was no rebuke, there was no jest or joke, just simple fact.

He clearly believed every word that he was saying. The passion within his tone and the stride that he took to follow after the two legends showing no lack of enthusiasm.

It was not the battlefield where Duncan shone. It was not the midst of a fight or the courtroom, but here. In the making of history, where he could watch and understand. Where the world collided with history, and where knowledge could be found.

"Morreth in his time was known as a killer, a murderer, like so many of us are." He glanced back at Perrine, and then to Henk. Speaking to them both. "But look."

Duncan said with a gesture towards the crowd. "They love him, they call to him. Why do you think that is?"

He asked.

"Do either of you remember when we received such love? Such adoration?" The question was a loaded one, for all of them knew how the people held Dreadlords in their mind. For many, for most, they were monsters. Things to be feared and scared of. A truth that held now even after the Revolution.

"Why they garnered such attentions is exactly why we're here." Duncan continued. "They sought not to just kill, to destroy, but to create, protect, and improve."

The former Proctor gestured to their surroundings. "Look at this city, look at Vel Orath before it was turned to glass."

As he spoke, the wonders of their surroundings came into full focus. The lush forest, the wealth of the people around them, the lack of dirt and trash.

"This place was a symbol of what could have been done, of what we could have achieved." Duncan said, his voice growing softer. "Of what we could do, were our talents not turned only to war."
 
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She'd never really been feared by her peers. Forgotten, overlooked, underestimated. Even among the common people of Vel Anir, despite holding the title of Dreadlord Adra had never engendered awe or terror into others. Yet this had never bothered her - serving as what amounted to a failure of her time could not possibly move her emotions as much as her failure as a wife.

The seeming inability to bare a child.

"Do either of you remember when we received such love? Such adoration?"

Adra's mind instantly went to her husband, Jodeth Eden and the love and adoration he offered on a daily basis. Despite her failures, she'd married into a noble family and earned herself a place among them.

Would things have been so very different for her if what Duncan proclaimed was true? If the Academy had not been so hellbent on creating weapons and monsters, but useful people that could support all facets of Anirian society... where would she be now?

Where would Duncan be now?

Would Gilram still have abandoned his duty?

Morreth was on the move again and Duncan, though focused on their task, was now distracted by his teachings. She moved ahead of him to keep pace with the former Archon and the sunderer of Vel Orath.
 
There was a slight surge of anger, pulsing in the back of Henk's head as he listened to Duncan's words. He'd respected him as a Proctor, as a teacher with a hunger for knowledge that most of the Academy's 'instructors' couldn't be bothered to even pretend they had. Even now, Henk felt the genuine nature of what Duncan spoke. The man meant every syllable that passed his lips.

It didn't change the fact that it was the same rhetoric he'd heard from a dozen of the rogue Dreadlords by this point, nearly verbatim. That Duncan was as learned as he was only made it more frustrating, more difficult to dismiss.

"You're right. We aren't given the same affection and love as everybody else. In fact, our training often dictates we're starved of it." It had been that very fact that nearly led Henk to exiling himself before that hellish Graduation had pushed him over the edge.

The single working eye of the Dreadlord raked over the crowd, his face terse and tight as he gave a gentle shake of his head. "We... My class, we'd forged our own kind of love. We'd built bonds and connections with each other despite the hurdles placed against us. For all our faults, and there are many, we cracked the mold, readying it to be broken by future generations."

Henk stepped forward, approaching Morreth and looking him up and down, as though inspecting him for the very first time. This figure, a person of such legend and infamy, was no different than any of them, aside from the impact he'd created. A terrible and horrific impact, at that.

"Even now, things change. I look at the next classes, and I garner what little hope I have left. With every year, the chain around the children's necks loosens. I find myself optimistic, that those following me will not suffer the same as I have, but even so..."

He waves a dismissive hand to the memory of Morreth.

"This level of adulation isn't something that anyone needs. If you left the Republic because you believe the Dreadlords should be hailed as spotless heroes, pristine figures to laud and adore, then perhaps I gave the lot of you too much credit."

Duncan Adra Eden Perrine Urahil
 
"Do either of you remember when we received such love? Such adoration?"

Guilt filled the Healer when she first thought of a certain Pirian heir that had showed her what adoration was like. How it made her wish she had known it before... wondered if that would have changed her if she had known such a feeling.

But she had been at the Academy with magic that did not destroy someone with a blink of an eye. No, she needed to be touching them, and no one liked to be too close to anyone in those times. Despite her odds, Perrine proved to be an Initiate not to be trifled with. When she became a Dreadlord, she did not expect adoration or gratefulness for her work as a Healer. Oftentimes she was shouted at, ridiculed for her magic despite her keeping many from death or loss of limb.

She had not expected her family to show her love, only that she got to see her cousins growing up when their attendance at the Academy overlapped.

And yet Henk spoke words Perrine never thought before. There was a few years between their classes, but even then, the individuals in each differed. Experiences differed. Tactics and training differed.


"The classes now crave for that old violence we all knew. I wanted to teach healing magic and where to strike to incapacitate an opponent, and the Academy decided to teach them Etiquette." Her smile turned wry, showing all the emotions she had stifled putting up with the unwilling Initiates at being taught softness. They thought their taunts and remarks would hurt the Urahil Proctor, but they forget Perrine was their age before the Revolution kept them safe. "We are not heroes. We do not deserve to expect to be seen as such when we are made of war."
 
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Duncan let out a sigh as he Henk and Perrine responded to him, each in turn, and each in their own view of what it was they were seeing.

Both missing his point.

He could not blame them for that of course. They had come up in the old ways, or at least most of it. Henk was from the same class as Ed, as Chasmine. They'd had a foot in the new well, but a life in the old. Their worldview was as tainted and broken as his own. "It is not the adulation that I crave, Henk. It is not the worship of a hero that I want."

A small, sad smile touched Duncan's lips.

"It is the freedom to do more." He gestured to the Archon and his companion as they spoke with a group of civilians. "These men were worshiped in their time. Lauded, as you said, but it was not just for what they did in the war."

Duncan waved at their surroundings. The buildings that seemed carved from stone, the trees more lively and green than any had a right to be. The very life of the city holding something beyond what was now found in Aniria. "Vel Orath was, in its time, something else. A monument to what Dreadlords could build if they were only allowed."

His head shook as he pointed towards the man they were following.

"He had that freedom." Duncan turned to Perrine. "He had it because of what he did."

"I simply want it for us all. Without the need to be a monster first."
The former Proctor continued, his steps beginning anew as the Archon and his companion continued deeper into the city.